#i never should have taken you for granted boy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maliland · 2 months

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RESENTMENT: PT. 2

"how could you lie?" part one angel(s): e-42 miles morales & black fem reader includes: angst, infidelity, homewrecking, depressing themes, & heartbreak (men being disappointments per usual) synopsis: you used to describe your experience with love as one of complexity and simplicity all at once, but after you learn what your boyfriend did at a party with another girl while you were at home and sick, your heart is left with irreparable damage and an abundance of resentment. wc: 6.7k divider by @/cafekitsune a/n: this is gonna be my last sv fic for a hot min (or forever) 😭 savor and enjoy. ik the tag has been dead and you all have been malnourished, so yw! <3 icl, idk how i feel about it but y'all can lmk 🫶 (p.s: before ppl start nothing non-pg ever happened in this fic at any point in time. just kissing. ion get down like that 👍 thanks.)

when you arise in the morning and before you lay your head to rest at night, one thing is always definite: you are human.

humans are imperfect, so they make mistakes. genuine ones. honest ones. you’ve mixed up salt and sugar while baking chocolate chip cookies. you’ve hit your best friend square in the face while trying to spike a volleyball. you’ve missed assignment deadlines, forgotten about chores, and left the grocery list at home, all honest mistakes. a boy pressing his lips to another girl’s, though he has another he calls his own, is not a mistake. if it were up to you, it’d be a crime punishable by execution. between miles and yourself, no mercy was shown for the loyal one of you two, so why should he be granted any? infidelity; the act itself is the murder of the most important, sacred muscle, so why not return the favor?

you know your intentions before you give into the temptation of them. you knew miles knew. he knew from the moment that girl pulled him over to a vacant bedroom. did he think they’d simply exchange pleasantries? even so, why partake in such with someone who clearly has a taste for you? a taste for insulting the one you love most just as easily as she breathed?

these are all questions that would never be answered truthfully. you’d have to make peace with the reality or the only peace you’d know was the eternal kind that followed after death. and to think that you once believed in those stupid children’s fairy tales. miles made you believe that that kind of love could be real life. he almost made you believe you could attain the happy ending you always dreamed about. you were so close to it too. to have your bubble burst like that by the person you love most..? cold. way colder than the shivers repeatedly sinking down your spine.

it was a stupid idea to leave your window open.

the medicine you had taken for your cold had you knocked out in the warmth of your bed and you slept soundly. the chilly air would blow through the curtains now and then. the wind was only a light breeze at first. it felt nice, maybe even comforting, but when night finally fell, the current picked up. you were woken up by an icy blast hitting your face.

you groaned and slowly rose up, pulling the covers off of you before you swung your legs off of the bed. you drowsily staggered to your window and forced it shut, drawing the curtains closed only seconds afterward. you would just have to hope the mishap wouldn’t make you any sicker than you already were. you mindlessly carried yourself back to your bed and submerged yourself under the covers. you grabbed your phone, which was lying face down beside you.

you unlocked your phone and went straight to instagram, tapping through everyone's stories. most of the people you knew were at the party. parties weren't your cup of tea, so you couldn't really say you wished you had gone. you were more of a homebody than you'd like to admit.

you eventually got to miles' story. all he had posted was a single picture of him and his group of friends, and they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. seeing your boyfriend happy made you happy. you smiled to yourself before switching to your messages app. you had notifications from both miles and your friends who were also at the halloween party. you opened miles’ messages first.

9:37pm

miles: hey ma (9:37 pm) miles: i know you’re probably sleeping right now, but i wanted to lyk that i got here okay (9:37 pm) miles: i’m with my friends (9:38 pm) miles: ima go now but i love you 💗 i’ll text you soon (9:39 pm)

10:23 pm

miles: yooo just checking in 🙌 miss you a lot (9:36 pm) miles: hope you’re enjoying that nap ❤️❤️(9:37 pm)

you: hey i’m up now 😈😈 (10:52 pm) you: i saw your ig story 🙃 looks like you guys are having fun so i’ll leave you to it (10:52 pm) you: text me later, i love you so much more 💓 (10:53 pm)

you swiped out of your text thread with miles and opened your group chat with your three best friends, sasha, lani, and nae. while you met sasha and lani not too long ago, you’ve known nae for damn near your entire life.

dollz 💘 9:13pm

sasha: how’s my bedridden baby? 🫶🫶 (9:13 pm)

lani: she’s been unconscious for mad long 👎(9:14 pm)

nae: we should ditch this party n go to her place instead i’m BOREDDD (9:16 pm) nae: and what if bro’s dead (9:16 pm)

jana: girl (9:20 pm) jana: she ain’t dead 🤦‍♀️ please. (9:21 pm)

sasha: ofc not (9:23 pm) sasha: nae's right.. this party lowk boring asf🧍‍♀️ can we leave soon? (9:25 pm)

jana: yes 💋 (9:25 pm)

nae: thought you’d never ask. (9:26 pm)

10:57pm

you: y’all i’m up damn! 😭 (10:57 pm) you: is it really that boring? miles seems to be having fun (10:57 pm)

nae: he buggin then cuz it's been like two hours and this party is STILL boring as shit (11:01 pm) nae: i tried to give it the benefit of the doubt but nvm. (11:01 pm) nae: my niece's fourth birthday party was x100 more turnt than this (11:02 pm) nae: i’m stuffing all the good snacks in my purse nd then we outta this bitch 🏃‍♀️ i’ll be in the car y’all (11:02 pm)

jana: bruh🧍‍♀️ (11:03 pm)

sasha: nae beloved, you already put hella snacks in the passenger seat (11:03 pm) nae: so? 🥱 (11:04 pm) sasha: you don’t need no more tf 😭😭 big backed hungry ass (11:04 pm)

you: yes she does (11:10 pm) you: she’s thinking of me, duh (11:11 pm)

sasha: damn you right.. maybe 🤷‍♀️ (11:15 pm) sasha: or maybe she'll eat up all the snacks and i'll laugh in your face and say i told you so 🤌 (11:16 pm)

jana: uh huh... anw girl can we come over? (11:18 pm)

you: i’d say yes but miles is coming over soon (11:21 pm) you: y’all can come over first thing tmrw morning tho 💋💋(11:21 pm)

right as you sent that message, your phone began to ring and you were met with your own puzzled reflection on the screen of your phone. it was a facetime call from nae. you couldn’t come up with a reason why she’d ever need to facetime you from a party when she could text or call. nevertheless, you picked up. you forced yourself up and out of you warmth of your bed, throwing your comforter and many, many blankets off of you.

you answered the facetime call as you turned the knob to your bedroom door to leave, making your way downstairs to the kitchen so you could raid the pantry for food. when nae’s face popped up on your screen, you noticed that the interior of sasha’s car surrounded her, but neither sasha or lani were anywhere to be found.

“hey danae, what’s up?” you said into the phone as you shut the microwave. you'd settled on instant ramen since you were feeling lazy. when you caught a glimpse of your best friend's face on your phone screen a second time, you clocked that she looked worried and that made you worried too. it didn't help that she was dead silent. you raised an eyebrow. “you alone? where’s lani and sasha?"

“something happened,” nae spoke slowly, disregarding your question. her eyes were bolting back and forth between her phone camera and sasha’s car window.

“what?” you shook your head, your eyebrows furrowing in concern. you set your phone down on the counter, propping your elbows onto the surface while you tried to decipher nae's expression, but that got you nowhere.

“i’m gonna send you something. just hold on a sec.”

“nae, what’s going on?” you inquired, a puzzled expression painting your face.

she didn’t reply. you pressed your lips into a thin line and closed your eyes in both confusion and frustration, strings of air passing through your nostrils. whatever nae was about to tell you was obviously nothing good. you didn't anticipate anything but the absolute worst. you opened your eyes again when your phone dinged. it was photo attachment from nae. you furrowed your brows blinked a few times before tapping it, pulling up you and your best friend's text thread. your entire body went limp when your brain registered the monstrosity on your screen. all you could do in the moment was stare in shock. it was a clear shot of miles and arielle at the party making out in some random bedroom upstairs. arielle who wouldn’t quit making moves on miles. miles who would shut down her pathetic attempts every time. arielle who’s always hated your guts without reason. miles who swore on everything that you were the only one he loved.

it was all so ironic, truly. arielle was dressed as an angel, a sparkly halo hovering above her head as if she wasn’t concomitantly sinning—shamelessly home-wrecking. and you could see it now: the embodiment of your relationship, or the so-called home you and your boyfriend shared. in your mind, it was ablaze and you were curled up all alone inside of it. you were left to succumb to the searing flames, burning to nothing ash while all that you and miles share burned beside you.

the boy would come home to the walls still burning and in the process of self-purging. he wouldn’t find you, rather the remnants of what used to be you. the ash would slip through his dirty, unfaithful fingers as they trembled in horror. he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. he’d desperately try to grasp you. he’d try to save you and scoop debris into his sweaty palms so he could salvage what was left of you. still, there was nothing. there wasn't a single thing in the universe that could aid the way you felt in that moment.

now, miles would have to mourn you, for he killed you. and he didn’t even know it yet.

your eyes were squeezed shut because they had to be deceiving you. you must not be fully awake yet. the medicine must be making you hallucinate. you were dreaming. you were a hundred percent dreaming. that wasn’t miles.

how could that be miles?

“i was looking for lani and found… them instead,” nae muttered. “i don’t know if he saw me take the picture, or what. i left to tell you right after.”

you swallowed hard. though a million different thoughts were racing through your mind, none of them came to be verbal. you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, because what do you even say when something like this happens? would anything you said be enough? would any quantity of words in any given order be able you place the way you felt? unlikely. highly.

your eyes continue you gape at the photo, even though the sight was making your stomach churn. you couldn’t look away. your eyes were fixed on miles' hands on arielle's hips, then her hands cupping his cheeks. nae was still on facetime explaining whatever it was she was explaining, but you weren’t listening. her words were static to your ears. there was a pit in your stomach and it was growing deeper and deeper, your wounded heart subsiding along with it. you set your phone face down on the kitchen counter and began to clutch your stomach. you swore you were going to convulse and vomit from how ill you felt.

“[name]!” nae snapped her fingers into the mic. “yo, you still with me? i’m coming over. i’m gonna call an uber right now.”

you blinked and shook your head, flipping your phone back over and taking a deep breath. you couldn’t just shut down, not now. you had something you needed to confront. someone.

“no,” you sniffled.

you didn’t even notice the hot tears rolling down your cheeks. you quickly swiped them away with the sleeve of miles’ hoodie. the realization that it was his hoodie you had on made you freeze up again for a few seconds, and then you buried your face in the palms of your hands.

“what do you mean ‘no?’” nae frowned, bringing the speaker up to her ear in case she heard you incorrectly.

your phone dinged three times. in your notification center were text messages from the devil himself.

miles: hey ma, i’m leaving now (11:25 pm) miles: the party was okay at first but it got boring (11:25 pm) miles: i’ll be there in like fifteen ❤️ (11:26 pm)

you just stared at the messages, biting your bottom lip until it began to draw blood as a plea for you to stop. the taste was metallic in your mouth, but your teeth didn’t budge. you didn't want miles over anymore, but it was far too late to tell him to turn around. it's not like he'd check his phone while he was driving, anyway.

“i keep losing you, girl."

you had forgotten all about nae for a second, her voice grounding you back to earth. you exhaled, your breath coming out unsteady. “miles is on his way over. after i talk to him, i’ll call you and you can come over then.”

“okay, babe,” nae nodded with a gentle sigh.

“do… lani and sasha know?” “no, they don’t,” nae denied. “i wouldn’t tell them before you.”

you pressed your lips together and silence engulfed your kitchen. you let your mind wander some more. after all this was over and done with, you'd have to explain to all of your loved ones that miles cheated on you. the very thought of having to tell everyone—your family, your friends, your dad—it embarrassed you. you couldn't stomach the very thought, so you exhaled deeply, opting to take it one step at a time. nae spoke again. “listen, if you don’t call or text me in, like, an hour, ima come over there.”

“okay," you nodded.

“remember that you deserve nothing but the best of the best. i love you so much, okay?”

“i know,” you tried to convene a smile. “i love you more.”

you hung up the phone and rid of any stray tears on your face. after nae's face vanished from your screen, you were left staring at you and your boyfriend's message thread. without putting much thought into it, you began to type.

‘cool, i’m jus—'

your fingers froze. you couldn’t text miles. he didn’t deserve anything so little as acknowledgment. you repeatedly hit backspace until the bar was blank and shut off your cell.

you sat idly on one of the kitchen stools behind the counter, your instant ramen long forgotten about. in the moment, you were feeling indifferent as a result of shock. still, you knew yourself better. when miles finally confessed his sins, you’d want to scream. you’d bombard him with a million questions at once, only to angrily invalidate any explanation that passed through his adulterous lips. you’d want to burn every handwritten love letter, every piece of clothing, and every gift, because they all meant nothing now.

he was a liar, and he knew it. if you could kill a man and face no consequences, miles might’ve been gone before he even walked through your door.

while you waited for him, you sat there and tortured yourself in thought. you couldn’t help it. was this planned? was this the first time? had he always thought of her like this? did he wish you were her when he was with you?

when you’d exhausted all of those questions, you began to think back to your own actions and behavior as you scrolled up on your texts with him.

maybe i said something that upset him? but i think he would've told me... right..? or have i been distant? no, that’s not possible. we talk every day. is he bored of me? is that it? am i boring? none of these texts are showing signs of boredom, so what is it?

you'd soon resorted to flipping through the pages in your diary. you were really good about documenting your day-to-day life. if something happened with miles in the past that your brain wouldn’t let you dig up in the moment, surely you would’ve written it there. the pad of your index finger slid across the rough pages as your anguished eyes skimmed the entries. ten minutes in, you still couldn’t find a thing. you'd give anything for a straightforward answer, but you knew it wasn't going to come from miles himself.

when you heard a key grinding into the keyhole of the front door, you slammed your diary shut and jumped off of the stool, knocking it over in the process. you sprinted upstairs to your bedroom, shoving the journal under your pillow. as you trailed out of your room, you closed the door behind you and braced yourself for the worst.

you shuffled back to the kitchen and picked up the stool from the floor, setting it upright. you caught a glimpse of miles unlacing his jordans at the front door. this was real.

“hey. i thought you’d still be in bed,” miles grinned as he approached you, spreading his arms for a hug. he wasn’t in his costume, but in a red hoodie and black sweats. he must’ve gone home to change. his costume probably smelled like arielle’s designer strawberry-scented perfume, the one everyone compliments her on. she never shuts up about it.

“hi,” you whispered, accepting his hug in an attempt to seem normal. “i was, but i got hungry. how was the party?”

miles smelled like his favorite cologne, except the scent was unusually potent. it wasn't faded in the slightest like it normally was after he'd been out and around other people. the deplorable amount of effort he was making just to mask the truth infuriated you. it angered you even more that he clearly wasn't planning on telling you anything. if you hadn't seen it yourself, you might've never known.

“it was ight,” he shrugged, loosening his grip on you after a couple of seconds. you hated yourself for wanting to hug him for just a little while longer. he sure as hell didn’t deserve it, but for all you knew, that was the last time you’d be in his embrace. he let his hands fall down to your waist instead and it made you shiver on contact knowing he had his hands on arielle's waist not even a full hour ago. “would’ve been better with you there, y’know. you feelin’ okay now?"

“mostly, yeah,” you responded blandly, your throat tight and your voice fairly groggy. “still a bit tired.”

you didn’t know how to bring it up. this wasn't something you could beat around the bush about. you found yourself deep in thought. so deep to the point where you didn't notice that miles had started talking. you were busy staring off into space with half-lidded eyes, way past his gaze. he clocked it and moved his head so that your eyes were boring into his by force, his eyebrows lowering in concern.

“is everything okay?”

you cleared your throat and gently pushed his arms off your waist, stepping back as you began to blink back tears. there was no easing into it. standing there in front of miles pretending like everything was okay was already bad enough. it felt like you were twisting the knife that he plunged into your chest. eyes glossy, you swallowed hard and batted your lashes a few more times, desperately trying to rid of the tears that threatened to spill.

“i know you kissed arielle at the party,” you barely managed to speak the full sentence, your voice cracking when you spoke her name. “and i’m confused.”

miles’ eyebrows knitted to be one as if this news stunned him. you wished you could hear all his thoughts from start to finish after you spoke. you wanted to know whether he was planning to lie or tell the truth. would he gaslight you or admit to his wrongdoings? you wouldn’t find out now because you didn’t give him an option. this already hurt enough and it would end the same either way.

“nae told me. and she sent me pictures.”

silence fell between the two of you. it felt like it was eating you from the inside. the chirping of the crickets outside and the noise from the refrigerator running slightly compensated for it. not much.

“i just wanna know why you did it. and why her? why the girl that hates me with every last atom in her body?” you broke the silence, shrugging your shoulders. you were hugging your arms, rubbing them in an up-and-down motion as if you were cold.

miles was dumbfounded, guilt painting his features. he couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. you wondered what you would say if you were in his shoes, but it didn’t give you any insight because you knew you'd never do this to him, so you gave up. instead, you stared at the neat middle part in between his two signature braids that cascaded down the back of his head, down to his shoulders. you’d braided his hair only a couple days ago, back when nothing seemed impossible—nothing like now.

though he wasn’t, miles’ hair still looked clean, freshly done even. what if arielle had redone his braids for him? she did say she was practicing, and she'd made it a goal to practice on him. you mentally cursed yourself for worrying about something as minuscule as miles' braids at a time like this. you didn't want to give yourself another reason to freak, but your brain wouldn’t let you rest. not even in silence. if miles wasn’t going to give you an answer, you’d send him on his way and come up with one by yourself.

“i don’t know why i did it,” he finally retorted.

“oh, word?” you laughed humorlessly. you were trying not to slap the hell out of his shamefully beautiful face. “it happened not even two hours ago. you know why you did it. your memory is sharp, it always has been, so tell me.”

miles exhaled, rubbing the palm of his hand on his forehead. “look, she came onto me while i was grabbing a soda. it was a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing! it didn’t mean any—“

“that’s what they all say, morales,” you cut him off with a scoff. “it didn’t mean anything but somehow you traveled from the kitchen downstairs to a spare bedroom upstairs so you could swap spit without anyone catching you?!” miles tried to speak, but you cut him off again. “were you even gonna tell me? because you came up in here acting like shit was sweet as if you weren’t just making out with the girl you swore i’d never have to worry about, meanwhile, i was home, sick! a fucking cold, miles!”

“i wasn’t gonna keep it to myself. i didn’t wanna hurt you,” miles said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “it wasn’t gonna happen again, i swear.”

none of the words miles spoke were convincing enough for you in the slightest, so you disregarded them.

“did i do something to you? are you holding a grudge about something and trying to get me back?!” you yelled, your voice trembling.

“no, it has nothing to do with you!” he hollered back, squeezing his eyes shut as if he was stressed out. he had no right.

“so then why the fuck would you go and do this shit?!” you were silent for a few seconds, chest heaving up and down while your heart beat out of your chest. your breath was sprinting away from you and you were trying to catch it. "it's bad enough that you kissed another girl, but arielle?"

miles pleaded, “it was a mistake.”

“damn right it was!” you narrowed your eyes to slits. “i can’t believe i trusted you, like, seriously. you’re sick.”

“i let you down, princessa, i know, i’m—“

“sorry?” you finished his sentence, folding your arms. you were far more angry than sad now. “miles, you weren’t sorry when you were kissing her. don’t be sorry now either. you were gonna kiss me with her bright pink lipgloss dried on your lips like it was nothing. you were gonna sit here and play me like i'm stupid. you were never gonna tell me!”

miles couldn’t counter that. he knew you were right, so it was back to uncomfortable silence apart from your hefty breathing and sniffles. miles had never seen you so angry. you'd never seen yourself so angry. there was no one else to blame but miles. you had no idea where to go from there. it was only after you asked the question that you were about to ask on impulse that you realized you should’ve wrapped this up many minutes before.

“is this the only time this has happened?”

miles was hesitant, his eyes growing wider. “yes!” he spat.

miles had a tell—not just his disinclination to answer your question the way he normally would, but also the way his eyebrows would position as if he wasn’t so sure himself. his teeth would clench behind his sealed lips, but you could tell because his jaw was tight and he swallowed hard, and he wouldn’t know what to do with his hands.

you knew all of this about miles, yet you felt like you were gazing into the eyes of a stranger.

this wasn’t the miles you fell in love with.

you muttered under your breath, “you know what? i’m wasting your time... and my own. you won’t have an answer that’s both truthful and something i wanna hear. we’re done, you and i. give me the key and get the hell out.”

“mami, come on—“

“nigga, deuces! i said leave!” you snapped as you backed away from him, holding your hand out.

miles dug deep in the right pocket of his black sweats, handing you the key. you flinched when your skin made contact with his. you didn't hesitate to trap the key in the palm of your hand, dropping your arm back down by your side. miles sighed to himself and trudged to the door to lace his shoes back up. you didn't even watch him leave, opting to turn around and battle the tears threatening to spill from your eyes instead. when you finally heard the front door shut, you rushed to lock it. you turned around and pressed your back to the door, face twisted in pure disbelief.

this was real.

you slid down to the floor and pulled your knees to your chest, your cries echoing through your empty house. you’d never been more grateful that your father was gone for the weekend. miles wouldn’t have heard the end of it. at least now you had time to make up some lie to cover for miles' ass, and it'd be the last damn time.

not even five minutes passed before someone knocked on the front door three times and you sniffled. miles was going to drive you insane. “go the fuck away!”

“it’s me, baby,” a muffled voice said from outside, but it’s one you recognize, and it’s most definitely not miles.

you wiped your tears with the sleeve of miles’ hoodie and stood up, twisting the lock to open the door for your best friend. she was holding a box of pizza in her hand with a tote bag strap over her shoulder.

“you’re early,” you mumbled, one of your hands pressed against the rim of the door.

“i ubered home and got my car. when i got here, i just parked and waited,” nae pushed past you. you closed the door and locked it again, following her to the kitchen, where she set the box of pizza down on the countertop. “you wouldn’t have called me either way. i know you.”

she was right. you weren’t mad at her for being there though. she had always been so good to you.

nae walked over to the dining table and placed her tote bag in one of the chairs. “i brought your favorite type of pizza, and i stopped by the store to grab some snacks and soda. those are still in my car though, so—”

“i don’t think i can stomach anything right now,” you stated as you rubbed your arm. “i broke up with miles.”

saying that out loud felt weird. and final.

“oh, my love,” nae’s brows lowered and she shuffled over to you with open arms. she wrapped them around you and you did the same, sighing into her shoulder. you really didn't want to cry.

it hadn’t been long and you were already over feeling the way you did. you wanted to fast forward to the part where you got over miles for good. as an attempt to console you, nae was rubbing your back in a circular motion.

“you did the right thing,” she spoke lowly.

you withdrew from the hug and slightly opened your mouth, fixing to ask nae a question only god knew how to answer. “why did he do it though?”

she led you to the couch in your living room and sat you down, massaging her thumb over yours in a back-and-forth motion as your hand stayed clasped in hers. you stared down at your lap, sniffling every couple of seconds and swiping away stray tears.

“boys are just greedy, babe,” she shook her head. “so very greedy. they want it all. there are so many different reasons why people cheat. it’s difficult to pinpoint just one. my random guess is that… miles has issues?"

“issues?”

“mm-hmm,” she hummed. “internally. maybe he's insecure about himself, i don't know. whatever it is, it doesn’t justify infidelity. you were more than enough, it was him who was lacking."

“i don't get it. i mean, none of this makes any sense… unless i'm blind or stupid, it came out of nowhere. literal thin air. and when i asked, he said he didn't know why he kissed her,” you muttered.

nae sighed. “even if he isn't lying, he still did it.”

“i know,” you nodded. “and i'm sure it wasn't the first time. that’s why i left him.”

“and i’m so proud of you for that,” nae gave your hand a tight squeeze. “walking away isn’t easy for anyone. it takes forever for some people, but you did it just like that.”

“yeah, well, i kinda had to. it’s bad enough that arielle is gonna rub it in my face until we graduate, and even after that, she’ll probably find a way to .”

“there won’t be any of that,” nae promised. “miles isn’t going to take her seriously—if he even takes her at all. he lost you because of what he did with that bitch. he won’t even be able to look at her without feeling guilty.”

“she can have him, i don’t care either way,” you scoffed. that was a lie. you did care. you cared more than you’d let on if you ever even admit it.

“yeah, you do,” nae raised an eyebrow as if she had effortlessly read your mind. “let yourself feel. it’s how you’ll heal.”

“oh, i’m feeling alright. i’m weighing the pros and cons of murder,” you shakily exhaled, balling up your fists and closing your eyes. “i can’t believe this nigga. seriously.”

“i’d help you, but i’m not going to jail for him and neither are you.”

you let out a soft sigh, your gaze now fixed on your lap. the tears welling up in your eyes were beginning to cloud your vision. how someone could throw away so many years of loving one another so easily was so far beyond you.

“nae, i’ve been with miles for so long. he’s always been there—i don’t know how to be without him. he’s why i gave love a chance after swearing not to... now he’s shattered my perception of it. the worst part is i should hate him, but i don't. somehow, i still love him and—”

“hey,” nae cut you off. “that’s normal. how you feel is normal.”

you sniffled. “is it?"

“pshh, girl, yeah,” nae assured you, flicking out her wrist. “listen, breakups are terrible. you’re gonna cry and scream. you’re gonna wish you never met him. you’re going to go through old texts, swipe through old photos, and mope in his hoodies. all of that is okay. the worst thing you could ever do to yourself is force yourself not to feel,” nae paused. “if this is who he really is, then it's not your loss. i know it doesn't feel like that right now, but trust me... it just takes time. i don't know how long, but i know my best friend, so no matter how long it takes, you’ll be better than good without miles. i promise." "i'm still gonna miss him," you muttered, sniffling and drying your tears as they fell. nae wrapped her arm around you and exhaled. you sobbed into her shoulder, releasing all the pent-up frustration you'd been concealing in the name of keeping your cool. you'd never felt so inconsolable in your life. "i know, babe. i know."

❤︎₊ ⊹

it was late. 3:28am. time had never moved so slowly. you were genuinely considering calling 911 and telling them you were suffering from a heart attack. you were thoroughly convinced that this was damn near the same exact thing.

the moon wasn’t full tonight, but a waning crescent. it reflected you and how soulless and dejected you felt. the moonshine bleeding through your curtains was also the only source of light you would tolerate, the rest of your bedroom completely dark. you lay on your side facing the window, allowing the icy gusts of wind to hit your face. you were practically drowning in a sea of blankets all while still being in miles’ black hoodie.

nae was gone. she’d left about two hours ago, but not before suffocating you in countless hugs and forcing you to eat a slice of pizza and drink two glasses of water, despite your not wanting to ingest anything due to your unwavering nausea. you told her you’d be okay alone. you knew you wouldn’t and so did she, but you wanted to be alone, so she gave you your space and promised to check in on you when the sun rose. you loved nae dearly and you'd never take her for granted. you felt lucky to have such a kindhearted best friend.

you'd been in a 1v1 with your thoughts for a while now. your phone was powered off and shut away in one of your nightstand drawers to help resist urges. you hated that you wanted to call miles, but you did. you wanted to scream at him. belittle him until you just couldn’t anymore. and you wanted him to sit there and watch you do it without protest. you wanted him to be honest and tell you the truth. you wanted him to promise it would never happen again, and then you wanted to curl up under the covers of your bed with him and sob in his arms while he planted kisses on your forehead, apologizing profusely. you wanted him to tell you he loved you until you believed it again.

you couldn’t do any of that—you wouldn’t. it’d mean you have no respect for yourself. it felt like you hardly had any now, so you needed to keep the scarce amount that remained.

your thoughts were blank and sporadic all at once. you’d never been through a breakup, but you had a rough idea of how these things go, so you spent some time mapping it out in your head.

you'd eventually have to meet up to exchange one another's belongings. maybe rio would apologize on miles’ behalf and say she’d always love you. she’d call you a couple times a week. the calls would eventually come slower and grow more infrequent. soon, the calls wouldn’t come at all. even if there was the acknowledgment that rio’s arms were always open for you, they’d still feel closed. you'd treat them as such.

you'd barely eat because you couldn't stomach a single thing. you'd rot in your bed and binge all your favorite movies and shows. you'd go to war with the urge to run back to miles. you'd read old diary entries where you were gushing about how much you loved him and how amazing he was to you. you'd look back at old photos and videos. you'd reread old texts until you were sobbing so hard that you couldn't breathe.

you'd write letters that nobody was ever going to see and all the tears you shed would smudge the black ink and ruin your fancy penmanship. you'd lie to your dad and tell him that your relationship had just run its course and that you and miles needed to work on yourselves. your friends would check in on you, and of course, you'd tell them that you were okay every time, even if that was the furthest from that.

word gets around fast. when this dreadful weekend was over and monday crept up on you, you'd have to return to school and deal with the piercing stares and shameless gossip. you weren't ready for any of it, because now, everyone at school would know you as the girl who got cheated on by her long-term boyfriend for arielle. rumors would spread. words would be twisted and lies would be told, both about you and miles. in retrospect, it was all the more embarrassing for miles, but you still felt utterly humiliated. not to mention that you had no doubt in your mind that arielle was ready to run to his defense, preferably by kicking you when you're down.

sometimes, just for a fleeting moment, you'd forget about it all and your mind would go quiet. your heart wouldn't swell in longing and you wouldn't feel sick to your stomach. it never did last long before the same thoughts you desperately wanted to leave you alone started to pester you again. "but you two seemed so in love!" nosy girls at your school masking their prying motives behind what they thought were "supportive words" would soon tell you. the worst part is that you'd never know how to respond, because you thought you and miles were in love too. he was your sun and you were his moon. how could you so quickly forget that the sun didn't need the moon to shine, it was the other way around? you thought it was and always would be your heart tethered to his, but now you were left with a broken chain and a heartache.

you thought things would be different with miles. you truly did. now you knew that anyone could screw you over even if they crossed their heart. there weren't any exceptions, not anymore. miles proved that you can do everything right and still get done wrong. it wasn't fair. you should've known you weren't exempt from something like this happening, yet you still let yourself believe you were. maybe you jinxed it, or maybe you thought your case was special. maybe you thought this would never happen because you believed you were special. you only did because he made you feel that way.

you were sick and tired of brooding over your misfortune. you rolled onto your back with a frustrated groan and gaped at your ceiling, the cold air from outside still blowing against the side of your face. as exhausted as you were, sleep just wouldn't grant you sanction in its assuaging embrace.

what hurt the most is that you were so sure that you'd bagged a kind of love that was for the books. the kind of love you thought you could only dream about. though you weren't searching for him, the stars sent you miles morales. in your eyes, he was perfect. you loved and adored him, and swore he was your soulmate, made just for you. he was godsent and you never wanted to let him go, until tonight, when you learned that you were never the one who needed to hold on to begin with.

you came to the humbling conclusion that maybe the reason people told tales of faultless love was because real love was far too sickening to bear. it was merely a way to cope. nothing more, nothing less. maybe "happily ever after" had been a hoax all along. all the fairytales you had read growing up always began with “once upon a time”, but your story with miles ended with it, because loving him was easy—once upon a time.

maliland ©

#heavensent 🪽#miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles g morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #spiderman #miles morales x black!reader #e 42 miles morales x reader #e 42 miles x black!reader #miles morales #itsv #atsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #black fem reader

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world-of-aus · 2 months

Text

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: Chapter one of A Second Chance At Life, it's been a hot minute since I've worked on a series so hopefully I haven't lost it! Thank you all for reading and I truly hope you enjoy this piece. Happy Readings!

Bucky’s on the iron gate, Steve, Sam, and Natasha all by his side as they watch you in the gated arena with Grant. His boy has the brightest smile Bucky thinks he’s ever seen grace his son’s lips; it almost mirrors the one he gets when he sees Natasha waiting for him on the porch with his uncle Steve.

Grant had been excited this morning to show his uncles and aunt his rope work and had been even more thrilled to show his skills when he discovered there was a guest joining them. A guest Bucky hadn’t been aware was coming till Steve dumped the news on him ten minutes before your arrival with the redhead Steve called his wife. He had been livid with his best pal when he discovered the reason for you joining them this morning.

‘I don’t need your help with this Steve I told you last night I was going to get on it, and I will get on it.’

‘Buck you have a lot on your plate, Natasha just wanted to help, let us help you with this.’

Bucky had struggled to bite back the ‘but he’s my son’ that laid on his tongue, his face becoming stoic, cold as he glared down his friend. He hadn’t budged a bit, not even when Natasha brought you through the house to introduce you to the brooding brunette, the scowl on his features unmoving despite the warm smile on yours. His son Grant, god bless his soul had made up for his father's bad mood, bounding up to you with a smile as warm as yours and an all too cheerful greeting.

He should have dropped his mood then, watching the way you got down to grants level to take his hand in yours exchanging a greeting that rivaled the one he had with his Aunt Tasha. You had taken a few minutes to get to know the boy before you, displaying just as much enthusiasm as his son did while he told you all about the arena they had out back.

They had all been surprised when Grant all but pulled you along through the house, not even waiting for his dad or his uncles as he bolted with you out the back door to the gated arena.

“She’s good with our boy Barnes, look at him he’s absolutely smitten.” Sam chuckled watching you help Grant get the rope over his head like Bucky had shown him just yesterday. Bucky grunted under his breath but continued to watch, hearing your quiet words of encouragement to the boy. The five of you watched the boy twirl the rope a few more times before he attempted the throw, Grants shoulders falling when the rope didn’t quite reach where he had hoped.

The broad-shouldered brunette is all but ready to jump over the fence and get to his boy, but Steve’s hands clap his shoulder keeping him in place. He turns to glare at his best friend but Steve is redirecting his attention back to the arena. You’ve got both of Grant's hands in yours dipping your head even lower to meet his downtrodden gaze, he can’t quite make out what you’re saying but you’re surprising all of them when you get the rope in your hands. Grant seems to chirp up and this time Bucky can hear you holding his so to a promise not to laugh.

The way you get the rope over your head says you’ve done this before, but he can see the way you hold back. Grants cheering you on like you did him, and when he shouts for you to throw, well Bucky’s never seen a more half-ass throw than the one you produced. He watches with amusement in his eyes as his son freezes mid jump small hands smacking over his mouth as he stifles his giggles. You put on quite the act for his boy Bucky will give you that Grant absolutely taken with you as he comforts you like you did to him.

“Looks like I’ve got some more work to do to get on your level bud.”

“My daddy can teach you! My daddy’s great at helping me, he’s got me to where I am now right dad?”

All eyes having seemingly fallen on him, “come on dad come show y/n! Please!” Bucky really wishes he could’ve learned how to say no to his sons requests at times but he knows that’s not the case when he finds himself begrudgingly climbing the fence stomping his feet over to where the two of you stand.

Grant can hardly contain his excitement, “you’ll get it this time y/n, dads the best there is!”

Bucky pulls his sour mood out of his ass for his son, though you’ve done nothing wrong for him to be so stoic with you his walls are just much to high for anyone to get in. You take it in stride allowing him to guide you, engaging with Grant when he jumps in to add something his father has taught him.

Bucky knows this isn’t your first time holding a rope he can feel it, can see it in your movements. Though you continue to act like you haven’t, asking questions here and there not only to him but his son as well. When’s he’s got you swinging the rope he points out to the exact same spot he did to Grant yesterday, the same one he tried to aim for today.

It's quiet except for the whoosh of the rope above your head, Bucky sees the moment you start to falter the rope, but when his sons hopeful voice flits up into the air he feels you lock it in, your aim precise as the rope goes flying. When it hits the marker Bucky knows this isn’t your first time, but he doesn’t mention it, instead watches Grant run at your legs his cheers filling your ears, and though you’ve just met his son you get your arms around him the best that you can.

“Did it for both of us bud, say you wanna give it another try now that your dad’s here?”

“You’ll watch me?” Grant asks, and Bucky watches you drop to his level, “Of course, I'll be right here.” You inch over to let Bucky level himself with his son, Natasha, Sam and Steve having entered the arena to join them, Natasha is at your side, Steve and Sam rallying around Grant as they help Bucky with his boy.

The five of you watch the boy swing the rope eyes on the prize as determination sets in. Time slows when Grant releases the rope, all eyes on the twine sailing in the wind, it thuds, picking up dirt around it. Grants aim? Spot on. The small, gated arena explodes in cheers as the five of you get to your feet cheering Grant on.

“Did you see it! Did you see it! I did it! I did it!”

There’s a chorus of agreement all around as you continue to cheer the boy on, his excitement contagious as Bucky hoists him high. “Think that deserves some riding time.” Bucky exclaims. The light in his boy’s eyes is worth it all, “can y/n ride with us?” All eyes fall to her, even Bucky’s, his features soften, his son had warmed up to you instantly, and his son was a great judge of character so maybe he could too. “Would you like to join us?” he finds himself asking.

“Of course, if it’s no trouble to you.”

Bucky nod’s, “you ever ride before y/n?” Sam questions from next to Steve. “I’ve ridden a few times, wouldn’t say I’m as professional as Roger’s but I’m fairly decent.”

“Can I ride with y/n?” Grant questions wiggling in his fathers hold

Bucky meets your gaze for a brief second before your finding his son’s gaze again, “Only if it’s okay with your dad.”

He knows everyone's looking at him now, “you hold tight to those reigns, and no horseplaying Grant.” He says setting his son down.

“Yes sir I promise!” Bucky watches his son grab your hand again all but pulling you out of the arena and towards the barn.

Steve, Sam, and Natasha gather around their friend as they look after the two of you, “so what do you think Barnes,” the redhead questions with a grin, “how’s she doing so far, you think she’s qualified enough to care for our Grant?”

He grunts under his breath, “she’s alright, don’t know about qualified just yet, it's only been an hour.”

“Good thing we have some time.” she responds with a laugh moving forward to make her way towards the barn.

“She’s a really great person buck, Natasha wouldn’t have brought her along otherwise” Steve adds.

“Yeah man,” Sam agrees, “and she’s great with kids too Cass and Aj love her, always asking Sarah and I about her.”

Bucky hums in thought as the three of them walk into the barn, Natasha on one horse, you and Grant on another, the boy secure in your hold as you maneuver the horse forward.

“Y/n and I are gonna go get a head start with Lil man, try not to be a couple of rotten eggs.” Natasha grins, Grant giggling at his aunts words.

“I’ll make sure to be very careful with him Bucky,” you say meeting his eyes.

And you were, Grant was your focus as you rode along open land of the farm, your arms tucked protectively around the boy careful with him like you had promised. Bucky had never seen his boy so happy, well that was a lie, he had seen that glee before, had seen it with Natasha, Steve, Sam, had seen it every day that he got to spend with his boy.

“You feeling alright Barnes?”

Bucky looks over his shoulder watching Natasha saddle up to him with chestnut, he reaches out to run his fingers along the horses.

“Just thinkin is all.” he replies looking back out to the vast field where you follow after Steve, Grant’s laughter filling the air as you give his uncle chase.

“She’s good with him,” Natasha notes watching the same scene with him, “she is,” he agrees. “But -”

Bucky sighs, “I’m scared I'm doing wrong by him Nat, this is the first year that he won’t be out there on the road with me, what if something happens and I’m not there, what if needs me and I’m not there.”

Natasha reaches out squeezing his shoulder, “Bucky you and I both know you could never do wrong by that sweet boy out there, you’ve given him everything you could give and more. You’re that whole boy’s world, he loves you. I know you’re scared to be away from him for so long, but I know y/n would make sure that it wasn’t like you were away at all.”

He looks over at his friend, “how can you know that?” Natasha’s looking over at you, you’re smiling the brightest she thinks she’s ever seen you smile since you returned home, hearing your laugh ring in the air for the first time in years and knowing its genuine. “Because she’s going to love that boy as if he was her own.”

Bucky’s looking back out to the field, “If she’s willing to start a week before we leave, the job’s hers, if she wants it.”

Natasha is grinning bringing herself and chestnut closer, “you won’t regret this Barnes.”

He hopes he wouldn’t.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au

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saetoru · 2 years

Text

#𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐒

☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ it’s not suguru’s fault satoru doesn’t treat you right, and it’s not his fault he can treat you better

— pairing ⋮ geto x reader (x gojo)

— tags ⋮ nsfw 18+, fem! reader, toxic! gojo, gojo x reader in the beginning, college! au, cheating (you on gojo), lovesick geto, toxic relationships, mentions of alcohol and drinking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, slight exhibitionism (he fucks you against a window), disclaimer this is purely fiction

— word count ⋮ 6.8k

— notes ⋮ ty ris and kitty cat for beta reading and micheth and boy scout and viva my love for looking over bits and helping me as i sobbed dbdhjfggf love you all tons

the party should be boring—it should be a bit of a slow one since it’s date night for you and gojo. geto figures if he’s not going to be occupied by his best friend, then he might as well occupy himself with a stranger for the night. it’s a bit of a routine, really, fishing out girls with eyes as close to yours as he can find, and a smile as sweet as he can get. it’s never enough, but he supposes it’s better than nothing.

he smiles at a few girls, watches the way their eyes brighten and their lashes bat and their smiles are so sincere, and then he can’t help but imagine what your smile would look like if you looked at him like that.

he’s broken from his thoughts when he sees a pair of very familiar eyes—ones that are all too close to yours, and then he furrows his brows. it can’t be you—can it? you’re not supposed to be here, you’re supposed to be enjoying the night with his best friend (although, the thought does make his blood boil, so he can’t really say he’s complaining if you’re not.)

but he’s not mistaken, and there you are, walking in clung to gojo’s arm and pressed into his side (as always) as he saunters up to geto, and there’s a slight glumness on your face that geto can’t help but notice. he offers you a gentle smile, one you just barely reciprocate, one that even as fleeting and half-hearted as it is, makes his heart pound in his chest. he lets gojo clap his shoulder in greeting as he offers a nod in response, eyes still trained on you as you stare down at your feet.

you look perfect.

you’re all dolled up and god, you’re wearing that red lipstick that drives him insane. geto knows he shouldn’t, he knows this is wrong and that he should be ashamed—it’s wildly inappropriate to fantasize about someone else’s girlfriend, especially your friend’s no less—but for a fleeting moment, he lets himself imagine the way your lipstick might look smeared across his own lips. he can’t help but wonder why gojo would miss out on an opportunity to have you to himself, to have your lips on his (or maybe even other regions) in favor of being here at a party with cheap alcohol and outdated music blaring through the speakers.

“thought it was date night?” geto asks, raising his brow, “don’t tell me you flaked on your girl to bring her to this boring—”

“nah,” gojo grins, interrupting geto and reaching to pinch your cheek in affection. geto wants to scoff at the faux display, and he wants to roll his eyes at how you seem to lean in just a little to savor it. “she doesn’t mind. love these ol’ parties, don’t you baby?”

“mhm,” you nod, offering gojo a soft smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes.

liar, geto wants to say. he wants to shake you by the shoulders and scream that you’re a liar, that you could score so much better, that anyone would fight tooth and nail for a chance to do all the things a certain snow-haired asshole doesn’t. but gojo seems to be happy with your response, and you seem to get just the slightest bit hopeful at his reaction.

geto swears he can taste bile.

“see? she’s cool with it. we can still have fun here, the two of us,” gojo grins.

it’s times like these that geto wants to punch his best friend square on the jaw, the bubbling rage almost overwhelming as he watches you let yourself be taken for granted. he could treat you so much better—could make your smile reach your eyes and let the sun kiss your skin instead of tacky neon party lights. but you lean your cheek against gojo’s arm, fingers lacing with his, and geto looks away just in time as gojo presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

at one point, gojo satoru was completely obsessed with you—lovesick and smitten and seemingly devoted. at one point, he took you on extravagant dates and pulled out chairs and opened car doors. at one point, he answered your texts immediately and skipped things like this to give you a moment of his time.

he was so sweet, so picture perfect, and almost too good to be true. and perhaps he is—because now, little by little, glimpses of a different gojo are surfacing, and it’s a little too late for you to see the sharp fangs that slowly start to reveal themselves as sweet words from the serpent’s tongue are whispered into your ear. gojo satoru is good at getting what he wants—it’s not as though he’s used to being told no, and geto figures if his best friend’s been able to get his way for this long, he must have his strings to pull.

geto suguru thinks it’s rather unfair. you’re perfect—smart, funny, witty, hot. you’re everything he thinks he wants in a person if he had to make a list. but there’s just one small, teensy setback that he thinks is a little too complicated to ignore.

you’re clearly dating his best friend.

and there’s no mistake, geto is a loyal friend. he prides himself in being the one friend that gojo satoru has kept around since grade school, he prides himself in practically being an unofficial son to gojo’s parents, he prides himself in being in a family photo or two, and he prides himself in being the one person gojo seems to trust with anything. but then he sees you, and he sees your doe eyes and the innocent tilt of your head as you stare up at gojo—and he breaks.

he breaks from his loyalty as soon as his heart races and pants tighten and his skin turns hot…and he just can’t get you out of his head until he’s in the bathroom, splashing cool water on his face as he breathes heavily to calm himself down. you’re perfect, and gojo just doesn’t see it—and if he does, he just doesn’t give a damn.

and geto suguru thinks it’s rather unfair.

he sees the way you cling to gojo’s arm in an attempt to get your boyfriend’s attention, he sees the way you try to pry gojo’s eyes from ogling at girls clad in attire that’s practically next to nothing, he sees the slight puffiness in your face from what he’s certain were tears when you both show up late to outings, he sees the way you don’t seem to talk to anyone again as soon as gojo’s eyes send them a sharp glare through burning jealousy, and he sees the way you just seem lonely—like you’re dating his best friend without really dating him, and he wonders why you stick around when someone else could treat you so much better.

someone like himself.

“satoru,” you start, and geto doesn’t miss the way gojo’s eyes almost roll, “do you want to—”

“hold that thought. i’ll be right back, baby,” gojo cuts you off, flashing a charming little grin at you as he pulls his arm from your grasp, “gonna go get us some drinks.” gojo is so good at being charming, so good at making you soften as you seem to stare at him with starry eyes that tell geto you're touched by the action.

but geto knows better. he knows exactly what’s happening as gojo shoots him a look, one that screams thank god that he’s finally pulled away from you, and geto can’t help but clench his fists. but then your face turns sour as soon as gojo is out of earshot, and geto’s eyes furrow in slight confusion.

“well, he’s off,” you mumble, sighing to yourself in defeat. okay, so you’re more aware than he initially thought. geto looks at you with sympathy—a look you’ve come to hate after dating gojo for as long as you have—as he nods.

“probably won’t be back for a bit,” he adds, and under the ruse of a playful jab at his friend’s expense, he offers you an opening, a chance to talk. he stares at you carefully to see if you’ll take his invitation to open up.

because geto suguru wants to be there for you, he wants to wipe your tears and make you smile (though he’d prefer there weren’t any tears to begin with), and he wants to offer you solace in a way no one else has—just so maybe, one day, you’ll see how sweet he can be, how dedicated and loyal and caring he is. just so maybe, one day, you’ll see how you might have picked the wrong guy, and that the right one is closer than you think.

he wants you to see he’s everything gojo satoru is not. and he thinks it’s about time you see that it’s a good thing—and a good thing for you.

“it’ll be a miracle if he and i leave this party together,” you mutter, “he’ll probably get too drunk to drive me home.”

“he drives like he’s drunk even when he’s sober,” he raises a brow with a grin. you laugh, a sweet and melodic thing, and if he had a tail, he thinks it might be wagging.

“true,” you giggle, “i’d fear for my life either way.”

“how’s he never got a speeding ticket,” geto mutters, shaking his head in slightly amused fondness. you snort, inspecting your nails as you crack a fond smile yourself.

“he’s always been a sweet talker. i’m sure he’s been pulled over at least once.”

“probably cried his way out,” geto adds.

“probably sported a snotty nose for the full effect,” you joke, and then you both laugh, forgetting for a moment that your boyfriend discreetly abandoned you in favor of doing god knows what.

it’s comfortable, the silence. not the usual tense with gojo. you sigh softly, and he watches as a few people all but dry hump each other to the music in the distance as they “dance.”

“i can drive you, by the way,” geto offers after some time, making you give him a grateful smile. he’s almost embarrassed to admit how much that little smile of yours makes his heart hammer, how much it makes his breath hitch and palms sweat and world spin. he thinks it’s rather pathetic that a smile is enough to validate him as much as it does—but he can’t help but wonder, how long has it been since you’ve smiled at gojo like that?

it has to have been a long time, especially when the asshole hasn’t really cared to try and make your lips curl in such a sweet way as of late.

“thank you, suguru,” you smile warmly, and the sound of his name on your tongue is too saccharine for him to handle—his first name (he silently thanks gojo for doing one good thing in his life and getting you both on first-name basis). “i appreciate it. you’re a sweet guy, satoru always tells me about you.”

now that—that’s a bit of a wound in his heart. geto certainly hates the way gojo treats you, he hates the way gojo’s arms hold everything he wants in the world without even taking a moment to realize the weight of your worth, he hates the way your face isn’t as happy and gleeful as it should be when you’re around his best friend—but still, he loves his best friend. geto might hate the things gojo does, but he could never hate him.

but he also loves you, and he feels guilt flood his conscience that he wants you to speak poorly of gojo right now. here he is, fantasizing about taking something away from his friend, hoping and damn near praying for you to realize that gojo is a mistake. he wants you to see gojo for what he is—a horrible boyfriend, and geto needs you to see him for who he is—the one that could be an infinitely better one.

“does he?” geto asks smoothly, raising a brow and feigning indifference, “i didn’t think satoru mentioned me much. probably all embarrassing things, he’s always been a bastard like that.” bastard doesn’t even begin to describe gojo satoru.

you giggle again, and he almost feels nauseated at how perfect you sound.

“of course, he mentions you, silly,” you huff, “and it’s always good things. he likes you, you know.”

“we’ve been friends our whole lives, i would pray he does,” geto chuckles lowly, staring at you amused.

“you know what i mean,” you roll your eyes, reaching to playfully shove at his shoulder. he thinks he might be sick, thinks he might have to pull the same asshole move as gojo and leave you stranded if this is what you’ll do to him. his breath stills at the slight touch—you feel so warm, and he has to fight himself to not grab your retreating hand. “you’re probably the only friend he really likes,” you hum, “he doesn’t seem genuinely fond of the rest.”

“he’s not the most genuine guy to most, yeah,” geto snorts, shaking his head fondly. “actually, i think he might just hate everyone.”

“not you though,” you laugh.

“or you,” he adds, and then your eyes falter, and so does his smile.

fuck, he thinks, mind running a mile a minute. he’s probably ruined your mood, probably hurt your feelings, probably made you feel bad about your relationship, possibly even made you want to be left alone. what if you cry? or want to go home? or—

“well, i dont know about that one,” you say bitterly. “satoru could fool me if he’s trying to act like he cares.”

“what do you mean?” he asks, voice strained. as if you don’t know, he spits at himself in his head, as if you don’t see it yourself.

you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“he flirts with other girls, gets mad at me for talking to any guy that’s not him, cancels every plan we ever make, and all we ever do is argue anymore,” you rant, and you must be fed up to be listing all these things to your boyfriend’s best friend, the same guy who could repeat everything right back to gojo in a heartbeat (not that geto would ever do that to you—your secrets could send him right to his grave and he’d lay himself down with a smile on his face.)

and truth be told, geto is fed up too. he’s fed up with watching gojo slowly break you down and not doing anything about it, and he’s fed up with being selfless and hurting while gojo is selfish and uncaring.

maybe it’s time he’s a little selfish too.

“sounds hellish,” he says quietly.

“you have no idea,” you grumble. he wants to say he has a better idea than you think—but the words get caught in his throat.

“so why are you still with him?” he blurts instead, and to his dismay—and slight heartache too—your eyes suddenly soften. you pause, biting your lip, and suddenly, you don’t seem mad anymore. you seem apologetic. like you’re sorry for talking ill about your boyfriend in his absence, like you’re sorry you dared to see a flaw in him, like you’re sorry you ever opened your damn mouth at all.

your mouth parts to speak, and he knows instantly that it’s going to be some bullshit excuse on gojo’s behalf, and he grits his teeth.

“well, he’s never been in a serious relationship, you know? this is his first, and i don’t want to be too harsh on him—”

“are you serious?” geto interrupts, scowling as he stares at you in disbelief. you almost look offended, your face crinkling unhappily at his tone.

“well, yeah. he tries his best. it’s just, sometimes he just doesn’t realize he’s being a little—”

“that’s what you’re gonna call it? trying his best?” geto offers you an unamused chuckle, and you scowl, crossing your arms at him with raised brows.

“what would you know? you’re the single one here, last i checked. what are you, the relationship expert now?”

“doesn’t take an expert to know you’re letting him get away with shit you shouldn’t, sweetheart,” geto shoots back, and your eyes take on a dangerous glint. “and trust me, i’ve known satoru since childhood, shared a bed with him way before you have. he’s anything but unaware.”

he should stop—he should shut up and back off and save face so you don’t hate him, but geto can’t. he can’t understand why you’re not seeing it, why you’re not seeing him, why you’re not seeing how this could all be so much better if you realized you chose the wrong best friend and walked out of gojo’s arms to be in his.

“he’s your best friend, suguru. why are you so against him? what, you don’t wanna see him happy?” you challenge.

“well, are you happy?” he challenges back, and he’s just the slightest bit satisfied that you’re caught off-guard. he stares at the way your mouth opens to speak, but nothing seems to come out as you fumble for words to string into a response. he crosses his arms, staring at you knowingly—almost just a bit smugly—and he can tell you hate it.

but he knows you hate even more that he’s right.

“why don’t you back off? this is none of your business, geto.”

that makes him stiffen.

geto. geto? the sound of his surname rolling off your tongue so venomously makes him see red. for a moment, he almost sees gojo in you. he sees narrowed eyes that stare into him like he’s your prey, like he’s the mouse and you’re the snake waiting to sink your teeth into him, and he stares at you with wide eyes.

and then something in him snaps, something angry and bitter and hurt and so incredibly tired. it’s not fair. it’s not fair that gojo gets to treat you like a burden, or an afterthought, or someone that’s just there, while geto wants to make you feel like the sun is at the reach of your fingertips—and what’s worse is that in the end, gojo gets to be satoru (sometimes even just toru) and he’s reduced down to geto instead of suguru.

and geto suguru thinks it’s rather unfair, and he’s sick and tired of pretending like he can shove it down and watch this go on for any longer than it already has.

“yeah? fine then,” he mutters, grabbing your arm and pulling you along, making you gasp as you struggle in his hold. he makes sure not to hurt you—because really, he could never—but he doesn’t give you any room to escape. you stumble as he weaves you both through the crowd, ignoring the stares and the pauses and the worried glances, ignoring the way people whisper and point as you struggle and yell for geto to let go while he only grits his teeth and pulls you along faster.

–

it’s not until he finds an empty room does he let go of your wrist—a room that he rather harshly told a couple to leave from (after he lied about it being his). you stare at him bewildered, eyes boring into his as he looks at you with something akin to rage. but there’s something else in his gaze, something close to hurt, you think, but that can’t be it…can it?

“what is your issue tonight—” but geto cuts you off before you can finish asking.

“my issue is that you’re with the wrong fucking guy,” he spits, watching as your eyes widen in shock (and confusion), “satoru is a jackass and he doesn’t fucking love you. not like me,” he digs his own finger into his chest to gesture to himself. your eyes have never widened as much as they have, and geto clenches his shirt in his fist.

“wha—suguru, you…what about…,” you trail off, unsure of what to say—because really, what can you? letting out a shaky sigh, you shake your head, “no, you can’t. you can’t feel this way about—”

“well, i do,” he says firmly, eyes staring into yours desperately. “you and i both know i’d never be like him,” he adds softly.

stop talking, suguru, he thinks, stop making things worse. you’re going too far—but then the words keep spilling, worse than the last.

“satoru doesn’t know that you hate parties, or that you don’t even like that stupid fucking grape soda he always gets you. i’d get you orange cause it’s your favorite—cause i know that stuff. me.” you open your mouth to protest, likely to claim that you do in fact like grape soda when he cuts you off before you can. “and he rolls his fucking eyes when you call him,” he adds, “see it with my own eyes whenever we hang out.”

that’s a low one, he has to admit, a dirty card to use, but his brain can’t keep up with his tongue.

“n-no he doesn’t,” you say quietly, lip wobbling as tears spring in your eyes. “you’re just saying that b-because…because you want me to—”

“he puts his phone on do not disturb when you text him, he lies about where he is, he flirts with waitresses at restaurants, he’s a fucking asshole,” geto continues.

that’s enough, she’ll never speak to you again if you don’t stop, his mind screams.

“suguru,” you warn weakly, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even take a breath.

“he treats you like a puppet, don’t you fucking see it? makes you do things you don’t want, controls things, makes you apologize when you didn’t do shit—”

“suguru!” you repeat louder, voice a shrill and desperate scream, and he wonders if it’s to shut him up or to run away from the truth. there are tears streaming down your face by now, a steady stream, rolling down your puffy cheeks one by one.

“oh c’mon! he’s practically only nice to you when he wants to fuck you! how is that love?” he spits, and your breath hitches, making him pause.

you stare at him, eyes wide and mouth parted and body frozen in shock, and geto pants as he stares at you pleadingly—like he’s begging you to see that he’s been waiting this whole time to be noticed. but then he notices your face, the extent of your tears, the way your eyes are almost pleading with him to take it all back, and his heart clenches as his own eyes widen.

he falters, unsure how he’s let himself go this far. you’re crying…and geto promised himself that he’d never be the reason you’d cry—but then again…is this really his doing? is it really him if he’s just listing all the things gojo has done?

“hey,” he whispers, taking slow steps to reach you, hand slowly reaching for your face. if you could’ve willed yourself to meet his gaze, then maybe you’d have seen the slight hurt that paints over his features when you take a small step back—but it doesn’t stop him. geto is going to give you an apology—even if it’s the last thing he does. “hey, i’m sorry. i went too far,” he whispers, “please don’t cry, sweetheart.”

his voice is a soft coo, all while his thumbs are reaching for your cheeks and wiping your tears. it’s soothing, the drag of his thumb, gentle and so careful—like you’re fragile and worth being cautious for. gojo has never stopped to wipe your tears like this…and then you realize he’s never stopped to apologize like this either—even when you know he knows he’s wrong.

it makes your heart beat a little faster, and even if you shouldn’t, you find yourself craving just a little more of geto’s touch.

“but he said,” you sniffle, “he…he said he wants me,” your voice cracks, “said i make him happy.”

you don’t know if you’re insisting to geto or yourself at this point.

“i know,” he murmurs, and in a moment, your cheek is pressed against a sturdy chest, two muscled arms wrapping tightly around you and shielding you from everything that can hurt you—even if that’s geto himself. but then you wonder…is it geto who’s hurting you, or the truth in his words? “but he doesn’t act like it,” he reminds you gently, and geto is being patient with you, you realize. something else gojo never is.

“but satoru…he…he loves me, he’s just—”

“and i love you,” he argues. you’re not supposed to feel your heart start to race just a little, and you’re certainly not supposed to feel just a tad bit relieved at a confession like that—but geto is sweet. he’s gentle and delicate and just a little fragile, and he’s everything gojo isn’t. you’re tired of fighting for a spot in gojo’s life—and even more tired of having everyone watch you do it. “but i’d love you right. let me show you what it feels like when it’s right. can i show you? please, sweetheart?”

and he begs—he’s begging you to let him love you, to show you what your boyfriend can’t, to treat you like you deserve. all reason leaves your mind as soon as his hands lightly grasp at your waist, and then his lips hover over yours, almost like he’s asking for permission, almost like he’s just waiting for the push.

suddenly, you don’t care about gojo anymore. you don’t even think about him when you nod slowly and stare into geto’s eyes.

“okay,” you whisper, “i–yeah…okay,” you nod.

it happens all too fast—all before you can comprehend that this is wrong and before you can change your mind. the light that breaks over geto’s face at your words makes your heart flutter in a way gojo hasn’t in a really long time, so long that you throw away all reason. just the brush of his lips against yours makes you gasp, body leaning into his as quickly as possible, lips pressing firmly against his and drinking him in.

he sighs softly against your mouth, hands cupping your cheeks and thumbs stroking your warm skin. it’s so gentle—it’s so careful, so meaningful and soft and loving and everything you’ve been missing out on. and if satoru is the sun, you think suguru is pouring rain, each drop seeping into every crevice and every crack of your soul and filling you up, soothing over and placating the aching burns and stinging heat that satoru leaves behind.

“i love you,” he murmurs against your mouth, pecking all over your face slowly, taking his time to map every inch of your skin and explore the dips of your features with his lips. “love you, love you, love you—so much more than he does. so much more than he can.”

“suguru—”

“let me show you, please. need to show you,” he mumbles, “that i love you. that you’re perfect. that satoru was a mistake. i’ll show you real love.”

“show me, suguru,” you say breathlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cling to his body, “want you to love me,” you murmur.

“fuck,” he grunts, the taste of your lips—and that fucking red lipstick he loves—is better than he imagined. and then it happens all too quickly. you’re shoved against the nearest window, his hands are tugging off clothes, yours slipping his shirt over his arms, and his lips wander over to your neck, sucking on the skin and leaving marks in their wake. “been wanting to do this for so long. you have any idea what you do to me? no pussy’s like yours,” he mumbles.

geto presses kisses across your cheeks, nibbles gently on the flesh affectionately in a way that almost feels more intimate than sex itself, in a way that makes you let out a soft giggle. you can’t remember the last time you giggled while gojo fucked you.

“you haven't even felt it yet, weirdo,” you say through soft gasps, your hands finding their way to his hair and tugging on the strands as his lips move to press against the sweet spot under your ear, leaving a small mark for you to remember him by.

“oh yeah?” he chuckles, smiling against your skin, “i don’t need to,” he mumbles. his cock is throbbing as it strains against his pants, and he grinds himself over your clothed cunt. he smirks to himself just a little when he notices how wet you are even through the fabric. “nobody’s as perfect as you. satoru’s a fucking lunatic,” he breathes, “you got this pretty little face,” he leaves a trail of kisses across both your cheeks, “pretty little lips,” he plants a soft peck on them, “pretty little tits,” his hands unclasp your bra and send it flying across the room behind him as he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently as his hand reaches to pinch and roll the other.

“su-suguru,” you gasp, fingers tangling into his dark locks, pulling them until his bun loosens into a messy one with stray strands sticking out. he groans slightly at the feeling, moving his lips to attach to your other tit as his hand moves down to slip past your waistband, tugging down your pants and underwear in one go. you whine as he pulls away, pouting at the loss of his tongue rolling over your pebbled nipple.

“what? satoru never does that?” he smirks, “you seem like you enjoyed that.”

“no, but he does that,” you huff, lips curling into a pout, “you act as cocky as him.”

“well, we are best friends,” geto murmurs, hand cupping your cheek as he leans just barely over your lips, pulling away slightly when you try to close the gap, huffing out a breathy laugh when you glare at him. “we’ve got some things in common.”

cute—you’re so cute, and he wonders how gojo has you wrapped around his finger and not the other way around.

“hopefully there are some things you don’t,” you whisper, and then his lips are on yours, pressed hard against you as he all but pours himself into you. kissing satoru is like giving up the oxygen in your lungs to get just one more moment, but kissing suguru is like a breath of fresh air—like you have all the time in the world and no one to take it away.

“well, for one, i think i have better hair,” he says in between kisses, making you giggle again as his thumb rubs circles into your hips before his hand wanders until his finger is dragging along your slick folds. you let out a tiny gasp, eyes fluttering closed and leaning your head back against the glass of the window as his fingers inch past you, until he’s knuckles deep and you’re squirming for him to move.

“suguru, do something,” you whine, and he grins down at you, pearly whites flashing as he takes in how pretty you look just for him.

“gotta take my time with you,” he hums, “be patient, sweetheart.”

true to his word, he takes his time, angling his fingers as he thrusts in and out of you slowly, almost curling into your sweetest spots in slow motion as your mouth hangs open and wanton moans spill from your swollen lips. he watches, lets himself savor the sight—because he deserves it, he deserves to give himself a show after being so patient this whole time. he thinks how it’s your turn for patience.

“p-please,” you sob, trying to roll your hips and pick up his pace, “faster…f-faster, suguru—” you cut yourself off with a whimper when his thumb rolls over your clit—and even that seems to be deliberately slow. geto seems to fuck you on his fingers for his own pleasure, like he wants to—not like it’s something he has to do so you’re ready for the real thing.

your mind is too consumed by the steady ache building between your legs, too focused on the way his touch ignites your skin and leaves you flushed to even think about how much better this is than when your own boyfriend does it.

“okay, sweetheart,” he coos, chuckling when you stare up at him through wide, watery eyes, “you know i’d never say no to you,” he leans down and kisses your jaw, letting your arms wrap around his neck and tug him closer, “look so pretty like this. for me.”

finally, finally, his fingers pick up their pace, wet sounds ringing through the room as he bullies his digits into you, fingers coated in your slick as his palm rolls over your clit. your voice lilts higher in pitch when he curls into a certain spot, making your arms wrap tighter around him as you clutch onto his body. your thighs quiver and your chest heaves and you can barely stand upright—and then you cum. hard. the pleasure burns through your spine as your hips buck against his hand and your mouth parts with a silent scream, walls spasming around his fingers as he slowly rides you through your orgasm.

“suguru—fuck suguru ‘m cumming,” you whine, eyes squeezed shut as he watches you in awe. his hand squeezing your cheeks together makes your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze.

“nuh uh, pretty. keep your eyes on me,” he commands, and you stare right into his eyes as the last waves of your orgasm crash over you, drinking in the way he watches you like you’re something ethereal—and you suppose to geto, you are, however foreign that feeling might be.

his lips are instantly on yours, a mess of teeth and tongue clashing, desperate and needy as he hungrily drinks in your gasps and pours in groans of his own. his tongue explores your mouth, and he lets out a soft moan when your hands travel down to his crotch, hand slowly palming him through his pants.

his breath goes ragged as you slip his length out past the waistband, smirking slightly to himself when he watches you marvel at his girth. your hand slowly pumps him a few times, gliding your thumb through the slit and smearing pre cum over the velvety skin of his reddened tip. geto hisses as he fights back a needy moan, inhaling sharply when your hand slowly pulls away.

“what if satoru comes looking for us,” you finally whisper, breaking him away from the short moment he takes to stare at your figure. his eyes darken, and then he’s sliding out of his jeans, watching as your gaze falls to his cock as your eyes rake over it now that it’s out in the open fully.

“still thinking of him when you’ve got me?” he sneers, hands grabbing both of yours and pinning them over your head, making your eyes widen, “i’ll fuck his name right out your system. fuck you so stupid you only remember one name—mine,” he growls, and you almost come undone at the possessiveness laced in his tone.

gojo has always been possessive—but it’s always been to cage you. geto makes you feel like there’s only one place you’re meant to belong, and it’s always going to be with him.

you lean in, a surge of confidence washing over you as you grin, leaning in until your lips hover over his and he can feel your warm breath fan across his face. you almost miss the slight hitch of his breath, your lips curling up at the edges in even more smugness.

“then what are you waiting for?” you hum, “satoru would have me pressed against this window by now—”

“you talk too much, sweetheart,” geto grunts as he interrupts you, and instantly, your cheek is pressed against the window as he turns your body, your palms lying flat against the glass to brace yourself as geto grabs your hips and just barely slides his tip to rub up and down your entrance. you whimper, pressing back to try and get more, and he tuts, gripping your hips tighter to keep you in place. “don’t be greedy now,” he says smugly, “you were the one talking about another man.”

he must bring in the inner brat in you, you think—and it’s partly because he’s already spoiling you and partly because he just pays such close attention, but you huff as you glance at him over your shoulder.

“technically you’re the other man,” you remind him. gritting his teeth, he slips his length past your folds instantly, bottoming out as his tip kisses your sweet spot. he all but pulls out completely before slamming into you again, and you gasp, moaning with a high-pitched squeal as he groans lowly from your walls clamping down on him.

“then we’ll just have to change that,” he spits, “we’ll make sure i’m the only man.”

his cock drills into your cunt, skin slapping against skin as his tip slams deep into you, making your hips try and match his rhythm as you fuck into him and meet his thrusts. you choke on gasps, mewling when his hand reaches over you to toy with your clit, rubbing circles as he groans into your neck.

“suguru,” you cry, “l-like that. please.” his forehead falls to the crook of your neck, heavy pants and low moans meeting your ears, making the ache between your legs build more at the sound of him as he breathes your name.

“so fuckin’ tight,” he rasps, “told you there’s no pussy like yours,” he moans, and his words would have made you flush, but you’re too busy grinding onto his length and chasing your high to fully register what he says. his hand trails from your hip to loosely wrap around your tit, resting there as he squeezes and pinches your nipple with his fingers. his other hand is still playing with your clit, and you feel your legs shake as your second orgasm quickly approaches you.

“wish i l-let you fuck me sooner,” you stutter, gasping as you feel his veins drag along your walls and his tip slams into your sweet spot, making your back arch against his chest as he keeps you standing upright. your palms are sweaty against the glass, and you should be worried that anyone who looks up from the front lawn could easily see you—but it only excites you more, making your walls flutter around him.

“so wet for me,” he coos, “you ever get this wet for satoru? does he even fuck you right? can’t be if you’re falling apart so easily,” he smiles slyly into your neck as he sucks on the skin, leaving marks that he hopes to god gojo will see. “well? does he, sweetheart?”

“n-no—only you, suguru,” you wail.

“that’s right,” he says breathily, “‘m not letting you cum for anyone but me from now on,” he growls, and you feel the coil in your belly start to unravel, feeling the familiar sensation of your orgasm creeping up on you. you know geto is close too from the way his pants are almost whiny, his pace turning sloppy as he ruts his hips desperately into you.

you feel his cock twitch, and with a few more thrusts of his hips and glides of his thumb on your clit, you cum again, walls spasming around his cock as your mouth hangs open in a shrill wail. he lets out a breathy moan—lilting at the end to a soft whine as he spills into you with thick, hot spurts of cum.

“f-fuck, fuck you’re so perfect,” he groans, “so good, so sweet—all mine. want you to be mine…i could treat you so well, could love you so well,” he babbles, sloppy thrusts of his hips riding you both through your highs.

“p-please, suguru,” you whimper as you ride out the last few waves of your orgasm, “want you. only you,” your voice is so endearing, so precious—geto swears he falls in love all over again. you think you can get used to this, and for a moment, you bask in geto’s soft affection as his thumb slowly rubs circles into your hip.

not even for a second does gojo cross your mind—not even an ounce of guilt. you don’t worry about if he’s searching for you, how he’ll react if he finds out, or even about the simple fact that you've cheated.

geto is too intoxicating—too warm and comforting and close that it makes your mind blank.

and it’s unexpected, really—gojo doesn’t know how else to react except let his eyes widen in horror when he comes to the front lawn to look for you and geto. he stands there in shock, looking up to the window and watching as you cum on his best friend’s cock. bright blue eyes meet dark obsidian ones, and gojo swears there’s pure smugness on geto’s face when he watches him press a kiss to your cheek.

rip gojo even tho u deserved it pal. again disclaimer: i don’t think of any of the characters to be toxic in this manner this is purely fiction

PLEASE REFRAIN FROM ASKING FOR PART 2

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hardlyinteresting · 3 months

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Warm feelings

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Send Requests

More domestic thoughts about being warm and cozy

"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives" -C.S. Lewis

Jackets

He always reminds you to take a coat with you on the way out the door, and you always insist that you'll be fine without one. He'll tell you it's his biggest pet peeve, you refusing to wear a coat and then shivering in the cold. He never fails to drape his jacket over your shoulders at the first sign of goosebumps.

Hotch is a traditional kind of guy and he's the type of guy who suggests you take a stroll after a fancy dinner. He's just not ready for the night to come to an end. You're all dolled up, and a little tipsy from the wine you had at dinner. You agree easily, holding his hand and tucking yourself close to his side. It's colder than when you left the house, he'll grant you that. “Cold?” He asks as concerned as he is amused. And you just have to bat your lashes at him and he's slipping off his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders. It smells like his cologne and is warm from his body heat. It's an easy way for him to say ‘I love you’.

Sweaters

Hotch absolutely has his old university and FBI academy crewneck sweatshirts. Softened and faded by time; worn and washed to the point of having frayed cuffs and collars. Aaron strikes me as the if it's not broke, don't throw it out kind of guy. He likes those sweaters. They're warm and comfortable. He knows they fit, and are easy to wash; he sees no reason to replace them. More than that Aaron has a definite nostalgic streak. As much as he acts like he's detached and indifferent to anything remotely sentimental, at home he almost overcompensates, holding on to every happy moment and memory he can. Case in point, his high school yearbooks, and the pirate hat. (You cannot convince me that he doesn't keep some kind of memory box with Jack's paintings; tickets from plays; his acceptance letter from college; and birthday and anniversary cards that you've taken such care to write such heartfelt messages in). He has fond memories of his law school and academy days; he wants to keep them close. At first, you think he might be upset that you're wearing them around the house but he would actually be thrilled. It's a collision of some of his favourite things and it's a specific domestic sight to come home to. He's a caretaker by nature and it thrills him that he can manage to keep you warm and cozy every when he has to be away. You can borrow his sweaters anytime.

Body heat

The man radiates heat. Just standing next to him is enough to feel warmer. He has a knack for knowing exactly how many layers he needs to put on to stay warm, while you struggle to decide whether or not you should also put on a scarf. He does everything with such a specific level of confidence, even the way he prepares for the day is borderline awe-inspiring.

He gets so few days off that he is unwilling to let the late autumn cold interrupt his time with Jack. When the three of you head to the park, Jack insists on shedding layers, his hat and mitten coming off first, he’s warm enough running around (Aaron doesn’t let the boy take his coat off completely but they compromise and he’s allowed to keep playing with his jacket unzipped). Despite checking the forecast several times, and bundling up, the cold still gets to you. And Aaron looks so cozy in his sweater and his coat. He’s the picture of a cozy winter boyfriend with his leather gloves, and scarf. Like his son his coat hangs unzipped on his frame, and it's the perfect opportunity for you to snuggle in, arms wrapping around his torso under the warm layer of his jacket, your cold nose pressed against his chest. “Cold?” he asks with a hint of a smile. You can only tilt your head up at him to pout back. He slips his gloves off to cup your face, his hands toasty warm against your ice-cold skin. Your face warms and your heart melts when he lays a kiss on your forehead. “Hey Jack,” Aaron calls, “What would you say to getting some hot chocolate?” Jack comes running.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds fic #hotch x reader

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primoredial-jade · 7 months

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heartbeat

“ my heart's on fire for your love. “

pairings: childe x gn!reader

cw: awkward / wholesome love confession confrontations, spoilers of liyue’s archon quest, reader is a medic, reader has hair long enough to put behind ear, reader resides in liyue, few mentions of light injuries and wariness of death, childe calls reader “doc’”

a/n: i had finished this and left it in the drafts from over a year ago! this is an alternative story i wrote for a prompt didi ( @monocaelia ) sent me for a drabble i wrote called to be in love, and i guess i totally went a different route for that one. hope you enjoy this one as well!!!

“i don’t get paid nearly enough for this.”

the harbinger has the audacity to chuckle under his breath, leaning further back into the examination table with one of his hands covering his eye. he keeps his voice light despite the apparent discomfort he’s in.

“don’t worry, doc’. i could offer a little donation to show my gratitude, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

you can’t help the exasperated, heaving sigh that escapes your mouth. you knew his pockets ran deep, but you weren’t being serious. had it been anyone else, you would have kept quiet to maintain your professionalism, but with childe, this all went out the window.

being a disciple of baizhu and gui at the renowned bubu pharmacy of liyue, you were prone to getting oddball patients every now and then. having to resuscitate a boy from nearly dying eating jueyun chili’s here, selling medicinal herbs to a woman that ate them raw on the spot there.

but truly, no one was as odd as childe.

as a medical professional, you couldn’t just turn away a patient if they needed your help. the first time he turned up to the pharmacy with cuts and bruises all over in search of painkillers, you had an inkling who he was aligned with based off of the colors of his outfit alone, never mind the fact that he was obviously a foreigner.

at that time, liyue harbor had only just survived osial’s attack, and word had gotten around that the fatui had much to do with it. while you remained as concise with your words as possible when handing him the bottle of painkillers, you could not repress the urge to make the passive-aggressive question that,

“it really is a shame that some renowned factions, despite their cunning in their quest for world domination, do not have professional resident medics on standby. don’t you think?”

you probably should have been killed on the spot for making such a crass comment. as his eyes rose to slowly meet your own, you found a deep sea torrent of both interest and fascination instead of anger. it had taken you aback, but you kept your chin held high.

needless to say, childe’s interest was piqued.

he had begun to make it a habit to visit at least once every two days. granted, he really was injured or needed medicine when he dropped by, and you were definitely not happy about it; not only because it was him, but because you didn’t necessarily like to have regulars in this type of job. seeing the same patients, even if it was childe, getting hurt over and over again didn’t do your heart any favors.

sometimes, you would seriously consider if he got himself injured on purpose just to see you.

he initiated small talk during your examinations, and while at first you were curt and to the point, he managed to weasel his way past your walls. little by little, you were falling prone to his undeniable charm.

his stupid grin and quirk of his brow when you made an offhand comment made your pulse quicken, his dumb jokes that you didn’t understand unless you were snezhnayan still made you crack a smile, and the fact that he was always honest with you– you were beginning to tolerate him. maybe, more than you had anticipated.

it wasn’t like you were dumb. you could feel the longing looks he gave while you tended to his shallow wounds, his methods of finding cheeky ways to retain your attention for longer, the way he openly talked about his family. fatui don’t reveal personal information like that to just anybody.

today, it seemed as if he had gotten hit in the face with a dirtbomb from treasure hoarders, judging by the dirtied spots on his clothes. some of it must have gotten in his eye.

“i’m not even specialized in optometry,” you mumble, but he shrugs his shoulders innocently, disregarding your comment entirely.

“so long as you can help me see again, it doesn’t matter to me,” he answers easily.

“let me, then,” you urge in a quiet hush, peeling his hand away from his eye.

he has it still scrunched up in discomfort, and you can see the defensive tears from that eye covering the expanse of his face. while you know he isn’t necessarily crying voluntarily, it still brings a pang to your chest.

with the knowledge that he’s a capable fighter with a pain tolerance that is unrivaled, yet even just a little dirt can incapacitate him– it shocks you. at the end of the day, he was human, just like you.

and if he wasn’t so lucky the next time, it could even get in both of his eyes. who knows what would transpire on the battlefield next. he could… lose.

you’re clearly shaken up by your thoughts, and childe waves his free hand over your face, amusement clear on his expression.

“i didn’t come to one of the best pharmacy’s in teyvat to get spaced out on,” his tone softens, sounding more serious, “i’m fine, trust me. nothing to worry about, see?”

he gives a charming half-smile, and you resist the urge to pinch his cheek in retaliation.

“i’m going to flush it out. don’t force yourself to open it, but if you feel the discomfort easing up, just do it slowly,” you instruct, taking a bowl of clean water to his side.

childe, usually one to make more joking complaints, is uncharacteristically compliant with your demands. the room is quiet as he lets you pour the cool water over his eye, and slowly but surely, he opens it up again.

it’s red-rimmed and has seen better days, but you let out a hushed sigh of relief knowing that it’s still functioning fine from what you can tell so far.

“does it still hurt?” you ask, taking a towel and gently wiping away the wetness of the water on his face. it feels… oddly domestic, somehow.

childe shakes his head no, but squints up at you. “not really, but it’s still a little blurry.”

you hum, sliding closer to his face to get a better look, assessing it for a final time just to make sure.

this close, you can feel his breath fanning across your face. it distracts you, but not nearly as much as the endless pools of blue that are staring right into your own. it should unnerve you, the way they don’t sparkle like anyone else’s would, but it doesn’t.

his eyes flicker all across your face, and you feel heat rising up your neck.

once you nod in affirmation and pull away, it’s only then do you realize the flustered state that you left him in. he’s fidgeting, hands clenched into loose fists and ears pinking. you give him a funny look, unable to suppress a smirk.

“it looks fine to me, childe. thankfully it does not look like there will be lasting damage, but you should really see a qualified optometrist, so–“

“i have to tell you something.” he interrupts, looking bashful. you’re immediately on high alert. childe is never bashful.

“childe, i’m still on the clock,” you remind, already having some idea of what he might have to say.

“then consider this a… a patient telling you about their life, or something,” he finishes lamely, chuckling nervously. you can only chew on your lip in anticipation, blood pounding in your ears.

“well, i...” he takes a breath, “i think... well. i’m in love with a nurse,” ajax admits, posture suddenly straightening, confident. “i have been in love with them for a while now, actually. so… if i were to confess, how do you think they would react?” he purses his lips in anticipation at your response.

despite his unwavering voice, his red ears indicate how he really feels in this moment. he’s cute, you think. you briefly hold eye contact, smirking when he is the one to break it. it brings you a sick sense of pride to see such a powerful man brought to his knees from something like this.

he looks definitively taken aback at the airy chuckle you give, responding, “ah, i see.”

now he is really confused. “i– what?” he sputters, eyes darting over your face to get a read on you.

the quirk in your brow, the knowing smile you have on your face. really, looking at how beautiful you look in this moment only confirms his feelings.

the cogs in his brain are turning every which way, until finally, it clicks. he brings up a hand to his forehead, letting out a low grumble of embarrassment. with zero shame, he pulls you toward him by your wrist and leans his head against your shoulder. allowing him this brief moment of reprieve, you bring up a hand to card through his hair.

“you knew?” he asks, clearly ashamed at his lack of finesse. you snort, pulling away slightly to meet his eyes.

“well, you haven’t exactly been discreet…”

he can only bury his head into your shoulder again, completely flushed.

“okay, well,” his breath tickles your skin as you give another chuckle, “i’ll ask again. how do you think this nurse would react?”

pulling completely away from him, you point up at the clock. he huffs, unhappy with your consistency to uphold professionalism.

“maybe you should ask this nurse in another hour after their shift is over.”

childe rolls his eyes. “alright, alright. then i hope this nurse will be happy to meet me at wanmin’s restaurant with their answer– i will only be expecting good things.”

he laughs the entire way you shoo him out, and only eases up to lean down and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“i’ll see you soon, doc’.”

#omg i forgot i even wrote this #it’s not my favoriteeee thing i’ve ever wrote but i figured i needed to let it out lolol #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #childe fluff #genshin impact #reader insert #scenario #childe | primoredial-jade #didi * ੈ♡‧₊˚

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adventuringblind · 7 months

Text

Stay the Night, Stay Forever

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader, platonic Max Verstappen x reader

Genre: angst

Summary: Reader is stuck in a toxic relationship and Daniel wants to get her out.

Warnings: talk of abuse and injuries, talk of SA, Protective Daniel, Max being sassy

Notes: Once again I’m writing sad things. Also, in the mood to write for my Aussie boys Daniel and Oscar, feel free to send requests :)

Masterlist

Toxic relationships can mess up even the strongest of people. They mess with your head and your heart. It makes you feel as though you'll never understand love, let alone find it.

She has been in many bad relationships. She seems to just attract these people like a magnet. They circle around her, and she can't get out of the ring.

In her defense: they have all started out nice. It's after she gets comfortable that things go sideways. It's a terrible cycle. Maybe it’s her age, something about immaturity keeping her stuck here. Maybe it’s something to do with trauma that she can’t get past.

Regardless, she’s here again.

Working with the Redbull media team has always been a fun job for her. That is, when she’s not trying to drag Max by his teeth to do the marketing videos he hates so much.

Max who saw her boyfriend often since he’s a mechanic. Max who tells her constantly that he’s a “shit mechanic and a even more shit boyfriend.”

This year is a little different when it comes to Max and media because Daniel is back and doing stupid videos with Daniel is much more entertaining. It’s much harder to actually get things done with the three drivers now. Wrangling them is like herding cats some days.

“Have you ever really talked to Daniel?” Asks Max in an early Thursday morning on the way to interviews.

“Not really. In passing sure, but we’ve never sat down and had a full conversation.” She shrugs. The little voice in her head says this conversation Isn’t going to end well for her. The girl already gets enough lectures for spending time with Max, who is taken, and is forced to talk to her because it’s part of the job.

“You should, I think you’d like him.”

“Why’s that?”

Max leaves over and whispers in her ear. “Because unlike the scum bag you’re dating now, he would leave the kind of marks that feel good.”

Sometimes, she hates Max and his blunt personality. Mainly because he’s wearing a cheeky smile and she’s sat there fuming and blushing at the same time.

It’s after that conversation, that she notices Daniel more. The way he looks at her. The way he talks to her. The way he makes it a point to compliment her.

Then it escalates. He brings her water in exhausting long hot days. He’ll bring her food when she hasn’t eaten all day. The Aussie will randomly kiss her cheek for no reason and grab her hand to lead her if he wants to show her something.

The flirting starts in May. Daniel starts pushing the boundaries and testing the waters. The sexual tension is ridiculous and she has to remind herself that she has a boyfriend. Granted, not a good one.

The way Daniel flirts makes her want to pull her hair out. Because she wants so badly to take him up on his hinted offers. She hasn’t had real sex in over a year. She’s dissociated during it so that she can simply keep her boyfriend happy. It’s like she’s a means to an end for him. A way to satisfy himself and keep his needs met until he finds someone he truly loves.

Daniel seems so genuine. She’s aware she’s said that about all her previous relationships, but the difference is that Max trusts Daniel as well and she trusts Max (to an extent).

She spilled her guts one day after Max had helped her hide another bruise and Daniel had caught them in the act. Max, having had to do similar and Daniel being his person, knew how to help in these situations. So when Daniel opened the door to the driver room, everyone froze. The Australian simply looked like someone kicked a puppy in front of him and asked if he could do anything to help.

Max admitted he was late for a meeting with Christian and Helmut Marko and asked if she would be comfortable if Daniel finished up. She said yes despite every nerve in her body trying to get her to run away.

Daniel worked in silence. Then when he was finished, he got on his knees in front of her. Hands move to her cheeks and thumbs wipe away her tears. “I don’t want to push you into anything, but I genuinely have fallen for you. But, if I’m the reason he’s hitting you, say the words and I’ll leave you along or I’ll go fight him. Whatever you need from me, you have it.”

She told him everything. All the dirty secrets from the last almost two years had spilled from her mouth. The entire time he simply listened and offered some comforting words.

Three days later, she works up the nerve to go to the club with some of the Redbull team. The season had been amazing so far and she wanted a chance to revel in it at least once.

Was Mr. Idontwantyoutohavefriends happy about it? Absolutely not. He screamed at her the entire time she was getting ready and before she left.

But at least she's here now. Nursing her second drink next to Daniel at the bar. She hadn't had such a laugh in so long. The two of them are watching the other drivers present slowly descend into further chaotic dancing messes.

They end up dancing together at some point. It grants her the contact she'd been craving. His hands on her bare skin in such a way makes her breath hitch.

Then his lips are on hers. It's hungry, and she needs it. It's the most she's wanted something in so long.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"As long as it's with you?" She smiles.

By the time the night is over, it's the early hours of the morning. The room smells like sweat and sex. Her body is littered with marks that Daniel put there. They are marks she wants. She doesn't look at them with disgust, but with adoration.

Daniel had taken such good care of her. Helped her clean up. Then he said since they'd been drinking, they would probably need to eat, but he has no food in the room. So he'd run out to grab them something to eat.

That's when she looked at her phone. Her notification wall lined with missed calls. That is when she sees his texts.

The realization hitting her that she cheated sits on her chest. She has to leave.

The flurry of grabbing her things and writing Daniel a scrawled note only takes minutes. Her body runs straight to her room on a lower floor. Luckily, all the Redbull team got the same hotel. Unluckily, that meant it was a shorter trip to her doom.

When she opens the door, Mr. Iwanttocontrolyourlife is waiting for her. She drops her things like she's done nothing wrong and starts getting ready for bed.

"Where were you?" His voice is a deadly calm. His body leans against the wall with his arms over his chest.

"At the club."

"With who?"

"The other media team staff, Max and Kelly - that's it really." She lies. She goes into the bathroom and changes into a covering hoodie and sweats in record time.

He's tight outside the door again when she opens it. "Care to explain this then." He shoves his phone in her face, and her mind becomes static. Pictures of her with Daniel as plain as day meet her eyes.

Then pictures of them leaving. Pictures of them going into his room... "We're you stalking me?"

“I’m not toxic like you are.” He scoffs. “A friend sent these to me and said he wanted me to know.”

She wants to cry. Break down and pretend this isn’t happening. Daniel had said he would help her get out. He said he would keep her safe. But now, she’s not sure shes going to make it out the door with her life.

Daniel was already nervous when he saw her note. He knew it couldn’t be good if she’d gone back. Even worse since he’d promised to help her find a way out that didn’t end in violence. Though he would love to punch him in the face for what he’s done to her.

He doesn’t want to make things worse though, so he heads up to Max’s room to stop himself from doing anything stupid.

Max lets him sleep on the couch. They do go back and forth on a few ideas, but Max having been in an abusive situation agrees that it could get so much worse if they go to check on her.

Neither of them hear anything come morning. And for a week they can’t even contact her. It’s like she fell off the face of the planet.

Daniel feels like he might explode when Thursday comes around again. Double headers are tiring sure, but he has far to much energy to not spend it searching the paddock for any sign of her. Until Max breaks the news that she supposedly is really sick and will not be here the whole weekend.

He’s not sure what comes over him, be it anger or fear, but he finds himself storming up to Christian and demanding to know where she is. Max doing his absolute best to talk him down from committing a murder.

He manages to figure out where she is on the condition he stays put for the weekend. Meaning he’s in for the longest four days of his life.

He spends most of it pacing and trying to call her. Lando even mentions he looks sick at one point and forces water and food down his throat. How can he eat knowing he put her in this situation? Max keeps telling him it’s not his fault, but Daniel should have just gotten her out of there sooner. Screw no violence. He’d knock him out cold if that’s whaat it came too.

Finally the weekend is over and Daniel is dragging Max with him to her home. Max refuses to let him drive. And Daniel doesn’t mind considering Max is a fast driver and isn’t running on enough adrenaline that he could run a marathon and not be tired.

He’s out of the car before Max even has time to stop it. He’s banging at the door so loud he’d probably be waking the neighbors in the early hours of the morning.

When is swings open, He almost collapses in relief that she is still alive. However, she looks startled, surprised, and broken. She was never sick, he’d just hit her enough to break her. Her throat looks swollen with fingerprints tattooed to it. Her wrist is in a brace and a murky white bandage plastered to her cheek. And those are just the things that are visible.

He doesn’t have much time to think as the man he’d been wanting to punch into next year sidles up behind her. “What are you doing here Daniel? Did nobody tell you that we’re sick right now?” She cliches away from him when his arms wrap around her waist.

Max comes running a few seconds later. “Just came to check up on you two since we hadn’t heard anything and see if we could help.” The neutral smile Max puts on is for show. He’s deliberately trying to ease the tension.

“Well, we’re fine. Thank you for stopping by.” He goes to try and close the door, but Daniel is quick to deny him.

“Can I ask what happened y/n? What’s with the brace?” Daniel tries not to seethe but it definitely comes out anyway.

“She’s clumsy. Got dizzy and slipped.”

Daniel is shocked when it’s not himself who throws the first punch. Max’s fist collides with the other mans cheek. It sends him reeling backwards enough for Daniel to pry the shaking female away and into the safety of his arms.

“You came for me.”

“Told you I’d make sure he never touched you again. And I always keep my promises.”

Mr. Myexcusesforabusearebadandshouldfindanewhobby goes for a hit on Max, but he misses and falls face first onto the ground right outside the door. “As someone who’s had the ‘it’s just clumsiness’ excuse used for him before, I know what’s going on.” Max pulls an envelope out of his back pocket and drops it in front of the other guys face. “On behalf of all of Redbull, you are fired. hope you get what you deserve.” Max plants a foot on top of his back to keep him on the ground. “Is there anything you need before we leave?”

She had already packed. The stuff she needed had been tucked away for over a year. Thoughts of just running layer heavily on her mind, but she could never bring herself to do it.

“My place is yours if you want to stay there. I have an extra room you can have.” Daniel hadn’t let go of her hand the entire way to the airport. Or on the plane. Or on the car ride to his place.

“That sounds lovely.”

After she got settled, Daniel asked in she needed help with any cuts or bruises. Apparently she’d had the same bandages for a week. He’d probably need to get her into a doctor to see if anything is infected.

“Daniel… thank you.”

“For what? Sticking Max on a prick? No need to that me for that, love.”

“For everything then. Like showing me that I deserve to be loved right.”

“And I’ll see to it that you never doubt that again.”

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mariacallous · 2 months

Text

The patriarch of a right-wing Canadian family of 11 had had just about enough of gay people in his country. “We didn't feel safe for our children there in the future anymore,” father Arend Feenstra told Russian media. “There's a lot of left-wing ideology, LGBTQ, trans, just a lot of things that we don't agree with that they teach there now, and we wanted to get away from that for our children.”

Yeah, if there’s one place that’s just not safe for kids, it’s Canada. Russia would be soooo much safer.

So Arend (and wife Anneesa) sold everything they had to move to sunny Russia and raise eight of their nine kids with “orthodox” values. They also gladly took donations on their social media platform from fellow right-wingers, all so they could live in Vladimir Putin’s wonderland. Russian officials assured them that they would work with them to get them established, and even help them get a farm. They did all of this just three weeks ago; long story short, they lived happily ever after.

Except they didn’t.

First, according to the family, the Russian bank where they moved the proceeds from selling their farm and belongings? It immediately froze their assets. The amount of money seemed suspicious, Arend states in a Feb. 9 video. I guess it would, since so many Russians outside of Putin’s circle are dirt poor. As a result, the family didn’t have money to live on—apparently those nice Russian officials offering to help them had disappeared.

Since no one in the family speaks Russian, they’ve also had a bear of a time trying to argue for their money—because Russia doesn’t require any bank, or any business, to hire English translators. In the meantime, they discovered that Russia is a pretty damn miserable place to be right now.

TikTok user Ukrainian.Networking translated a Russian Federation Reported Media story in a snarky post.

The Russian reporter noted that Anneesa spoke her mind in a since-deleted video on the family’s “Countryside Acres” YouTube channel.

"I'm very disappointed in this country at this point. I'm ready to jump on a plane and get out of here. We've hit the first snag where you have to engage logic in this country and it's very, very frustrating."

Hoooo boy. They just arrived and already she’s insulted Russia. Now, I’m not saying Russia doesn’t have freedom of the press, but it’s really just freedom to praise Putin and the country he controls. Anything that resembles criticism in Russia is NOT taken as kindly as it is in our godless Western dystopias. I’m also not suggesting that Russian officials paid the family a visit to remind them of where they are, but I will point out that Arendquickly posted an apology video to the Countryside Acres channel, saying that his wife misspoke and they’d deleted the video.

In that video, he reiterated that no, Russia is really, really great (subtext: “Please don’t push me out of a window”) and he spoke of his hope to resolve the issue with the bank. Commenters weren’t so sure, or kind. They pointed out that the bank will likely never release their funds and it is more likely that he will be recognized as a foreign agent.

At this point, I’m not sure the Countryside Acres farming gig is going to work out. Patriarch Arend should have agreed to be used as a tool for Russian state media. I mean, if you are going to be a Russian Asset, might as well go all-in.

I’m willing to bet that living in a country that grants gay people basic civil rights might not be looking so bad now. I was wondering if the family is desperately trying to split, so I looked up how difficult it is to leave Russia. According to the BBC, you can leave “as long as you have money and have not been called up to the army.”

Even if only for his kids’ sakes, let’s hope Arend’s only lost his money.

And I’ll end with this charming reprise of a German eurodisco tribute to Moscow, originally released in 1979. (English lyrics here)

youtube

“Welcome to Moscow!” At least the song is catchy.

Comment Award goes to Laughing Gravy: “I’ll bet back home they used to whine about immigrants who don’t know the language, who have no money, who expect the government to hand them a house and a job, and who complain when they don’t get everything they want.”

#Youtube

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forthechubbies · 27 days

Text

I: Chill

Idol! Bangchan x Chubby Reader x Idol! Felix

🌸Kdrama Vibes, Magic, and Love Trangle🌸

The OG Drabble

00.1%, the point one percent is you.. Or at least that's how you feel being in a relationship with Bang Chan; you met him your vacation in Australia all the while he was reuniting with his beautiful family - Berry was actually the first member of the family you met. You heard slight growls followed by tugging you looked down at the poor puppy's leash tangled on the bench's legs.

She cutely whined before turning her eyes up to you for help.to which you happily help her. However; her owner wasn't to for behind her - that's where those big beautiful eyes of yours melt the poor man down to a giggling puddle.

In vice versa, you never stood a chance against his accent to his big pink nose matching his ears. His bashfullness paired with insane muscle mass made you see stars, manly yet gentle..

"Christopher." He said his name was..

Little did you know; A whole another world came along with him. He failed to tell you he's also bangchan; leader of SKZ - a wildly popular korean boyband. He basically fathers the members being so he trumps them in age. You found out quickly the age card is thrown around a lot in South Korea.

Sadly; Bang Chan told you all this overwhelming information the day you moved to Korea with him….It wasn’t the worse idea, he’s ever had.

With a fiery rage burning within, you bellowed at him, his tongue-in-cheek facade no longer amusing. "Why did you not consider informing me earlier? Was that not even a possibility? Or did you arrogantly decide this on your own?" The anger surged through you, threatening to unleash a torrent of tears. His fame meant nothing to you, but being trapped in a foreign land with no means of income of your own.

“I asked; you to move in with me. You said-“ Bangchan scoffed after feeling a slipper knock him upside his head. “ Well, That wasn’t very nice.” He sang picking up the slipper-“ You know violence doesn’t solve anything-“

“Chan, hold on to that thought!” You've already had enough of him today. However, here's the twist: you didn't even have a chance to speak before storming towards the entrance, grabbing your coat.

“And let me enlighten you, my dear! When a man proposes living together, it's typically within the same country, not a completely foreign one!” As you flung open the door and took a confident step forward, you anticipated solid ground beneath your foot, but oh boy, were you about to be shocked...

As you gasped, your delicate fingers clung desperately to his firm forearm, tightly wrapped around your waist. In that moment, you realized the true value of walking, a privilege you had taken for granted until the arrival of Christopher. It was an unexpected turn of events, for this was the first instance where he exerted his strength upon you.

With effortless grace, he effortlessly scooped you up, cradling you under his protective arm, and carried you back into the sanctuary of the house. However, as soon as you crossed the threshold of the door, he released his grip, allowing you to stand on your own once more.

When Bangchan turned from locking the door you were walking away towards the bedroom.."You can be upset in here not outside late at night!" He yelled in a deceptive tone as if he were trying his damnest to be gentle with you. " Your things should be arriving soon-"

Slam!!

" You're a kidnapper and a per-vert!" You opened the door to a blonde boy with freckles instead of your bastard of a boyfriend. You gasped, clutching the pillow quickly behind your back.

You can't believe him. When you agree to move in you didn't think it would be instant. you also didn't realize the home he was referring to was in South Korean to which he knows the language by heart!

Where was all this information hiding?

How dare he pretend that you're blowing this out of proportion when, in truth, it's an absolute nightmare to find employment in a foreign land that you have minimal knowledge about!

A weak knock presented itself to you. You sneered. Perfect timing; You eyed the nightgown he had prepared for you. Pretty modest yet graceful; a retro mini nightgown the lacey frills draped your gorgeously.

You marched to the door while snatching a pillow off the bed to smother your boyfriend....or die trying.

Instead of your wretched excuse of a boyfriend, you swung open the door to find a blonde boy with adorable freckles. Your heart skipped a beat as you gasped, hastily concealing the pillow behind your back.

This is how you met Yongbok (Felix).

....

The following morning brought the memories of yesterday with it. Christopher was still in hot water it only continued to boil as you realized you've been moved. You remember falling asleep on top of the covers yet you found yourself tucked in.

You smiled for a second. The thoughts of Channie being caring as usual even if you were willing to physically fight him. That's when the smile faded away upon hearing movement downstairs coming upstairs.

Thud!!

"Ouch!" A loud voice expressed his pain. " Why would follow me up at the same time,Jeongin!?"

"Ah!" Channie whispered loudly; "Binnie, be quiet." He turns to scold the boys with a look.

Binnie widen eyes at the scorn. " Me?! Why aren't you talking to him!? He almost tripped me up!" He cried, pointing to Jeongin who stands there amused by his hyungs anger.

"I know, I know, Binnie-Gin, quiet laughing at him. You'll make him angrier." Bangchan has enough on his plate already. "And stay quiet; please." The language was difficult to understand but pleasant to hear especially when you realized Chris's voice. You found yourself blushing.

The door latch clicking alarmed you to keep still as the boys entered.

They made sure to seat everything down gently before heading back out...so we thought.

I.N couldn't resist admiring your peaceful expression. "She's so beautiful," he whispered, giving a thumbs up in approval. Your heart fluttered as he moved closer, his hair gently grazing your cheek. "She smells just like Felix's favorite perfume."

"Shh!" Chan hissed, his voice barely a whisper as he clenched his jaw. "If you dare wake her up. Get out , right now."

As time stood still, a silence filled the air, broken only by the gentle descent of the bed beside you. A tremor ran through you as familiar lips brushed against yours." I love you...I know you hate me right now.." He confessed, tilting his head slightly. " Honestly, I deserve it. I'm a dog for telling you half truths." Bangchan's lips touched your cheek before he nestled his nose against your skin. "I don't even have the balls to tell you when you're awake."

Channie couldn't help but laugh when he saw your eyelashes fluttering. "I have to say, you're absolutely stunning when you're pissed...those curves as you walk away." He winced as you sat up abruptly to hit his chest, but he caught your wrist and drew you closer. "Well, good morning to you as well."

You yanked your wrist away from him. "You are the absolute worst-mmmhp!mmm" You struggled against his biceps and shoulders as his strong arms enveloped you. Channie's kiss remained intense and forceful until you finally let go of his shirt, surrendering to his soft, irresistible lips.

♡..♡♡..♡♡♡.♡.♡♡

Chan, observing your dazed expression, gently moved away. He laughed softly, looking into your eyes that were brimming with affection. "I need to leave briefly," He whispered, pulling you onto his lap and holding onto your plush waist. "But don't worry, lover, I'm always just a phone call away."

You subconsciously nod as he spoke something you developed as you started dating him. " I'm still mad." You stated, brushing your fingers across his jawline. " We need to talk-"

"I tried that and you almost left in the dead of night. "He spat out with an undeserved attitude, but you were quick to pick up on it.

"Oh I'm sorry. Was my reaction to you lying to me upsetting to you?" Your nose brushed against his."Well, Mr. Bangchan, Christopher, Channie or whoever you are-"

You sneered as his heavy hand caressed your ass, but he continued speaking as if his hands had a mind of their own. "I'm Christopher in English," he said, tongue in cheek. "In Korea, I go by Bangchan," he explained calmly.

Christopher lifts you up in his strong embrace, calling Channie a fresh experience. He gently places you back on the bed, calling you adorable and his sweet Cutie. With a sly wink, he leaves you breathless.

He ignored your anger again.

#poly skz #skz x chubby reader #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz smut #skz x y/n #bangchan imagines #bang chan series #bangchan x reader #bangchan x chubby reader

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 17 days

Text

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 15

I can't believe we're at 15 already :O

MASTAPOST

Danny looked at Damian. Damian looked at Danny. They looked at the smoldering remains of the Atlantean barracks, the scores of soldiers whose feet were frozen to the floor or to each other, bearing incredibly precise scorch marks from the wrist ray (maybe he should take confiscate that soon). They looked at the retreating soldiers, some of whom were openly sobbing. Danny looked at the helmet Damian acquired from their poor Atlantean victims, and the bow and arrow strapped over his chest. He looked at the overflowing satchels full of plant-based food they had plundered from the town. The unluckiest of them sported Damian-shaped bite marks on their exposed skin, a very painful reminder to not enter the kid’s personal space.

“You said we were just gonna get a map.”

Damian crossed his arms and honest-to-god pouted. Or scowled. It was a scowly pout. “It was not my fault you lost control over your powers.”

Danny’s face went blank. “Who was the one who demanded to see the seahorses and stick around even after we got what we needed?”

And you know what? Danny could honestly admit the seahorses were pretty cute. Was it worth risking their lives? Probably not, even if with Danny’s powers, there wasn’t much risk to them at all. It was the principle of the thing.

Damian at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Is it truly my fault if I wish to admire our planet’s marine biodiversity up close?”

“Yes, Damian. Absolutely.”

“It matters not. Besides, the Atlanteans deserve what happened to them.”

Now that excuse wiped the deadpan off Danny’s face, leaving him in open-mouthed disbelief.

Damian continued. “We have done nothing to them, and yet they regard our mere presence with fear, and take up arms despite there being no hostility from us.”

Danny looked back to smoldering ruins. Granted, it was just a barracks and a few watchtowers, but still. The Atlanteans fear of them was starting to feel a little justified. Did the first settlement Damian raided yesterday suffer a similar fate?

He ran his hands down his face. Scratch the bloodthirsty theory. He was beginning to think Damian intentionally got them caught to have an excuse to wreck the Atlanteans. Then there were the weapons. One look at Damian’s satisfied face as he looked over the destruction practically confirmed it.

Man, kids really were menaces, weren’t they? Maybe he should’ve thought more carefully before agreeing to travel thousands of miles alone with this chaos kid. Was it the siren instincts? Youngblood was similarly unhinged. Maybe it just released his inhibitions.

His distress must have been visible, because Damian tutted once his silence went on too long. “I was being merciful to them. With my skills, I could have easily gut them like the fish I very reluctantly eat, but no longer have to thanks to having plundered their food stores.”

“You know what? I’m not gonna even try to unpack all of that. That’s a job for my sister.” The elder siren patted his shoulders. “Get on, we’ve got places to go.”

Damian beamed as he swam around Danny and latched on, head held high. And honestly? Danny would be an absolute hypocrite if he said he didn’t absolutely enjoy whooping the high and mighty bigots a new one.

“Hey B.”

Bruce could hear the strain on Tim’s voice. Even now, the boy was clacking away at the Batcomputer. He probably hadn’t taken more than a five-minute break.

“Tim.” Bruce said. He considered his next words. He was never one for talking much. It had become difficult to emote strongly after that night in Crime Alley.

“Still hacking into the GiW, and going over missing person cases. Haven’t found anything. I’ll post you when I do.” Tim said, all in work mode. Bruce sighed.

“Thank you, Tim, but I know it’s getting late at home. When was your last break?”

Tim didn’t say anything, but Bruce could practically hear the pout.

“I know you’re worried. I am too, but the Batcave will still be there in the morning.”

Tim hummed, still defiant to the last. “We’re losing valuable time. I can handle it. I handled Damian’s… everything. This is nothing. I’ve only been awake for sixteen hours.”

And wasn’t that half the issue.

Bruce took a deep breath. Countless hours of miming with Alfred, and talking to cardboard cutouts of his children.

“I’ve been worrying, Tim.” Just calmly. Just ease into the words. Don’t freak Tim out or scare him away.

“All you ever do is worry, and now it’s Damian so you’re worried even more.”

“I’m…” The lump in his throat grew. It felt like breaking glass to push through. “I’m worried about you.”

Silence on the line.

Bruce continued, stumbling into dark. “H-How are you feeling right now?”

A chair scraped on the other end., followed by retreating footsteps. “Nope. Nope. Not doing this.”

Bruce’s stress hiked. “Wait, Tim!”

The footsteps stopped, although Tim remained silent. Words, words, words, words. What did his manual say about this kind of situation?

“Thank you. I know you and Damian haven’t been on the best terms. But it… It’s…”

Bruce rapidly flipped through his manual, before deciding on the right word, before Tim could get away. “It’s… I’m proud of you. I always have been. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

The footsteps resumed, twice as fast as before. Bruce could barely make out muttering about coffee hallucinations. That was good, was it? Bruce looked over his checklist over and over again. Surely he hadn’t missed something?

Maybe he needed to review his notes before talking to Dick…

Arthur Curry, better known to the world as Aquaman, regarded the messaged sent to the palace from the Pacific frontier. The kingdom had benefitted immensely once the zeta system and advancements in instant communication allowed for him to easily communicate with every corner of the country in seconds.

The contents were worrying. Very worrying, in fact. He would almost have dismissed it as impossible, if he weren’t keenly aware of how much damage a clever enough child could do. Memories of the various Robins’ exploits around the Watchtower flashed through his mind, giving him goosebumps.

Never again.

It was a luxury which appeared unable to be afforded to him, as an attendant entered the room and handed him a second message, bound in twine and seaweed. Arthur thanked her, and opened the letter.

Another raid by the same child, this time accompanied by a young teenager. A young teenage siren. The local barracks destroyed, several watchtowers toppled, and food stores plundered. The two sirens fled soon after. About thirty injured personnel, but no casualties, and no civilian injuries either, thank goodness.

It was one of the strangest raids parties he’d ever seen. Usually siren pods descended on vulnerable border towns like a landslide, bringing dozens or hundreds of warriors charging through the countryside, pillaging farmland and razing whole buildings to the seafloor. Arthur transitioned to the archives to continue his research, pulling thousand-year-old records from their carefully preserved cases. His earliest predecessors had seen countless deaths to these war parties, before the Atlantean military was formalised and modernised.

The raids also occasionally took hostages. Sometimes adults or the elderly. Usually children. Arthur’s heart ached at his most vulnerable subjects being stripped away from their families. Those hostages taken were often never seen again, even as Atlantean forces made repeated incursions into siren territory to search for them. They would always be repelled back before finding any.

But one pattern was always clear with the raiders. Although those barbarians took Atlantean children for whatever sick purposes, they never brought their own children to fight. Some of his people believed they didn’t even have children, that they spawned spontaneously as fully formed spirits of destruction and rage.

It looked like those theories were untrue. But what circumstances could produce such a strange result? The first report only described a single siren child, who looked to be about five years old or so by Atlantean standards. The second report confirmed the reappearance of that child, now in tandem with a teenager who still appeared very young. Were they brothers? The reports stated the older one had translucent white and black skin, almost like glass, to the point where even his internal organs were faintly transparent. The younger siren sported a dark green coat, and golden fins and highlights. Neither before or after they struck did the soldiers ever catch a glimpse of an adult.

Could they be orphans? Arthur’s heart panged. Even if they were technically his enemies, he hated the fact that children were the victims of this continued conflict. Despite attempts to work out a peace treaty between his kingdom and the sirens, it could never work out. Atlantis was one kingdom with one king, but the siren pods spent as much time squabbling between themselves as with Atlantis.

Outside of their age and lack of supervision, the children also sported another deviation: Their choice in weaponry. While the capital invested in preferred to traditional weapons, favoring especially polearms like the spear, trident and javelin. Siren war bands in the past favored the bow and arrow, using their superior speed to outmanoeuvre and outrange Atlantean soldiers. Many men and women were lost to their feigned retreat tactics, to the point where every new recruit had to be drilled again and again to never pursue ‘retreating’ sirens.

The elder of the two raiders fought with only his magic, firing icy beams and throwing spears of ice. This was where the duo was most similar to typical siren warriors, contrasting against the disciplined and measured sorcery taught to Aqualad and others his age.

What was alarming was how the younger boy fought. He slashed at one poor soldier who got too close with a sword in his first attack. Mauled six others with his teeth in the second. At ranged he wielded a strange contraption on his wrist, capable of rapidly firing concussive energy beams that let him suppress and disrupt soldiers triple his size.

The sirens were never interested in technological development in the same way as the Atlanteans did, and never had they possessed a weapon even close to as advanced as the one sported by the tiny child.

Arthur’s eyes furrowed. Could it be that some third party was supplying Atlantis’ enemies? How long before another army gathered, before the kingdom faced another existential threat like Pariah Dark had once posed?

Arthur’s Justice League communicator vibrated. The king of Atlantis picked up the call.

“Arthur.” It was Bruce. “This is urgent.”

“What do you need?”

“What information has your kingdom got on sirens?”

“What a coincidence, because I’ve just received two new reports from the Pacific frontier…”

“… As for this Phantom character, the culprit of the attack seems to match your description perfectly.”

Bruce furrowed his eyes. He marked the location where Phantom had last struck. The boy was heading south, along the California Current. For what reason? Was he migrating according to his needs as a species, or was he searching for another haunt? Was he going further south or would he turn west once he neared the equator and follow the current there?

Six months of stalking a human town, fighting off other sirens, only to abandon it once the GiW came out in force, and then start marauding Atlantean settlements out of nowhere? Something extraordinary had to have happened. According to Arthur, Phantom had never been seen by his soldiers before. Perhaps Phantom had completed whatever goals he had in Amity, and was transitioning to his next move on Atlantis.

Phantom was young, or at least appeared young. Likely no older than fifteen. The fact that no records show any similar pattern of behaviour ruled out the possibility of it being some kind of coming-of-age ceremony. It seemed Phantom was an outlier among his species.

If sirens travelled in pods, then where was Phantom’s?

“It’s funny you mention that, since he wasn’t alone. There was a tiny child with him. I think he was about five years old or so. The boy carried weapons like a warrior, and blasted my soldiers with energy beams from a futuristic wrist gun. I’ll sent you the sketch the commander sent me.”

Bruce confirmed his receipt of the sketch. His eyes widened.

Emblazed on the gun’s side was a very familiar logo, a flaming blue F for Fenton.

The conversation ended soon after, with Arthur promising to forward him translated copies of the reports.

Bruce clasped his hands, holding them tight as he pondered (not brooded, despite what Dick insisted).

It seemed Phantom’s lack of morality couldn’t sink further. He had manipulated Amity Island teenagers into assisting him, and now he was leading what was basically a toddler half of Damian’s age into dangerous battles against trained soldiers.

Bruce’s will hardened with righteous anger. This Phantom was barely fresh off his last crime before preying on another child. He had to be stopped.

Suddenly he had three children to save now.

Please be ok, Damian…

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #atlantis #atlanteans #good parent bruce wayne #arthur curry #bruce wayne is bad at feelings

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ilguna · 5 months

Note

hi could you possibly do a modern AU where finnick and readers parents set them up on a blind date and they hit it off please 🙏

☼ mother knows best (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing,

wc; 2.6k

notes; modern au!!

“(Y/n).” Your mom says, coming in through the door. “We need to talk, again.”

From where you’re sitting on the couch, you can see that she’s got bags of groceries wrapped around her arms. You close the laptop on your thighs, setting it aside when you get to your feet.

You were trying to get some extra schoolwork done, wanting to get ahead so that you have nothing to worry about tomorrow. You have plans all day with your friends to go to the city fair that you can’t cancel. You’ve been putting it off for weeks, waiting for the perfect time, and it’s finally come.

“Do you want help?” You ask, walking around the couch.

“No, your father is grabbing the rest.” She breathes, disappearing into the kitchen.

She sets the few bags on top of the counter, and immediately begins to open them to put the goods away. You pull out a stool that’s tucked away on the other side. “What do you want to talk about?”

She gives you a pointed look, before turning around to open the fridge.

You sigh. “Mom, please don’t start.”

“Will you please just listen to me?” She asks. “I talked with Zillah today, she says that her boy is free tonight.”

You stare at the back of her head, halfway contemplating whether or not you’ll get away with sneaking out of the kitchen right now. You don’t think she’d hear you, unless the stool scrapes against the hardwood. It might be awkward then, when she turns around and you have to pretend like you weren’t trying to run out.

“Well, that’s good for him.” You say.

When she turns around to grab more canned soup, she stops long enough to look at you. “I really think you should get to know him, (Y/n). He’s a nice boy. All of Zillah’s kids are polite.”

“I’m not into dating.” You tell her, slouching in the stool. “I’m trying to focus on college right now. A boyfriend would just distract me.”

“That’s right.” Your dad says, coming into the kitchen, setting more bags onto the counter. “That’s my firstborn.”

“Your only born.” You murmur.

“Honey, you can’t fool me. I know you can focus on both, because that’s what you do with your friends.” She shakes her head. “You make time for them, don’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“How’s that?” She asks.

“I’m not kissing my friends.”

She laughs, “I never said you had to kiss him.”

“That’s what will happen eventually.” You wave your hand. “And I don’t want any of it.”

She gives you a frown. “You worry me. I just don’t want you to end up by yourself.”

As much as you love and appreciate your mom, there’s nothing you hate more than when she tells you that she thinks you’re going to end up alone. This is an idea that she’s held on to for the past couple of years, the one thing that’s really consistent about her. It’s gotten worse lately, due to her and her friend coming together to form the idea that you and her son should be together.

Granted, she doesn’t tell you outright that you’re going to be by yourself for the rest of your life. She usually tells you to get out of the house, afraid that you’re lonely at times. Despite you constantly telling her that you’re happy with your friends, and you don’t need to be with someone every waking second.

She’ll then give you this look—which is normally more than a frown—because you know what she meant. She knows that you’re happy with your friends, you’re around them constantly. What she’s referring to is boys. She thinks that if you don’t find a nice boy now, they’ll all be taken by the time you’re ready.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Each time she brings it up, it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes and try to leave the room as fast as possible. If you don’t. Then she’ll go on about it forever. You can’t even ask your dad for help most of the time, because he wants nothing to do with the conversation.

If you’re content with being single, then who’s to say he should be the one to intervene?

You wish your mom had that same philosophy.

“Mom, that’s not going to happen.” You tell her.

“We don’t know that. The future isn’t certain.” She says, “(Y/n), you know I would never tell you to do something if it was a bad idea.”

She’s facing you now, tired of pulling the bags apart while having this conversation.

“I don’t know, you’re telling me to do this.” You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head. “Even if I do agree, I won’t have fun, because he’ll be looking for a relationship, and I won’t be.”

“I’ll have Zillah tell him that you’re just getting your feet wet.” She reasons. “It’ll be a no-pressure situation.”

She’s reaching for her phone. It doesn’t matter what you say now, because she’s going to confirm it with Zillah, either way. You let your mom text her, and once the message is sent, you sigh.

“If this goes awry, I get to say ‘I told you so’.” You tell her.

“It won’t, baby, trust me.”

—

The city fair this year looks amazing.

These past few weeks leading up to today has been worth it. While you would’ve liked tomorrow to be your first time here, because you’ll be with your friends, you honestly can’t complain that you’re going early. Especially since you’re here at night.

There’s nothing you like more than feeling the cool air on your skin, seeing the bright colors, smelling the fair food, and listening to the screams of terror around you. It brings you back a little bit, to when you were younger and had the bravery to get on each and every ride.

You could now, if you wanted to. The lines are fairly short because it’s a weekday. You could probably hit more than half of these before the night is over. The issue is that you don’t want to be alone when you do it.

That’s why you’ll try to find Zillah’s son—Finnick—first, and go from there. You’re not entirely sure what to expect from him. You know his older brother, he was on the university swim team when you started your first year of college. If he’s anything like Alaric, you think you’ll get along pretty well.

You know nothing about Finnick, besides the fact that he went out of state for university. He graduated a couple months back, you had to dog sit for Zillah because no one else was available. When they came back, you were at home, so you never got the chance to actually meet him.

You’ve seen the outdated pictures on her walls, so you have a vague idea of what to be looking for. They’re from many years ago, making you afraid that you’ll miss him in the crowd. Which is why you texted his number to tell him that you’re waiting next to the slingshot ride.

Honestly, you shouldn’t even have his number, especially if it’s a blind date, like your mom was telling you. It’s unfair that she’s playing both sides of the court, because she wants this to work out so badly. You’ve mentioned the fair to her over a dozen times in the past month, what a coincidence that an unknown number shows up in your phone, suggesting to come here, huh?

You’ll give it to them both this time, but once he gets here, you expect there to be no cheating.

You pull out your phone, checking the time. You’re here early, you’ve already walked around half of the fair, getting a good idea of where everything is. The only reason why you stopped is because he told you he was parking his car, and he’d meet you soon.

“(Y/n)!” A voice calls out.

You look up from reading the group chat between your friends, all of them encouraging you to have fun tonight. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, the response you were curating begins to melt from your mind when your eyes land on him.

Finnick looks nothing like those photos anymore.

He’s tall, there’s a couple inches between him and Alaric, easily. His bronze hair bounces each time he takes a step, there’s a bright smile on his face, dimples appearing on his cheeks.

“Hey.” You lower your phone, going to tuck it back into your jeans.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long.” He says, taking you into a hug.

You blink, a little surprised, but give him a good squeeze. He smells good, and he looks good, too. And you’re not just talking about how handsome he is, you mean that he has a great fashion sense. He’s coordinated in his colors, a trait that’s hard to find in guys these days.

“I wasn’t.” You tell him when he takes a step back. “I walked around to get a look at what they have up this year.”

“Any good food?” He asks, standing straight. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

You give him a smile. “I could go for some food. It’s down this way.”

“Lead the way.” He motions, letting you step first.

As you lead him down the road and to the row that has most of the stalls, you glance at the rides, thinking about how you won’t ride half of these anymore. And if you do, you’ll need a hand to hold.

“Are you a fair ride type of person, Finnick?” You ask, looking over at him.

“I won’t say no.” He gives you a look, “But I won’t do them alone. It’s always better with a friend, or a sibling.”

“Alaric.” You murmur.

“You know Alaric?” He asks.

“He was a senior when I was a freshman at Sacred Heart.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” He nods. “Were you friends?”

“Through our parents.” You nod. “We never actually hung out. I went to a swim meet once, to cheer him on, but that was about it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Swim meets are so boring. I spent my entire life watching him do them.”

“Did you do any sports?”

“Kinda, but not really. I went to a bunch of different clubs to see what I liked. I thought I was going to do volleyball, until they switched coaches. He hated me, so I quit and decided to focus on schoolwork and parties.” He laughs slightly.

“Well, at least that worked out.” You come to a stop in the road, landing right in the middle of the stalls. “You have your pick of the litter.”

“I’m going to be honest, I just want a burger.” He starts toward the line. “Do you want anything? It’s on me.”

You hum, thinking about it while you look at what’s on the menu. “How about a lemonade and fries?”

“Whatever you want.” He says. “What about you? What are you doing for college?”

“Medical field. I want to be a nurse.” You beam.

“A nurse, I can see it. Isn’t your dad a surgeon?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”

He tilts his head. “I did my homework.”

“Well, yes, he is. He’s an orthopedic surgeon.”

“I’ll be sure to call him doctor when I meet him for the first time.” Finnick winks, stepping forward to order.

You laugh, shaking your head at him. You were sure that this date would be hard, or at least awkward because it was set up between your mom’s, but Finnick’s got this easy demeanor that makes it hard for you to overthink. Which is another factor you were afraid of. You have a tendency to question every sentence on dates, not wanting to turn the guys away.

He doesn’t seem to care, and he’s asking you just as many. There’s an effort being put in, you’re not the only one interested. This thought causes a bubble of excitement to rise, forming a smile on your face.

It was a good thing you agreed to this date, because if you’d missed it for homework, you would’ve been upset with yourself for the rest of the week. And you’d never hear the end of it from your friends, who were telling you to give him a chance.

“What’re you smiling about?” Finnick asks, passing over the lemonade so he can hold the fries and his burger.

“I’m just happy I’m here with you.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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creelteeth · 2 years

Note

plz ur perv steve is keeping me alive

him n fem reader being besties???

shes so... dumb. shes smart in school but when it comes to anything sexual, she doesnt know anything. doesnt know why her tummy gets all warm n her... down there gets all tingly when she calls steve at night or first thing ij the morning bc theyre best friends, and she just loves his voice.

him messing w her, playing with her hair and squeezing her sides, kissing all over her face n telling her how pretty she is. when she whines, he knows why, but asks anyway

"stevie.." shed pout, "feels funny.."

"where at princess?"

"d..down there..?" pointing shyly between her legs

"oh, those are you princess parts, honey. i can help make it feel better, want me to help?"

pleaseeee , innocent/inexperienced reader with perv!steve. i can’t do the term princess parts i’m sorry

you’d taken your rightful place in steve’s lap while he argued with eddie who was sat across the table. you and the rest of the gang agreed to meet at harrington’s to hang out and play some board games— that quickly turned into a mess of lighthearted arguments about eddie pocketing monopoly money when no one was looking.

“i saw you take a twenty from the bank!“ steve shouted, the leg you sat on bouncing rapidly.

“you must be seeing things, pretty boy.” eddie smiled coyly, shrugging off his accusations.

you could feel steve tensing up under you, he was never good at losing games. he’d gotten rather heated over this round and that showed through his incessant foot tapping.

you sat through it for a bit but at some point you started to feel.. odd.

the position you sat in was no longer comfortable, your thighs squeezed around his, hips shifting from side to side. steve felt you moving around, snaking an arm around your waist to try to settle you but it seemed to have the opposite effect. his fingers pressed into the soft part of your hips, something about that touch coupled with the vibration from his leg pulled the quietest whimper out of you.

luckily only steve was able to hear what came out of you. leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

“what’s the matter, pretty girl?” he whispered, feeling the heat grow between your legs.

“dunno.” you mumble, eyebrows knitting together trying to shift back to the position that granted you the most pressure against your sex but you couldn’t seem to find it.

“just feels funny.” you huff, growing frustrated by the lingering ache.

steve waited a moment, looking over at the three others in the room. they were lost in their own conversation, trying to figure out what game should be played next. he took the opportunity to slip his hand down, fingers ducking beneath the fabric of your skirt.

his index and middle finger found your cunt instantly, fingers pressing into the wet spot that had formed on the cotton.

“is this what feels funny?” he spoke into the skin of your neck, careful not to draw attention.

the contact caused you to inhale sharply. you were use to this feeling, it was something you got pretty often when you were around steve— though for some reason tonight it was starting to ache a little extra.

“feels..” you shift, scooting back from his touch a bit.

“feels tingly.. a-and warm.” you whisper back, genuine confusion in your tone.

steve couldn’t help but smile, fingers finding your cloth covered mound again. pressing a bit harder this time.

“aw, love. how about i help you?” he suggested, finger toying with the sensitive button.

you couldn’t muster out a response, only nodding weakly at his words. clit throbbing against the pad of his finger.

“hey, dickheads— “ steve wolfwhistled at the trio, all three of them cutting their eyes at him. “she’s not feeling too great, i’m gonna take her upstairs. start the next one without me i’ll be back down soon.”

neither nancy, robin, or eddie seemed to respond much. waving him off while they shuffled through stacks of cards.

—

steve had gotten you upstairs pretty quickly, sitting on the bed and pulling you into his lap. he had you sitting with your back to his front, looking at you through the mirror at the end of his bed.

he brought your legs up to spread them, both of his hands keeping your thighs apart.

“alright, now- i wanna help you get rid of the tingly feeling but if you decide you don’t like it just tell me okay? might feel.. strange at first..” steve looked at your reflection, eyes fixed on the wet spot in your underwear.

you had somewhat of an understanding of what was going on. usually when steve left you with these tingly wet feelings you would try to fix it with the stuffed bunny he gave you but it never seemed to work. your legs got tired , or you just couldn’t find the right place. it only left you frustrated.

feeling his hands smoothing over the inside of your thighs made your stomach flutter. “need your help, stevie. please. ” you whined, hips beginning to stir.

“such good manners.” he cooed, pushing your legs farther apart before letting both hands slide down your inner thighs. “gonna fix it for you, it’ll feel all better soon don’t you worry.”

you nodded sheepishly at his words, eyes fixed on the mirror. watching his hands ghost over your lower half.

after some time of touching you over your clothes he guided you to take them off. sliding the pristine white cotton off your legs, crumpling the pair up to stuff under his pillow for later.

“look at that.” he groaned, his fingers spreading you open to reveal your arousal covered cunt.

you had a hard time looking at yourself in such a lewd position, your body growing goosebumps from the image before you.

“steve..” you whined out, desperation growing.

“i’ve got you, princess. be patient.” steve instructed, fingers moving through your folds.

he spread the wetness around, index fingers sliding down and then back up. he was careful with your clit, pressing into it gently, making slow circles.

the new found sensation was much different than the vibration that came from his thigh, it pulled the most pitiful whines from you.

your hips bucked against his touch, eager for more.

“o-oh.. stevie. feels.” you stuttered a bit, head dropping back against his chest.

when he noticed you looked away the circling stopped, pressing his finger flat against the swollen peak. the harshness making you hiss.

“gotta keep your eyes open for me, princess. come on- “ he spoke calmly, free hand grabbing your chin to tilt it down so that you could see the mirror again. “there we go. look at this pretty pussy you have, all wet for me.”

you struggled to open them at first, almost embarrassed by the mess that was being made between your legs. that embarrassment quickly overcrowded by the haze that washed over you. the circling on clit becoming less gentle when he knew you could handle it.

he brought his legs up over yours, ankles pinning yours down so that you couldn’t close your legs. the sticky wet sounds echoed through his bedroom, coupling with the hushed pants that came from your open mouth.

“doing so good for me.” steve praised, kissing down the side of your neck, other hand coming up to squeeze at your chest.

moving his attention from your clit, he dragged his index finger down to your leaky opening. tracing the entrance with the tip of his finger before sliding inside.

the stretch wasn’t much but it caused you to mewl out, the sticky squelch only getting louder when he began to curl his finger. the feeling of him prodding against your spongey wet walls making your whole body tremble.

“ s’good stevie.” you hummed, hips rutting upward.

the heel of his palm pressed flat against your clit, providing a nice amount of pressure while his finger worked inside of you.

if you weren’t so wrapped up in your daze you would’ve felt the throbbing bulge pressed against your back. though steve didn’t seem to care about it either, far more focused on bringing you to your end.

soon that feeling started to become overwhelming. he tugged lightly on your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. your body writhed from the attention given to both areas.

you whined, trying to clamp your thighs around his wrist but his heavy legs had yours trapped.

“ s’too much.” you panted, the pit in your stomach growing hotter and hotter.

he didn’t slow down, trying his best to coax the orgasm out of you. you were only seconds away.

“come on, sweet girl. just let it happen, it’s okay.” he spoke against your skin, planting wet kisses across your jaw.

his voice brought you a bit of comfort, comfort enough to stop fighting off the orgasm begging to come through. within seconds of his permission you were trembling.

“oh! oh fuck— steve!” you squeaked, climax hitting you like a truck.

he removed his legs from yours, allowing you to finally squeeze your thighs shut around his wrist. your hips rutting upwards against his hand, trembling and whimpering your way through it.

he kept his hands on you until you settled, sliding the his finger out of you to then collect some of the arousal that dripped onto your thighs.

“here.” he spoke, slipping the slick covered finger into your mouth. “clean my fingers up for me.”

you did as you were told, sucking the wetness off, moaning at the taste. once clean, steve pulled his fingers away, grabbing at the back of your head to tilt it so that you could look up at him.

he leaned down, the tip of his nose brushing against your as he spoke. “you did so good for me, princess. are feeling better now?”

he waited for you to nod before attaching his lips to yours, tonguing the inside of your mouth to get a taste of the mess you’d made.

you laid limp against him, body exhausted from the event. he wanted to hold you but knew he had to get back downstairs.

“come on.” he sat up, guiding you off the bed with him. “let’s go back to our friends i’m sure they’re missing us.”

you stood, smoothing down your wrinkled skirt. you looked around the room for your underwear but they seemed to have gone missing.

“b-but my .. panties. i lost em.” you pouted, crossing your legs and wincing at the wet noises that came from your thighs squishing together.

“you don’t need em, baby. they’re not gonna know, we’ll put a blanket over you. “ steve smiled, taking your hand to begin guiding you back to the den.

you huffed, following behind him like you always did. nervous that they’d somehow be able to recognize what just happened to you.

#casey writes #perv!steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #i’m so sorry this took so long i neglected my inbox

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