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#but I think I’m searching for something else in him too
irndad · 2 days
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Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-
Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹
Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.
my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k
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“Is Maeve okay?”
It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation. 
She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him. 
Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists. 
She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?
It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before. 
He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?
“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”
She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples. 
“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”
She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her. 
“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”
It’s only then she frowns. 
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”
“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance. 
“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”
“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her. 
“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”
“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“
“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”
“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”
A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration. 
She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished. 
Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her. 
Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her. 
And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper. 
“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”
Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed. 
Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him. 
“You’re important to me.” 
She has no idea how much. 
Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive. 
“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.
Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted. 
The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care. 
He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long. 
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hughes86-43 · 2 days
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My Person | L.Hughes
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summary - you and Luke have been each other’s person, it just has taken a while for you both to realize it.
note - I’ve been working on this for a while, and I wanted to get out before I dive into the blurb night requests. I hope you like it!
warnings - a little bit of angst, mentions of parties and drinking, but other than that nothing else (if there’s more let me know!). maybe some grammar errors
masterlist
Ever since you met Luke at a frat party at the University of Michigan, you two have always been each other’s ‘person’. Constantly looking for each other in a crowded room, calling each other when something happened, going to eat after a stressful day, or hanging out with each other with shared friends.
Truthfully, you don’t really know how it happened. You were both new to the university, he had hockey friends and you had friends of those friends. Your friends had convinced you one late September night to go to a frat party with them, although it was late you agreed, and then you got introduced to the hockey team, but you hadn’t met Luke yet. It was overall a great night, and nearing 11:30, you decided to take a break from talking with everyone and the drinking games, and made your way outside to sit on the patio couch. The drinking was starting to catch up to you as a headache was coming on.
Rubbing your forehead to try to release the pressure, you didn’t even notice that someone had made their way outside. “Hey, are you okay?” Startled by hearing someone, you look up and see a guy standing there wearing a black Michigan shirt with jeans.
Waving him off, you reply back, “Oh, yeah, just got a headache coming on.” He nods his head, but walks to go sit on the other chair. You lean back into the couch you’re on.
After a moment of awkward silence between you, although the crowd inside was nothing but, the guy speaks up again, “Why are you out here?” He’s busy looking off to the side while he asks it.
“Um it was just getting to be a bit too much for me, just needed a breather.” You shyly laugh, looking at him. “Why are you out here? Since you asked me.”
He finally turns his head to look at you, he says, “I guess I could say the same. One can only handle a drunk Dylan Duke for only a little bit.” He can’t help but to let out a laugh.
Remembering the name he just said from meeting all the hockey players earlier in the night, you ask him, “He’s on the hockey team right? Are you on the hockey team?”
He nods his head and says, “Yeah, I am. Are you friends with him?”
Shaking your head, “Oh, no, some of my friends are, I just met him and all the rest of the players earlier tonight.”
“Oh. I guess I got here a little bit after that. Anyway, since you met the others, I guess I could introduce myself,” he says with a laugh, “My name is Luke.” He leans forward and holds out a hand for you to shake.
Deciding if you should, you lean forward and shake his hand. “I’m Y/N.” He smiles at you, and let’s go of your hand and leans back in his chair.
From then on, every party that you both ended up at, you two would constantly be searching for each other. For you, there was something about him that seemed to make you calm down, and for him, he found you absolutely captivating by how you seem to hold the stance of everyone around you.
For months of freshman year, if anybody needed to know where either one of you were, they just needed to find one of you. They knew if they needed Luke, that he would be with you and it was the same for the other way around.
Sometimes his friends, like Dylan and Ethan, would constantly chirp at him as soon as he made it to a party you weren’t at.
“Hey Lukeyyy, Y/N isn’t here tonight I don’t think, what will you ever do!” Dylan would say as Luke walked into a party instantly looking around for you.
“How’d you even know I was looking for her anyway?” Luke would say shyly to him.
Ethan stepped in to say something. “Oh, please. As if you don’t look around at each party for her everytime.” Luke would just end up walking away from them to go grab a drink and then text you to see where you were and if you were okay. You would always be quick to reassure him that you were not feeling it that night and he could always come by your dorm if he wanted to (he always wanted to and he would always leave the party to find you).
When it came to Michigan hockey games, you were always trying your best to be at them. Every morning of a home game, Luke would text you to make sure you were going to be able to make it. If there was an away game, he would make sure you were going to able to keep up with the game. Not only were you there to support your schools team, you were mostly there to be Luke’s number one fan, which you never failed to tell someone if they asked.
You would make sure to always wear Michigan colors and you always would make sure to wear something Luke related. When you first told Luke you were interested in going to the hockey games, he made sure to give you a little necklace that had the number “43” on it, which only made it seem like you two were an item (possibly that what Luke wanted).
One time when he was extra anxious before a big game, you gave him your lucky blue bracelet that you wore every time you were anxious yourself. Luke knew how much you loved and cherished that bracelet, so he was extra grateful that you let him wear it. Not to mention that was probably one the moments that he fell in love with you more.
At the end of freshman year, you were busy with finals and packing to go back home when it all become too much. After spending the majority of the day with your head in a textbook and looking at your laptop, you were feeling the affects of not much sleep and all your anxieties piling up on top of you. When you decided you needed a break, you made your way to Luke’s place. He had barely heard from you in two days, he knew you were busy.
When you got there, he could see the tiredness and the emotional state that you were in. Pulling you into his room, he lets you sit on his bed as you spill out all that you are worrying about. When all of a sudden you were struggling to breathe, Luke pulled you into his arm and rubbed his hand up and down your arm to calm you down. He knew you weren’t sleeping much, so he let you lay down in his bed to rest. He was just going to let you rest while he went and did some errands, but you grabbed his hand and had him lay down with you. He instantly laid down with you and let you sleep until the next day. In the morning, you realized your feelings for him had grown.
During the summer break, you were back in your hometown, while Luke was back at his brothers’ lake house. He invited you to come over for a few weeks, but you wanted to at least go home for a bit before going. While you were away from him, you two never failed to FaceTime each other and text one another about all the things you did.
When you went to the lake house after not seeing him for about a month, you both couldn’t have been happier to see each other. You had met his parents, Ellen and Jim, at a few home games, and had even gone out to dinner with them, but you hadn’t met his brothers. His parents absolutely adored you and were secretly hoping you two would get together (at least that’s what they would tell Quinn and Jack). You knew as soon as you got to the lake house you were going to have to meet Quinn and Jack. You were nervous about meeting them for some reason, which was weird since you weren’t as nervous when meeting Ellen and Jim. It was just due to them two being his older brothers and they were constantly looking out for him.
You instantly hit it off with Jack when you met him after he came back in from being on the boat. You both had joked over how Luke was falling off the wake board every time he tried to get on it for at least a week. (Luke was offended you were teaming up with Jack to go against him). However, getting along with Quinn was a bit harder.
With Quinn, you decided that he was just looking out for Luke and didn’t want to see him get hurt, even though you two weren’t dating. Over the three weeks you were at the lake house, Quinn slowly began to notice how good you were for Luke. This was especially true when he saw how you never failed to make Luke laugh over anything and everything. He also saw how much Luke was in love with you. He had pulled Jack aside multiple times to see if he had noticed it too (he had) and they both made a bet on when you two would get together.
Anytime Jack’s friends, Trever, Cole and Alex, were over, they were constantly asking Jack if you and Luke were together. Everybody seemed to understand you two had feelings for each other besides you and Luke.
While you were at the lake house, you were there for Luke’s draft day. He had been nervous all day for it, but you were constantly reassuring him all would go well and made sure he had your bracelet. You were so happy when he was selected by New Jersey, as you knew how much he wanted to be back with Jack. Once the excitement of the night calmed down, you had sneaked into his room and laid with him all night long talking about anything and everything.
Sadly, summer came and went. The start of sophomore year for you and Luke was in full force. Somehow during the craziness of school starting, you slowly started to realize that you may have feelings for Luke. From the shy glances to him across the room that has him sending you a smile or the early morning coffee and breakfast meetups or the constant calling each other over the smallest thing that comes up, but you don’t ever tell him, and he never tells you.
Once school was in full swing, holidays came and went, parties came and went, assignments came and went, and hockey games came and went all leading up to Luke’s last game with Michigan hockey. You made it to the game, and you were nervous but it was mostly for him. You knew how nervous he was throughout the whole day leading up to the game, as he never failed to tell you when he was anxious. You knew he was leaving as soon as the game was over, you just had to prepare yourself to see your best friend leaving.
At the end of the game, he finds you. Pulling you into a hug, he says into your neck, “Thanks for being here tonight. Tough loss, but I don’t have time to think about that.”
Pulling back from him, you smile. “You gotta start heading out, don’t you?”
He gives you a sad smile and a nod. “Yeah, I do. But I’ll text you when I land, and anytime after that. Call anytime, I mean it! If I don’t answer, then text me and I’ll call you back.”
“You need to stay focus when you get there, I don’t want to burden all my problems on you.”
Rubbing his thumb in circles on your arm, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I like listening to your problems and everything else, and plus I’ll be calling you constantly about mine so it will be even!” He laughs and pulls you into another hug.
“Alright, I gotta go. Be careful getting home,” Luke says. You stay there in that spot, watching him walk away, but he turns around and yells, “You better text me when you make it home so I know you made it safely!” You manage to let out a laugh and nod your head and give him a thumbs up. Once he made it out the doors, you made your way to find Dylan, as he was your ride.
“You know, why don’t you just confess that you like him as more than a friend?” Dylan says as he puts an arm around your shoulder as you both walk.
“Uh I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say as you eye him down out of the corner of your eye.
“Hmmm, yeah sure. Whatever you say. Just saying, you both act more like a couple than any other couple I have seen.”
That whole conversation with Dylan stayed in your head for weeks after that. With Luke gone to New Jersey, you two still called each other or texted each other, but it soon became limited to a few text or calls during the week, as you were busy with school and he was busy with playoffs. On your part, the lack of communication with him was that you were scared of your ever growing feelings for him. You were scared that he didn’t feel the same or that he would no longer be your best friend, so you limited yourself on how much you talked to him.
Luke thought it was weird that you weren’t talking to him as much. He would call you but you would just talk to him for five minutes and then have to hang up. He was glad to finally be playing in the NHL, but he hated that he couldn’t see you or talk to you everyday like he did. He was constantly asking Dylan and the other guys if you were okay and what you were up to, which made their theory of him liking you grow even more.
When the Devils played the Hurricanes in the playoffs, Ellen saw how much Luke missed you, and with school ending, she invited you out to game five. You were weary about going, but honestly you had to see him. It had been a long while without him. You knew it would be a complete surprise to Luke.
The game was rough, and sadly they lost so they were out of the running. You were even more nervous to see Luke now that they lost. You followed Ellen and Jim down to the boys. You stayed behind his parents as Luke and Jack hugged each one. Once Luke pulled away from Jim, his eyes finally landed on you.
Although he was shocked to see you, he made his way to you. He instantly pulled you into a hug, squeezing you so tight as if he had to make sure you were actually there.
“I can’t believe you’re here, How’d you even get here?” Luke says as he pulls away from you, keeping his hands on your arms.
“Ellen flew me in. You know I had to see you play in a NHL game sooner or later,” you give him a smile.
“Yeah, if only we had won,” he mumbles.
“I’m sorry, I know you guys have been working hard, and to have made it this far is still pretty good.”
“I know, but enough of that, my night has just gotten better now that you’re here.” You felt your heart instantly melt at his words. You only hoped that he meant it in a way that meant something more.
Hearing someone clearing their throat behind you, you look to see that Jack is looking very impatient. “Okay, lovers or whatever you are, I’m hungry so let’s go get food, unless you two are going to stay here all day staring at each other then we will leave you.” At his words, Ellen smacks his arm telling him to shush.
Knowing that he is upset with the loss of the game, and not wanting to make him even more upset, you and Luke follow them outside of the arena to the car.
Once dinner ended, you and Luke made your way back to his hotel room, bidding goodnight to his parents and Jack, who just weirdly smiled at you and kept raising his eyebrows. Walking into Luke’s hotel room, you anxiously stand around for a second before walking to the chair in the room and sitting your bag on it.
You’re sitting on the bed picking at your nails, when Luke speaks up from across the room. “I missed you, you know?”
Looking up at him, you see him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, like something is bothering him. “I missed you a lot too, actually,” you voice back. Expecting him to say something sweet back, but he just scoffs at your reply.
“Really? Because it really didn’t seem like you did.”
You tilt your head at him since you don’t know what he’s so upset about. “What do you mean? I called, I texted all the time.”
He laughs, “Yeah but only every other day or so, and when I called you, you seemed to be in such a hurry to get off the phone!”
“Well, I had things to do!” Now you were getting upset as well at him.
“I had things to do as well! But I made sure to always call or text you, since that’s what I promised to do!” He says while running his hand through his hair. “I was completely stressed out after a game the other day, and I wanted nothing else to do but call my best friend to tell her about it, but she didn’t answer and left me a measly text!” His voice is starting to get louder.
“You know, I had to go through Dylan and the guys to figure out if you were actually okay! They always said that you were, and they were just as confused as I was about you not talking to me!” He turns his head from you to look at the wall, trying to take a moment to calm down.
Standing up from the bed, you say, “Well, maybe I just didn’t want to talk to you! I- um- well- I thought that maybe if I didn’t talk to you, you wouldn’t figure out how I felt.”
Whipping his head back to you, he asks, “What do you mean how you felt?”
Sighing, you reply, “Nothing, forget I said anything.”
Walking over to you, he shakes his head. “Oh, no, no, no. I finally get to hear you talk, and I now don’t want you to stop. So say what you meant.”
Deciding to just suck it up and tell him, you breathe out and then look up into his eyes. “Fine, I like you as more than a friend. Wait- actually I think I may love you more than a friend.” You continue to stare into his eyes as you wait for a response.
After a few seconds, he starts to smile. “You mean to tell me that you wouldn’t talk to me because you loved me as more than a friend?” He actually lets out a laugh.
Crossing your arms, you mumble, “Okay, if you going to laugh, just forget I said anything.”
His smile falters. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh that way, I just mean that I find it funny you wouldn’t talk to me because you actually love me when I feel the exact same way as you.”
Your arms fall to your side at his confession and your cheeks start to turn red. “What?”
“Listen, I love you more than anything in this world. You are the only person that I voice my worries to, you are the only person that cares so much about me, you are the only person who can make me laugh or whatever no matter what. You are my person. I want nothing more than to be your person. I want to be the person you call no matter what, I want to be the person that is always there for you, and I want to be the person who always makes you laugh.” He finally lets out a breath, as if he has been holding in how he truly felt for you forever (he has).
“Luke, honey, you have always been my person. I just don’t think I truly realized it until before you left, hell I think everyone realized a year ago,” you stifle out a laugh, looking at him with blurry eyes.
Luke lets out a laugh as well. “I know, Dylan, my brothers, my parents have all been trying to get me to just tell you. Not to mention, I definitely think they have a bet going on.” He walks closer to you and doesn’t hesitate for a second to pull you into his arms.
You wrap your arms around his back, rubbing them up and down, and then pulling him in tighter. You never want to let him go, and he never wants to let you go either. “So what does this mean for us?” He pulls back to look at you, you lift a hand to move some curls out of his face.
He gives you a shy smile as he says, “I think this means that I can finally ask if you’ll be my girlfriend?”
“I think that would only make sense. So yes, I’ll be your girlfriend!”
“Great because I’ve been dying to kiss you ever since I seen you outside of that frat party over a year ago!”
“Maybe if you did kiss me at that party, then it would have sped up this process,” you joke.
“Hmmm, imma kiss you now.”
Once your lips meet, it’s like all of sudden all of the pieces that had been missing are all of a sudden mended back together. You both kiss each other like your lives depend on it, like you need each other’s touch to live, and maybe you do.
Suddenly needing air, you break apart. You lean your forehead against his, and the smile on your face is still going strong.
“You know, we’re going to have to now tell everyone that they were right about us.”
He laughs, “Yeah, and they’re never going to shut up about it!”
“They better give us half of the money from their bets.”
“Ugh, Jack’s going to be so annoying when we tell him.”
You nod, “Yeah, maybe we tell him last so that he is a little bit less annoying about it.”
“Doesn’t matter, he’ll have an ego no matter what,” he says. “I love you so much.”
“I love you so much too,” you say, running your fingers through his hair.
“I’m glad, now come on, I’m exhausted after this long night. I’ve been dying to cuddle with you.”
“And you wonder why everyone thought we were together.” You say as he leads you to the bed.
You knew that all you ever needed was each other. You were his person and Luke was your person. It may have taken a while to realize it, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.
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brujawrites · 1 day
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✧ ˚ · . 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 — 
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: "𝐌𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 -- 𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮,"| masterlist | next chapter
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contains: suguru x female reader, utahime iori, college au, modern setting, college!suguru, english major!suguru, pining, slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, secret crush, developing relationship, 18+ ONLY MDNI
synopsis: cozy cafe date where reader gets to know suguru a bit more! nervous feelings all a flutter! more story set up, including meeting reader's roommate & an unexpected invitation! ao3 - kofi - playlist - pinterest
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"A small concern with how the engine sounds -- We held darkness in withheld clouds,"
— "Keep Driving", Harry Styles
Winter was very much still in season, but the cozy booth in the cafe near campus was warm enough with Suguru’s company. You were a little surprised when he suggested getting a coffee, but grateful for the chance to talk with him one-on-one. Suguru sipped on a flat white, listening to you talk about your method to tackling a shit ton of reading. 
“It sounds really extra, but it helps me pick up on themes and patterns really quickly. Plus,” you continued after taking a sip of your dirty chai latte. “It makes the reading feel like a scavenger hunt.” As fascinated as he was by your strange method of note keeping, Suguru was still struggling to understand the method entirely.  
“A hashtag system...,” he mused aloud. 
"Actually, it's a self-made index," you corrected him with a playful grin. It was rare for you to feel this enthusiastic about something mundane with someone else.  “Sorry, let me relax a bit,” you said, reeling in your enthusiasm. Suguru grinned widely. 
“No, no, it’s okay, it’s cute,” he replied, prompting you to lift your drink to your lips. You hoped the rising steam from the hot tea masked the flush spreading across your face. Suguru's gaze darted back to his cup, searching for a new topic. Grateful for the shift, you welcomed the change, "So, in your self-made index, did any themes or patterns stand out to you from the reading?"
“Well, Wuthering Heights is named after the manor. It’s a novel based on a place. The place is crucial. The atmosphere, the deterioration of the house," you listed points you had notated in your index for class. Suguru’s deep brown eyes were challenging to hold contact with as you spoke. It felt like he was absorbing every word you uttered. Maybe you just weren’t accustomed to that level of attention, especially not from the guy you’ve been eyeing for the last couple of years. 
“Okay, wait, this is actually making a lot of sense,” he mused. “I think I’m… impressed?” His unexpected admission caught you off guard, and you blinked in surprise at his words.
“Why? Because there’s a meaning to my madness?” You smirked at the boy playfully. “When you reduce the interesting parts of the story, like the failed upkeep of Wuthering Heights overtime, Heathcliff’s disposition — well, just reduce it to a simple word that describes it, and it turns out deterioration is a huge theme.” You paused to analyze Suguru’s expression; silent, stoic, listening… or possibly bored? The unreadable mask on his face made it hard to decipher his thoughts.
“So, you just take those thematic concepts to build an argument, keeping track of the quotes that touch on the themes, then later when you’re writing a paper, or trying to contribute to the class discussion, you just flip through your notes, and boom.” You meet his gaze again, trying to wrap up your little demonstration quickly. “It argues for itself.” 
Even if you weren’t boring him or talking too much, just the notion haunted you. You found yourself scanning the cafe, half-expecting familiar faces to distract you or save the conversation. A sudden vulnerability crept in, an unsettling feeling you hoped wasn’t plastered on your face. Despite eagerly awaiting Suguru’s response, you just felt yourself becoming a little too... conspicuous. Visible? Was that the right word? 
As he absorbed your words, Suguru found his mind drifting from the conversation at hand to the growing intrigue about the girl before him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed you before, but he'd never made an effort to catch your attention. Last year, during that poetry class, he only caught a glimpse of you, but the aftermath left him feeling a bit… off-kilter. Chagrin? Was that the right word? Suguru had never been the polished academic type, so despite putting in considerable effort, it didn't always reflect in his grades.
To him, you were almost out of reach. Almost unreadable. He hadn’t stepped up to the challenge that is you, but this semester — his last semester — why shouldn’t he? Getting to sit with you while you talked him through your complicated note taking process was nice, but he wondered if he could somehow get you off that topic. 
“So this is how you managed to ace Professor Sheppard’s Form & Theory class last spring?” He asked, genuinely interested, but the smirk on his face threw you off. He wasn’t making fun of you, was he?
“I honestly don’t know what happened in that class. Or the one I took with him last semester.” You admitted, hoping to come across humbly. Suguru’s eyes widened at your statement. 
“You’re shitting me,” he said in disbelief. “You took another class with that asshole?” The laughter spilled from your mouth before you knew it was there. Obviously the disdain for that professor was common among the English Department at your university, but expressing it aloud seemed so taboo. 
“Yeah, dude,” you nodded soberly. “And what makes it worse is he used me as an example for the class.”
“What?” Suguru looked genuinely annoyed for a second before you realized how bad ‘ being used as an example’ sounded. 
“Oh!” Your hands waved him down like he was a flame you were trying to shoo away from getting too big. “Not like that, he just made me seem like a star student. He bragged about my organization skills and…” your voice trailed off thinking back on the fall semester from hell you just escaped. “It was pretty bad. Last semester was hard on my mental health, you know?” You left it at that, not wanting to dive too deep into details unprompted. 
Meeting Suguru's gaze felt like being ensnared; there seemed to be no escape from his piercing eyes.
Meeting Suguru’s gaze felt like a giant spotlight; there seemed to be no escape from being perceived by him at that moment. He was focused on your words, waiting for the next couple of sentences to fall from your lips. The truth of the matter is last semester was the lowest you’d ever felt and you weren’t sure how appropriate it was to bring up such personal issues. Lowering your eyes in response, Suguru somehow got the hint you didn’t give. 
He glanced down at his watch before meeting your gaze again. “I get it. If you ever want to talk about it more, you know where I am every Tuesday and Thursday morning,” he grinned sheepishly before gathering his coat & bag. “I’ve gotta run to catch this sociology lecture, but let’s hang again.” His smile almost left you stunned.
“Of course, Suguru,” you said with a smile. “See you Thursday.”  As he stepped away towards the exit and to class you took it upon yourself to use the rest of your time as productively as possible. Taking out your laptop, you started to go through the motions of opening up your calendar, checking your email, and other general housekeeping, but stopped when you reached for your drink and saw Suguru’s cup.
Your lips pressed into a small smile as you started to process the moment you were so desperately trying to disconnect from. You just had coffee with Suguru Geto. A smile crept up on your lips at the thought of him giving you his attention as you spoke. A brief lapse of insecurity ran through your core as you worried how you came across. He had seemed friendly enough, but, ultimately, you worried about being overwhelming. Sharing too much. Being too much. 
Suguru didn’t think that of you, though. In fact, as he moved away from your conversation, a renewed curiosity swirled within him. Thoughts of how to recreate that moment lingered in his mind, weaving through various scenarios. And to think you were about to open up to him. A subtle, knowing smile played on his lips as he made his way across campus to his next lecture with a lightness to his step. He could sense so much just beneath the surface of your expression, he knew he could figure you out. At least, he hoped.
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The rest of the day went by unassumingly. After attending another lecture, you trudged back to your apartment through the wintry slush that lined the sidewalks. The second you unlocked the front door and stepped inside, your nose was greeted by the sweetness & warmth of cinnamon. Kicking off your shoes, you yelled out your arrival to Utahime before moving towards the kitchen. 
“Oh, hey!” Utahime greeted you with a big smile. “I’m making milk and rice.” she was all bundled up in a snuggie and slippers as she stirred the pot full of your favorite dessert. 
“It smells so good, dude,” you breathed in the aroma almost desperately before turning to take a seat at the small table in the kitchen. There is a part of you that wants to gush about your first class of the day and how you’ve effectively launched a self-imposed campaign to get to know Suguru Geto before graduation. How he called you cute , how could you forget that till now?
“I figured after being so brave & tackling the first few days of class in such horrible weather, we deserved a treat.” You couldn’t agree with her more. She began to serve scoops of the concoction into bowls, sprinkling cinnamon on top as an extra garnish. Having Utahime as a roommate was nice. She really cared for you like a big sister. 
When you joined the sorority, you had been getting to know girls for maybe three weeks before your Big was assigned to you, the Little. They were meant to be mentors for the new members to look up to & get guidance from them, so a lot of the pairings were based on similar goals or habits you two may have shared. You remember having to rank on a scale of 1-5 in level of importance different categories like “leadership,” “philanthropy,” or “social life,” -- and you, as ambitious as ever at nineteen years old, prioritized leadership; this was before you realized nobody actually cared about anything other than impressing fraternity boys from high ranking fraternities. The #1 match for you was -- surprise, surprise -- Utahime Iori, the current Vice President at the time you joined. 
Other than your ambition, there were just a handful of things you two had in common, but you really admired her. She carried herself with gravity and grace which was something you felt you could stand to learn a bit more about. There were parts of you that you kept away from her, like your smoking habit, she knows about who you hook up with, but never the details. There were times where you were sure she was disappointed in a couple decisions you’ve made in that area, but she was always there for you at the end of the day. This was your second year living together in the three years you’ve known each other. Lucky for you, she chose to enroll in your university’s master program instead of going elsewhere, so you were able to keep your roommate.
She really did care about you, but, no, you decided you wouldn’t bring up Suguru and your little coffee date this morning. Not until it actually became something. You silently began to snack on the milk & rice Utahime made for the both of you when she excitedly gasped to get your attention.
“Oh, there’s an unofficial mixer with Pike on Thursday night!” she beamed at you, trying to gauge your reaction. Even in her master program, Utahime maintained such strong connections in her social circles that she was telling you about mixers before actual active members were able to. “It’s Jersey Shore themed,” she grinned like an idiot while you laughed off your sour face.
“Everybody’s so creative,” you mused sarcastically. She nodded while taking a sip from her tea. 
“Yeah, right? I know exactly what I’m wearing though. I figured we could pre-game here with a couple sisters before ubering over there fashionably late.” 
By “fashionably late,” Utahime was referring to the unspoken rule about mixers. The university representatives set rules in place to avoid things like hazing or underage drinking. Mixers are required to have a 30 minute sober period, but after that it’s anyone’s game. Most of the time what happens is everyone shows up 35 minutes late, treats the mixer like a pregame, & once the party starts itself the fraternity usually opens up their doors and sends out their address to begin hosting the weekend’s parties. 
“So, you’re coming, right?” Utahime pressed the question with her intense eye contact. This probably had something to do with how reclusive you became last semester. You would miss out on functions, leave parties unannounced and by yourself, only to end up walking home alone through the rain, and writing some sort of melodramatic poem. Utahime never understood why you got in those moods, she definitely didn’t know how to help other than to encourage you to branch out. You looked up at her and smiled. 
“Yes, I’ll go with you.” Finishing up your bowl of rice, you stood up before placing it in the sink. “I’ll start putting together my outfit,” you added, leaving the kitchen to retire to your room.
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joshhutchersonsgf · 2 days
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No cuz omg finally someone else thinks the "onlytruth" account about Josh and Claudia is BS.
Like... all the "evidence" she's abusing him is stuff like "Look!! She cropped him out of her insta story!!"
IMMIDEATELY FOLLOWED BY "Look!! She posts so many pictures of him!! She's obviously using him for fame!!"
Like which is it?? 😭
The ONLY things I've found weird about their relationship is the fact she was banned from the futureman set or something because she kept disrupting him...
and that clip from the "Josh answers the internet's questions" or whatever video about the google searches where he answers "Is Josh Hutcherson taken?" with "Well, I have a girlfriend, yes, but like... I'm me. And I'm here for the world."
LIKE?? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, JOSH?? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?? WHO SAYS THAT?? (Maybe I'm insane/toxic but if I was his gf and he answered that question with any kind of "I have a girlfriend, BUT..." I'd be pissed LMAO. Like excuse me?? What BUT?? TEN YEAR RELATIONSHIP.)
Anyways sorry I just wanted to join in the discussion and rant <3
IM SO HAPPY MORE PEOPLE AGREE i was kind of nervous to say how i felt because i knew soooo many josh fans believe everything on that account.
claudia traisac is her own person !! and i completely agree, if she crops josh out, that’s fine. if she posts him, that’s fine. it’s not of our business whether she posts or doesn’t post about him. the arguments always contradict each other like you said 😭 with the “she never posts him” to “she always post him”, people can never make up their minds.
about the set of future man, i can’t find anything that says she was banned. i think you’re using the pictures of them “fighting” as an example of her disrupting him, but here’s some pics from the same day, only moments after
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she seems happy!! i’m not trying to disagree with you or anything, just informing you :3
the way he worded the “i’m my own person” thing during the interview was weird, but i think he just means he doesn’t want it to be “claudia and josh” “josh and claudia”, etc. it’s “claudia traisac” and “josh hutcherson”, and he wants it to be known that way.
thank you for replying!! i’m sorry if i’m taking this too seriously, but abuse is a serious issue in relationships and for people to be throwing that word around like it’s nothing.. it’s terrible.
i hope i can use my page to inform people about the truth of this relationship :)
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I hadn't read that one!
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Despite an initially awkward interaction in your favourite bookstore, maybe things start going well for you after meeting that handsome stranger.
a/n. My academic anxiety allowed me to finish this! Maybe it's because this type of situations it's all I need right now. 😩 I would really appreciate if you tell me if you liked and your opinions about it! Any advice would be appreciated. And please, remember English is not my first language.
Word count: 1.2k
You entered your favourite bookstore, knowing that you were going to buy something even if you didn’t plan on it. You went there a lot, it was on your way home from work and always a comfort place for you.
“Hi, Y/N! Are you buying something today?” The booksellers already knew you and you could even consider them as friends, you can’t remember how many times you just went inside only for a chat with them when the place was empty of customers. “It’s been a week since the last book I bought, so… you know I will.” You laugh knowing it was impossible to leave with empty hands.
You went to your most loved section, the fantasy one. The hunger games, The maze runner, A court of thorns and roses… Oh, how you loved those books. You were too focused on the book titles that you missed someone, only noticing the person when you bumped into him. “Oh my god! I’m sorry! I didn’t see you! I’m so so sorry!” You looked up to the man staring at you and, oh god, he was captivating. His blue eyes were the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. 
He looked at you and nodded, not saying anything. He stared at you for a few seconds and then he went back to his task of checking the book in his hands, The Hobbit. You hadn’t read that one. “Nice book, I guess, I hadn’t read that one!” He looked at you and nodded again. Realising he wasn’t going to say anything, you kept reading more titles until you decided for one. 
“So, today I'm choosing this one, The invisible life of Addie LaRue, have you read it?” You asked the bookseller as you pay. You love to talk about books. You both start a conversation about it, but you couldn’t stop looking at where that handsome man was. You hoped to see him again, maybe not bump into him… or doing it, no matter how as long as you saw him again.
The next day, after having an awful day at work, you stopped again at your favourite place at the same hour, again. “Hey guys, today it's just looking! I need some distraction.” They nodded in your direction, understanding that some days, you just needed your books, not talking, not socialising, just books. Or that’s what they thought. 
You did in fact need someone, someone that you didn’t have. You longed for someone like the men you read about, someone to love you like Hozier loves in his songs. Those days at work were the absolute worst, your boss being an asshole to you and without someone waiting for you at home for some cuddles to forget about everything else. So you searched for that comfort in books, alone.
You went again to the fantasy section, surprised (and excited) to see someone familiar there. It was the same man you’d bumped into the previous day. Should you say something? Maybe apologise again? “Hey! Hi again! I bumped into you yesterday… sorry about that again.” You cringed at yourself, you regretted starting to talk. “Hi, yeah, I remember, don’t worry.”
Oh. My. God. His voice. That’s all you could think about. You didn’t know what to say so you stayed there looking at him and wanting to disappear. “I’m Y/N, by the way, not that you care, but… yeah, hi.” You were two sentences away from punching yourself right in the face. Why couldn’t you just shut up? It wasn’t that hard, was it?
“Bucky.” Oh god, he was making clear that he didn’t want to keep talking, you were definitely annoying him. He didn’t deny that he didn’t care. “Well, nice to meet you, Bucky, I’ll let you keep looking.” 
You saw that he was looking at some of the books you were looking at yesterday and you were curious about it. Was he doing it because he saw you? Or your delusional self was speaking? After some time wandering in between books, you decided it’s time for you to go home. You looked around to see if Bucky was still around but you didn’t see him. 
Another day, another visit to the bookstore. This time you were excited about seeing someone. Was Bucky going to be there? You wanted to see him again, maybe talk to him if you felt brave enough. When you entered the bookstore, you searched for him, but he wasn’t there. One of your bookseller friends saw you enter and immediately called you. 
“Y/N! I have something for you!” For you? What could it be? A new book that could be interesting for you? “Oh! What is it?” You didn’t understand the smile she was giving you. She handed you a book and a note. You read it.
Dear Y/N, 
You told me you didn’t read The Hobbit, I think it’s time for you to do it. I guess I’m too coward to tell you this in person.
Bucky
You then looked at the book in your hands, The Hobbit. No way! You couldn’t believe what was happening. “Did he… leave this here? For me?” You couldn’t think straight, but the librarian understood what was going through your mind. “Yes Y/N!! He did!! He looked so nervous when he handed me everything! He bought the book just for you!” You were blushing so hard. 
You decided then that you were going to go home right at that moment to start the book, it felt like a way to connect with him. You were slightly disappointed that it wasn’t him the one who handed you the book in person, but you couldn’t stop thinking that it was so cute how he did it. You were now excited to see him again to talk about the book, so you had to start it right now.
After arriving home you prepared yourself for a good reading session. You opened the book and saw a post-it on the first page. 
Oh, and by the way, I’m not gonna be in the city this week, so here’s my number in case you want to talk about it while reading it ;). 
Bucky, again.
His phone number was there. You let out an excited squeal. This was better than any romance novel you’ve ever read because this was real. THIS WAS REAL! You lost no time in adding him in your contacts and sending him a message.
Y/N: hi! Y/N here :). thank you for the book, excited to read it!
Bucky📚: Hey, Y/N. Hope you enjoy it ;). Keep me updated.
You were giggling and kicking your feet, you were actually texting the hot guy you met at the bookstore!
Y/N: i will! but… maybe i also want to talk about it in person…🤭
Bucky📚: When I come back to town, I would 
like that too, maybe with a coffee?
Sweet mother of pearl! Was he asking you out? You couldn’t think about what to say.
Bucky📚: Like a date.
Oh. He was asking you out! Time to focus, you think to yourself.
Y/N: sure, i would like that :). 
Y/N: now let me start my book! ;)
Maybe this could be the start of something interesting. Maybe you finally founded the man of your dreams.
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bigfemboyenergy · 12 hours
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The Worst Crossover To Ever ‘Cross Over’ Pt.2
See, Danny isn’t terribly surprised with his predicament. And by that, he means that he is wholly unsurprised that he has to fake who he is. A fourteen year old kid working, in this day and age? Unlikely, he thinks. So he decides to pretend to be fifteen, what an easy fix. But that doesn’t help with Sonic’s side of the problem. Sure, Sonic gets confused for a kid, but..how old is he?
As soon as the thought surfaces, Danny opens his mouth to speak, turning to look at Sonic as they walk around, searching for a somewhat acceptable abandoned building or something similar to hide out in for now. “Uh, how old are you, exactly?” Danny asks, with little hesitation. Sonic shrugs; “Old enough to legally drink in some countries- why, worried about something?” Danny feels his face turn a bit white. Wow, his appearance does not match his age. With a nervous smile, Danny responds with, “Yeah, dunno if you could get a job looking like that. I’m fourteen, and even I look older than you.” Sonic coughs awkwardly. “I’m gonna have to work on that, aren’t I? What an unlucky day it is,” he says, with a yawn. Shelving that problem in order to focus on the most important one, the two continue to wander the streets, looking for something to temporarily call “home”.
It isn’t too long before they find a suitable place. Dark, dreary, just like everywhere else; but it’s far more exaggerated, and even dirtier than the rest of the city. Some old graffiti here and there, a broken window or two. Not too shabby on the inside, still has running water and an AC. It makes Danny wonder just how old this building is and just how long it’s been since it was last lived in.
Sonic inspects every nook and cranny of the building, as if checking for safety violations. It appears to be an old office building, with kitchen necessities in what might’ve been a break room, and running water in the bathrooms. He investigates alone, namely for “Danny’s safety”, he says, but it makes one think. The amount of spiders he’s killed seems to point to a different conclusion..but that’s of no matter.
After looking at every floor, Sonic finally decides which one they’ll be staying on. Something that’s just a cut above the rest, and also safe enough- the third floor, out of four. He waves Danny over to the cleanest spot in the spacious, main room, calling out, “Let’s sleep over here for now, since we kinda can’t clean anything yet. It looks a lot nicer here, away from the nasty corners.” Danny nods, agreeing in silence. It looks like they have a lot of work to do, as they both flop on the floor and try to sleep.
Danny, however, struggles to sleep. In an entirely new city, an empty building, with someone who he’s just been freshly acquainted with, trying to sleep on the cold, hard floor? That’s no easy feat, and he acknowledges this. So he comes to the most logical conclusion: why not check out the city from above, via Phantom form? In silence, he nods in agreement with his own thought, intrigued by his new possibilities. He’ll fly out and survey the town, enjoy the sunrise, if he’s awake for that long- try to make this place feel a little bit like home. Familiarize himself with it, perhaps. It sounds like a good plan, no? So he acts.
He whispers to himself, after assuring that Sonic is asleep, “Going ghost!” He transforms in silence. A little reminder of who he is, the whispers of who he was only hours ago, come to him via his reference of his beginnings. It gives him a feeling of determination, a want to explore. A desire to protect this new friend he’s found, and the strangers of a place he’s newly discovered. Slowly slipping through the floor, intangibly, he floats out of the building, making himself invisible so as not to spook anyone else who may be out at night.
In the night sky, he soars through the clouds as he takes in the layout of the city. It’s large, dark, and..full of crime, which makes a lot of sense in such a poverty-stricken area, but.. it has an air of abnormality. Suddenly, he hears some horrible sounds. Shrill, shrieking laughter booms out from a warehouse a few blocks away, his ears wishing for the silence of seconds before to return. Although he doesn’t truly want to approach, his obsession to protect those in need draws him to the source of the sound. The closer he gets, the more off everything seems. And..are those furries on the top of that building? What have I gotten myself into, he thinks, with an accompanying facepalm. Oh, boy.
Back in the cold, dreary office building, Sonic wakes up, restless. He feels terrible..he turns towards Danny, wanting to check on him, before quickly finding out that he’s not even present. What a fantastic day this has been. Sonic feels his heart pumping, ready for a run. He has to find Danny, to make sure he’s okay. Unless..he left of his own accord? Shit, what if he actually is weirded out by me..he said something about the unusualness of a guy like me showing up, didn’t he?! Sonic struggles to decide what to do. He knows Danny could be in need, he knows he’s young. And, from what he’s gathered, he’s a bit odd too, but if he needs help, of course Sonic should jump on in for him! They’re “partners in crime” now, aren’t they?
Despite his conscience screaming at him to go, he still struggles to make the choice. What if Danny really didn’t mean anything he said? But..he listens to that loud, desperate part of him. He doesn’t want to lose the only person he’s found here. If he can save or help this kid, someone who accepts him in this strange new place, that’s just what he’ll do.
So, against his “better judgement”, he rushes off, speeding around the town to find Danny. If anything, he should be where it’s quietest or where it’s loudest, since both are eeriest. As Sonic zooms off, going incredibly fast so as not to be seen clearly, he is particularly careful to check suspicious, disturbing areas.
Not long after he began his run, he finds Danny. But it’s quite the weird situation to be in.. cause Danny’s colors are inverted now? Amd there’s this weird bat guy a few buildings away, with some friends, too.. and a fucking..clown?! What is this shit, bad writing??!
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grapejuicestyless · 9 hours
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But I’m Kind Of Green
Harry Styles x fem!reader
Summery: April showers bring May flowers. As the warm spring air carries in a warmth you and Harry haven’t felt for months, you spend the day basking in the sunlight and admiring the things you couldn’t really see in the dark winter.
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The grass underneath my fingertips tickles my skin as I wrap my knuckles around the roots a tug. Soft sounds of squeaking filling the silence that lingers between us. The silence is never awkward, nor is it heavy. Our eyes flicker between each others faces and our hands narrowly avoid the others in the freshly cut grass.
“Did you wear sunscreen?” Harry smiles with his front teeth before shaking his head, and his eyes flicker down to my nose for a moment.
“I can tell.”
“Yeah?” He mumbles, scooting his hips closer to mine and tucking his hands beneath his head like a pillow. He rests his hair in his palms.
“You get burnt under your eyes real bad, I can see that coming in. But you’re also getting freckles again.” Harry laughs.
“Anything else?”
I think about it for a second, but decide to just move impossibly closer and place my own palms beneath my head to rest.
“No.”
Harry hums.
“Well, I like being in the sun, we haven’t had weather like this in a while.” He begins, “and I think it’s my favorite kind of weather because it’s easier to see you.”
“How so?” I smile, still searching around his own face. I can feel the heat not only radiating from the sun above but also bouncing off of his body onto mine. It’s a warm blanket of love and comfort wrapping around us in the early may heat.
“In the winter your eyes are brown.”
I raise my brow, blinking more rapidly subconsciously.
“Well, my eyes are brown.” Harry smiles smugly, “Says so on my license too.”
“Well then your license is wrong. Your eyes are hazel.” He smiles proudly, his leg throwing itself over my knee to link us together in yet another way.
“Are they?”
Harry hums, smiling sweet at me and turning to the side completely to admire the way the sun beats down on us. He has a dopey look in his eyes I wish I could capture forever in my memory. A lazy haze that he only gets at this time of the year, when the harsh winter is transitioning into a breezy summer.
“Yep. But you can only tell in the sun. They look plain brown in the dark, but when we lay out like we are now you’re green all over. Not to say I don’t like your brown eyes, but I just think it’s interesting because I don’t really get to see the green for that long.” His thumb swipes over my cheek slowly, tracing my cheekbone down to my chin. He sets his hand back under his ear with a shuffle.
“Well, your eyes are just kind of green in the winter but they get really green in the summer. I think that’s pretty cool too. And your hair, it’s darker in January than it is in June.” I laugh under my breath, melting into every lingering touch of Harrys skin to mine.
“I guess we’re both kind of green then. That’s something else we have in common.”
Sometimes when Harry talks to me like this I wonder if I’ve done anything in my life good enough to deserve this. All the love the that pours out of him reflects back onto me so I can send it back over. We sweet talk and laugh like we have no stress in the world and if I cry I know he’ll be the one to hold me. I wonder if there are other people out there who experience the same kind of love we have, if the little things make them feel as giddy as they do for us.
I can feel the laughter bubbling up my throat and through my body with the realization that we both share a but of green in ourselves. I never really noticed the green before Harry pointed it out, and I would have never have known if he hadn’t told me.
In moments like this I wonder how I survived in such a grey and dreary world without Harry by my side. I think back on all of our adventures and think about how boring everything must have been without his warm presence and soft laughter in my ear.
“But I’d still love you if you weren’t.” He adds with a cheeky smile, his hands gripping my waist to lift me over his hips. I lay my head near his and bathe in the may breeze with the people around us and the bees in the leaves.
I think I whisper to him that I love him, but I’m not really sure because now I can only focus on him and all of his greens.
I once lived a life of total winter, darkness clouding my eyes, but now I see the world the way I think I should have always been seeing it. Because summers are more fun and the winters are shorter. Brown eyes are nice, but I’m kind of green and so is Harry.
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avatardoggo · 2 years
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i am the smartest girl in school
#i was at the bus station waiting for my bus tonight close to 1130 and this guy comes up to me and he’s like ‘i just wanted to say yiu look#really cute and that color (this lavender long sleeve top) looks really good on you and i was like “o ty 😊 on the outside 1000% normal but#SCREAMING on the inside and mind you a couple hours ago when i was dt with my friend this guy stuck his head out the window to say he liked#my top too so when this guy at the bus station complimented me i was like o wow ok guess this is my color even my coworkers were saying so#so bus terminal guy introduced himself and i instantly forgot his name bc i big brain smart and we just started small talking and then my bu#s came so i was like cool i can go but then we take the s a m e bus and the same stop but i didn’t tell him that i let him think i got off l#later at a different stop so we’re on the bus just talking about movies and christopher nolan ans quinton tarantino and movie nerd stuff#y’all know how i get and i’m thinking o this guys cool like i’d be his friend and then when his (our) stop comes up he asks for my number#AND I JUST GIVE IT TO HIM LIKE ???!! and i could’ve lied or given another number or just said no but i was thinking o he’s cool like he’s a#movie nerd and we can have a good discussion and like i wasn’t shaky nervous around him like my social anxiety was non existent so i was lik#o friend? but as soon as i went home to text my friend she was like GIRL WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT AND NOW ITS CLICKING THAT HE MAYBE MOST LIKEL#Y DOESNT WANT TK BE MY FRIEND BUT SOMETHING ELSE ANS HE LOWKEY LIVES NEAR ME ANDBJDJDHDHSKJSBDHDJDJJS THIS#has never happened to me like nothing of the sort i’m blaming the top and it’s color like ahshhdjdjdbdbdbd i’m flattered but no i’m not look#i got for that rn and he looked older like late 20s?and i’m baby so no tanks#hopefully i never see him on th street omgoofness that would be the worst i won’t know how to act like i thought friend as if he didn’t call#me cute upon introducing himself goodness i shouldn’t be allowed to speak for myself smh#i need to search up how to be a Normal Calm Girl Who Can Take A Compliment And Reject A Guy If Necessary Withiut Being Weird#wikihow here i come#vk overshares in the tags
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wife-of-all-dilfs · 2 months
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what friends do | f. odair
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summary: you were a simple town girl. finnick odair was the crown jewel of panem. both of you needed an escape and found it at a secluded beach just outside district four. these were three ingredients that created a year-long friendship. but were friends supposed to have… impure thoughts about one another? you weren’t so sure.
pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader
warnings: smut, wayyy too much detail, dirty thoughts, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, mostly readers pov, pre-rebellion, HEAVY dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v (big no no), multiple orgasms, so much pining, creampie, cock-warming
notes: i’m so sorry this took me so long. life has been up my ass lately and, as y’all know, i’m a slow writer. but thank you sm to everyone who patiently stuck around, i love y’all <3 this was supposed to be a short smut fic but um, apparently not. anyway, this has taken long enough to come out so imma stop rambling. ENJOY <3
word count: 11.7k
Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.
Harvest in the fishing industry was at its peak and the docks were chock-full with boats bringing in their plentiful catches. The town centre was a bustling scene, crowded with people selling produce and trading for food to bring home to their family's kitchen table.
Last year's autumn harvest was the same picture—overflow, hustle, commotion; chaos like this was something you never came to enjoy. So, it was also around this time last year that you had decided to set off in search of the perfect location away from the rest of society. A place where you could be at peace, where you could forget the disastrous world you lived in.
District Four was home to many popular beaches, but the one you discovered was uninhabited, isolated, found after an hour-or-so-long trek through overgrown dirt pathways and a thicket of sea-grape and palm trees. A true paradise away from society. Or so you had thought in the first few weeks.
You weren't too sure when he had started showing up or how he had even discovered the beach.
However, one evening, as you were seated in the sand watching the sunset on the darkening horizon, you noticed a dark figure diving and surfacing in the flat, glimmering water. Their movements were so poised and fluid like the ocean was something they had conquered. You guessed it to be a dolphin or shark because there was no way a human being could move so gracefully.
But then the figure started wading to shore, and the next thing you knew, they were standing on two legs and exiting the water. You knew then that you had guessed wrong. The sun behind him obscured the bronze of his hair and the swirling lukewarm sea that pooled around his pupils. All you could see was the outline of his tall broad figure as he hiked through the sand toward you.
Fear had told you to bolt from the approaching stranger. You were in the middle of nowhere—it was the perfect place to be murdered or kidnapped. But something else, some deep and tangible instinct, also told you to stay.
"Didn't realise I had a captive audience," thestranger spoke, droplets of gleaming water sliding off his body and into the sand as he stood a few feet away.
Taken by surprise, you fumbled over your words trying to form a sentence in response. "I wasn't—I didn't—"
"Easy, honey," he chuckled. The sound was so warm and pleasant that it almost alleviated the slight chill in the air. "Just pulling your leg."
Your mouth formed a small circle. "Right," you said, gaze locked on the golden sand in embarrassment. "I, uh, didn't think anyone else knew about this place."
To be honest, you were pretty sure it was a restricted area. Probably the reason it was so isolated. If a Capitol official found you, the consequences would most likely involve your tongue, a scalpel, and a hell of a lot of pain. All for a wanting a little peace and quiet.
"Neither did I," the man said. "I only come every now and then. Need an escape from the constant buzz back home. Time for myself, you know?"
"Yeah." You smiled, feeling the stranger's words resonate in your soul. "Yeah, I do know."
You thought you saw the corners of his lips curve into a smile, but the shadows on his face were so prominent that you couldn't tell.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
Well... if he were going to murder you, he would have done it already. So, you nodded. Sometimes you questioned your survival instincts. Or lack thereof.
He didn't leave much space as he sat beside you. Only an inch or two, meaning you could feel the humidity of body heat and salt water emit from his skin. Even sitting down, he was still quite tall compared to you, but that wasn't what caused your heart to drop into your stomach.
The setting sun, which no longer disguised his face with shadows, now illuminated his entire figure and revealed his identity. His hair was a mess of wet wavy strands, the colour alight like a pale fire beneath the sun's orange radiance. His skin was sun-kissed, no doubt from days he had spent perfecting his swimming abilities. And those dimples... wow.
He was gorgeous. A man sculpted by the gods of beauty, just like everyone in Panem had depicted him to be. Even his sea-green eyes were as striking as everyone said.
Finnick Odair.
The man who was crowned victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games at fourteen. Who trapped multiple tributes at once in a net and killed them one by one with his famed trident. A killer.
The man whose reputation in the Capitol was known nationwide. A proud womanizer.
That was what everyone made him out to be.
Only, in the brief interaction you shared with him, he seemed like quite the opposite. He radiated effortless charm and warmth, but not in the arrogant way the media had portrayed him. Then again, did the media ever accurately portray the truth of anything?
It was then that you determined it didn't really matter who people said he was or what he had done. He was a human being—just like you. He deserved a chance.
His pink lips stretched into a knee-weakening smile; you were grateful that you were sitting down.
"I'm Finnick, by the way."
The both of you knew he didn't need to introduce himself. The whole of Panem knew his name and face. Though the fact that he humbly did so anyway made you like him the tiniest bit more.
You returned his smile with one of your own and introduced yourself.
Time passed and the sun had set; the moon had risen, but you both remained sitting side-by-side in the sand. Conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you that it was difficult for you to remember that stopping and getting some air into your lungs was an important factor in keeping a conversation going... as well as keeping you alive.
You told him about yourself as he did himself—some things that were meant to remain secrets, some things that seemed too strange to tell anyone else.
At some point, he had offered to walk you back to your house. The trek was over an hour long but neither of you seemed to care. The time flew by. 
When you were standing at your front door and he was gazing up at you from the bottom of the steps, you both promised to meet again the next day. And you did. 
As you did the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...
**********
As soon as the nights carried that familiar chill and the town congested with markets and fervent buyers, you knew mid-autumn had made its return. This meant most of your evenings were spent at a certain secret beach with a certain District Four victor.
Having already finished his pre-sunset swim, Finnick was sitting beside you, fingers weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath you. A couple of weeks after you had first met, he had shown up one day holding it all rolled up in hand.
"Made this for you to sit on," he had said with a proud smile. "Took nearly all night and earned me a few good finger cramps, but I think it was worth it."
Pinpointing the exact moment your attraction to him first formed was tricky. However, that gesture was one your mind returned to often. That little palm-leaf mat, the time and effort he put into making it, was scored on your heart.
Finnick was very much a gentleman.
He would always offer you a hand when standing up and whenever you walked back through the overgrown seaside forest. Sometimes he picked fruits for you such as sea grapes and mangos or would climb one of the palms and knock down a few coconuts. One thing he always, always did wasmake sure you got home safe; he never let you out of his sight until you were safe inside your front door.
All those gestures, big and small, added up. Soon enough, Finnick Odair had infiltrated your heart and consumed all your thoughts. You saw his sea-green eyes staring back at you whenever you gazed out at the ocean by your house. Felt the ghost of his hands on yours whenever you picked a grape from the kitchen fruit bowl. Heard his voice calling out your name in your most vivid of dreams.
But there was more to it than innocent adoration.
The guilt came when your gaze started lingering on his body a little too long whenever he left the water at the beach. Shimmering droplets would glide down his beautifully tanned skin; his arm muscles would flex as his fingers raked back his dripping wet hair. It wasn't yourfault he was the walking definition of perfection.
Unholy was the closest word to describe the filthy thoughts that had perverted your imagination. What started as endearing daydreams soon became fantasies that had you seeking relief between your thighs late at night. Your thoughts went wild whenever he dropped you off at your house. It took everything in you not to invite him inside and ask him to fuck you senseless against the front door.
All you had to do was ask. You knew he would say yes.
A year is a long time to know someone. A long time for feelings to grow. It also serves as a lot of time for things to happen between two people—things that linger in your mind even months after they have happened.
Like the times he would walk by you and teasingly whisper something provocative in your ear, then disappear for an hour of swimming, leaving you all hot and flustered in the sand. Neither of you would acknowledge it when he returned. Or when conversations took such a flirtatious turn, the tension only dissipated when houses were separating you at the end of the night.
But that's just what friends do, right? They tease and banter?
Maybe.
However, not all things could be chalked up to being just friends.
Another thing about Finnick's eyes was that they were transparent. You saw how helplessly they clung to you the days you stripped to your underwear and joined him in the water. He had this sort of reaction that turned his eyes into a dark violent sea, like you were some divine temptation planted to test the strength of his resolve.
Sometimes he could resist. Other days it was obvious he couldn't help but reach out and touch.
He would try to be subtle about it. Hands holding yours a little longer than necessary when he helped you stand up. Sitting too closely beside you so that your arms and legs would graze against each other. Brushing off pieces of seaweed that would stick to the dip of your waist and then constantly using the same excuse just to feel the heat of your soft skin.
There was one interaction, though, that you fell asleep to the thought of every night. It was a moment when things almost went too far; an interaction friends definitely did not share.
You could remember it clear a day. Hell, you could still feel it clear as day.
It was a hot summer evening. Both you and Finnick were at the beach and swimming in the water since being in the muggy coastal heat for more than five minutes was parallel to roasting in a thousand-degree sauna.
You were about twenty meters offshore, bobbing beside Finnick as he dived to collect various seashells. That boy could hold his breath for an unbelievable amount of time which meant sometimes you spent minutes alone on the surface, waiting, listening to the calm waves lap eerily around you.
This is exactly how people die in shark movies, said an unwarranted voice in your mind.
As usual, a minute went by. Nothing to worry about. Then a minute turned into two and you were starting to become a little concerned. And then it was two and a half minutes and you were now panicking.
"Finnick?!" you called out, hoping he could somehow hear you from the dark depths.
Three minutes had totalled, and you were pretty certain he had drowned. Just to add to the utter dread coursing through your veins, something slimy brushed against your foot. Most likely a piece of seaweed, but you didn't make that connection at the time.
That very same moment, Finnick burst through the water's surface, only mildly breathless and pinching a small iridescent shell between his fingers.
"Look at thi—"
Before the words could leave his mouth, he found himself enveloped in your distraught embrace. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, crying tears of relief. 
Damn that stupid seashell.
He automatically secured you in his arms, concern palpable in his voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"
You pulled away, an indistinguishable combination of tears and saltwater rolling down your cheeks. Though it was hard to miss the look of distress found in your furrowed brows and trembling lips.
"Don't ever do that to me again!" you exclaimed, gripping his arms to emphasise your urgency. "You hear me?! Ever!"
Finnick's head tilted slightly, surprised by your emotional reaction. He hadn't realised he meant so much to you. The surprise faded into remorse, softening his features.
"I won't. I won't, I promise," he said sincerely. His eyes flickered over the worry lines etched on your forehead. He unconsciously brushed his thumb over the lines, hoping to draw out the anxiety with his touch, and then tucked away a strand of hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."
You took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to compose yourself. A mess of emotions stirred inside you—worry, embarrassment, irritation. You were partially frustrated with Finnick for making you fear for his life. Mostly annoyed with yourself for showing such vulnerability in front of him.
"God, you're an idiot sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head.
He smirked. "Didn't think you cared so much about me."
"No, you just don't think, Finn."
He glanced off into the distance for a moment with furrowed brows. "Well, that's definitely not true," he countered, meeting your gaze again with a half-smirk. "I think about a lot of things, actually."
"Oh? Like what?" you asked, slightly annoyed. "Do tell me what the great Finnick Odair thinks about instead of his own safety."
Slowly, the smirk faded from his lips. Something new tinged the atmosphere and suddenly everything around you seemed hotter than it previously was. Not an uncomfortable or sweltering heat, but one that held an intensity that sparked the air with electricity.
You suddenly became very aware that Finnick was still holding you in his arms. You recognised the confined proximity between you and him and realised that, before this moment, your bodies had never been so close.
Your legs were curled around his hips, pelvis pressed firmly against his. The position of his hands, which were keeping you afloat, was bordering on inappropriate but would only be deemed as such if you cared. Which you didn't. You liked it—having his hands on you.
One thing you couldn't ignore was the flickering of his gaze. How his eyes kept dropping to your lips. How they blatantly revealed a long-awaited confession that words just couldn't capture. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear the purr in his voice as he told you.
Then he was leaning in. You weren't sure whether it was on purpose or if the pure magnetism of the tension between you was drawing him closer. Regardless, you started to lean in closer too, eyes drooping as you focused on his mouth.
And before the short distance between your lips and his became immeasurable, you whispered, "Tell me, Finn."
The hands keeping you afloat trailed up and down your back restlessly as Finnick forced a tense exhale through his nose. He seemed to be wrestling with thoughts. You waited in anticipation, and right when it seemed like he was going to make a move—
"I think..."
—you were interrupted. By no less than a pod of dolphins as they leapt from the water, causing you and Finnick to jolt from each other's embrace.
The rest of that evening was not worth mentioning. Not because you had forgotten what happened, but because the sheer awkwardness between you and Finnick afterwards was so torturous that you wanted to keep the memory squashed in the recesses of your mind. Neither of you acknowledged what happened. Finnick still walked you home, but it was done so in agonising silence.
Surprisingly, you both returned to the beach the next day. You hadn't expected him to be his usual upbeat self, but he was. So, in turn, you too acted like the previous day was erased from history. But your friendship with him was never the same.
Flirty conversations no longer felt like a joke; they now had a deeper meaning. Fleeting touches caused full-body goosebumps that didn't happen before. There was so much unresolved tension, and it was painfully thick. Inescapable.
So, as Finnick sat beside you present-day, weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath your bodies, you couldn't help but notice the transparency of your body language and his. The gap between you both was comparable to the size of a pearl and even though neither of you acknowledged it, you kept catching each other stealing quick glances every half-minute or so.
When you were sure he wasn't looking, you found your gaze drawn to his fingers. They were sturdy, yet nimble; curling and manoeuvring in ways that had your face feeling hotter than the heat of any sunburn or warm summer's day. This heat was beneath your skin. Spreading through your limbs in little tendrils and wrapping around your nerves. A dip in the salty sea wouldn't cool you down nor would a gulp of cold fresh water.
As you stared at his hands, you knew only the source of the sensation could offer reprieve. But that wouldn't happen, so there you burned.
The fact that he was shirtless and that his hair was a gorgeous mess of damp bronze curls helped not one bit with taming the consuming desire inside you. God, you were a mess yourself.
You sighed.
The sun, glowing intensely with a divine orange, was beginning its descent on the horizon. Your feet were buried beneath the soft sand, trying to retain some warmth as a slight breeze blew against your exposed skin.
Wearing a short sundress probably wasn't the most practical idea. Embarrassing as it was to admit, practicality wasn't what was going through your mind when you decided to wear it... Someone—Something else was.
"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.
Your heart fumbled in your chest, terrified that he had somehow heard your thoughts. "Sorry?"
"You sighed," he said, turning his head to look at you. "Or am I just getting so old that I'm already starting to hear things?"
With relief of his lack of mind-reading abilities, you laughed softly. "You're definitely getting a bit old, Finn," you teased. "Any nursing homes you've been considering?"
"I heard retirement by the sea has its perks," he quipped, subtle dimples present as he returned to his weaving. "Although, I will need someone to make sure I don't fall asleep while swimming and get carried out by the tide. What d'you say, sweetheart? Up for becoming my personal lifeguard?"
Absolutely. "Depends. Will you force me to wear one of those awful flowery swimming caps with a matching tankini?"
He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm thinking more like those little red bodysuits. You know, the ones that zip open down the front?"
You reprimanded him by pushing his shoulder, wearing a betraying smile. "Very charming."
"I just think red's your colour, that's all," he laughed.
Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was teasing you; teasing was basically the foundation of your... friendship. Deep down, you knew there was also some truth behind his words. A truth that was as electrifying as it was upsetting—how long were you both going to keep up with this whole 'friends' charade? Could you handle it if the answer was forever?
Best not to think about it. For your sanity's sake.
Finnick finally settled into a comfortable position with his forearms locked around his bent knees, apparently having decided to continue his mat-weaving another time. He had been extending it bit by bit ever since he first made it for you. At this point, you were sure he was attempting to cover the entire beach. For now, it was only big enough for two people to lie down on.
Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.
And then you fell down yet another rabbit hole of depraved daydreams... A pair of hands interlocking your own above your head. Hot lips pressing kisses to your neck. Tongue gliding up the sensitive skin of your jugular. Your fingers tugging at bronze curls between your thighs.
You were sick. Diseased with immorality. Finnick was your friend. If not your best friend. You're not supposed to fantasise about fucking your best friend.
"Thinking about anyone in particular?"
You almost choked on your saliva. "W—What?" 
How did he keep doing that?
Finnick seemed to find joy in your perplexity. It was written all over his face. God, those fucking dimples. "You've been completely still for nearly five minutes and your legs are covered in goosebumps," he pointed out. "Hence the question: who are you thinking about?"
As you looked down, you found that your skin was in fact riddled with goosebumps. It didn't occur to you then that the only reason he could have noticed was if he was staring at your legs in the first place. It also didn't occur to you that Finnick obviously had the very same debauched thoughts running through his own mind.
Why did you have to wear such a revealing dress? He already struggled enough with resisting you at the best of times.
If you had been paying attention, a simple glance in his direction would have revealed how his ears were pink and his pupils were dilated. More importantly, you would have seen his legs constantly shifting to ease the discomfort tenting his pants. Fortunately, he had mastered the art of winding himself down in a short amount of time.
Unfortunately for you, that ability was not within your skill set.
You scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Finnick—it's autumn," you said, a quick snappy lilt in your tone. "I know you've got some weird internal space heater built into you, but normal people tend to have a reaction to the cold."
Well, it's a good thing you didn't sound defensive...
Finnick raised an eyebrow at you, displaying a puzzled half-smirk that spoke a thousand words.
You lowered your head in embarrassment, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you murmured. "I just, uh, don't really like the cold."
"Who could've guessed."
Despite serving as an excuse, it wasn't entirely untrue. You really did dislike the cold. And it was now that you seriously regretted your choice of sparse attire. The breeze kept blowing up the dress's skirt, threatening to expose your dignity to the world. Or more accurately, to Finnick. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a pair of delicate lace underwear that morning instead of old granny panties.
Nevertheless, now that it was on your mind, you couldn't think about anything but the cold gusts of wind blowing against you. Chills ran over your skin and you were shaking like a leaf.
Finnick, being the gentleman that he was, scanned the surrounding area for anything he could use to keep you warm. He would've given you his shirt had it not been crumpled in a ball of wet sand on the ground.
There was nothing else of use. Nothing except a single apprehensive idea sitting in the forefront of his mind. It was all he had. He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the potentially disastrous idea.
Then, after taking a silent deep breath, he finally said, "Come here then." Your eyes snapped to his. You must've looked like you had seen a ghost because his brows knitted together in confusion. "What?" he breathed out a chuckle. "I'd prefer not having to carry you home as a block of ice."
You thought about it for a moment. Was it really such a good idea after the thoughts that were just swarming in your mind? Another gust of wind blew by and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself.
"I won't bite, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to," he added.
You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up."
With that, you slid across the mat, positioning your body, which was still facing the sunset, in front of his legs. There was a moment of hesitation. Anxiety. But before you could reconsider, Finnick wrapped a strong arm around your middle and pulled you back against his chest, situating your body between his legs.
The exhale that left your lips was instantaneous and you couldn't help but shudder at the warmth of his skin. "God," you sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden change in temperature. "How are you so warm all the time?"
"Oh, you know. Weird internal space heater."
You laughed softly, then felt Finnick's chest vibrate against your back as he joined you. His bare arms wound tighter around you, motivated by the affectionate atmosphere. Your body seemed to melt into the cocoon of warmth he provided, and a soft smile graced your lips.
"Better?" he asked.
You nodded, responding with a whisper, "Thank you."
"Anytime."
You could hear the smile in his voice and how intently he was trying to hide it. You wished you could have seen it. To see the sense of peace you shared. However, feeling it in the way he held you was enough.
Instead of blood, your heart now seemed to be pumping out rather odd alternatives—waves of sea-green salted ocean, iridescent seashells, smiles paired with heart-stopping dimples. How could he? How could Finnick condemn you to loving him like this? So unwaveringly; so without a hope of ever being able to return to life without him in it.
He made a mess of you. A ruin. And even with wholesome affection running through your veins, you still couldn't ignore the hazy images conjuring in your mind from the way his body was pressed firmly behind you.
How could he?
The sun had just touched the horizon, granting the sky a few more minutes of light, meaning it was almost time to head home—an upsetting reality. You weren't sure how much time had passed before your body started to ache from lack of movement.
You wiggled your toes which were buzzing like television static. The feeling started moving up your legs and you knew if you didn't stretch, you would later embarrass yourself trying to stand on dead legs. So that is what you did. You started moving.
First, you stretched out the muscles in your legs and then moved onto straightening your back against Finnick's chest, feeling the faint pops of your spine offer you relief. And then you started readjusting your position and wriggling your hips to fit more comfortably between Finnick's toned thighs. That was your first mistake.
"Stop moving."
You were taken aback by the rigid inflection in his tone. "What?" you asked, ignoring his warning and continuing your restless movements.
"Stop. Moving," Finnick repeated, sounding more strained.
His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.
You were confused. Everything was perfect a moment ago, and all you were doing was stretching—why was he being so weird and snappy?
In response, you exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to get comf—"
"Fuck," he breathed out.
Your eyes widened and it was safe to say your stomach had flipped inside out.
That was the moment you finally realised your second mistake. The rigidness in his voice wasn't him being snappy with you at all. Not even close. He was just trying to prevent the pleasure he felt below from reaching his vocal cords.
But it was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he managed to keep quiet because you could feel it now. The achingly hard length that was pressed against your backside, reaching all the way up to your tailbone.
"...Oh," you whispered.
"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."
Now it was your turn to freeze. Fear consumed you, similar to what you imagined having to remain motionless in front of tyrannosaurus rex to prevent from being eaten alive was like. Thanks to the damning wind, strands of your hair blew behind your shoulders, undoubtedly tickling the exposed skin of Finnick's chest. Even that minuscule movement had your heart threatening to explode with anxiety.
As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.
What do I do? Do I get up? How will we come back from this? Does he—
Finnick cleared his throat. "Uh, you still alive in there?" he chuckled nervously.
You felt minor relief enter your bloodstream upon hearing the normality in his voice. At least one of you was composed enough to act normally. Well, as normal as one could act after becoming hard due to their best friend sitting in their lap.
"Is it—" You swallowed the nerves rattling your voice "—is it because there's a girl sitting on your lap, or is it because it's me?"
That was the million-dollar question. Was his reaction simply biological? A natural response to stimulation? Or was it deeper than that? More personal.
Finnick was silent.
The rapid thumping in your chest moved to your ears, like a drumroll leading up to some grand reveal. You felt dizzy; both filled with dreadful anticipation and exhilaration. Your senses were so heightened, fuelled by an inane bout of adrenaline. You swore you could almost hear the gears turning in Finnick's mind, smell the smoke as they rotated over and over, trying to make sense of your question and form a suitable response.
Religion never played a factor in your life, but, oh, how you were zealously praying his answer would be the one you spent all your nights fantasising about. But still, he was silent.
And right when you believed he wasn't going to respond at all, his lips finally uttered that single life-changing word. "You."
Fireworks seemed to light up every nerve in your body. You.
You weren't sure what to make of your thoughts at first. The overwhelming abundance of emotion caused by a singular word was difficult to fathom. Only one sentiment stood out from the rest—and that was the fact that Finnick felt the same as you did for him.
It was no longer a speculation. It was a fact. A truth. An undeniable reality. You had both verbal and physicalproof, literally digging into your backside.
Finnick slowly, very slowly, unwound an arm from your torso, and you held your breath. His hand slid across your waist and then plastered itself over your hipbone, careful not to apply too much pressure to make you feel uncomfortable. When you felt the slight movement of his thumb gliding across your clothed skin, you exhaled the burning air in your lungs with a shaky sigh.
"Do you want me to get up?" you asked softly while staring at the sunset, although you were focused on anything but.
"Not a chance." And then he unwound the other arm, now cupping both sides of your hips with two large hands. The heat from his palm sank into your skin, sinking deeper layer by layer until it reached the rapid flow of your bloodstream. "Do you want to get up?"
You felt a pulsing sensation between your thighs that had your parted lips inhaling slow deep breaths, and you knew the only logical answer was no. So, you shook your head.
Finnick reached up to skilfully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before placing his hand back on your hip. He then leaned down beside your ear, voice a hot, velvety whisper, "What next then, sweetheart?"
A wave of chills ran down your entire body.
What next? Another question for the ages. You had dreamt of this moment a million times over. You had pictured the unholiest, most vivid of scenarios, and yet here you were, mind blank as an empty void.
Then it hit you. Rather than acting from a pre-planned script, wouldn't it be better to just let your body act on what it naturally desired? On instinct? You took in a deep, stabilising breath and gave yourself into moment.
You slowly began turning your head to the side until, for the first time since he pulled you into his arms, your eyes flickered up and found Finnick's. His lips quirked with the ghost of a smile at the exchange, but he held it back. His jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles ticking with tension.
He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Or perhaps, you were just never close enough to notice, and he had always looked at you this way. There was a blazing intensity in his eyes, dark and penetrative, a bridge between yearning and total reverence. It was so enticing that you could feel your hands itching to undress yourself in front of him.
Finnick murmured your name.
"Yes?" you managed to whisper.
"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"
Those words—he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.
You couldn't find the strength to muster any profound response. So instead, you found your head tilting back and the crook of your elbow winding up and around the nape of his neck. You didn't need to guide him down; he came willingly.
His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Singular yet prolonged. Then there was a brief pause of disconnection, a calm before the storm. And with Finnick, when it rained, it poured. Suddenly, a hand was cupping the area where your jaw and neck connected, and his lips were on yours again.
There was so much more heat in this kiss. A depth that kept growing with each connection of your lips. You could hear the fervour in the breathless exhales that exited his nose, the quiet groans that slipped into your mouth. Though the same could be said for you.
You couldn't subdue the moans and meek whimpers that leaked out. Especially when his tongue slipped into your mouth and took control over your own. At this point, you couldn't even be called putty in his arms; you were pure liquid, totally and completely submissive in his embrace.
It was impossible to tell who was throbbing beneath you anymore. All you were sure of was that the pretty lace panties you had put on that morning were now soaked. Though even if he never touched you, you wouldn't have cared. Having his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, was enough. And if he kept at it long enough, you were sure it would even be enough to get you off. That's how much power Finnick had over you.
Apparently, he felt the same too. Because when you leaned further back into him and your ass pushed against the length of his erection, his fist scrunched the fabric of your dress by your hip and his lips left yours to let out a shuddering breath.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he huffed, half chuckling.
Technically, it was a suppressed moan. Either way, you swear you almost came then and there.
With one last gentle kiss, you opened your eyes, pulling away to replenish your lungs with air. Finnick's eyes were already locked on yours in a drunken haze from the taste of your lips. Your arm unwound from his neck, grazing down his broad shoulders and bicep. During so, your eyes caught on the tiny bumps and raised hair scattered across his arm.
"You've got goosebumps," you smiled, trailing your fingertips across his skin.
His gaze moved to follow your hand, wearing a boyish grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"
Your throat buzzed with a suppressed giggle. Seeing the way his body reacted to yours was incredibly motivating. Someone telling you they lusted after you could easily be spoken with deception. But having visual confirmation, witnessing a reaction that couldn't possibly be forced, was a whole different story. Finnick's body craved you.
Given that incentive, the slight trepidation still holding you back now disappeared into the back of your mind. Your fingers curled around his wrist, dragging the hand beneath your jaw down to your neck, and then down to your chest. It didn't take him too long to figure out your intentions. He overtook your influence and autonomously moved his hand to cup your breast.
You were essentially caged in his embrace. Exactly how you wanted it.
You stared ahead with relaxed eyes, watching as the sun slipped into the dark water. Night had officially blanketed District Four and, now being shielded by darkness, the stars were your only witness. Strangely enough, you felt a new sense of shamelessness.
So as Finnick kneaded your breast in his warm hand and pinched the sensitive peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the lace of your bra, you allowed a soft moan to escape your lips.
It was almost as if you could actually feel the smirk growing across Finnick's lips behind you. One thing you actually could feel was the twitch of his achingly hard cock beneath you.
"You like that?" he asked, definitely smirking.
"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.
If only he knew how truly euphoric you felt. If only he knew how many times you had imagined being in this exact situation. Having him touching you like this. The guilt of imagining him in such a way used to eat you up. But now that you were past the guilt, there was no shame connected to the thought of Finnick eating you up.
Fuck, he would look so perfect between your thighs—bronze curls all messed up from your pulling and tugging; sea green eyes squeezed shut as he dedicated his attention to dragging you down to the pits of hell with his tongue.
Your head fell back against his collarbone. He took this as a signal to move your hair aside and start planting hot kisses onto the curve of your shoulder. Then he trailed further across, brushing his lips across your skin until he reached the side of your neck and started sucking gently, though enough to leave behind pretty little red marks of possession.
"What about this?" he murmured against the delicate skin.
The faint taste of sea-salted air sat in the back of your throat as your breaths deepened. You felt his tongue glide partially up the length of your carotid artery, and your entire nervous system seemed to short-circuit.
"Yes,"you practically whined.
He must have found this amusing because you could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. But he wasn't finished yet. Hell, the finish line was a lifetime away regarding the things he planned on doing to you. They probably couldn't all be done in one night though, unfortunately.
You had completely forgotten about the hand still splayed on your hip. Why would you pay it any attention when it was sitting idle? Only it wasn't simply resting on your hip anymore. No. Now it was moving. Moving down.
His lips were still on your neck and he was still cupping your breast, but all you could focus on was the carnal descent of his hand. He found the hem of your dress, fingers toying with the flimsy material as one did when deciding whether or not to go through with something potentially consequential. Ultimately, he began to drag the fabric up your thighs, knuckles grazing over your soft skin until the skirt of your dress was ruched around your hips.
You sucked in a sharp breath. The vulnerability of suddenly being exposed in such a manner hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was really happening. Finnick, the Capitol's darling, District Four's golden boy, and more significant;y, your best friend, was touching you. He was kissing you. He was seeing and feeling parts of your body you had never let him see or feel before.
Naturally, this unfurling web of thoughts produced a surge of insecurity.
But, when his hand curled around your inner thigh and spread a wildfire of warmth across your skin, every thought that was previously passing through your mind disintegrated and was replaced with unadulterated yearning.
Finnick's mouth finally detached from your neck to hover beside your ear. "And this?"
He lightly kneaded your thigh to emphasise his question, dangerously close to the place that undoubtedly crossed the boundary between friend and lover.
You were speechless. The desire running through your veins was paralysing. All you could do was look, see, feel, and hope to god you didn't pass out from the shallowness of your breathing.
"Come on, sweetheart," he roused in that low, seductive purr. "Don't go quiet on me now. Use your words."
And how could you ever disobey a voice like that? It took every ounce of strength and concentration you had in you, but eventually, you managed to find your voice.
"I—" You cut yourself off with a gasp as his thumb purposefully wandered up to the edge of your underwear. Asshole. "I lie awake every night imagining us like this, Finn. You don't need permission to touch me. You've already had it for months."
Suddenly, a gentle finger was turning your chin, compelling you to meet Finnick's gaze. His eyes lacked the intensity from before and were now brimming with awe, brows knitted as if he was asking for confirmation if what you had said was truthful. And it was, painfully so.
To answer his wordless question, you leaned forward and connected your lips with his. He responded with ardency, and not long after, you could feel his hand wander up to the waistband of your panties. 
He wasted not a second before dipping his hand beneath the lace material and finding that sensitive spot that had been begging for his attention.
Your lips separated from his to let out a breathy moan. "Finnick."
He simply smiled, two fingers rubbing circles around your clit. He pressed gentle coaxing kisses to your lips, and you really did try to respond, but you were never one for multitasking. Especially when the man you had fallen in love with was touching you so.
His other hand wandered across your torso, holding your waist, grazing over your stomach, tracing the length of your sternum. All very loving adorations compared to what his other hand was doing.
"I think I'm going to hell because of you," he murmured, millimetres away from your lips. Such a disconcerting thing for someone to admit, but all you could manage was a hum in response. "Every time I see you, I can feel myself getting closer and closer. You derange my thoughts, sweetheart. You corrupt them.
How am I supposed to be around you if I want to fuck you every time you say my name? And what makes it so much more impossible is that you don't even mean to make me feel this way; you just do. God, you're maddening. So sweet and maddening," he cooed, fingers picking up in pace which caused you to melt back into his chest and let out a pretty little moan. "Drives me crazy."
"And to think," you managed, "I thought you had your hands between my legs because you hated me."
Your hips were rolling lightly along with the rhythm of his fingers.
At the very same time Finnick's thighs tensed around your hips from the friction against his cock, he abruptly plunged two fingers inside you. Punishment.
The moan you let out was positively filthy.
"Such an attitude you have," he said. "Anyone would think you're completely innocent in a dress like this. But I know better than that." His fingers slid in and out, curling every time the base of his fingers bottomed out inside of you. "I know exactly why you wore it. Just like I know exactly why you wore those lace panties you pretend that I can't see whenever you bend over."
Heat crept up into your cheeks from hearing his words. You wanted to provoke him by saying 'And look where it got me'but who knew how his fingers would respond to your attitude.
"You can't do that to a man," he continued. "It's criminal."
"It's only fair, Finn," you breathed out, struggling to keep your voice level. "You ruined me."
A deep moan rumbled in his chest, though it never escaped. He couldn't break that easily. He needed to remain in control. This moment, to him, seemed like an eternity forthcoming. He needed to make the most of this moment with you, needed to show you what it was like to receive earth-shattering pleasure so that you only ever wanted to receive it from him. No one else.
Despite his obvious attempts at keeping himself in check, you could still feel his thick impatient cock twitch beneath your ass. Even through the layers of clothing between you, you could tell that he was incredibly big. So much so that it worried you a little. Only, when his fingers curled again, you forgot all about it.
The pads of his fingertips buried into your inner walls with every curl. The heel of his palm struck your clit with every thrust of his fingers and you could feel your stomach start tightening. Fuck, he was amazing at this.
It had been so long since someone had touched you like this. Well, someone that was actually good at it. Just a few minutes and Finnick was already about to make you come.
"Feels so good, so—ah—good!" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.
He reached a free hand up to your breast, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers until you let out a gasp. At least one of you was good at multitasking.
"You gonna come?" he asked, not that he even needed an answer. He could feel the way your walls were contracting around his fingers, feel the sticky warmth of your slick leaking onto his knuckles.
You nodded fervently.
"Say please first."
"Finn," you whined in frustration.
You could hear him chuckle self-satisfyingly behind you. "Come on, baby. Sweet girls are supposed to have manners, aren't they?"
His low, husky voice almost threw you over the edge. Oh, how you would love to listen to the sound of him talking you through your orgasm. That is if he ever even let you get to that point.
Never had you ever thought you would be pleading with a man for anything, yet here you were. Though, Finnick Odair could hardly be called a man. He was so much more than that; he was bordering on divinity. And you weren't going to miss the chance of being unravelled at the hands of a divine being.
"Please, Finnick," you begged, your body literally buzzing with desperation. "Please make me come."
He pressed a kiss below your earlobe. "Since you asked so nicely."
His fingers picked up in pace. They weren't even plunging in and out anymore but were rather curling, over and over again in that electrifying spot inside you. He went hard and fast, working to bring you to your high as quickly as possible. Your moans were so unrestrained, so breathless and shallow that you started to feel the world spin around you.
Your hand flew back to hold onto his arm, nails digging into the hard muscles of his bicep. Your hips were writhing in Finnick's lap and you could hear him groan out a string of curses. He held you down by the hip to try and keep you still, then moved across to the bottom of your abdomen where he pressed down.
That is what did it for you.
You cried out as tightness spread down your stomach and pure ecstasy took control. Finnick murmured words of praise and reassurance as you rode through your high, though a lot of it didn't register in your mind. You heard only a few bits and pieces which were enough to prolong the feeling that was overwhelming your entire body.
"Taking it so well."
"That's it, sweetheart. That's it."
"Such a good girl."
As the waves of pleasure slowly began to subside, you returned to reality. The heat that had been building up inside you started melting away, leaving you in a state of relaxation. Your fingers, which previously clung onto Finnick's arm, now grazed absentmindedly across his skin. It felt like you had been sucked into a dream—a little hazy and surreal, but incredibly tranquil.
"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.
You hadn't even noticed that his fingers had left your body. He had pulled down the hem of your dress— not that your dignity really needed saving anymore—and was holding your melted figure in his arms.
"Mm," you hummed contently, eyes fixed on the view in front of you. "Warmed up."
If only you were able to see his face, his smile. Those dimples. A powerful longing to be able to see every expression known to man morph his facial features washed over you. It was a little ridiculous how attracted to him you were. Nonetheless, you indulged the desire.
You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him
You were straddling his lap before any ounce of hesitation could hold you back. Finnick circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. He was smiling. He was smiling and it was even more beautiful than any sunset you had ever witnessed. You concluded that you had definitely made the right choice in deciding to face him.
"Hi," you whispered.
He smiled. "Hey, stranger."
He brushed back a few pieces of hair from your face, observing the blown size of your pupils and the sultry colour of your lips. He did that—he could not get over the fact that he did that to you. Finally.
You shrunk away from his gaze, a timid smile on your lips.
Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."
You buried your face into the side of his neck, groaning quietly in embarrassment. You could hear the perfect sound of him laughing above you. He stroked the length of your spine, somehow managing to ease the nerves from your body with a simple touch. You left a quick kiss on the warm skin of his neck and rose back up to meet his gaze.
"Feeling better?"
"Much," you replied, sheepishly. Your eyes flickered across Finnick's, hesitated, and then gestured downwards. "But... you're not." His head tilted as though he were confused as to what you were suggesting, so you leaned in closer until your lips ghosted over his. "Still need to take care of you."
A breath of warm air fanned across your face as he chuckled. He shook his head. "It's alright. I can hold off for another time."
And although the prospect of doing this again another time was downright exhilarating, you couldn't ignore the palpable heat still lingering in your lower stomach, throbbing between your thighs. You could only imagine how he must have been feeling—cock throbbing with a need for relief, though ready to deny himself the same amount of pleasure he just gave you.
You suddenly curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him into a slow kiss. To show him he was allowed to indulge himself. That you wanted him to. You ground your hips down on his lap and felt his lips falter against yours.
You pulled back and echoed your previous words, "It's only fair, Finn."
Time seemed to pause for a moment. Your breath and his mixed with one another in a sort of hot whirlwind of anticipation. Your bodies were still. Finnick's eyes were half-lidded staring at your mouth.
Then came the explosion.
His hands were hastily tugging your sundress over your head; his lips were on yours as he reached down between your bodies to unbutton his pants. It felt like a race against time. Like if you didn't do this now, the chance would never come by again. Hell, his pants hadn't even made it off his legs before he was holding himself in his hand and you were rising to your knees, positioning yourself directly above his length.
Your lips never left his, strenuous as it was, meaning the only gauge you got of how big he was wasn't from seeing it, but from feeling it as you pulled your panties aside, guided his cock to your entrance with one hand, and felt the entire veiny length of him fill you completely as you lowered yourself onto him.
A quiet, synchronised gasp left both your lips as you enveloped him completely in wet velvety warmth. His pelvis was connected with yours and his cock was pressed right up against your cervix. So incredibly deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.
You stayed like this for a few seconds.
"So big," you gasped against his lips.
His hands were on your back, dragging up and down. "Want to stop?"
"Never."
This was so not what friends did.
He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You were grinding sinuously back and forth, Finnick's hands now on your hips as a guide, feeling his tip bury into the sensitive walls inside you. Your head fell back with a gratified moan as he nipped your neck unforgivingly, only to soothe the spots he marked with the glide of his tongue.
At that moment, the past and future were of no significance. The idea that doing this might ruin your relationship with him afterwards didn't concern you. You didn't bother recollecting a time when you and Finnick were merely friends, nor did you ponder how you even managed to reach this point.
All you could focus on was how fucking perfect his cock felt inside of you.
The cold, which was previously a nuisance, now served as a stimulant to your nipples which were only covered by the thin unpadded material of your lace bra. They were bouncing with every movement you made, the hard peaks rubbing against Finnick's chest and creating a triangle of pleasure between them and the depravity that was happening further below.
He was so hungry in the way he kissed you. His lips were soft, but they moved with heat and determination. His tongue was supple as it pushed against yours, moving masterfully in a way you could only compare to how he swam in the ocean. A conqueror—able to bring you into submission with ease.
You pushed yourself upwards, the muscles in your thighs slightly burning as you did so, and felt his cock glide through you. He inhaled harshly through his nose when his tip almost left your wet heat, and then groaned into your mouth when your hips sunk back down, engulfing him once again.
"Shit," he almost whined as your walls clenched around him. "I fuckinglove you."
You pulled away to look him in the eyes. It was incredibly difficult for you to contemplate his words—his confession—when he was, what, eight or so inches deep inside you?
He didn't look like he regretted saying it. He was simply staring at you with raised brows pinched together in pleasure, awaiting your response as you continued your sequence of rising and sinking to fill yourself up with his cock.
"You love me?" you asked in a laboured breath. He only nodded in response. You sank fully down onto his lap, discontinuing your movements, willing him to prove his so-declared devotion. "Then show me."
He was breathing heavily and watching you through strands of sea-salted hair messily splayed across his forehead. He was so beautiful it actually kind of hurt to look at him. His eyes fell to your mouth during this brief amnesty, a decision prominent in his mind. Then he was rushing forward, crushing his lips to yours and forcing your body to lay back on the mat beneath you.
Finnick somehow managed to remain inside you as he switched your positions—him now above you as your legs were wrapped around his waist. His body pinned you down with a comfortable weight, skin warm and flush against yours.
He was overpowering and dominating, and his thrusts were laced with a sense of appropriation like he was making you his. The slow grinds of his hips were hard yet measured and so breathtakingly deep, and the gentle upwards curve of his cock made sure his tip was prodding against that swollen pleasure-inducing spot every single time.
His kisses were sensual and slow; his tongue slipping languidly into your mouth, swirling and massaging your tongue like it was made of pure silk.
You had told him what to do—now he was showing you. Finnick Odair wasn't fucking you. He was making love to you.
Your hands were on his back, fingertips leaving red marks on the curves of his shoulder blades. You moved up to his hair, scratching your nails softly into his scalp, which earned you a soft moan in your mouth. Even you could feel yourself pulsing around his cock. Everything he did, every sound and action he made, had your body yielding to him.
His hand pulled you up into him by the waist, arching your back off the palm-leaf mat so that he was thrusting more profoundly into that blissful spot inside you. He never sped up his pace. He didn't need to. He was savouring the moment as much as he could, memorising each warm ripple of your walls his cock glided over inside you, every intoxicating moan your soft lips released, the pressure of your warm supple thighs hugging his waist.
He was committing every aspect of you to memory. Inside and out.
Having that knowledge only made the moment so much more pleasurable. Knowing that he wasn't just thinking about you with his cock, but was thinking about you with his heart too.
That feeling started creeping up inside you—the blissful burn of heat pooling in your lower stomach. It made your walls flutter around him. Made you whine and moan uncontrollably into his mouth until you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore and had to pull away.
Your head fell back onto the mat, hair strewn out around you. The sounds coming out of you were pure sin. Desperate, greedy sin.
Finnick chuckled adoringly above you. "Too fucked out, sweetheart?"
He couldn't exactly talk. The second you clenched around him again, he groaned out a curse and you—the parts of your mind that were still relatively comprehensible—were sure you could feel the warmth of pre-cum ooze inside you.
"Finnick," you mewled, and he caressed the baby hairs framing your face. "Feels so good. Should—should've done this sooner."
Through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he nodded and then descended to your forehead, pressing his lips tenderly against your skin. I know, the gesture said. You felt a rush of affection flood through your body, ultimately accelerating the build-up happening inside you.
You could feel yourself teetering so impossibly close to the brink of your orgasm. The tightness inside you was so hot and overwhelming; it was a struggle for you to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and rolling back, though you willed yourself to keep them open. You had to.
Watching Finnick's face contort with pleasure as he's thrown into his own high from feeling your walls contract around him would probably be the highlight of your entire life.
"So beautiful," he cooed as he thrusted into you. "My sweet girl's gonna come, isn't she? Can feel it."
The words flew out of your mouth. "Come inside me."
"Come inside you?"
You were pretty sure he was mocking you from the devilish curve of his lips and furrow of his brows. But your lust-drunk brain didn't really care.
"Please. Wanna feel you—" Your chest heaved with each breath "—everywhere."
Finnick was so obviously trying to keep himself from giving in before you. But you could see how delirious his eyes were as they stared down at you and you heard how every low, gratified—frustratingly sexy—sound he made betrayed him. He was so close.
"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said, finally.
He managed to unhook your hands from around his back and guided them upwards, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand before he brought his other back to your waist. It was oddly romantic how he held you, given that he was fucking you like life after that night wasn't guaranteed.
And then, without warning, he was pounding into you, bottoming out completely with each thrust.
It was almost animalistic now—how you were both unable to control yourselves anymore. You were writhing beneath him, impulsively fighting against the grip he had on your wrists. And Finnick, well, he was fucking you so hard, you weren't sure if walking home that night would be a possibility.
He was a disaster of pleasured vocals, deep moans, and heavy breaths. You thanked the absolute heavens he was because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life.
When your own moans started to rise in pitch, you knew you were done for. You felt so full. Stretched out to the max. Blinded by the heat that was drowning you. But your eyes managed to remain clear and locked on Finnick's the entire time, just as his were on yours.
With a fleeting glance downward, he once again placed a large hand over your abdomen and pushed down, and your back arched off the ground.
You were gone.
"Oh fuck!"
The heat, white and fiery, had consumed you. Your thighs tensed uncontrollably around Finnick, your body shaking beneath him as your insides pulsed all the way down to your stuffed entrance. White, sticky sweetness covered Finnick's cock as he continued to thrust into you, the wet sounds overpowering the waves cresting on the sands. It felt like fucking heaven.
He let out a moan, broken and breathless, and released the grip he had on your hands. In that short moment, you instantly gripped onto him, feeling his body shudder beneath your hands as his throbbing cock spurted out ropes of warmth deep inside you, the essence of both of you mixing inside your body, making you one.
You pulled him down and crushed your lips to his with a sudden intense urge to be as close to him as you could, if it were even possible to be any closer to him at that point. It felt a little spiritual, the way you practically wanted to merge your body with his. That's what having sex with someone you truly loved was like, you supposed.
The kiss was sloppy and messy, but it never lacked heat or affection. Lacking heat was impossible between you and Finnick.
A lot of time passed before either of you even contemplated pulling away from one another. Finnick was inside you for what must have been a good half hour after you had both finished. It felt close. Deeply intimate. He held you in his arms, his hands mapping out various parts of your body with unhurried measure as you lay beneath him, lazily yet affectionately making out with warm, reddened lips.
There were quiet giggles and heated words whispered between you that would have prompted another session had either of you been graced with the energy.
But it was late. The remnants of the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, dimming the sky to a deep dark blue, the world's only source of illumination being the stars casting their sparkling light on the rippling water.
It was a new moon.
Eventually, you ended up laying over his chest, legs strewn across his as you both faced the ocean. Your head rose and fell with each breath Finnick took and it felt unreal. 
You were momentarily worried your infatuation with him had grown too out of hand and you had imagined the whole day, or perhaps, the entire time you had known him. That it was all a figment of your vivid imagination.
Then, his warm hand slid into your own, which was draped across his stomach, and you knew that this, the newfound relationship between you and Finnick, was undeniably and rapturously real.
He slowly lifted them together above your bodies, palms flat against one another. There was a notable size difference between them—his palm was large and calloused with long fingers that squared off at the tips, meanwhile, your own fist could probably fit into his palm.
Your fingers danced delicately together as you both watched from below. He traced the length of your fingers with his fingertips; followed the etches in your palm, and turned your hand to explore the protrusions of your knuckles. There was a certain gentle curiosity in his touch, similar to that of someone who was discovering the act of human connection for the first time.
"I don't know if I can walk home," you whispered.
Finnick lowered your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before placing them back on his stomach. "I'll carry you."
"For an entire hour?"
"I'll manage," he said, "I've got muscles."
You scoffed quietly to yourself, smiling. "Ok, big strong man."
"Says the girl who needs to be carried home."
"Well, you are kind of the one to blame for that."
You tilted your head to glance up at him and found exactly what you were expecting to see. He was wearing a proud grin, all apple cheeks and crinkled eyes. It was something you had come to adore, even though sometimes it was out of arrogance.
Your head turned to rest back on his chest. You watched as his thumb caressed slow circles over your knuckle.
"What you said before," you began, "is it true? Do you really... love me?"
The heart beating beneath your ear genuinely sounded like it skipped a beat. You imagined that was a good sign, though your nerves were still a little frayed. What if he had only said it because of the heat of the moment?
A beat went by. "I've been trying to tell you ever since I first wove the mat for you," he confessed, his voice quiet yet holding the weight of the history that made up your friendship.
There it was—the truth laid bare. Despite hearing the words, it didn't really change anything. You suspected deep down you knew the entire time; you were just too self-doubting to accept it. To accept that Finnick Odair, the crown jewel of Panem, had fallen in love with you, an ordinary girl from District Four who just so happened to meet him at a secret beach.
Although, there was a sensation you remember upon first meeting him. That instinct that had told you to stay instead of running away, as any logical human being would do upon being approached by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. That instinct, despite sounding utterly ridiculous, caused you to believe that perhaps it was fate.
Maybe you were destined to meet. Maybe it didn't matter that he was a nationwide celebrity, nor you a simple town girl. Maybe your souls were entwined from the start and, one way or another, you would have met anyway.
Maybe.
"That's a long time," you said.
He laughed. "Yeah, well, I thought you would've gotten the hint by now."
And you couldn't help but join him. You thought you were the one who was deranged out of their mind. Here Finnick was telling you he had spent an entire year trying to confess his love without you even realising.
"I'm sorry it took me so long."
"It's alright," he said, earnestly. "I'd say it worked out pretty well. I mean, look where your obliviousness got us."
You smiled. Your legs were tangled with Finnick's; his arm was holding you tightly against his bare upper body, and his fingers were lovingly tracing over yours. Yeah, you were pretty grateful for your obliviousness sometimes. A new pair of underwear might have been something to consider, though.
A silence settled between you, comfortable, peaceful. Being in Finnick's embrace almost made you forget entirely about the reality of your existence—the Games, the dominion over Panem, the chaotic environment back home. It was the reason you had set off last year in search of a place away from society.
You had now found that the escape you were looking for wasn't a place or a hidden paradise, but a person. It was Finnick.
"Finn?"
"Yeah?"
The trees and palm leaves danced in the light breeze. Waves lapped on the shore.
You angled your head back to look at Finnick and felt him pull you closer. His expression was a picture of relaxation and contentment. His eyes gazed down at you, glimmering with the reflection of scattered stars in the night sky, just like the sea in front of you.
He seemed to already know what you were going to say. Always the mind reader.
"Say it, sweetheart." The corners of his lips twitched expectantly.
Sweetheart. Oh, how could you have ever felt for him in any other way?
"I love you too."
His face broke into one of the happiest smiles you had ever seen.
...roll credits
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bluejutdae · 22 days
Text
best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Chan x you
this will become a series, I’ll make a scenario like this for all the members. Minho | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin
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genre: romance, friends to lovers
warnings: asshole guy who thinks sex is required in exchange of a dinner
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“I’m sorry but I really have to go, it’s a family emergency. But I’ll call you.” This guy is really pissing you off, but he’s tall and pretty muscular and the vibes you got from him during the (luckily short) date make you uncomfortable.
“Are you really using this lazy excuse? I invited you to dinner, I’m gonna pay, so the least you could do is to put it out there!” You blink in disbelief, he really is a creepy guy. Chan is on his way though, so the thought comforts you a little. You reach into your bag and grab a few bills and, as you place them on the table, you give the guy a sarcastic smile. “I can pay for my own dinner.”
Grabbing your jacket you turn your back to him, ready to leave, but the asshole grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him. You don’t have the time to do anything because a hand is suddenly around the guy’s wrist like a vice.
“Let her go immediately or I’m going to break your arm.” You’ve never heard Chan talking with such ice in his voice and a shiver runs along your spine.
“Fuck you both. I should have known you were a frigid bitch!” the guy lets you go and raises his free hand in surrender. Before letting him go, Chan looks at you for the first time since his arrival. “Are you okay?” You nod, confused. You thought your crush for Chan was long gone, but if the butterflies in your stomach are any indication, your crush is alive and burning.
Not even 5 minutes later, in a cab with Chan sitting next to you, you catch the end of your best friend’s sentence: “…can’t believe that asshole!”
“You know what’s funny? He called me a ‘frigid bitch’. Isn’t that a bizarre insult? What does it even mean?” Now that you’re with Chan, you’re calm and not scared anymore.
You hear him laughing, shaking his head. “Like anything that came out of his mouth made any sense… but really, are you okay?” You nod again. You’re not scared, you’re not uncomfortable, but something in your chest trembles at the idea of parting with Chan. “Can you stay over tonight?”, you ask quietly.
When you close the door, the atmosphere is uncommonly quiet and tense. Did you make Chan uncomfortable? Did he have other plans? Is he annoyed with you for always needing him? As all those thoughts run across your head, he slips out of his shoes and goes straight to the kitchen, feeling at home in your small apartment. “Can I steal some ramen? I didn’t have the time to eat a proper dinner.” In lieu of an affirmative answer, you wash your hands and start preparing a quick dinner for Chan. “I’m sorry I hijacked your night, Channie.”
“What are you talking about? My plans involved ramen at the dorms and hearing Hyunjin and Jisung screaming against the tv. They started a new drama”, he explains watching you moving around the kitchen. He loves to look at you while you’re busy, while you’re too occupied with something else to notice him studying you, watching you with love in his eyes. Tonight was once again proof you only saw him as a friend and nothing more: otherwise you wouldn’t have gone on a date, right?
Wrong.
You spent ages crushing over him, but once you were sure he felt nothing for you, you tried (in vain, apparently) to get over him.
You place a steaming bowl of food in front of him and sit at the table, looking at him.
“No more lame dates. No, you know what? No more dates.”
“You let a couple of bad guys ruin your search for true love?”
Well, he’s not gonna complain, but he also doesn’t want a bad experience to scar your hopes for romance. “Nah, they’re not worth it. My perfect match is not interested in me anyway.”
Fuck, you shouldn’t have said something like that, now he’s gonna ask questions.
“Perfect march, uh?”
You wave your hand, almost slapping away the topic. “Eat your food, Chan.”
“I thought you told me everything,” he pouts and you’re a weak weak person, how can you be tough in front of his pout?
“There is someone I like, I liked him for a while but it’s unreciprocated, so there’s no point in talking about him.”
“Then he’s dumb. Tell me his name?”
“You kinda know him, so I’d rather not… you know, don’t wanna make it weird.” Chan looks at you with a weird something in his eyes you can’t really understand, but for the sake of your secret you let it slide.
“Movie?”
The movie has been on for at least an hour but neither of you is really watching it. You’re cuddled on the couch, Chan’s head on your lap and your fingers slowly playing with his hair. It’s one of his favorite cuddling positions, and you love it cause you have the chance to watch him without being noticed.
“I wish you’d tell me who he is.”
You freeze in surprise, fingers stilling on his head.
“Chan…”
“No wait, listen for a second.” He sits now, and bites his lip. “We’ve always told pretty much everything, but there are things I haven’t told you either. So I will tell you something secret about me if you tell me who he is.”
“Why do you wanna know?”
“Because!”
He’s quick to get on his feet, walking on the small carpet in front of the tv. “Because I wanna know who’s this dumb guy who is not in love with you. What’s not to love? He’s lucky enough you are interested in him, something I’d give an arm for, and he’s not on his knees worshiping you?” He then freezes, like something hit him and trains his eyes on the floor. “Forget what I said”.
What did he say? Are you drunk and incapable of understanding or Chan just said he’d give an arm to have you interested in him? Something swells into your chest and you decide to be bold for once.
“Do you like me, Chan?”
He stills his pacing, gaze still trained to the floor, and nods carefully.
“It’s you.”
“Mh?”
“The guy I like, it’s you.”
He’s gonna have a sore neck tomorrow, considering the speed in which he raises his head.
“Me?” You nod, with a hopeful smile on your lips.
“I was convinced you felt nothing for me…”
You don’t know which one of you moved first, and it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you’re kissing, now. You have his wet, soft and pillowy lips on yours, his tongue asking to be let in your mouth, your hands holding the other tight, almost to make sure this is real and you’re not going to vanish any seconds now.
“We’re such a clichè” he says on your lips, laughing cutely.
“Maybe. But I like it anyway.”
If being a clichè is what brought you two finally together, then so be it.
2K notes · View notes
sparklingchim · 6 months
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you're losing me; m | jjk
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pairing: jungkook x reader
word count: 3.2k
rating: 18+
genre: angst, married couple, age gap, ceo jk, nepo baby oc, second chance romance
warnings: thigh riding, liddol hickey, spittt, groping, dirty talk, name calling, only one spank!!, arguments 🙄, mentions of smoking?, daddy kink, fake sympathy, creampie, little cum play,
summary: jungkook is late from work yet again. but he shows you just how much he missed you.
a/n: this is for us angst girlies 🫂
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
Something is not right.
Your nose picks up on the unfamiliar scent on Jungkook as you bury your face into his chest. He squeezes you tightly, big arms embracing you with a warm hug.
“Hi, love,” he softly whispers. Jungkook cradles your head and you melt into his hand. He is bent down to your position on the bed, his loose tie hanging from his neck.
“Missed you.” Your voice gets buried in the kiss Jungkook presses on your lips. You catch his tie and pull him closer.
“I told you not to stay up.” He leans back. Accusatory eyes peering down at you.
Your nose scrunches when he steps away, the pungent waft snaking up your nostrils.
“Did you smoke?”
His round eyes widen at the question, but he denies it with a firm shake of his head. His neatly styled hair doesn’t move – except the short, wispy flyaways on his forehead. Jungkook’s lips pucker the slightest bit. He appears innocent and you believe him if he tells you so.
“I was with Mingyu a lot,” he explains. He places his folded suit jacket on the dresser and begins to loosen the sleeve of his shirt. “You know how he is when he’s stressed.”
You lean against the headboard. “I don’t like the smell.”
“I know.” He starts unbuttoning the front of his shirt. “I’m sorry.” He walks over to his nightstand and exchanges his Rolex for his smart watch. You watch him with knitted eyebrows. “I’m gonna head down to the gym – do a quick workout session.”
“Jungkook it’s late. You just got home from work.” You reach for his arm.
He turns to you, chiselled chest peeking out from underneath his unbuttoned shirt. “It’s fine. I’m not tired.”
You huff, crossing your arms. “Then let me watch you work out.”
Jungkook sniffs a laugh. “You stay here.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep for me, yeah? I know you have an appointment tomorrow morning.” His knuckles trace the outline of your jawline.
You sigh and draw back.
“Hey – don’t be upset.” He catches your chin with his fingers. “I told you I was gonna work out today.”
A harsh glower settles on your face. “Well, I thought that meant you’d come home earlier.”
“I tried to, love. I really tried.” His worried eyes search for understanding in yours. “I don’t want you upset. I never want you upset.”
He tilts your chin, so you meet his eyes. Jungkook’s gaze is soft. The amount of softness you’d have if you were staring at a delicate, precious thing. He always looks at you like this.
“I only ever want to make you happy. Nothing else.” His eyebrows raise to stress the tender words he whispered into the room. “Just want to make my wife happy.”
Warmth spreads in your chest. “I know that,” you answer meekly.
Deep down, there’s an overwhelming desire to pour your heart out to him, to express the multitude of things that have been gnawing at your soul, each one a sharp thorn in your side, leaving you utterly upset. But considering how late it is you don’t think it’s the right moment to unleash this torrent of pent-up frustration.
You’re both tired from the useless arguments. You don’t want to make this day any more exhausting for him.
“If you want to make me a happy wife then finish off that workout quickly and join me in bed,” you say. “I need cuddles.”
His eyes crease before a gentle smile sweeps over his mouth. “Good night, love.” He catches your lips in a swift, tender good-night-kiss. “You should shut that thing off. It’s too late for that.” Jungkook regards your iPad with a disgruntling scrunch of his nose. He hates screen time before bed. But you just love drawing on it.
You’d tease Jungkook with it sometimes. Annoy the hell out of him until he’d see no other choice but to put you to sleep his way.
But now Jungkook tucks you under the bed, makes sure to grab his number one enemy when it comes to having you to himself at night and hides in his nightstand.
You watch him slip off his shirt as he crosses the room. You get a glimpse of his broad shoulders and unfairly teeny tiny waist before he leaves the bedroom.
You turn to your side. A tiring sigh flies past your lips.
With two gentle claps of your hands the dim lights in the room shut off.
The spot next to you is empty. Cold.
It’s unsettling how quickly you’ve gotten used to the feeling.
~
The mattress dips beside you.
“Hmm?” You stir awake, emitting confused murmurs.
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook hushes from behind you. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Your head turns in his direction. “Jungkook.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck. He is a magnet, always pulling you in. Even when you are sleepy and can barely force your eyes open.
His fingers find their way to your hair and in slow patterns he strokes over the length of it.
“What time is it?” you mutter the question into his skin.
“Just past midnight.”
“Two hours?” Your peeved grumble prompts him to peck your bare shoulder. “You said quick workout.”
“I didn’t work out the entire week, babe.”
You rest your head on his arm, glaring up at him. “It’s just Wednesday.”
Jungkook shushes you with a firm squeeze on your hips. “I’m here now. Done with everything.”
When you hear him emit a tiny, exhausted blow through his nose – barely audible in the quiet room, but you notice because you notice every little detail about him – your eyes turn worried.
“You okay?”
Jungkook lets the questions linger in the air before he nods firmly, uttering a, “Yeah. I’m fine.”
You tentatively sweep his short hair from his forehead. It’s a little damp from the shower.
“The day was filled with lots of important meetings. It was a lot today.” Before you can place your hand back on his chest, he catches your wrist and adds a small kiss to the back of your hand.
You figured as much. Jungkook barely texted you back today. Needed hours to respond.
“Was at least the food that I ordered for you good?”
“Fuck – don’t remind me.” He bites his bottom lip, pleasure spreading over his face. “The food was incredible. Have you eaten there before?”
A smile curves your lips. “Uh-huh. Went there with Namjoon last week. I didn’t know when you’d have time to have dinner there with me, so I got my favourite from the menu for you.”
Jungkook has been coming late from work for over two weeks now. You barely had cute dates anymore.
“We can go there.” His tatted fingers toy with the hem of your lacy nightgown. “You wanna go there tomorrow? I’ll finish work earlier.”
Your eyes sparkle. “I’d love to.”
Jungkook’s dimple appear at your beaming face. He drags your thigh over his abdomen, the silky fabric of your nightgown riding up the curve of your butt. His palm rests on the exposed skin.
“Why didn’t you blow dry your hair?” you ask. You tug at some damp strands.
“Didn’t want to wake you.” Jungkook cranes his neck down to gently kiss your forehead. “We should sleep now. It’s late.”
Your brows furrow in exaggerated displeasure. “Not yet.”
“What’s wrong, love?” He cups your cheek worriedly.
“Wanna hang out more.”
Jungkook chuckles lightly. “You wanna hang out?”
“You’ve been making me feel really lonely,” you say in a pout.
“Love, fuck.” His hand on the swell of your ass squeezes your flesh. “Don’t say that.”
“You’re barely home.” You get closer to him, if even possible, knee skimming past the front of his grey sweatpants. The pads of his fingers dig into your skin at that motion.
“You really don’t wanna sleep, huh?”
“Nuh-uh.”
You slowly start to grind your hips against him.
“Then let me make up for all the time I’ve been away from my wife.”
You giggle when he draws you on top of him. You straddle his thigh as Jungkook leads your face down to his mouth. It’s an impatient and longing kiss, the type that has your mind bewitched, compelling you into chanting his name in a never-ending rhythm.
Jungkook rids himself of his sweatpants, tossing them to the ground with his feet.
Your hips continue to move on his now bare thighs, moving your kisses to from his lips to his neck. He doesn’t like having marks on his neck, but you can’t help but feel a little selfish when you start sucking on his skin. Just merely a second after, Jungkook pulls at your hair.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he questions with a sharp gaze.
“Having fun?” Your desire to leave a little hickey might also stem from media outlets starting to question why Jungkook and you haven’t been spotted together recently, but you’d rather not admit that. You don’t want him to think that you care about public perception, even though Jungkook is very well aware of it all. You just like to pretend it doesn’t affect you.
You just can’t wait for the photos tomorrow when you will show up in a cute outfit with Jungkook holding your hand, a small love bite adorning his neck after not making a public appearance with him for a couple weeks.
He sniffs a laugh. “Just can’t help it, can you?”
“Never.” You bat your eye lashes.
His hands are on your waist, encouraging your slow movements. He bunches the soft material of your baby blue nightgown in his palms, staring at your clothed pussy.
“I can feel how wet you are for me.” His eyes move with the motions of your hips, a gentle smirk capturing his lips. “What’s gotten you so worked up, babe?” He flexes his thigh, coaxing a gasp from you.
“You.” You’re already a little breathless, his heartbreakingly handsome face fuelling the deep desire of needing more.
Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Have I not been taking care of my love? Hm?” Jungkook asks you in mock sympathy.
You nod, pressing your palms against his ripped chest while your hips grind a bit rougher on his thigh.
“I’m sorry.” He traces your bottom lip, gentleness coating his words. He pops his finger into your mouth, making you suck on it. You swirl your tongue around it until he withdraws his finger, sneaking it in your panties and pressing it against your sensitive clit.
A whine flies past your lips at his touch, moving even faster.
“You’re gonna cum for me like this?” He starts circling the pad of his thumb on your clit.
Arching your back, you lean in for a kiss, uttering little moans of his name against his lips. You can feel the smug smirk on his mouth, can feel his possessiveness in the way he squeezes your ass and hear it in the loud smack that echoes through the room after his palm collided with your butt.
When you feel the pleasure exploding within you, you bury your face into Jungkook’s neck. Your body trembles. Jungkook tilts his head and gingerly pecks your temple, hands skimming over your back.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
Jungkook puts you on your back, tugging off your panties and carelessly throws them away. He does the same to his pair of black briefs.
You watch him spit on his dick and stroke his hard cock while you get comfy on the pillows. Jungkook rubs his tip over your soaked pussy, leisurely pressing his dick inside when his head is against your entrance.
“Fuck, I missed your pussy.” He wraps your legs around his waist, staring at how your pussy takes his entire length.
As he moves his cock, his hand raises to your head to tame your chaotic hair. You pucker your lips a little and he instantly answers your silent request with a smooth press of his mouth against yours.
“Want your vibrator?” he asks.
“Too sensitive.” Your nails graze his back, your feet keeping him close to you.
Jungkook pushes your silky nightgown past your tummy and over your tits. He loves watching them bounce as he thrusts his cock into your pussy. He gropes them, toying a little with your nipple as he swipes his spit over your nub. His eyes are practically glued to the supple swells on your chest.
Until he finds something prettier than your tits. Your face.
He wears a boyish smile on his face when you meet his gaze. You bite your lip, pleasure and giddiness swirling through you.
“Taking my cock so well,” he praises. “Such a good slut for daddy.”
You gulp, teeth sinking further into your lip.
He lowers his head, pulling your earlobe between his lips before he whispers, “Right? You love being a good slut for daddy.”
Chills spreads over your neck and you manage a meek nod as loud whines escape your throat.
“Use your big girl words,” Jungkook demands. “Tell me whose girl you are. You can do that, can’t you?” His voice turns sweet again, though the taunting glint remains in his eyes. Your pussy foolishly clenches.
“I’m daddy’s girl,” you utter with bright eyes.
Jungkook flashes you his dimples. Excitement spreads in your tummy at his approval.
“Open,” he instructs and you part your mouth. He drops a tiny bead of saliva in your mouth. With one hand around your throat, he feels you swallowing it. “Good girl.”
He pushes the back of your thighs towards your body, picking up on his speed.
“Jungkook,” you moan weakly.
“Gonna fill this pussy with my cum.”
He pounds you faster, harder, filling the room with filthy sounds.
“I’m close,” you mumble, fingers clawing at the bed.
“Cum with me,” he rasps.
Jungkook grunts your name and you feel yourself topple over the edge as his tip kisses the sweet spot inside you, repeatedly hitting it until your hands fly up to his shoulders and nails dig into his skin.
His hips still, painting your pussy white. Jungkook plants slow kisses on your collarbone, trying to catch his breath.
When he pulls out, his cum follows, but he pushes your mixed juices back inside. You moan lightly, tapping your feet against his back to tell him to get you something to clean you up.
But Jungkook remains on top of you just a little longer. “You did so good,” he whispers. He catches your left hand and pecks the ring that adorns your finger. “I love you.”
“Love you,” you mutter back, a tiny, exhausted smile curving your mouth.
“Forever.” With a doting kiss he conceals the promise he has been making to you for four years.
Getting off the bed, he puts on his briefs and disappears into the bathroom to fetch a warm cloth. When he returns to clean you up, he is gentle with you, peppering kisses on your tummy and thighs and flashing cute smiles your way as he does it.
With his sweatpants and now dirty cloth he walks back into the bathroom.
“Have you thought about costumes for the Halloween party?” you ask him.
“Halloween party?” His voice ricochets through the bathroom.
“Chanyeol’s Halloween party,” you remind him as he saunters back into the bedroom. The grey sweatpants hang dangerously low on his hips. “Wanna go through my Pinterest board? I collected some cute ideas.”
He grabs white lacy panties from the dresser. “It’s in two weeks?” Jungkook helps you slip on the new panties, ducking down to press a light peck on the little bow sitting on the centre of it. “I’ll see if I can find the time.”
You look at him puzzled. “What do you mean?”
Jungkook rakes his hand through his messy hair. “You know I’m extremely busy at the moment.”
“But we always go to Chanyeol’s party.” You reach for his hand, tugging him closer to the bed. Disappointment pulls your lips into a pout.
Chanyeol’s Halloween party is always big, extravagant and ridiculously dramatic, but that is exactly what makes it fun. You love extravagance. Love dressing up.
Jungkook’s finger brusher over your dainty ring. “You can still go. You don’t need me to go with you.”
You drop his hand with a frustrated huff. It’s not the response you wanted to hear. “Missing out on Jimin’s birthday last week wasn’t enough?” you ask disdainfully. A bit mean. You don’t care.
“I’m not doing it purposefully.” He levels you with reproving eyes. “I wish I could’ve come.”
You tuck your feet back underneath the blanket, pulling it up to your lap. “Just squeeze in a little time for the party.” You almost add a “please?”, but you’re feeling terribly annoyed; the kind that makes you unconsciously clench your jaw and pull your brows so tightly, they practically touch.
“I’m not going to schedule around a silly Halloween party, ___.” His tone drips with irritation.
“Fine,” you reply, scooching back on the bed. “Don’t know why I even bothered.”
“Love.” It’s a futile attempt at taming the sudden raging anger that crawled up your neck.
“You’ve been doing this constantly, Jungkook.”
He still stands in front of the bed. Tongue poking his cheek as he debates his next words. He swipes his hand over his face, sighing into his palm.
“You don’t understand,” he grumbles annoyed.
“I know you don’t.”
Jungkook scoffs at your reply – even wears a crooked, ridiculing smile. An angry flush appears on his cheeks.
“Let’s not do this before bed,” he suggests. Tiredness is written all over him.
We’re already in the middle of it. But you keep that to yourself. You don’t have the energy for a bigger fight. He’s drained it from you from all the fights the nights before this.
“I don’t care anymore,” you say. “Shouldn’t have asked you anyway.”
Jungkook turns off the little lamp on his bedside table before he gets into bed. You turn your back to him.
Your heart is heavy with confusing emotions as you lie there in silence. You almost feel your eyes well up with tears, but you blink them away as soon as you feel them.
“Want me to accompany you to your appointment?” Jungkook asks suddenly.
“No.” Yes.
“I’ll start work a little later.” Jungkook’s hand sweeps across your tense shoulders. You must’ve unintentionally stiffened at the mention of your gynaecologist appointment. “I know you’re a little anxious.”
As sleep gradually embraces you a little later, you try to pull back every time invisible strings tug you closer towards Jungkook. You don’t want to sleep in his arms this night, but your heart stubbornly ignores what your mind wants.
Your silent resistance eventually ends, surrendering to the inevitability of your limbs becoming entwined with his. Your cheek is pressed against his chest and his nose is buried in your hair while the soft cadence of his heartbeat finally lulls you into a deep slumber.
This is just the way Jungkook and you function.
Yet, despite your efforts, small seeds of doubt continue to sprout up in your mind, making you question just how much longer you can tolerate this.
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peachesofteal · 4 months
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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: 2 of 2 for sickfics. Requested by multiple.
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At first, Simon thinks the sound of his cellphone is an explosion. 
It doesn’t register completely in his dream. It starts as a slow beeping sound, like a ticking, and then morphs into everything else, the usual. Explosions and blood, screaming and crying amidst the rubble, dust swirling in the air. In the dream, he doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know how he got there, only knows that he was looking for you, searching the faces and the limbs of the deceased for any sign of you and Emma, picking through slabs of concrete until the crying got closer, until it sounded like it was right on top of him, or underneath him, somewhere he can’t see but- 
“’lo?”  “Simon?” He squints, adjusting for a split second, before shooting straight up in bed. 
“I’m here.” He told you to call, nearly begged you to ring him if you needed anything after he left your flat earlier. You were still in awful shape, but managed to get in the shower, and Emmaline had been fed and put back down to bed. He was able to help you with your dishes, washing and stacking them where he hoped they went, tucking the bottles upside down on their drying rack. There wasn’t more of a reason to linger in your flat. He didn’t want to be a nuisance.
“I’m s-sorry, did I wake you?” You sound upset. Still heavily sick, throat clogged with a cough, but your voice is distress ladened, sour with fear. You sound like you did that day the guy followed you in the park. 
“No. What is it?” He fumbles for his jeans, sliding them on, phone tucked between his ear and chin. The mask is in there, he double checks, and he’s still trying to coax it out of you when he pulls his sweatshirt on. 
“It’s Emma… she’s- she’s not getting any better and I don’t know what to do, I need to take her to hospital.” You’re crying, panicked, Emmaline screaming through the walls, and his skin breaks out in a cold sweat. What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she getting better? You’re still talking in the background, anxiously explaining her temperature and the reasoning for something medical he doesn’t understand, enough time for him to make the very short trip to your front door. His fingers twist around the handle, grateful it’s locked, frustrated it stands between him and the two of you. “- and what if I waited too long and something really bad has happened and I just know she must be so uncomfortable and I’m a terrible mum I just didn’t think that taking her to hospital was the right thing, there are so many germs already there and what if-“ 
“Hey, listen. Listen to me, love.” He tries to jog your attention, snapping you free from your spiral. “Everything’s going to be okay, okay?” 
“Okay.” You whisper. 
“Can you open the door, sweetheart?” He coaxes you, gritting his teeth at the sound of your harsh breathing, combination of your tears and what he’s sure must be a chest infection making you gasp a little bit, like you’re running out of air. He hears the click of the deadbolt, and the scrape of the chain- door all locked up, just like he taught you. Good girl. “That’s it.” He encourages, waiting for the turn of the handle. 
You’re hyperventilating on the other side, still gripping the phone tight, crying baby in your arms, all bundled up like you’re preparing to take her outside… except you’re wearing a thin pair of pajama pants and a t shirt, frantic look in your eyes, missing a shoe. 
Without thinking, he steps forward and pulls you into his chest, snuggling Emma between you and him, careful not to squish her, but keeps you close with a hand on the back of your head. It’s all instinct, something that’s been wired in the back of his mind, sleeping dormant for so long. He’s not quite sure how his hands know to give you comfort, but they do. Just for you, for Emmaline, and he lets himself fall into it, murmuring something soft into your hair, pulling her from your arms as he encourages you to get a jacket on, helping you with the one sleeve, making sure you both get your hats, helping you get her settled in the carrier. He keeps a hand on you the whole way to the car, your nerves about installing the base easily soothed when he shows you he knows how to do it, (and fails to mention the youtube videos on quick install that he’s been watching recently, just in case) settling her and then you in, even reaching over to buckle your belt as you lean over car seat, anxiously distracted, watching your baby.  “Alright, ready?” He asks you gently, and you look to him, eyes wet with tears, limbs heavy. The need to reassure you, soothe you, screams in his head, and he takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles. “It’s going to be alright.” I swear. I’ll burn the world if it’s not. “I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you. I promise.” 
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neo-nomatrix · 10 months
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(My) Nuisance
Hobie brown x reader
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word count: 964
find the rest of the mini series here
synopsis: You thought you hated Hobie, but for some reason you’re starting to like him just as much as you like Spiderman.
a/n: (maybe too much) british slang used
You hate your next door neighbor. No, no you loathe your next door neighbor. You think he is the worst person to possibly exist. His stupid flat decorations, his loud punk-rock music blasting at unruly hours, the way he would come back to his flat at 4 am stomping his boots yelling with his friends about their latest anarchist protest. But you hate nothing more than the way he looks at you.
Everytime you try yelling at him he opens his door with the cheekiest grin on his face. While you’re standing there fuming he’s leaning against the door panel looking you up and down. The worst part is how much he tries to smooth talk you.
“I already told you how annoying your music is, no one wants to hear that at 3 am alright? Some of us have work in the morning,” you complain, smoke practically coming out of your ears.
“Oh c’mon love it’s not that bad. Don’t have to be such a tosser ‘bout it. It messes up that pretty face of yours,” he says.
“Are you daft? You’re the one keeping everyone up at night with your dumb guitar,” you roll your eyes.
“It’s not that big a deal sweetheart. Y’know i'm starting to think you’re making up rubbish just so you can talk to me more. I’ll admit it’s pretty cute but you could just ask me out,” he leans closer to your flushed face.
“I don’t fancy you if that’s what you mean,” you scoff.
“Not saying that. I’m saying if you wanna snog me so bad you could just say so,” he shrugs.
You could burst out laughing. Kiss him? That’s fucking hilarious.
“You’re joking right? i’d rather die.”
“I don’t believe in comedy, love,” he says.
“Of course you don’t,” you mumble as you storm off back to your door.
You’ve decided he is the worst person ever. He doesn’t deserve your efforts and time.
You set your keys down and fall into bed as you hear amp feedback and the sounds of Hobie strumming his guitar. You can’t help but roll your eyes. How could someone be so incompetent?
You reach your hand over to where the bed and the wall meet to grab your Spiderman plush. You hate to admit it because it’s kind of dumb but you’ve always loved spiderman. Ever since you were a little kid you collected posters, figures, pins, and merchandise having to do with the superhero. Even now, your walls are decorated in spiderman posters, you own spiderman clothing, and even printed your keys to have a blue and red spider web on them.
There was something so nostalgic to the vigilante and his style that you had to adorn your room with touches of blue and red. You thought spiderman was the embodiment of “cool.” From his suit to the way he acted around criminals to the electric guitar on his back. Sure, a guitar was the main thing you hated about Hobie but Spiderman did it better. He made it work in the way Hobie dreams of.
You wake up to the loudest knock on your front door you’ve ever heard. You immediately know it’s him. You try to ignore the blaring pounding coming from your door but it keeps going. You force yourself to get up and answer the door. You hope you can open it, yell at him, then go back to bed.
To your dismay the second you open the door Hobie places his hand on the top of the wood, stopping you from moving it anywhere else.
“What do you want this early?” you groan.
“It’s like 9 am, love. But anyway-” He cuts himself off before finishing his sentence. You’re too groggy to notice that he’s staring inside of your flat. His eyes search the walls and decor in front of him.
“So, I take it you like Spiderman?” He laughs.
“That’s none of your business,” you sigh, crossing your arms.
He pushes his way inside of your flat, moving around like he’s looking for buried treasure. He picks up memorabilia and smiles at them. He holds up a Spider-Punk figurine and turns towards you.
“Spider-Punk huh?”
“Don’t touch my stuff! You know this is technically breaking and entering,” you scold him, taking the figure out of his hand.
He puts his hands in his pockets and just smirks at you. That stupid smirk, displaying half of his teeth and perfectly showing his lip ring.
“What do you want from me, Hobie?” you question after placing the figure back on its stand.
“Jus- Just wanted to apologize for last night,” he starts.
“You mean this morning? We talked at 1 am, remember?” You say, passive aggressively.
“Right, whatever. You’re… You’re right,” he exhaled, “I shouldn’t be blasting my music that early. It’s inconsiderate and rude to the people in my vicinity,” he breathes.
In the time you’ve known him you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say sorry. You’re taken aback, did he really apologize? And did he sound genuinely sorry?
“Oh, oh uhm thanks,” you sat, still skeptical a camera crew would come out laughing saying this whole thing was a prank.
“I wanted to see if you maybe wanted to come to my show tonight? We could get dinner after or whatever you want,” He scratches the back of his neck, he’s nervous.
“I’d like that, I guess,” you reluctantly say.
“Wicked. Uhm, i’ll be leaving then. Sorry again,” he says. Shooting finger guns at you and making his way out the door.
You smile, maybe, just maybe, Hobies getting to you. As he’s leaving you could swear you see some blue and red material with spikes on it slipping out of his pocket.
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melzula · 14 days
Note
I JUMPED WHEN I SAW REQUESTS OPEN
zuko unintentionally saying something he doesn’t mean to reader (ex. ur clingy/annoying) and makes the reader like kinda distant cus they don’t wanna be annoying or clingy yk? then he comforts them and says sorry and it’s very much a angst to fluff moment!
a/n: i love this trope
summary: your sudden disappearance makes zuko reevaluate his behavior
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The apartment is empty when Zuko returns from the tea shop. His bones ache from standing all day and his mood is sour from having to serve customers, but it doesn’t distract him from the fact that something is missing. The place feels dull and lacks its normal warmth, and the change unnerves him.
“It seems y/n has not yet returned home,” Iroh observes as he flicks on the lamps to rid the room of darkness.
“Where did she go?” Zuko murmurs, doing his best to mask his anxiety over your absence. It’s not like you to stay out late, especially considering your apartment isn’t exactly in one of the safer rings of Ba Sing Se, and it worries him.
“I’m not sure. She seemed to be in a hurry when she left this morning,” the older man recounts as he scans the room to look for any trace of her left behind. “She didn’t even have her morning tea!”
“She could be in danger. I’m going to search for her.”
“Would you like me to come with you?”
“No, one of us should stay here in case she comes back,” Zuko states before making his way out the door. “I don’t want her to come home to any empty apartment.”
“Be sure to watch your temper if you do find her, nephew. Y/n is struggling to adjust to this new life just as you are, and it is important you are patient with her.”
The Prince says nothing in response to his Uncle’s words, but he immediately feels the guilt and shame that they bring him. His warning serves as a reminder for his recent behavior, and Zuko is then able to figure out why you were nowhere to be found.
You’d been eating breakfast together that morning before he had to leave for work, and despite his irritable mood you seemed to be eager to start the day.
“I was thinking of visiting the market place to buy fresh groceries for dinner tonight. Maybe I could stop by the tea shop and bring lunch for you and your Uncle,” you suggested with a pleasant smile.
“Sure,” Zuko had grumbled in response before forcing another spoonful of bland porridge down his throat.
“And after dinner we can visit the fountain,” you had said with an excited smile. “I’d love to take a walk through the city and get some fresh air. We hardly ever leave the apartment.”
“This city is nothing but dirt. There’s nothing to see out there.”
“Oh,” you had murmured, your features deflating slightly at his negative comments. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe we can just stay in and play a game of pai sho instead. I’m not exactly sure how to play, but I bet you could teach me! It could be fun!”
“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?!” Zuko had finally snapped harshly, his patience finally having been worn thin by your ceaseless suggestions. He didn’t want to take a stroll or play pai sho or have any sort of fun, and he didn’t understand why you couldn’t get that. “This isn’t some little vacation. I failed to capture the Avatar and now we’re stuck here, do you understand? Go play pai sho with someone else.”
The room had grown deathly silent after Zuko’s outburst, and he was too annoyed to notice the way you kept your gaze glued firmly to the table to avoid him see the welling tears in your eyes. Without another word, you quietly excused yourself from the table and made your way out the door without an explanation or a goodbye. Zuko hadn’t seen you since.
“I’m such a jerk,” he curses himself as he roams the streets in search of you. You’re not in the market place and you’re not by the fountain, so where could you be? He’s beginning to worry, his mind conjuring up multiple scenarios where you’re in trouble and he can’t help you. It’s pure torture.
A familiar laugh floats through the air, and Zuko feels the hairs on his neck stand up at the soothing melody. He’s quick to follow the sound, and as he shoves his way through the crowded streets he finds himself coming to a stop at a small noodle shop. The shop is practically tucked into a corner and isn’t much to look at, but the inside is full of life as patrons eat and converse and enjoy the camaraderie. At the heart of the restaurant sits a table full of people focused on the game of pai sho before them, and at the center of the table you sit with a large grin and a white lotus tile in your hand.
“I can’t believe I won!” You exclaim with an excited clap of your hands before looking to the older woman sitting next to you. “Thank you so much for teaching me how to play. This is the most fun I’ve had in months!”
“Y/n?” Zuko calls, garnering the attention of you and your new friends at the table. The airy laughter and pleasantries die down at the sight of him and the room is suddenly filled with tension.
“Oh, hello, Lee,” you greet dully, your cheerful demeanor immediately disappearing when you make eye contact with the boy.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home?”
“You said to go play pai sho with someone else, so that’s what I’m doing,” you state bluntly, and Zuko looks away guiltily after hearing his own words repeated back to him.
“Can you please just come home? You shouldn’t be out on the streets this late, it’s dangerous.”
“Why do you care?” You retort harshly. “I’m having fun here. These people actually want my company.”
“Y/n,” Zuko says with an irritated sigh, doing his best to remain patient. “Please. If not for me then for Uncle. He’s just as worried for your safety as I am.”
You hesitate at his words, but after a moment of contemplating you finally excuse yourself from the table. You bid your new friends goodbye and promise to return for another game sometime before following Zuko out of the restaurant and beginning your walk back home.
“The moon is out tonight,” he notes quietly in an attempt to make small talk, but you don’t reply. You keep your gaze forward and maintain a respectable distance from him as you walk. “Maybe I was wrong about this place.”
“Congratulations for figuring that out,” you retort sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. Having finally had enough, Zuko grabs your wrist to stop you in your tracks and force you to look at him.
“Y/n, please talk to me,” he begs earnestly. “I feel horrible for what I’ve done.”
“Good, you should feel bad!” You exclaim angrily, harshly yanking your hand away from him. “You’ve been nothing but a jerk since we got to Ba Sing Se, and now that I’m finally giving you the space that you wanted you come and ruin my fun!”
“I don’t want space from you,” he insists desperately. “I was being an idiot! Y/n, I didn’t mean any of what I said. I was just feeling irritable and I took it out on you, but that isn’t fair of me.”
“I’m not going to be your punching bag for the rest of my life, Zuko,” you relent quietly, blinking back the tears that begin to form. “All I want is to start over, but you’re making it so difficult. Why did we even come here?”
“We came here because I realized you deserved better than to constantly live your life on the run,” he admits softly, carefully taking your hands in his own. “I know I’ve failed to make you happy or treat you the way you deserve, but you have to know that I care for you. The best part of my day is coming home to you after work, and I never want you to feel like a burden because you aren’t.”
“Thank you for saying that,” you sniffle with a meek smile, and when he pulls you into his arms for a hug you don’t protest. “I know this has been hard for you, but you have to understand that all I want is to support you and make the change as easy as possible for you.”
“I know, and I’ll forever be grateful for everything you do,” Zuko says before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Now let’s get home before Uncle begins to worry.”
You say nothing more as he puts a protective arm around you and guides you through the streets of Ba Sing Se. The move has been tough, but he swears then that he’s going to do his best to improve his attitude and give you the support you need.
He has a lot of making up to do.
| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy
| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303
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kingkonoha · 2 months
Note
hello! may i request geto x !preganant! reader if it isn’t too much trouble? got baby fever 🤒
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𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 — SUGURU G.
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: fluff, fem reader, feat. gojo & nanami.
♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 900
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Suguru made a promise to himself when he discovered that you were carrying his child: he would be an amazing father and husband.
And although he was nervous, he was excited too, calling Satoru and Kento to tell them the excellent news immediately.
One day, you arrived home to see the three men sitting on the ground in the spacious room that would become the nursery for your little girl. Scattered pieces of wood, tools, and paper decorated the floor, surrounding the bewildered men.
“What’s going on?” You questioned.
“Hi sweetheart,” Suguru smiled pleasantly. “We’re building the crib.”
“Already?” You laughed a bit. “It’s a little too soon, don’t you think?”
“You know how much I like to be prepared,” Suguru playfully frowned at Satoru. “It was going well until Satoru spilled his water on the directions.”
“Hey,” the white-haired man paused. “It’s Uncle Satoru. That’s the only way I wanna be addressed now.”
Kento laughed softly. With the way the other man had been rambling on and on about becoming an uncle over the past few weeks, one would have thought he and Suguru were actually related by blood. But, of course, that didn’t matter.
They were family.
You all were.
“You guys keep working,” Suguru suddenly got off the floor, moving the hammer away from his lap. “I’ll be right back.”
Approaching you, your husband took your hand and guided you to your bedroom for a little privacy.
“How was your day? How are you feeling?” He asked, pressing his hand against your belly.
“I’m great, just a little tired.”
Those words alarmed Suguru. His eyes widened just a bit.
He was overprotective. He couldn’t help it.
If he could have it his way, you would have been on strict bed rest as much as possible throughout your entire pregnancy. But he knew it was important for you to move around. Even so, he was worried.
Without another word, Suguru pulled back the sheets of your bed and grabbed a change of clothes from your dresser.
He helped you switch into your comfortable clothing before tucking you in underneath the sheets.
“I’m pregnant, I’m not sick,” you said teasingly, resting your head against your comfortable pillow.
“But you are tired,” Suguru leaned down, kissing your cheek.
“I’ll get started on dinner, okay?”
“Okay,” you replied with a grin, grabbing the remote off of your nightstand, and getting ready to switch on your favorite show.
“Don’t watch any of our shows without me or else I’m moving out,” Suguru joked as he walked out of the door.
“I won’t!” You shouted, scrolling past the television series that you and Suguru loved to watch while cuddling in bed together, sharing a bunch of snacks.
As Suguru opened the fridge, he was pleased to see that it was packed with groceries — and not random items, but ingredients that could make several meals.
And although he had done extensive research about what pregnant women could and couldn’t eat, he still pulled out his phone and googled:
good meals for pregnant women
Just then, he caught a glimpse of his entire search history. It was filled with similar questions, such as whether certain activities were safe for you and what to expect during that week of your pregnancy.
Suguru smiled a bit.
Soon, he would be googling what activities were safe for his little girl, and what milestones to expect at certain ages.
But he was nervous too. What if his little girl didn’t like him for some reason? What if something went wrong? What if he wasn’t cut out to be a father?
Just then, as those thoughts flooded in, his phone dinged. The screen had gone dark as he stood there, holding it with the fridge wide open, lost in thought, but when he glanced down at the screen, a text message from you appeared:
Hey, I didn’t feel like shouting and I know you’re just in the kitchen, but I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Our little girl is going to be so lucky to have you as a father. I know I’m lucky to have you as a husband! Love you
Suguru smiled, a faint shade of pink dusting across his cheeks as he blushed.
Of course.
He didn’t have to go through any of it alone.
He had you, his soulmate. The love of his life.
Suguru was stirring a pot of boiling rice on the stove when he suddenly heard loud chatter coming from the incomplete nursery room.
“Hey,” Suguru peeked into the nursery, frowning in confusion. “What’s going on? You guys are being too loud.”
“As you can see, we built the crib successfully, but-”
“But I was saying that I should stand in it to make sure it’s sturdy. I want my niece to be safe.” Satoru suddenly interrupted Kento, who sighed in response.
“You’re too damn big, Satoru.” Grabbing a ripped-up piece of paper — it was the directions, or what was left of them — Kento leaned over, showing the significant words to Satoru. “See? Right here it says that the weight limit is fifty pounds.”
“Well, that seems dangerously low,” Satoru scratched his head. “How much does the average baby weigh?”
“Definitely not fifty pounds.”
Suguru laughed at the banter, and in the distance, he could hear you laughing at it too.
The sound of it warmed his heart.
He couldn’t wait to hear your baby laugh someday as well.
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daycourtofficial · 2 months
Text
Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun
Summary: based on this ask - Cassian has a secret about you and Azriel, and he accidentally lets it slip to you that the two of you are mates.
Pairing: Rhysand’s sister!reader x Azriel
Warnings: none? I don’t think.
“What do you know?”
Cassian drops his container of oatmeal, grumbling as he picks it up. He closes the cabinet to find you impossibly close to him, keeping him in place.
His surprise is all over his face as you roll your eyes and tell him, “you’ve been acting weird lately around me. You know something. Tell me.”
Not a request, but a demand. You might not be high lady, but as Rhysand’s little sister, you have mastered the commanding voice he uses to force others to yield to his demands.
“I don’t know anything,” he mumbles, trying to push past you. You don’t yield to him, keeping him trapped in front of one of the kitchen cabinets.
“You know something,” you simply repeat. “Something about me.”
“Not everything revolves around you, sweetheart.”
You sigh. Cassian wasn’t a great secret keeper if the secret was about himself, but if it was about someone else, he’d protect it with his life.
“Besides, even if I did know something about you, which I don’t,” he says, pushing you out of his way, “I wouldn’t tell you.”
He gets a few steps away from you when you exclaim, “I’ll tell Rhys about what really happened when you destroyed that building in Summer!”
He balks at you, a secret you came to discover on accident because Cassian was projecting his thoughts too loudly for you not to notice. As a daemati, you tried to keep your powers to yourself as much as possible, but some people, Cassian especially, think really loudly sometimes.
“You’re not even supposed to know that! You only do because you’re nosey and have freaky mind powers.”
You scoff, crossing your arms, “I could use my freaky mind powers right now to find out what you know.”
Cassian’s quick to reply, “if you do I’ll tell Rhys and you’ll be in trouble.”
“Tattle-tell.”
“Freaky mind girl.”
You two are staring each other down, neither of you budging when you gently caress Cassian’s mind with your talon in the way you know makes him cringe.
“Fine- fine! You’re Azriel’s mate - leave my mind alone!”
Your face quickly morphs into shock at Cassian’s words. Cassian slaps his hands over his mouth as if he could bring the words back.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes you did.”
Cassian’s eyes roam around the room, “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Your eyebrows raise at that, crossing your arms. “Then who you were talking to?”
Cassian pauses, then softly says, “myself?”
You narrow your eyes, “you, who are already mated to Nesta, are Azriel’s mate?”
Cassian shrugs, inching closer and closer to the door. “What can I say - the cauldron loves me?”
You give Cassian a pointed look, but continue with the lie. “Is he… is he disappointed that you’re his mate?”
Now that takes Cassian for a loop. He blinks a few times at your insecurity. You, who was just as confident as Cassian was, looking so small in this moment.
“Er- no. He’s not disappointed that I’m his mate.” Cassian steps closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look up at him. “He’s excited, he just doesn’t know how to tell me.”
A smile graces your lips, searching Cassian’s eyes for any hint of a lie.
“Thanks, Cass. I hope you’re excited about it, too.”
Cassian snorts, “Nesta would be ecstatic if someone could take me off her hands every so often.”
Cassian leaves, not after giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a plan begins to take root in your mind.
A few days later, every member of the inner circle is gathered at the table for family dinner. Tonight you’re seated next to Azriel, who hasn’t acted any differently towards you.
Your plan tonight will either confirm or deny Cassian’s words with little consequence if Cassian was wrong.
“Hang on everyone, I have a surprise.”
You leave the table and come back with a white cake. You place the cake on the table, pick up a knife, and start slicing the cake.
“Well, Azriel was out on a mission for his birthday because his boss sucks,” you throw a glance to your brother while sticking your tongue out, “so I made a cake for him so we could celebrate.”
You plate the slice, put a fork on the plate, and pass it to Azriel. The color has drained from his and Cassian’s faces, as they both look at the cake in front of the shadowsinger.
“It’s your favorite,” you say, with a sugary sweet smile. “I know we’re doing something this weekend for his birthday, but I thought I’d make this for tonight.”
You’re distributing other pieces around the table, the others unaware of the meaning behind Azriel and Cassian’s faces.
“I’m not very hungry,” Azriel says, “dinner was quite filling.”
Rhys looks at Azriel as he takes a bite of your cake, “I’ve never known you to decline dessert, especially not her cakes.”
All eyes are on Azriel, his notorious sweet tooth betraying him once again. He looks to Cassian for assistance, who has already finished his plate of cake.
He looks to you, a smirk adorning your features.
Oh. He thinks. You know. He looks again towards Cassian, who is avoiding eye contact with him at all costs.
Fucking traitor.
“Fine, fine.” If you can be stubborn and pigheaded, so can he. He picks up his fork, maintaining eye contact with you as he picks up cake on his fork. You look at him, your eyes piercing his soul. He can feel your emotions through the bond, and all he can feel is excitement.
You want him. You want him to take the bite, you want him to be the one to make things real.
He maintains eye contact as he brings the fork to his mouth, a millimeter from his lips he whispers, “you want this?”
The sight of your cake a second away from his lips, everything you’ve ever felt for Azriel, all leads you to nod your head imperceptibly. He takes the bite, savoring every second of the chocolate flavor.
His favorite flavor.
His stubborn, pigheaded mate did all this to nudge him. His beautiful, headstrong mate, both so much like his brother and so distinctly herself. The scent of the mating bond fills the room, and Rhys starts asking what’s happening, when Azriel lunges for you, wrapping you in his arms as he winnows the two of you away.
Cassian told you about the bond, and now he can tell everyone else about it as you and Azriel spend the next few days in a frenzy of clothes and mouths and love.
“You little minx,” he tells you as you two appear in a secluded cabin. You laugh before taking in your surroundings.
“Where are we?”
It was a quaint cabin, probably two or three bedrooms, and the two of you landed right in it’s living room.
“Well, when the bond snapped for me, I figured the last place you’d want to undergo the frenzy at would be in your brother’s home.”
You smirk at him, “and you just assumed I’d accept it?”
He looks at you, hope in his eyes and in your chest as you feel everything he feels now. “I had hoped. Cassian told me you’d be a fool not to.”
You smile, moving closer to him, “I would have been a fool not to want you.”
He wraps his arms around you, one hand tucking your hair behind your ear. “And I’d be a fool not to try to win your affections. I had a whole plan, you know.”
You gaze up at him, his lips looking incredibly inviting, but you focus on the words coming from them. “What was your plan?”
His thumb swipes across your jaw, “I was going to make you fall in love with me.”
You push your face forward, mere inches from his own, telling him, “I already was.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise, and you laugh. “Not a great spymaster, are you?”
It’s his turn to move forward, your lips a whisper apart. You can feel his breath as he tells you, “I couldn’t bear to know, one way or another, how you felt. So I pretended to love Mor, I knew she’d never return my affections, and I thought I’d be safe from the heartbreak.”
“But one day I woke up, and I decided that that was no way to live. So I dropped the act, and pretty soon afterwards the bond snapped.”
His smile falters for a second, before continuing. “I think - I think I had to feel deserving of you before the bond would snap. Not that I deserve you,” he corrects himself, his thumb trailing over your cheek, “but that I could be. That I could be enough for you.”
Doubt and insecurity swims in your chest, and you lightly tug the bond for the first time. It jolts him from his stupor, his grip on you tightening momentarily.
You look up at him, sending love and adoration down the bond. “Having you as a mate is enough for me. You are enough for me.”
He surges forward, his lips meeting yours. The kiss is warm, inviting, like coming home after a hard day. His hands on you feel right. He presses into you, both of you shoving love down the bond toward each other.
You’d have a nightmare to return home to, everyone already freaking out over Cassian’s news to them all. Their excitement for you two clashing with the absurdity of it all.
But that is for another time. Right now, you are enjoying learning everything about your mate’s body and teaching him about yours.
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