#day one hundred seventy four | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuwuta · 22 days

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JUST KEEP LOVING ME THE WAY I LOVE YOU LOVING ME — SATORU GOJO

pairings. satoru gojo/reader

content, warnings. non-curse au, doctor au (reader), ceo au (satoru), no real content warnings, fluff, satoru is nothing but a romantic at heart

word count. 3k

notes. this exists in the post-completion au of a larger universe/incomplete fic of mine, that i will hopefully finish someday lololol but this is way easier to write than that so here you go 🥳

“There are four chairs worth a collective seventy-five hundred dollars in this office, so, pray, tell, why is your ass on my desk?”

Satoru grins at your words, too distracted by taking in the sight of you to take into consideration the underlying threat. It’s been far too long, almost three whole days since he’s last seen you and, god, you look good. He knows if he said that you’d roll your eyes and insist that there’s nothing good-looking about your worn-in business attire and lab coat that was in desperate need of laundering, but it wouldn’t change his opinion: you always look good, and Satoru really fucking missed you.

Which is why he doesn’t say the words, but makes sure to throw a deceivingly charming wink your way so that you get the message anyway. As expected, you still roll your eyes, but he doesn’t mind; you look good doing that, too.

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” you question, closing the door behind you when you fully step into the room. You make pace towards your desk, attempting to get to the other side, but this is exactly why Satoru chose to lean against it instead of sitting on any one of your very expensive and comfortable chairs—because this way, he’s in the perfect position to intercept your path and pull you to fit neatly between his legs before you can even think about reaching your office chair and ignoring him.

He pulls you by the loop of your lab coat, but his hands quickly find their way to your shoulders, unpeeling the white layer just enough so that your blouse is exposed to him, and he can slowly rub his palms against your arms and shoulders with just enough pressure to hopefully release some tension. You won’t let go of all of it, but that’s alright, because Satoru’s got other methods for taking care of you.

“Hi,” he calls, smiling gently down at you, “I missed you.”

This close, Satoru can see the exhaustion clearly in your eyes. There’s more, too: frustration, guilt, worry—and it takes everything in him not to coo and pull you into his chest and do his best to shield you from the world forever.

There’s a beat before you speak, a small sigh, that’s quickly painted over with a tired smile and a remorseful, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry for being so short, the interim chief has been getting on my last nerves, and—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Satoru cuts in, leaning forward to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax under his touch. “I know you’re busy. I just missed you.”

It’s not easy to share you with anything or anyone, but Satoru knows that even on the hardest days, you love your job, and that so many people need your brilliant mind. What he does mind is when people make your job harder than it needs to be, and he’s been getting an earful about this new interim chief from just about everybody—you, Kento, Yuuji, Ieiri, even some of your favorite scrub nurses have indulged him in the gossip about the newest common enemy—and he doesn’t appreciate that someone is putting extra stress on his baby. So, even if it is a makeshift massage in your office and distracting you from your paperwork, Satoru will do what he can to help you relieve tension.

You reach your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, taking a half step closer to him, peering up at him. Satoru loves when your arms are around his neck like this; he can’t quite pinpoint why—maybe it’s the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you’re perfectly nestled under his view, the feeling of being wrapped in you. He does his best to close the loop of your intimacy, resting his hands on the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax into his touch.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, rubbing your thumb against the shorter hairs at the back of his head. Satoru feels himself melt into you, too. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close, three whole days too long. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, baby,” he smiles, stealing a gentle kiss. Satoru loves this the most, loves the feeling of your lips on his—and it’s definitely been too long since he’s kissed you, so he makes sure to do it again, and once more after that for good measure.

But it’s not enough. He’ll have to take you home, sit you on the couch so he can kiss you all night and make up for the lack of kisses and touches and youness he’s been deprived of these past few days. But first, he’ll have to pull you away from your work, and that’s not easy work.

“Come home,” he muses, leaning his forehead against yours, “We can order in, and share your favorite bottle of wine, and watch a movie.”

You lean up to kiss him briefly. “Every time we share a bottle of wine, we end up making out and not watching anything.”

“Do we?” Satoru feigns innocence, “I never noticed. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, quiet but firm, with a smile that lets him know you want to, but you can’t. It’s a tone that Satoru knows all too well, and isn’t particularly fond of. “I have charts to finish.”

“Finish them tomorrow,” he steals another kiss, “Or pawn them off on Kento,” another kiss, “Or Yuuji. Residents always need more experience—isn’t that what you and Ieiri always say?”

You let him kiss you again, and again, and again. Each time a little longer, a little warmer, a little less innocent than the last, growing from a little, to a lot, to all-consuming. Satoru hums when he feels your nails raking through his hair; an unfortunate move, as the sound pulls you back to reality and away from him in a decrescendo of kisses.

“You’re really good at that,” you laugh, voice soft.

“At kissing?” Satoru dips his head down to taste your laughter against his lips, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with a very pretty girl.”

“No,” and you’re laughing again, louder this time, and Satoru counts every little giggle as a victory, “You’re good at... seducing me without saying you’re seducing me.”

“Oh, that?” he grins, tucking his pointer and index finger under your chin to meet you in a knowing kiss, “Yeah, that’s a talent of mine, too.”

You let him steal one more, and Satoru doesn’t take it for granted. “Come home,” he whispers against your lips before slotting them in yet another kiss, “I miss you.”

And he can feel it when you finally break, sighing into the kiss, and melting into his touch completely. One more, he just needs one more kiss to seal the deal, and then—“Fine,” you concede, “But I get to choose where to get dinner from.”

“Of course, sweets, whatever you want,” Satoru grins, pulling back to kiss your forehead again, “Now—shall we? If we order in the car, we can probably pick it up on our way home.”

He’s in the home stretch now, but he’s not completely free: if you catch a glimpse of your work, or someone comes in to find you, or your godforsaken pager beeps then all of his plans could come crumbling down before him. The key to transitioning from the “you’ve agreed to come home with him early stage”—if you can count 9:45pm, coming off of a 17-hour work day as early—to the “we are actually leaving this hospital and nobody can stop us phase” is swiftness. This time period is critical, and Satoru is ready for the sprint.

He shimmies your lab coat all the way off of your body for you, checking for the weight of your pager in your right pocket, before hanging it on the back of your chair. He shoos you to grab your coat, and makes sure you don’t get within three feet of this side of your desk—taking your purse out of your locked drawer and closing an open file folder in the time it takes you to slip out of your heels and into your sneakers, and by the time you’re turning back around, Satoru is already there next to you, with your purse in one hand, and his other hovering on the light switch.

He makes sure you’re out the door first, and flickers off the light with a satisfied grin. His baby was coming home early with him, and there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend time pampering you.

You must truly be more tired than you know, because you make no protest when he slings an arm over your shoulder on your way out of the elevator. Usually, you chastise him for any PDA within hospital walls, but tonight you let it be, even leaning some of your body weight against his as you walk. Satoru’s not complaining at all, maybe he’ll try his luck and sneak a kiss on your cheek.

He decides to go for it, leaning over for a kiss, when you suddenly pull away, turning and patting against your side. Confused, and disappointed, Satoru pouts, “We’ve really got to work on this fear of affection you’ve got going on, sweets. It’s the leading cause of makesatorupout-itis.”

“We’ve been over this—you can’t just add “itis” to the end of your words to make them diagnostic,” you giggle, “I was looking for my keys.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “You have the fancy reserved doctor parking space, they can’t tow you. So, we can take my car home.”

“No, we cannot, because I do not trust you to wake up and drive me back tomorrow morning.”

“Then I’ll get you a cab in the morning, or—even better, I’ll call Ichiji to pick you up.”

“Ichiji is still in Paris,” you remind him. Satoru purses his lips. He did ask Ichiji to stay with Megumi. Damn it.

“I have other cars, you can drive one of them in the morning.”

“And park it where?”

“In your fancy reserved doctor parking—oh, okay I see the flaw there,” Satoru pulls back. You find amusement in his disappointment, but he doesn’t think there’s anything funny here.

He shakes his head. He should have taken a cab from his office, but this is okay, a minor setback, nothing he can’t think around. “New plan: we take your car, and I’ll come by to get mine tomorrow. Easy peasy.”

“Yours will be towed by then.”

“That’s fine,” Satoru shrugs, “I can afford a tow fee.”

“Satoru,” you call, reaching your free hand up to place your palm against his cheek, “We both drive home. It’ll be thirty minutes, tops. Forty if there’s traffic, but if you stop pouting and we leave now, we should be fine.”

Satoru sighs. He knows that’s the most reasonable plan of action, but the simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be away from you right now, even to go the short distance home. He’s already spent the last few days without you, and even though this is calling it in early for you, he only gets maybe four hours awake with you before you’re off again. Thinking about that makes him miss you again already. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, Dr. (_____), hey!” Yuuji’s voice is an easily distinguishable interruption to your petty argument, and Satoru’s sulking, “Perfect timing—I’m glad I caught you before you left. Is it okay if I ask you to sign something before you go?”

You easily warm up to the younger boy and agree, fondly making conversation with Yuuji as he scrolls through some documents on his tablet. And just as you’ve finished scribbling your signature along the screen, Satoru has a bright idea.

“Hey, Yuuji, you can drive right?” Satoru questions rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet and car keys, “Great! Here’s two grand, it’s all yours if you drive this car home tonight.” Satoru smiles widely, shoving his keys and some cash into the pocket of Yuuji’s white coat.

“What—really? Awesome! But, why—”

Satoru dismisses his disbelief with a wave of his hand. He steps a bit closer to Yuuji, just enough to lean into his ear and tuck a couple more bills into his pocket, “And between you and me, that’s an extra three grand if you finish up a couple of charts for my lady so she can sleep in tomorrow. Not a bad deal, right?”

“Sure, no problem!” Yuuji salutes, “I’d do anything for Dr. Almost-Gojo. Plus, if I’m busy working for her, then I don’t have to babysit cells in a dish for Dr. Gakuganji.”

“Atta boy,” Satoru ruffles his hair, “Catch you later, Yuuji, I’ve got a hot date to get to. And tell Nanamin I say hello!”

You elbow Satoru shallowly, a silent warning to keep his voice down, and a verbal chastising of, “It’s Dr. Itadori and Dr. Nanamin to you.”

“More like Dr. Nanameanie,” Satoru laments, resuming the position of his arm around your shoulder, “I’ve left him six calls this week! He’s so cruel—he knows I have to leave next week and he’s depriving me of one on one time. I think I’m gonna have to sneak into his office at lunch tomorrow and confront him.”

Despite his crass words and dramatics, you laugh, and so, Satoru smiles. He finally gets that cheek kiss right as you two reach your car, bending down to plant one for you at the same time he steals your keys from your hand and banishes you to the passenger seat. He’s not much of a driver himself, despite his excess amount of cars, but you’re his baby and you deserve to be driven around no matter the case, but especially when you’ve spent all day taking care of other people.

Plus, on days like this, if he’s real careful and smooth, you fall asleep in the car and he gets to carry you inside. He makes that his goal for the next thirty minutes, and he succeeds in twenty, confirmed by your soft snores just as he pulls into the curbside pick-up spot of your favorite restaurant. He retrieves the take-out as quietly as possible, before making the rest of the journey home, taking the time to glance over at you during red lights.

Satoru loves the way you look when you’re asleep, loves to see you well-rested, but something even more dear to him than that is a fact that Nanami let slip in the aftermath of a dinner party he’d hosted about a year after you two had started dating: “She never sleeps outside of her bed, for as long as I’ve known her,” he muses, nodding to your sleeping figure on Satoru’s couch, “Not even in the on-call rooms during our 72 hour shifts. She must... she must really trust you, Satoru.”

(He also recalls the awfully strong grip on his shoulder and subsequent shovel talk Kento gave him a moment later. Not that Satoru ever had anything but pure intentions with you, but the threat of breaking Kento’s best friend’s heart was more than enough to keep his commitments in check).

Satoru peers at you fondly in his arms, held bridal style with the takeout in the grip of a pinky finger, glancing up only to nod and thank his doorman for pushing the penthouse button for him. Satoru prides himself on many things, but the one thing he always holds in his highest regards is you: call him cocky, but he thinks he’s quite good at caring for you, that there’s nobody else fit to look after you the way that he can; and knowing that you feel safe in his arms is the highest honor he could achieve in this life.

He sets you carefully on the couch once he steps inside the apartment, and places the food on the coffee table. He debates whether or not he should wake you up now; he hates to, but he knows you need to eat, and, selfishly, he wants to cash in on those few hours he has with you to hear your voice.

He’ll dish out the food first, and then wake you up to eat, he decides. He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, eyes flicking to your face, and pausing at your neck, where your engagement ring rests crookedly against your skin. You must have had an emergency surgery today, he thinks; your schedule for today was originally just to round on post-op patients and attend some meetings, but you knot the ring into your chain when you have to scrub into the operating room.

Carefully, Satoru reaches to undo it from the chain, and slips it back onto your ring finger. It looks pretty against your skin when it’s around your neck, but personally, he thinks it looks best this way, the sparkle of the aquamarine against the halo of diamonds fits perfectly across the width of your finger, just the way he had it made to be.

Satoru bends down even further to kiss the back of your hand, before laying it to rest on your stomach. He might need to bribe Yuuji to take care of some more work for you, you two really should get a move on that wedding planning, and you’re going to need at least a week off to fly and visit his grandma’s pastry shop in Osaka for cake tasting.

He smiles at the thought. He doesn’t feel so bad about waking you up now—wedding talk seems like the perfect way to end the evening if you ask him; there would be no sweeter sound than hearing how you imagine the start of the rest of your lives to be.

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inklore · 8 months

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roadside delight

premise: joel should have known you'd be trouble when he found you on the side of the highway. he should have known you'd taste so fucking sweet too.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 1.1k

contents: hitch hiking, set in the late sixties to seventies but please read it however you'd like, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, dirty talk, threats of coming inside, age gap if you want it to be one but i didn't specify, marking.

note: i actually wouldn't mind writing more from this down the road because i love this concept and i'm forever loving this old man.

haunted hoedown day four.

If Joel Miller had been told this morning that he would end up with a stranger bent against the seat of his old pickup, a moaning mess, and begging him to do filthy things to her: he would have told you to fuck off.

Would have scowled at them and moved on with his day because he had no interest in whatever nonsense they would have been spewing to him.

But here he was, this pretty thing moaning into the worn cushion of his seats, your shorts sitting on the floor of his pickup. Your nails gripping his wrist as his fingers dig into your hip as he fucks you hard.

His name on your lips sounding better than it should, coming from someone he just picked up three hours ago.

He should have known, just by the look of you.

Your shorts shorter than any pair he’s ever seen, a leather bag over one arm, the other arm bare and lifted with your thumb held out into the air. The sweetest smile he’s seen in the whole state of California—which he was happily driving out of.

A happy exit you too were excited to make as he, possibly against his better judgment, pulled over and let you hop up in his truck. Throwing your bag to the floor, the trusting grin on your face making him happy he picked you up and not some fornate creep.

You were headed to New York.

“I’m sick of the heat,” you said, trying to start a casual conversation with him. Joel’s habit of being off putting and quiet went unphased by you as you talked his ear off.

But something told him there was more to the story.

More about why you were leaving California. Why you were in such a rush to get out that climbing into the car with a complete stranger seemed like more of a promise than it did to just wait and take a bus. The safer option out of the two.

It wasn’t his business to know unless you wanted to tell him, so Joel did what he did best and didn’t pry. Left it as was and listened to you talk, his eyes softening slightly when you sang along to the radio and his throat tightening when his gaze moved along your exposed thighs. The lack of neckline of your shirt making him grip the steering wheel a little harder to reign himself in.

Coming off like a creep, let alone ogling a woman, was not his forte. He had been raised with a little more gentlemanly dna inside of him.

Maybe it was the heat or the way you talked to him as if you'd known him for years instead of less than an hour, or maybe it was the way you knew every song on the radio, the station that never changed in his truck. The station that served him the best comfort and reminded him of home.

You were a rare breed to him.

“You ain’t got nowhere to stay?” He had asked you after you had disclosed to him all to eagerly about your big dreams in the big apple, and the lack of real plan you had to achieve them. Flying on hopes and dreams and the hundred dollars you had in your bag.

“Nope,” you said with a smile. A smile that both made Joel uneasy and his own lips twitch.

“You ain’t got no one waiting for you? Lookin’ for you?”

“Why?” Your brows raised playfully, “you got other plans for me?” The scoff that left Joel made you laugh before your tone turned serious, looking out the window as you spoke. “No one’s looking for me or waiting.” you sigh, “you ever been so sick of listening to what people tell you to do? They know what's best, and they know what you should do because it benefits them. It’s not even for your own wellbeing; they’re just trying to be saints. To live through you. To control you. I was just so sick of it. So, I just woke up one day and said, fuck it, and I left.”

“No better way to find yourself than on the side of the highway.” Joel joked drly, and the reaction he got out of you was one he thinks if he had to hear over every state line he would have zero complaints about it.

“And here I thought you were some uptight old man.”

“And here I thought you were trouble.”

“Who said I’m not?” You smirked, gave him the smallest of winks that made him grin. “Troubles fun.”

That’s why Joel should have known then.

Should have known when he saw you on the side of the road.

When you jumped into his truck.

When you had him questioning himself.

He should have known you’d feel so good.

“Do you like when I touch you like this? I can keep going if you want me to.” You had said when you reached over and rubbed his growing erection through his jeans. Your mouth soon found itself wrapped around his cock before he pulled off the road, no longer being able to control himself.

He should have known you’d sound fucking sweet saying his name as he fucked you.

“Is this what you do? Stand on the side of the road waiting for strange men to pick you up and fuck you, huh?” Joel’s words are low grunts murmured into your neck, a hand curving around your shoulder to give him better leverage. “Like a little fuckin’ siren.” His teeth graze the nape of your neck as he bites and sucks at the skin there. Leaving you with something to remember him by. A mark on you the way you’re leaving it on him.

Your pussy clenches around his cock. Your moans and whimpers settling in the pit of his groin, that has his pleasure building and building. That makes him fuck you harder when you cry out for more.

“Yes.”

“It’s a good thing I pulled over then, fell into your little trap, and gave this pussy what it needed. I deserve a thank you for being so kind.” Your moan is muffled by the seat, your head attempts a nod as your body trembles against him. “I deserve to come in this pussy as much as I want. Get my fill before I leave you to find the next sorry asshole.” Joel grunts, curses under his breath as he holds your ass flush against his pelvis, lifting your hips to a new angle to fuck harder into your tightness.

“Or maybe I’ll just keep you. Take you home with me and use you as my lil’ fuck toy, would’ya like that? To be used every day the way you deserve?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #pedro pascal smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #hauntedhoedown

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luveline · 22 days

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Hii I sent the ask for more kbd could you please write them all going on there first family holiday lovely 🤍🫶🏻

love u <3 kbd au —the harrington’s vacation !! mom!reader, 1.5k

This is a good idea, you repeat to each other for weeks. Paying for the flights, making lists, getting Dove her baby passport, packing the suitcases days in advance.

Most of the time you agree with one another. The day you buy Avery and Beth little swimsuits Steve can’t stop smiling, and the nights leading up to it are like Christmas for Avery when she remembers (and Beth when Avery tells her).

But the night before you’re sick to your stomach, and then Steve can’t breathe right at the airport, but you get on your plane, and somehow the girls are good. Dove cries when you land because of the pressure change, but she’s soothed by the time you’re past the gate and into the sunshine.

“Steve,” you say, Dove strapped to your chest, world's heaviest baby bag on your shoulder, “sweetheart, we’re here.”

He holds Beth’s hand, who in turn holds Avery’s hand, trying to pull the world’s biggest suitcase behind you without running over his own foot. “I told you it would be easy.”

Your children look beautiful. Avery wears a sun visor cap and a blue dress with white socks and blue converse, and Bethie wears dungarees and a short sleeve top, little black converse to match her sister but unable to handle the sensory nightmare of a hat. They look ready for the sun, and excited to be somewhere new.

Dove sleeps on your chest. “Easy isn’t the word I’d use,” you mumble, kissing her forehead. “Okay, what’s the next thing? Are we getting the shuttle?”

Steve checks his watch quickly. “It’s another ten minutes,” he says. “Is that okay?” He points at your harness. “Digging into your side?”

“It’s fine.” You bend with your arm behind Dove’s back, turning your smile on your sweethearts where they mill around their dad’s legs. “How do you guys feel now? So happy? I’m so happy we’re not on the plane, we can stretch our tired feet!”

“Yeah, mom!” Avery says.

“Can we have soda?” Bethie asks.

And okay, you promised them treats if they behaved on the plane, but you’re on vacation. It’s allowed.

“Yeah, baby, let’s go find you a coca cola before we get on the big bus!”

You don’t want to pay seventy cents for one can of coke, let alone three dollars for three, but everything will be free when you get to the resort, so what does it matter? Plus, Bethie really, really enjoys it. She beams at the fizzing and begs you to try it like she’s worried you’re missing out.

(It matters. You and Steve are raising three kids on one salary. All inclusive vacations are expensive. They all needed new clothes including you and Steve, clothes and haircuts and mini shampoos. But it genuinely won’t matter if they have a good time, and make good memories.)

“Right,” you say near the shuttle, “Avery, you hold mommy’s hand when we’re outside. Beth, you’ll hold daddy’s. No running, and try to be polite. Deal?”

Avery twines her fingers through yours, little tiny fingers to your fully grown ones. When she looks up at you, she’s practically a hundred percent Steve, his smile, his lovely demeanour, and his attitude too. “Duh, mom. That’s an easy deal.”

Steve ends up carrying Beth onto the shuttle, and off of it again at the resort. She’s in his arms from the lobby to the elevators and into your suite, but she wants promptly to be put down when Steve shows your two girls their room.

“Mom, there’s bears!” She gasps. “It’s Goldilocks!”

A huge storybook mural covers their walls and parts of their ceilings, their single beds outfitted with gossamer curtains on four posters and princess pink sheets. “There’s a castle!” Avery shouts.

“You okay?” Steve asks again.

You’re a little tired from Dove's restlessness the night before, but you’re happy you’re here. You nod without thinking twice about it.

“Okay.” He pulls you toward him. Careful, he unsnaps the buckles of Dove’s harness, loosening the cords that keep her tight to your body before pulling her out. She grizzles at being moved, and he pats her back deftly to settle her before it becomes a big cry. Then he’s cradling her one handed, loosening the straps of the carrier behind your back and taking it off of you with a kindness that softens you for the thousandth time. “There, that’s better. You look like you can breathe again.”

Steve puts his hand flat on your chest and rubs a line with his thumb. “That’s a nice smile,” he adds.

Okay, you think. Goner, total goner, you cover his hand with yours. From the girls’ bedroom you can hear the squeal of bed springs being jumped on and the zipper on someone’s mini backpack. “Can we have fruit snacks?” Avery shouts.

Steve’s hand moves to your neck, your face. He rubs your jawline with the tip of his thumb. “Do they have fruit snacks at the buffet?”

“They promised they’d have everything at the buffet.”

You sound exuberant. You are. It’s nice to be touched sweetly, and to be somewhere cool. This is the life you’d dreamed of making with him, and at the same time, you never could’ve summoned this image of him.

You can’t wait for him to take his shirt off by the pool. You’re gonna take a whole disposable’s worth of photos.

“You have nice arms,” you say, feigning absentmindedness.

“Thank you.” He’s looking at you funny. It reminds you of when you first started dating, he’d get these weird moments of smiling and not telling you what it is that’s so funny, which would always inspire insecurity, but has since been explained to be awe rather than disdain. He pulls Dove closer to his neck and more toward his side, offering his empty arm to you for a hug. “You have nice everything,” he says, kissing you quickly on the temple.

“We’re actually on vacation.”

It always seemed too daunting. The more kids you had, the scarier it seemed. But one day Avery must’ve seen a commercial on TV or heard it from one of the little girls at the park, and she’d strolled up to you to ask you about vacations and the beach and aeroplanes. You’d taken her and Beth to Lake Michigan a bunch of times, but nothing feels quite like this.

“Let’s hope it really feels like one,” Steve says.

“Especially for you,” you say.

Stay at home dad-ing is exhausting. You can’t imagine he wants to be the one in charge here too. You’re determined to pull your weight, even if he isn’t keen to let you, plans for secret lie-ins and well-researched playtime clubs at the resorts recreation centres. You’re not delusional, you know you can’t do this without him. Or perhaps you could, but you’d enjoy yourself a lot less. Either way, you’re wanting to have fun too, so he can take Dove from you and wrap his arm around you like he’s the one in charge for now. It feels nice to be doted on, better when he starts his fretting.

“Do you want to get changed before we take them down for dinner?” He backs away enough to see your face but not too much as to steal the warmth of his chest where it kisses your arm. “Showers? You need something to drink. Where’s the mini fridge?”

“Remember what we talked about?” you broach carefully. You have no intentions of patronising him, but it’s unfortunate he’s forgotten already. “Relax, honey. That’s what we said we were gonna do this week. You don’t have to make sure everyone is one hundred percent all the time. If I need something, I’ll tell you.”

“What sort of marriage do you think this is?” he asks, smiling playfully, his warm eyes betraying how happy he is even through his worry and facade.

“One where you kiss me like you miss me all the time,” you say.

“Oh, is that so?” He ducks down and aligns your lips, the corded muscle of his arm lean where it presses to your softer back. “What do you do?”

“Kiss back.”

He laughs into your lips, a smile pressed firmly to a smile.

“Daddy, can you help me ‘i my shoes?” Bethie asks.

Steve breathes in deep as you part, hugging you tight to his side. “Where are you gonna go without shoes?” he asks her, genuinely curious.

“To bed.”

“You want a nap?”

Bethie nods tiredly. “Planes are hard.”

“Yeah, bub, planes are tough. You don’t wanna go have dinner first?”

She shakes her head tiredly. It’s the first hurdle of your vacation, but it’s not a terribly hard one to navigate.

“There’s gotta be some sort of snack in the fridge, right?” he asks.

Family nap time commences just as soon as Avery’s eaten her fill of mini sandwiches. You sleep like a baby under Steve’s arm, at least until the real baby rouses for another bottle.

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bluenotes75 · 10 months

Text

Trust pt.2

Miles Morales ! 42 x Fem ! Reader x Miles Morales ! 1610

wc : 5,9k Warnings : angst, possessiveness, all characters are around 19 years old, cheating, no proofread, what I could remember from my spanish class 3 years ago, eventual love triangle ?, dramaaaa. pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.3 (coming soon)

Sorry, it took so long, the chapter just kept getting longer. Anyways, hope you enjoy <3

You sighed as you closed the door of the store. It was already past midnight and you had just finished a long shift. Oddly, the store had been particularly active today and you couldn't catch any break. Now you sought one simple thing. To find the comfort of your bed.

You removed the key from the lock and frowned as a drop of water touched your skin. It was raining.

Wonderful.

You had no umbrella with you as you didn't anticipate the night to get rainy. Regretting your choice of clothes, you pressed your bag on top of your head to protect yourself from the rain. Your home was a bit far from the cornerstone you worked at and you knew you had to hurry up because the streets were not safe at night.

As you headed toward your apartment, your thought deviated toward him.

It had been one month. Four weeks since everything fell apart.

At least, to you.

Twenty-eight days since you broke up with Miles Morales. Six hundred and seventy-two hours since he betrayed you and you liked to think that you had moved on. It was the easiest way to go through your days.

And if your heart ached each time you found his clothes in your closet or if you woke up in the middle of the night to noises on your window thinking it was him, you denied it.

The pain that you felt that night was unmatched. It was still fresh, rooted deep in your memories. But with time, you discovered it was nothing next to the pain of leaving without Miles. He wasn't there physically, yet he occupied each ounce of your mind.

Contrary to what you could believe, Miles wasn't any better. You were on his mind, 24/7.

He regretted. He regretted considerably. He had made the worst mistake of his life and just like that, you slipped through his fingers.

You were his world. His universe. He missed your presence. He missed holding you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your skin, tickling the curve of your hip, caressing the softness of your skin with his lips and seeing the deepness of your loving gaze when you looked up at him. He missed everything about you and he refused to let you go.

And this became the hardest part for you. Miles had tried to get you back.

Countless time.

Because even if your mind was screaming no, your heart was still weak for the boy. And he knew it.

He hadn't stopped texting you in the weeks following your break up. He had asked for forgiveness so many times you couldn't even count it. When you blocked him on every social media, he directly came to your house. He would knock on your window at late hours like he always did.

You would leave him outside.

After some time, he finally decided to give you some space but you could still feel his presence from afar. You could feel his stare on your back sometimes as you came back from work. You knew he was still making sure you were safe. Sometimes, you find to notes from him on your window.

You didn't read them.

You had thought of taking him back. On your lowest nights, you had thought that maybe it was for the best. You felt nothing without him. Even if the relationship brought your more strain than anything else, it was at least something. It was toxic but addicting. It made you cry at night but it made you feel high on other days. The only thing stopping you from going back was that little doubt ticking in the back of your brain.

What if he did it again?

But if there was one thing you knew, is that you were faithful to yourself. You were too afraid to put yourself through that process again if he was to mess up again. He had already broken you once, had left you miserable and you had suffered too much to trust him again.

So with time, you learned to let go. You had finally gotten used to living without him. Each day you were forgetting him more and more and you felt like yourself once again. And while your heart was still tied to his in a way, you knew you could live peacefully now.

You were dragged out of your thoughts by a noise behind you, yet you didn't give it a second thought. However, when you heard again, this time followed by irregular steps against the wet concrete, you frowned.

You peeked behind your shoulder and noticed a man, both taller and broader, dressed in a black hoodie. You couldn't see his face.

Your heartbeat picked up.

You accelerated, hoping that you were worrying for nothing, but that hope was soon crushed when the steps also became faster. Before you could think of a way to get yourself out of this situation, a hand covered your mouth and you were dragged into an alley.

It was dark and you could barely see anything as you fought back against the broad body that manhandled you against the wall.

''What pretty girl like you doing outside at such an hour.''

He whispered, his breath reeking of booze. He pressed his body against yours and travelled his hands on your back. Your cheeks pressed hard against the rugged brick wall, you felt tears burn the brim of your eyes as you realized what was about to happen.

''N-no! Please don't''

''Shut up bitch, you want it. You wouldn't be walking alone at such hours if not,'' he laughed in your ears.

''Nah, I think her no was clear enough.''

You jerked at the new voice and soon, the hands holding you against the wall disappeared. You turned around panicked, gasping as the man who was once all over you, now laying on the ground, holding his bruised cheek. Another guy dressed in a red suit stood over him.

''I hate assholes like you-'' the newcomer shot a string of web to tie up the man against the wall ? ''who think they can do whatever they want.''

You rubbed your eyes to make sure you saw well. Web ?

''Don't touch women again, got it ?''

The man nodded quickly, eyes widened in fear before the guy in red sent another punch, knocking him out for good.

You stood there, back against the wall, frozen. You had never heard of a guy in red playing the hero in Brooklyn.

New-york was filled with villains. You just hoped to fall on the nicest one.

As if reading your thoughts, the guy in red walked toward you.

''Hey, are you fine? I'm sorry this happened !''

He stopped in his track when you flinched.

''Look, I don't want you any harm,'' he raised his arms in the air as proof. ''Can I...come closer ?''

You nodded slowly, still speechless, and he did so. From closer, he was towering over you and you had to raise your head to properly look at him.

Just like with your ex.

You frowned, feeling stupid for thinking of the guy in such a situation and finally spoke.

''Thank you."

You watched as he smiled through his mask.

''Of course,'' he raised his hand before stopping abruptly. ''Can I touch you ?''

You nodded and he held your chin, angling it to the side and checking your cheek.

''Good he didn't hurt you,'' he then took in your appearance. You were completely wet because of the rain and you had started shivering. He removed the coat he was wearing and wrapped it around your shoulders. ''Here.''

A million thoughts crossed your mind, yet you only cared about one.

The coat smelled like Miles.

You shook your head, feeling stupid again. Were you so obsessed that you imagined your ex everywhere now? You really needed some sleep.

But you didn't want to walk home alone.

''I'll bring you home,'' the boy announced before wrapping his arms around your hips. ''Hold onto me tight.''

You did as he said, confused about why but soon understood when he brought you both in the air.

''Oh god !''

You closed your eyes not daring to look down.

''I know,'' he laughed near your ear and you couldn't ignore the shivers that crossed your body at the familiarity of his voice.

In less than ten minutes, you were home after telling him the way.

''Thank you for this,'' you smiled shyly and handed him back his coat.

''Of course! ''

You looked at him and you just couldn't get rid of this picture of Miles.

''Who are you ?''

You were shocked at your own question, the word escaping your mouth before you could stop yourself.

''Oh, I'm Spiderman," the guy said and you could hear the proudness in his voice.

''No, like who are you really?'' You slid your hands down his shoulders and his arms. It was a posture you knew too well. You could recognize that body in a million. ''Miles ?''

''W-what''

You grabbed the end of his mask and to your surprise, he didn't stop you. You raised it until it revealed his face.

A gasp escaped you as you saw Miles but....he didn't have braids. You studied him carefully. Same lips, same nose, same cheekbones, you almost got fooled. But when you made eye contact with him, you saw it.

It wasn't your ex.

His eyes weren't the same. Your ex had this hardened stare. A gaze built by the wall he created around himself. People said eyes were the mirror of the soul but you couldn't read anything through them.

This guy in front however had....innocence painted all over his eyes. His stare was soft, warm and solacing.

''You aren't Miles, who are you ?''

The guy took a step forward, hope in his eyes. You stepped back.

''You know Miles Morales ?''

You shook your head freaked out by the situation and took another step back.

''Get out.''

The taller widened his eyes.

''No, no please listen to me first.''

Maybe it was his eyes, maybe it was because he looked like Miles, you didn't know. But you didn't have the heart to chase him away one more time.

''You have five minutes.''

"So you're telling me that you are a hero from another earth that is exactly like mine and you saved people you weren't supposed to so a hoard of spidermans is following you and you need to go back to your earth to save your dad."

Miles nodded eagerly.

"I know it sounds crazy but yeah…that's pretty much it.''

''Damn,'' you breathed, letting the information sink in. ''And you need me for..?''

''To find a way back home.''

The boy stared at you expectantly, waiting for your answer. You bit the inside of your cheek before shaking your head.

''Look, I don't think I can help you with that.''

His face dropped and he clasped your smaller hands in his calloused ones.

''Nonono, please! You are the only one I could find and you seem to already know Miles Morales from here. You know how I need to act to stay unnoticed.''

You thought about his words. It made sense, but you didn't want to get involved in all that mess.

"I really don't know."

"Please !"

You wondered for a few more seconds. How where you supposed to refuse when he was looking at you pleadingly?

''Alright.''

His facial features broke into a grin and he pulled on your arm, making you collide against his chest.

''Thank you !''

You could only widen your eyes as you felt his arms tighten around you. You hadn't expected this sudden affection. Dumbstruck, you failed to return the gesture until he froze and leaned back, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

''Sorry, I got too excited…'' he looked away, your stare becoming too intense for him.

You stayed silent for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. The Miles you knew was so cold so this new Miles with such a…bubbly personality was interesting.

You couldn't help but think it was sweet…and very cute.

''It's fine.''

He seemed satisfied with your reaction as he joined you before your laughers died down.

''Uh, I might have sum else to ask.''

You hummed.

''I kinda need a place to stay.''

Miles towered over you, holding bedsheets, while you hugged a pillow to your chest.

''So how are we going to do this ?''

You two made eye contact before glancing at the bed again. Suddenly, the boy dropped the fabric on the floor and rose his hand next to his chest.

''I'll sleep on the ground, it's fin-''

''no, you don-''

''Yes, I do. I'm the guy and the guest, so sleep on the bed and I'll-''

''Just lay down, I don't mind.''

You slid under the covers not waiting for his reaction and soon, you heard the mattress dip toward his side. He was careful to let some space between you.

You rose the fabric over both of your bodies and sighed. This was a long day and you were honey tired. You tried to get some sleep but you could feel starring eyes burning your skin.

''What is it ?'' you whispered with your eyes still closed.

You heard the rub of covers before Miles cleared his throat.

''Nothing, nothing.''

Then the mattress bent again and you assumed he turned the other way.

''Oh, by the way. My mom can't know you are here. So you know…be discreet.''

You didn't want to have to explain to her what Miles, your ex - even if it's not really him - was doing in your room at such an hour.

''Don,t worry, I'm discreet.''

The next afternoon, you found yourself in the library. It was far from your apartment and your school, which reduced the chance of running into an unrequired acquaintance.

''Look at this, doesn't it look interesting ?''

You extended a book about something called 'The Super-Collider'.

''That's basically a particle collider right ?'' You added as Miles grabbed the heavy textbook.

The taller boy nodded, peeking at the back cover.

''Yes, it uses electromagnetic fields to speed up charged particles. And-

''Eventually, pull or join different objects coming from different dimensions,'' you finished, scratching your chin as you wondered about something. You didn't notice Miles' amazed expression.

''You know what it is ?''

You looked at him as if he was crazy.

''Of course, didn't you watch The Flash ?''

His excitation vanished and you received silence as an answer.

''I'm joking, I'm just really interested in physics,'' you said pivoting back to the bookshelf and searching for another work that could be useful.

''Oh...I didn't know that. I wanna study in that field later.''

Your widened eyes shifted back to him.

''What, you literally hate phys-'' you stopped as remembered who you were with and you shook your head embarrassed. ''Nevermind.....It's nice to have someone who likes it like me.''

You couldn't help the thrill that invaded you. Your ex would always joke about your interests in physics and eventually, you stopped talking about it. So seeing this new Miles show interest brought a certain warm feeling to your stomach. You didn't know what it was, but the longer you were with the boy, the more interesting you found him. You had found a special chemistry with him and it's like you two had always been friends.

You liked that sensation.

''I was wondering, are particle accelerators the reason why you are here ?"

The taller twisted his mouth to the side.

''Uh...not really? It's part of the reason though. Some type of butterfly effect,'' he finished as you opened another book. You simply hummed not pushing too much on the object. It didn't look like he wanted to talk much about it.

''I think we have enough for now. Let's buy them !''

You gazed at the raindrops interrupting the peaceful reflection of your face on the blurry window. It was particularly cold today, gray clouds snatching the sunrays from the city while its people ran down the streets to cover themselves from the water. To you, the scenery was simply gloomy.

A usual rainy day in Brooklyn.

You jumped as the doorbell of the store rang, pulling you out of your train of thought. You relaxed after realizing it was only a client. You were only 3 in the shop. You being the cashier, the man who had just crossed the door and Miles hanging upside down next to you while playing a ball.

''What's up with you? You've been daydreaming since morning.''

It had been 3 weeks since this Miles arrived from Earth 1610 and you had nearly spent all of your time with him.

Well, it's not as if you had a choice since he lived in your apartment, but it didn't change the you two had gotten extremely close. You were hanging out every day. One time at the coffee shop and another time watching a movie while trying hairstyles on his hair. Just like yesterday.

You couldn't deny your attachment that had grown for him. Hell, just thinking about him made your heart flutter and you would find yourself stuck with a stupid grin on your lips.

At first, you kept comparing him with your ex. His accent, his gesture, what he liked and what he disliked. He didn't speak as much Spanish, he wasn't as mysterious and cold. But as time passed, you found yourself more and more drawn by this new Miles. He was more expressive, affectionate, supportive and careful with you. He knew how to make you laugh no matter the situation and you two shared multiple interests.

You weren't oblivious. You quickly understood that the boy was slowly stealing your heart. But that doesn't mean you were ready for it.

You were used to feeling love with pain. To push and pull kind of relationship. To toxic and aggressive feelings. To spend the night worrying about your lover and only to find him bleeding the next day. To cry alone at night then drown your sadness in your boyfriend's arms for a few minutes before you had to separate again to go to school.

But with Mile Morales, everything was different. It was sweet, warm and solacing. He was always next to you at night and he was careful with you in daylight. You felt protected and you weren't sleeping next to a criminal anymore.

This was so different, but you liked it.

''I just didn't get much sleep last night.''

The taller jumped back to his feet before getting closer to you. He looked at your face carefully, worry painted all over his own features.

''I shouldn't have kept you up all night, sorry.''

You looked up at him with a chuckle before flicking his forehead softly.

''No, it was funny. You looked really cute with those coloured rubber bands in those cornrows I did,'' you teased, facing him.

He frowned before a tiny pout took over his mouth. It was nearly imperceptible but it was there.

''I looked like a kid. How am I supposed to be big and scary with that in my hair.''

You burst out laughing, the memory from last night coming back to you. You had told him you would braid his hair since he wanted to try something new but he ended up removing them because 'they were too tight, and his scalp was too soft for all that'. You knew he just wanted to remove the rubber bands.

''I'm still mad at you for destrpying my beautiful work.''

He smirked getting closer, reducing the space between you two.

''Don't be upset tesoro, what will I do if you are mad at me ?''

Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname, like it had done for the past weeks, and you looked away, to hide your shy smile. However, before you could answer, you heard a gun cocking right in front of you.

You slowly looked up, to find a riffle pointed right to your face. Your heart dropped as you failed to understand whatever the client from earlier was screaming.

''Open the cash register and gimme the bills,'' when he noticed your lack of reaction, he brought the gun closer to your forehead. ''Hurry the fuck up !''

However, before the stranger could try anything else, the gun was knocked out of his hands and his arms were joined together by web.

Everything passed in a flash and Miles quickly neutralize him and called the police. And if he gave a few unnecessary punches to the man, as he was already tied up, you didn't mention it. It was Miles' way to get back at the man and make him regret pointing his gun at you.

Before you could even realize what happened, the boy was in front of you, holding you tight by the elbow, checking up on you for the second time in less than 10 minutes.

''How are you feeling,'' he whispered, his low voice vibrating in your ear.

''G-good.''

Your voice left you like a whisper, still shaken by the event.

You had encountered multiple... ominous situations in this city. But being held at gunpoint and knowing your life was in the hands of a stranger was different. You realized how lucky you were to have Miles at your side at this exact moment and your eyes watered.

The boy read right through the facade you were trying to keep up, as he noticed your shivering and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, dragging you against himself.

''Come here precious.''

You tightened your hands around the low of his back, losing yourself in the warmness and the comfort of his embrace. You felt safe and the panic was slowly soothed away from you.

''Feeling better ?''

You nodded, slowly, face still hidden nestled in the crook of his neck.

''How come there's so much crime in this city,'' he sighed, caressing the back of your neck to bring you more comfort.

''We don't have Spiderman here, you know,'' you muttered, finally finding the energy to spill some words.

Your words were muffled by his skin and you felt him shiver at the sensation of your lips against his neck.

''Right.''

You expected him to laugh at your words so you looked up at him, frown plastered on your face.

''Are you mad ?''

His expression softened when he noticed you scowl and he shook his head.

''No,'' he rested his chin on top of your head. ''I just don't like the idea of you living all these years without anyone to protect you.''

You ignored the butterflies that invaded your stomach as his sentence, your lips growing into a grin against the crook of his neck.

''I'm not a damsel in distress.''

Miles only hummed, not letting go of you.

''Yeah, if you say so, preciosa.''

Everything was going perfectly. You and Miles were slowly finding more clues on how to send him back to Earth 1610 and by then, old Miles was already far in your memory.

You couldn't but wonder how unusual that was. You weren't used to just living peacefully. There was always something going on.

And you weren't wrong to feel so suspicious.

You were walking down the street as it was getting darker outside.

Again.

You had to stay a few more hours at school to finish a group project and you hadn't realized how much time had passed. You cursed under your breath, remembering what happened the last time you found yourself walking for such an hour outside.

Not wanting to get in such a situation again, you accelerated until you arrived on the street where you live. You sighed, relieved, but before you could take your keys, a large hand caught your elbow, dragging you into the alley behind your apartment. You were pinned against the bricked wall and clenched your eyes shut, groaning at the impact.

What's with the people of this city and walls? Damn.

However, when you glanced at whoever seized you so brutally, your heart sank. You had completely forgotten about him and you had never expected him to come back.

''Miles.''

Your ex smirked staring up and down at your silhouette before licking his lips. A shiver travelled down your body at his action.

''Happy to see me mami ?''

You two made eye contact and you were hauled. His gaze was still as piercing as you remembered and it brought back unwanted memories. However, you suddenly blinked, waking up from your stupor and averted your eyes from the imposing male. Your expression turned sour and you tried to push him away, unsuccessfully.

''Leave me alone, Morales.''

He chuckled, taking a step forward to reduce the space between both of your bodies.

''So that's what we are doing now ?''

You kept your lips sealed and turned your head to the side as an answer. However, his fingers slid behind your neck, using his thumb to shift your head back to him.

''Look at me when I talk to you.''

''What do you want ?''

He rose his eyebrow at the dryness of your tone, still not used to such an attitude from you.

''I don't need a reason to see yah princesa.''

''I don't have time for this, move.''

Miles clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening at your words.

''Watch your tone.''

''Or what ?'' you raised your eyebrow at him with a bored expression. Two months ago, you would have never talked to him like that. But right now, you couldn't care less. You wanted to go home, take a shower and cuddle with your Miles. You were too tired for all that.

Your ex-boyfriend visibly took a deep breath and closed his eyes to calm himself down. You could see the frustration growing in him. But you didn't expect what he would say next.

''Who's that guy you've been hanging out with lately ?''

You froze at the question.

''What the- have you been following me ?''

''I asked you a question,'' Miles repeated louder this time.

''It's none of your business.''

''I'm being nice and you don't wanna try me. I don't like you talking to other guys and you know that.''

You scoffed at his nerve. Why was he acting like you were his or something?

''What part don't you understand in 'we're done' ?''

He took a deep breath and pinched his nose.

''Look, I fucked up mami. Lo sé and I hate myself for it. But I let you have some space for two months already, te necesito.''

''Miles, I don't love you anymore.''

He froze for a second but you could see him gulp slowly.

''I know you, stop playing hard to get.''

You rested your hand against your forehead tired of this situation already.

''Are you being serious ?'' he asked again in disbelief.

But instead of answering, you pushed him back and this time, he didn't resist.

''I'm leaving.''

''Where do you think you are going ?''

''Hopefully to my new boyfriend,'' you answered. Being honest was probably the only way to force him away from you.

''You don't want to do this,'' he said darkly. He clenched his jaw and rubbed his hand on his chin. You had never seen him so mad. ''I'm warning you.''

You shook your head with a sigh before ignoring him and entering your apartment. You knew he was saying empty words. Your ex would never dare to hurt you directly. He could cheat, and lie but never harm you intentionally.

That's what you thought at least.

Arriving in your room, you find your new Miles sitting at your desk, sketching something on a sheet.

''Preciosa, you are finally here.''

You nodded with a tired smile.

''You're not sleeping yet ?''

He shook his head, leaning back on the chair and spreading his leg to be more comfortable. ''Nah, was waiting for you."

You raised an eyebrow at his position before throwing a shoe at him that he easily caught with one hand.

''Stop the manspreading in my room.''

He laughed before telling you to come closer. You obeyed and your eyes fell on the drawing he was making.

It was you.

And it was you in a way you had never seen before. You looked...magnificent.

Your breath got stuck in your throat and couldn't help but wonder if that's how the boy saw you.

All the stress you got from meeting your ex evaporated from your body as you sat on Miles' thighs and one of his hands rested on yours.

''It's beautiful.''

He hummed. ''When the muse is already gorgeous, it makes everything easier.''

Your heart jumped at the compliment and you pressed your head against his, running your thumb down his cheek as he kept drawing.

''Careful, you'll make my fro flat,'' the boy muttered, still focused on his sketch.

''I'll brush it out for you later,'' you giggled, continuing your ministration on his face.

A few more seconds passed and only the soft sound of a pencil running on paper filled the silence surrounding you. All until the boy broke the ice.

''I've always wanted to ask but...what's your relationship with Miles from here ?''

You gulped at this sudden question. Did he saw...what happened outside?

''Why you wanna know that ?''

Noticing your defensive reaction, he shook his head softly.

''Hey, I'm not forcing you to tell me, I was just wondering since you know...he never tried to contact you since I arrived. I kind of assumed you two were close since you recognized me in my suit. ''

You relaxed at his explanation.

''Oh, uh we were friends, but we had an argument and haven't really talked since.''

You didn't want to think about the guy anymore and ruin this wonderful moment. You hoped your Miles wouldn't mind the white lie you had just spitted out.

Hopefully, the taller didn't seem to question you more and quickly changed the conversation.

It had been two weeks since your encounter with your ex and everything was going better than ever. Your mom had just left for a trip and the house was left to you and Miles. You woke up to the sound of the plate coming from the kitchen.

Loud sounds.

When you arrived in the living room, you found Miles throwing water in a pan which contained burning eggs. Your mouth dropped.

''What are you doing ?''

He jumped at the sound of your voice before placing his hand on his chest right over his heart.

''Shit, don't scare me like that.'' He then looked at the mess he had created and scratched the back of his neck. ''Uh...I was trying to make breakfast.''

You looked at him, still devoid of words before bursting out laughing.

''And you managed to burn eggs? How do you even burn eggs ?''

You shook your head taking the pan out of his and putting it in the sink.

''What I am going to do with your Miles.''

He pouted following closely behind you like a lost puppy.

''It's the meaning that matters ?''

You glared at him before seeing the opened bag of flour next to you. You smirked before grabbing some and throwing it in his face.

''Hey !''

He retaliated by taking the closest thing to him, which was a raw egg and throwing it on your shirt.

A gasp was heard.

''You did not just do that.''

''Oh, I did. ''

Soon, it turned into a food war, and your enjoyment could be heard by the mix of yells and laughers coming from the kitchen. Out of nowhere, Miles caught the back of your thighs and sat you on the table, before resting between your legs.

''Caught you.''

You laughed gaily, before getting closer to his face with a raised eyebrow.

''What do you want champion? A kiss as a price ?''

Yet, instead of joking back as you expected, the boy only gulped. That's when you noticed the small space separating both of your faces.

You liked your lips, anxious at his silence and his eyes followed your tongue before slowly travelling back to your nose and your eyelashes. He then closed his eye and shook his head to compose himself.

''The stuff you make me think, preciosa.''

Your mouth dried out at his words and you bit your lips.

''Like what ?''

''I can't say it.''

He averted his eyes from you once again but you stopped him before he could lean away.

''Then show me,'' you whispered.

He widened his eyes as his breath brushed against your lips. You saw as he tried to hold himself back but the intense burning in his eyes showed you that he wanted exactly what you wanted.

''Fuck it.''

He leaned down and crashed his lips onto yours and you automatically responded, sighing in delight.

Finally.

Your lips moved in synchronization and you felt euphoric. After a few seconds, he leaned away, his dark eyes travelling onto your face as if he wanted to capture to moment and carve it in his mind forever.

''You don't know how much I've wanted this."

''Me too,'' you whispered before your mouths found each other again.

You kissed and kissed. For how long, you didn't know. But all you knew is that it felt too good and it only felt like a few seconds before you separated again.

Miles licked his lips and let out a breath.

''That was -wow.''

''Yeah...'' you whispered trying to catch your breath, a bit dazzled by what had just happened.

''I made you this breathless already,'' he laughed before you punched him on the shoulder.

''Shut up !''

He laughed and wrapped his arms around your waist.

''I would love to kiss you more, but I think we need to clean this up first.''

You followed his eyes and noticed the mess you two had created.

''Yeah...''

He carried you back on the floor and you two got to work. Eventually, you realized you needed more cleaning products and you went to the store while he continued cleaning.

On the way, you kept touching your lower lip with a stupid smile stuck on your face. Miles made you feel all sorts of things and infatuation was the main one. You were already excited to get back home and continue the unfinished business.

The trip to get more cleaning products was fast and soon, you were back at your apartment.

But bliss goes away as fast as it comes, doesn't it ?

When you opened the door to your apartment to find that the living room was a mess.

But not the mess you had left in the kitchen.

A people having a physical fight kind of a mess. The armchair was knocked down, the table was broken and the pillows were ripped.

''Miles ?'' you yelled but received no answer.

Your heart raced as you rushed to look in the different rooms of your home, but there wasn't any living soul.

What the heck was happening?

When you arrived in your room, there was still no one.

But as you were going back to the kitchen, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. It was a note on your window.

Exactly like the one your ex used to leave.

From afar, you could even recognize his writing. You snatched it and for the first time, you decided to read it.

Your heart sank at the words.

''I warned you.''

Don't hesitate to comment or reblog, I read everything <33

Tags : @vodoo-heart , @solanawrld , @evermorewest @usernamepasswordsstuff @spidersbbg @reds-mp3 @fisch-staebchen @ueexj @hey-girl-hey @thisaccountisrandomsstuff @flwrdia @dayedreamm @inluvwithneteyam @slut4shuri @sakura-onesan @acezeyez @x-starxi @mythhayden @imagineme2you @supremeshrimpy2 @glads-stuff @ptsmplekaramele @linlikesyouhihi @gispams @luxraine @ladylovegood-69 @copypastedaphne @mr-trick @nikotokitaswife @yuimkzz @ohdearmaggie @aspenreadsfanfic @isa-444 @optimisticprime3 @alliumiae @gnomelover1 @ilovemilesmoralesstuff @blueladys-world @erensbbg @xxxsecuritybreach @laylasbunbunny @lyra-ferreira @itsmadamehydra @blueberryhitosh1 @nana-luvsyu @kimchikim @teamowolverine @ladylovegood-69 @shoyofroyoyoyo @venusluvslove @sukisprettyface @planetliaa @ilovestilesstilinskimorethenyou @glqmmywhqmmy @locace @whoisgami @cherriqpans @mresedmunson Tell me if you wanna be kept or removed from the tag list ^^

#miles earth 42 #miles earth 42 x reader #miles molares #miles 42 #miles x reader #miles x you #miles x y/n #miles earth 42 x you #spiderman astv #astv fanfic #love #angst #prowler miles fanfic #prowler miles #miles morales prowler

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bagofshinyrocks · 4 months

Text

Matchy Matchy!

Prompt: For the Twelve Days of Christmas, you get Simon and yourself some matching presents. [Requested by @ertepla]

Featuring: Simon Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: profanity, slightly suggestive at the end

“How many presents do you get on the Twelfth Day of Christmas?”

“Twelve.”

“Nope.”

Simon fixed you with a withering look. He was elbow deep in a bubbly sink, with a smiley-face sponge in one hand, and the breakfast plates in the other. Not his scariest moment.

“What do you mean no?” He started muttering the words to the final stanza. “ ‘On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, twelve drummers drumming.’ Yeah, twelve.”

You put down the clean dish and rag. “Bubba, twelve drummers drumming, and… eleven pipers piping and all the others.”

Simon blinked. “Goddamnit.” The sponge splashed into the suds. “Is that what the song was sayin’ the whole damn time?”

You nodded and cupped his face in your hands.

“That’s so many fucking presents.”

“Seventy-eight on the last day. And a total of three hundred and sixty-four presents over the twelve days.”

His hands settled on your hips and tugged you closer. A loving, warm kiss. A quick swipe of his tongue against your lips. Then pulled away and settled his forehead against yours.

“Lovie, you are my everything. I love you so fuckin’ much. But, I’m not getting you more than three hundred gifts.”

You laugh and pulled him back for another kiss.

“Sweetie,” a kiss to his nose, both of his cheeks, and then his chin. “It’s just trivia. Something you can trick your buddies with tomorrow.”

He hummed, then smiled. “I’ll start with Johnny.”

“Poor Johnny.”

You would have liked for Simon to have a Christmas break and spend the season with you, but alas, that was not the case. He was deployed December 10th, and was supposed to be back a month and a half later.

He was very upset about it. You were disappointed, but he was straight pissed.

One hand settled in your jean pocket as he requested you walk with him as far as a civilian could go. Puppy dog eyes when saying goodbye. Lifting his balaclava just enough to kiss you goodbye. Then fucking glowering at everyone else on base.

Just because he wouldn’t get home till the middle of January didn’t mean you couldn’t celebrate Christmas. You would just do it a little later.

In Hallmark movie-fashion, Simon was permitted to go home on December 23rd. Likely from being such a royal pain in everyone’s asses.

So one day early, a big man was creeping through your house. Dropping his gear and uniform on his path from the front door to the bedroom, like a strip tease. That one of you would trip over and shatter your toes on.

According to Simon, you were snoring when he came in. You didn’t stir when he started the shower or when he rifled through the closet to find one pair of his sleep clothes that you hadn’t commandeered. His favorite hoodie had been placed on the biggest pillow, and you had drooled a decent puddle into it.

You finally woke up when he leaned up on you and wrapped himself around you like a weighted blanket.

“Happy Christmas, lovie.”

Incoherent grumble, then a little flail.

“It’s me, lovie. It’s your Simon.”

Less flailing, and instead you wiggled around till you were on your back and Simon’s head rested on your shoulder, pressing kisses against your cheek and neck.

“A good surprise, baby?”

A sleepy smile he more felt and heard than saw.

“Very good surprise, Si. I’m glad you’re here.”

One hand scratched his shower-damp scalp and the other scratched his back. Your hands were cold, but his back was a personal hand heater, and he was long since accustomed to the horrible ice-blocks you called your hands and feet.

“Go back to sleep, lovie. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

A sleepy hum. Your leg propped up and then flung itself over his legs. No sneaking off for him, not that he would be awake much longer. Or that, in the dark of the apartment, he had seen the pile of presents under the tree all addressed to him.

Instead of small children jumping on the bed to wake you up for presents (a day early), the cat crawled out of her special blankie on Simon’s side of the bed and decided it was time for breakfast.

The weakest link was home early, so she went straight to Simon. Standing on his back and sniffing him. Then smacking his head until he woke up.

The doormat untangled himself and tucked you back in. The victor leaped off the bed and pranced with her tail up like a flag to her food bowl. Simon was the moron who taught her that breakfast always came at 7AM, so he had to feed her when he was home. When it was just you, the meanest and worst parent, you fed her whenever you decided to wake up. But you also let her sleep in the bed, making a nest out of her special blankie and keeping her warm, whereas he would grab her around the middle and toss.

After feeding the cat, he started piling up his gear out of the walkway. And that’s when he saw the pile of presents.

Like twenty of them. With an array of wrapping papers and bags.

He tiptoed over and knelt in front of them, counting and checking the names. Half of them were for him, and each of his had a matching gift of the same size and wrap for you. According to the tags, all but one of his presents were from you, and all the rest were from the cat.

The cat then stepped on one of the presents, crinkling it loudly and thinking about clawing it. A quick movement of his arm and he had her by the middle and yoinked her into his chest. She looked around in bafflement and then meowed in protest.

Footsteps from the bedroom and you barked a “hey”.

Simon turned with a guilty face.

“Oh, not you baby,” you said, rubbing your face. “I thought the cat was getting into the presents again. I’ve already had to re-wrap things thanks to her Royal Snoopiness and her evil toesies.”

“Evil?” he kissed the cat on the head. “She’s a bomb-sniffing cat.”

“There are no bombs, Simon.” You flopped onto the couch and arranged the pillows to make another nest. “Just gifts. She wants her presents but she doesn’t get them until Christmas morning.”

Simon sat next to your legs and put the cat on your chest. Then leaned in real close and kissed you over her little head.

“Do I have to wait until I get back in January?”

You sat up and pulled him close, the cat leaping off and jumping to the top of her apartment complex. Your hands crept under the hem of his hoodie and pressed into the flaming heat of his back.

“No, baby, you can open them now.”

A kiss. Another kiss. Then he slunk back to the pile of presents and picked up the one the cat had tried to claw open a few minutes earlier. A final look to you, as if asking for permission. Then tore it open. He knew it was an item of clothing, or maybe a blanket. Once he read the front of the hoodie, he burst into laughter.

A skeleton cat holding up both its middle fingers, with ‘Best Cat Dad’ in print beneath it.

“All of the clothes and blankets in there have already been washed, so you can put it on now if you want.”

He hurled his sweatshirt at your head and immediately pulled the new one on. The cat came to investigate and sniffed his sleeves as he opened some of the others.

A new wristband for his watch. Another bottle of his (and your) favorite cologne. Then he grabbed a small gift bag that was very light. You recognized it and started giggling.

He balled the tissue paper and bounced it off your forehead. Then looked into the bag. A beat of silence. You bit your lip and dare not laugh.

He lifted the content between his thumb and forefinger and gave you an incredulous look.

“Are these fuckin’ ‘Hello Kitty’ knickers?”

An unattractive snort and you rolled off the couch.

“Please, Si. Please put them on. For me. It’s a matching set.” You army crawled towards him while wheezing with laughter. “We can match. Please. Please.”

He sling-shot your pair at you and stomped off with the Hello Kitty boxers in his grip. He was going to change in the bathroom. Just for you.

They were… comfortable. He had worn Calvin Klein before, usually when matching with you. But the little pink bows and the cute white cat right on top of his package was not a pattern he would have chosen. He pulled his sweatpants back on and walked out to you with a sigh.

“Alright, I’m wearing the-”

You were sitting on the couch, in your matching Hello Kitty set. Just your matching set. Brown eyes blinked. The two of you were equally surprised at the other. Then it finally clicked, and he jumped and started shucking off his clothes.

“Missed that memo, lovie. Bit slow this morning.”

Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)

Posted: 2023 Dec 23

#cod mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod fluff

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greenglowinspooks · 6 months

Text

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Prologue)

—

Tw: Danny is having a Certified Bad Time™️, dissociation, vivisection mention, suicidal thoughts (kinda?), basically just heavy angst for now

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

Note: you don’t need to read this chapter to understand the rest of the story, it’s mostly just to explore Danny’s headspace when he first escapes the GiW

(Pt. 1)

(Subscription post/masterlist)

—

Danny rocked back and forth, trying to soothe himself as the truck he was in continued to speed along.

It had been an eternity since he was captured by the GiW. He didn’t know why they were moving him to a new base after all this time, but he knew it wasn’t a good thing.

Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel afraid.

He couldn’t feel much of anything these days. The GiW had a routine and they stuck to it religiously, and that routine had sucked every bit of Danny’s soul out of him.

Something churned in his chest regardless. Anticipation? Excitement, maybe?

Perhaps they were finally going to let Danny fade. Was that a bad thing? Danny couldn’t decide if it was or not.

He wasn’t scared of fading. It seemed inevitable, especially with how he was treated on the daily. He would stop hurting if he faded.

Still, he’d like to see Jazz and Tucker and Sam at least one more time before he does. That would be nice.

The truck continues forward, unmoved by Danny’s thoughts.

The sound is nice, Danny thinks.

The hum of the engine, the crackling of pebbles being crushed under the tires, the electrical buzz of the anti-ghost handcuffs and shield keeping him trapped.

The only sound Danny’s heard the last few years has been the clatter of metal tools, the crunching of bone, the sawing and thunking and squishing of surgery, the murmur of voices.

It’s nice to hear something new, Danny thinks.

Strange, but nice.

The truck stops again. Another red light, probably. Danny continues rocking back and forth, back and forth, like the ticking of a clock.

Seconds pass. Second after second after second.

Danny hears shouting now.

Gunshots crack outside, and Danny sees holes appear in the side of the truck.

That’s definitely new.

Chaos is erupting outside. There’s a lot of screaming, and frantic footsteps, and cars zooming away.

The driver door slams open and shut. The truck speeds off, tires screaming as the driver swerves erratically.

Danny is thrown back and forth in the back of the truck, bumping up against the many weapons and other miscellaneous inventions stored alongside him. Pain blooms in his head and chest, an agonizing heat lining his surgical wounds. Danny licks his lips underneath his muzzle. It would be nice if the driver was a bit better at their job, he thinks.

The truck continues careening wildly.

Danny counts the seconds.

Second after second after second.

After around two thousand, three hundred and seventy four seconds, the truck comes to a stop. Danny didn’t lose count this time. He’s proud of himself.

The driver door opens and closes yet again. There’s chatter outside, excitement clear in the voices that Danny hears. There’s lots of talk of “congratulations,” and “lucky that the Bat didn’t follow you here.”

Then, the back of the truck is opened. Danny hears noises of confusion and shock. He turns his head, looking to see what’s happened.

There’s several men at the door of the truck. They’re wearing black tuxedo suits—Sam was right, black really is such a pretty color—and they’re staring at him.

They begin talking among themselves. Something about them not knowing about a kid, and not knowing what to tell the boss. It’s confusing to him. It’s not what he usually hears spoken.

Then, one of them climbs up into the truck. He approaches Danny slowly, speaking in a calm voice. He’s asking Danny if he can stand, he realizes, asking him if he knows why he’s in the truck.

Danny just stares at the silver glint of the gun at the man’s side.

It’s a nice one, he thinks. Semi-automatic, with a few modifications to make the reloads smoother and the gunshots quieter. His fingers twitch. He’d like to poke at it a little, see if he could improve it any.

The man notices where he’s staring and curses. He takes the gun and lowers it to the floor. Danny just continues to stare.

Silver is an ugly color, he thinks. He much prefers black.

Silver is the color of stainless steel, the color of lab and surgical equipment.

He doesn’t like it much.

The man reaches out a hand and grabs Danny’s shoulder, shaking him gently.

After a moment, he sighs, and hoists Danny up, carrying him effortlessly. He hands him to one of the men outside of the truck, hopping down himself a moment later.

They’re warm, Danny realizes.

He curls further into the new man’s arms, closing his eyes. It’s nice, he thinks, being held like this. He hasn’t been held with such care in a long, long time.

The man sets him down on a crate.

After a moment Danny opens his eyes again, watching as the many black-suited people take things out of the truck. He counts the inventions in his head as they do so, beginning to rock again.

Then, a new man enters the room, and everyone freezes.

He’s congratulating them, asking them about their escape, and then he spots Danny.

Danny would very much like to be invisible right about now.

“Where did you get him?” He asks, tapping his umbrella against the floor.

“He was in the truck,” the man who carried him says, “we don’t know why.”

The stout man looks at him closely.

“How did you get into a government weapon shipment? Did someone put you in there?”

Danny nods his head. He tries to speak, but his voice cracks painfully underneath his muzzle.

“You- someone get that thing off his face,” he says. Several of the other men scurry off, probably looking for something that can break the muzzle, “can you speak?”

Danny shrugs. He tries to talk again, but it seems that his voice doesn’t want to cooperate with him. The only sound he can make is a painful, broken wheeze.

“Hey,” the man says, resting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “if it hurts to talk, stop trying, alright? We’re gonna get that muzzle and those cuffs off, and then we’ll figure out why you were in there. You know how to write?”

Danny nods.

“Good,” the man responds.

“You two, get something to write with,” he barks to a few of the other suited men. They, too, run off.

A few people come up, carrying a bolt cutter and a few other tools with them. They make quick work of the muzzle and handcuffs, the restraints falling to the floor with a clattering sound.

Danny looks down at his hands. They’re shaking. Slowly, slowly, he brings them up to his face. Thin fingers brush up against cracked, dry lips. He’s fascinated by the sensation.

Someone brought him a mirror, he realizes.

That can’t be right, though. The person looking back at him…isn’t him. That isn’t Danny.

That face is not his face.

Their cheeks are far too thin and sunken, their eyes dull and haunting. They’re far too old as well, they look like a young adult.

Still, they move when he moves. They stare at him with a look of fascinated horror that’s far too familiar.

He brings his hand up to his head, and they follow his movements. He trails his fingers over the stitches in his head, and they do the same.

Danny tries to speak, but is cut off by a painful cough.

One of the men brings up a pencil and notepad. Slowly, shakily, Danny writes down a question.

“What year is it?”

The man who had spoken to him earlier quirked his eyebrow up. He answers, and Danny freezes in place.

“What’s wrong?”

Danny looks down at his hands again. He looks into the mirror. The stranger staring back looks horrified. They look sad. They look…like him.

Danny lets out a mournful keening sound. He curls up into himself, covering his face with his arms. Distantly, he’s aware of someone rubbing circles into his back. He cries harder, his entire body shaking.

Three years.

It’s been three years since he was captured, three years of being cut open and sewn back together. Three years of burns and cuts and chemical damage and electrical shocks.

Three years of torture.

Danny sobs, hands gripping the thin fabric of his medical gown like a lifeline. Three years.

Danny’s being lifted up again. He wraps his arms around the person holding him and wails into their shoulder. Everything is quiet.

“I’ll deal with the kid,” the man holding him says, “the rest of you, finish unpacking the truck and dump it somewhere that the Bat won’t connect to me.”

The man brings Danny through the building, still rubbing his back comfortingly. He’s humming some song that Danny doesn’t recognize, occasionally pausing to bark orders at people.

Danny’s beginning to calm down now. He’s still shaking, but his breathing is beginning to even out.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt alive enough to cry.

He feels exhausted.

Danny tries to hold onto consciousness for as long as possible, but he’s so tired, and so sad, and he’s being held, and he’s warm, and…

Danny’s eyes flutter shut.

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #vengeful danny #villain danny #girl help I fucking love angst HDJFNSKFJDJFJF #literally pouring milk on Danny and throwing him against the wall to hear the thunk #he is going THROUGH it #truly rip bozo #don’t worry he becomes less scared and more neurotic and terrifying soon

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ohtobeleah · 2 months

Text

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Prologue: [BrainBox]

Summary: Managing the Hard Deck isn’t always easy, especially when a certain Naval Aviator is always just one step away.

Warnings: Illusion of family loss. Jake Seresin X F!reader. Witness Protection Reader. Situationship. 18+ Content.

Word Count: 1.6k

Author Note: I’m getting back into writing after a few weeks hiatus, any feedback, comments and concepts will be greatly appreciated.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The human brain can be seen in scientific communities as the most mysterious organ in the human body. The human mind can generate up to seventy thousand thoughts a day, which means there are around two thousand nine hundred thoughts created every hour.

“Mommy!”

The human brain can store around about two point five terabytes of information at any one time. That capacity of storage is equivalent to about three million hours of television reruns or one million high-quality photos. Take your pick.

“Come on—wake up! WAKE UP PATRICK!”

The human brain can generate an electric current of about twenty-three watts. That’s enough to light up a round bulb. And although the human brain only accounts for two percent of your total body weight, it consumes more than twenty percent of the human body's total energy.

“Please don’t leave me, not now—oh god please don’t leave me.”

The length of all blood vessels in the brain, if combined, would reach a maximum length of about one hundred and sixty thousand kilometres. That’s enough distance to wrap about the earth’s circumference four times over.

“Mommy I’m scared!”

Each nerve neuron in the human brain has up to ten thousand connections with other neurons, not only that, but there are upwards of one hundred billion neurons in the brain. Which means there are more than one thousand trillion neuron connections formed in the human brain.

“We just have to keep running baby.”

The amygdala, a part of the brain responsible for coordinating emotions, has an information processing speed of upwards of twenty ms. This speed is even faster than the speed at which humans can perceive something.

All of these facts lean towards the idea of the human brain being some sort of supercomputer that we have been given. Programmed into our very existence by evolutionary biology.

“No baby girl you stay with Mommy, it’s okay—don’t you close your eyes again okay?”

And yet? Despite all the wonders and capabilities that the human brain can accomplish—Your brain keeps you stuck in a time loop of unimaginable grief and despair.

“Brewer?” The world around you had seemingly stopped for a few moments. The regular Friday night hustle of the Hard Deck had all but dissipated into silence when the overwhelming haunting noises of your own personal hell had become too loud to drown out. “Hello? Earth to Brewer?”

“What?” You frowned as you shook yourself back into existence. What you found, or more accurately, who you found standing before you across the bar made your heart skip a panicked beat. “Jesus Seresin, you scared the hell out of me.” You sighed as you felt your heart beating rapidly inside your chest. The same heart that had loved and lost so much. The very heart that right now was plagued with the dilemma of falling for the sandy blonde who stood before you with eyes that could rival the Emerald City itself.

“How?” Jake questioned as a confused frown took over his face soon after the words left his mouth. “I’ve been standing here for like two minutes just watching you zone out like some space cadet.” The chuckle that escaped Jake's slightly parted mouth soothed your beating heart into a steady rhythm.

Oh. How long had you been zoned out for?

“What can I get ya?” You decided to let it go as you shot Jake a short but harmless smile. There was no need to ask or spend too much time focusing on how long you’d been stuck standing still cleaning the same spot on the bar over and over while your thoughts consumed you. Besides, you didn't really want to know how long Jake had been standing there looking at you like a moth drawn to a flame.

“The usual, times four thanks barkeep—“ Jake replied as he reached into his back pocket, finishing out his wallet. A simple brown leather moment that always made you feel like your past was trailing right behind you. “Plus a lemonade with lime for the underage Back Seater.” There it was, that signature Seresin smirk accompanied with that wink. Insufferable. Cocksure. Endearing.

“Four Budweisers and a lemonade coming right up.” You smiled once again as you threw your bar towel over your shoulder and got to work. Jake took the time to perch himself on one of the empty bar stools that littered the outskirt of the bar. Patrons buzzed around the Hard Deck like there wasn’t a care in the world to be had on a Friday night. “And lay off Bob, he gets your drunken ass home more often than not so you should be more thankful for his intolerance to alcoholic beverages.”

Jake beamed at your lighthearted remark, they came few and far between. Whenever he was graced with the pure nature of your smile or your dry sense of humour, Jake reveled in it. So much so the crush he harboured had become common knowledge to half of Miramar. Yourself included. He wasn't a shy man, far from it. Jake knew what he wanted and, usually, he got it.

But you? You had been playing hard to get and hard to crack ever since you showed up to the Hard Deck around six months prior. From the first moment Jake saw you he’d been caught hook, line, and sinker. Six months of chasing the same girl round in circles.

“What had you lost, Brewer? Daydreaming on the clock isn’t usually your thing?” Jake asked as he got comfortable, leaning forward on his elbow as he watched you grab four Budweisers from the cooler fridge beneath the bar. He didn't miss the look on your face, the one that would occasionally replace the mild-maned stare you'd give off to slightly agitating customers. It was a look Jake couldn't really read–one that he wasn't sure if he would ever get to the bottom of, but he let it go, didn't press.

“Just got caught up thinking about how I'm gonna spend my Sunday off.” Of all the lies you could’ve made up that seemed to be the most believable.

“What are we doing on Sunday, Brewer?” Jake teased as you placed the still-capped amber bottles on the bar before him. The smirk he wore said it all, he was waiting for you to bite. And bite you did.

“God, you've got tickets to your own show don't you, Seresin?” You shook your head with a laugh as you popped the caps on the beers you'd collected. “I– am planning a reset, just have a lot of housework to get done, laundry, meal prepping, self-care.” You teased the meaning behind self-care as you reached for the soda gun. “Which reminds me I need new batteries.”

Jake caught the look in your eyes as you filled the glass to the brim with ice with your free hand and let the liquid drain from the gun. “Kinky girl, you sure we aren't hanging out on Sunday?” The smile, that damn infection smile that could light up the darkest of rooms made your head spin. But you couldn't go there. Harmless flirting was one thing, but crossing that line could cost Jake everything.

He wasn't even aware of how close he was tempting death. How close he was standing to fire. How close he was standing to a woman who had lost everything in the name of being a good person.

Unlike Jake, you had already lost everything.

“In your dreams, Bagman.” You chuckled lightly, Jake's order was all but done. “Cash, Card or on Bradshaw's Tab?” The question remained unanswered for a few moments as Jake just sat there taking in the sight of the bartender who had him wrapped around her finger with ease. A spot he wouldn't mind staying forever if you'd let him. But for now? He knew he had to play the long game: Catch me if you can! you had forced him to play.

“You tempt me, but card it is.” Jake confirmed as he fished his card from his wallet. “Someone has to keep Rooster from going into financial ruin.” It only took a few seconds for you to place all of Jake's drinks, the four beers and one lemonade with lime, onto a carry tray. “I think Payback’s been piggybacking on his bar tab too.” Jake smirked as he gave you an all-knowing look. You had been caught red-handed, but it was all circumstantial evidence at best.

“Never took you as a softy.” Bradley Bradshaw still owed you an apology for his drunk and disorderly behaviour a few weeks ago. Behaviour that saw him hurling abuse your way when you cut him off. The guy was going through a breakup of sorts, of course you felt bad. But until he said he was sorry? His tab was racking up a pretty penny of top-shelf liquors and extra beer orders from the boys. “But fine, tap your card whenever you’re ready.”

“This place is starting to charge a premium price for cheap booze ever since they hired a new manager.” Jake let out a sigh laced in banter as he paid for his order, the tip he left never went unnoticed either. Jake was good like that, he always tipped with a smile and a few extra bucks to make his almost cheesy pickup lines and banter worth your while. “And there's a lot of things you don't know about me Brewer.” With one final wink and signature smile, he was off.

“Funny.” You mumbled to yourself as you watched Jake walk away back towards the same booth the boys all lingered around whenever they weren't hogging the pool table. The same booth you frequented the most. The same booth you gave a little more attention to–because Jake Seresin, despite all your might, had a hold on you that you couldn't seem to get out of.

“I guess I could say the same damn thing.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags: 🏷️ @a-reader-and-a-writer @xoxabs88xox @hiireadstuff @buckysteveloki-me @athenabarnes @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @na-ta-sh-aa @kmc1989 @sunlightmurdock @mamachasesmayhem @jaxfart @lauenderhaze @sugarcoated-lame @maisie-rebloging-blog @captainmoonknight @seitmai @shanimallina87

#secret sacrifices // jake seresin #jake hangman fic #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun fandom #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction

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crazycatgirl420 · 3 months

Text

Fuck Around, Find Out

Ghost King Danny tutors Impulse, Bart Allen, in Summoning magic after a horrible drunken Summoning disaster.

Part 1

Monday came much too soon. Danny had spent his weekend preparing his first lesson for Bart, considering he was so deep in his non-belief of magic that he nearly started a war, Danny decided they would have to start with the basics as taught to newly formed entities in the Realms.

Danny removed his pc and monitors from his desk, snapping on a white board attachment and putting several notebooks, pens, pencils, and markers in the drawers. He held his folder of lesson plans and his own notebook. At exactly four o'clock he put one hand on the desk and appeared right in front of his Contractor.

There was a crash sound behind him, and a wide eyed red-head on the couch, a game controller in his hand.

"We agreed on four to six for your lessons." Danny reminded him. "We have a lot to cover and I do not want to spend my entire existence teaching you."

Thee human grimaced but nodded. "What are we doing today?"

"You'll be learning to read and write," Danny said. "Magic is its own language, if you don't know it you can't effectively use it."

Bart spent two hours copying the Infinite Realms Dictionary of Magic into his first notebook while Danny read it aloud.

"There are six hundred and seventy languages used in this dimensions magical script," Danny explained. "As a living being born of this realm you only need to be fluent in those six hundred seventy languages, which is a lot less than what I had to learn as a being of the Infinite Realms-"

Bart paused in writing, glancing at the book he was copying from. '670 Alphabets, Beginning to End'

"I'll leave you with the Dictionaries to study in your own time. On Wednesday we'll go over grammar, and Friday we'll practice speaking. You'll have the weekend to practice as you wish and next week will be your first set of tests,"

"Tests next week?" Bart asked. "After only three days of lessons?"

"This is easy stuff," Danny said. "You're magical friends learn this as young children before they even choose a specialty."

Bart had a week to learn six hundred languages. He couldn't believe Raven or Zatanna knew all these languages, and only a week to learn them all was insane.

"Keep working," Danny said. "We don't have time for you to change your mind now. You signed a contract, I can't even explain what that entails until you understand magic script. The gibberish you scrawled on the floor in your drunken Summoning could've been the end of your deminsion and every deminsion that surrounds yours."

Bart kept writing.

Two hours for Bart tended to feel like an eternity but Phantom taught at the same speed Bart lived his life normally. There was no slacking off for milliseconds waiting for outside time to catch up. Phantom kept up, as soon as Bart finished a notebook another was handed to him. Phantom recited the dictionary and passages on culture, history, and traditions with ease, asking questions and having Bart read the passages as he copied them down.

"You have until I return on Wednesday to learn all six hundred and seventy languages here." Phantom said, pulling several stacks of books out of the desk. "Feel free to ask those magical friends of yours about magic script of you don't believe me, though your inability to believe them was what lead to this in the first place,"

Phantom left just like he has appeared, with a flash of light and an ice cold breeze.

Bart groaned, eyeing the stacks of books with regret. This was going to be a lot of reading.

#dpxdc #ghost king danny #Fuck Around Find Out

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theaceace · 4 months

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Hob is woken, not by the shrill cacophony of his alarm or the sunlight hitting his face where they'd forgotten to pull the curtains last night, or even the warmth of Morpheus' hands and mouth, but by the sudden dip in the mattress as another person flops onto the bed with them.

Several lifetimes' worth of instincts see him jolting awake in an instant, heart racing and sweat already beading on his back and brow. Hob may not be able to die, but he's been ambushed in his sleep more than enough times to be getting on with, ta very much, and he's not keen to do it again. Suddenly he's twenty-five, and exhausted after days of marching on Troyes, feet sore and heart sorer, waiting on a battle that never came. He's twenty-eight, and the knife that flashes in the darkness misses his throat only because Herry has ears like a bat and enough blind-foolish loyalty to leap on their attacker's back. He's seventy-three, and lying barely-conscious among the dead that need burying or burning, and he knows that he needs to rouse himself even with the arrow still in his chest, or he'll be burnt or buried with them. He's two-hundred and sixty-four, and they've come to the home he'd made for his family, to drag him from the bed he had shared with his wife some thirty years before, and haul him away as a witch.

He's gripped now by the same fear, and it has him up and moving, one hand fumbling at the bedside table for anything with enough heft to dent a skull before he realises that none of his attackers have ever smelt like peaches.

Beside him, Morpheus shifts just enough to free his face from the clutches of his pillow.

“That key was given to you for use in emergencies, my sibling,” he says, voice thick with sleep and the cotton pillowcase.

Desire stretches luxuriously between them and smiles, fox-sharp, at Morpheus. They roll their head to look at him – beneath the perfume and sweat and wet pavement smell of them, Hob catches a sour waft of alcohol.

“Oh but my dear brother, this is an emergency,” they say, and – look, Hob has been drunk enough to recognise the exquisitely deliberate care at the edges of their words. He huffs a little, pushes himself up so that he can slap a hand on the bedside lamp and blink furiously against the sudden light. It takes a few seconds for his vision to clear, and he rubs his hands over his face in a vain effort to convince himself that this is some new nightmare that Daniel is testing out, before he gives in to the inevitable and turns to examine their guest.

"And what could possibly be so pressing at –" Morpheus snatches Desire's wrist up to stare blearily at their watch "– two thirty-seven in the morning? That could not be expressed in a phone call or wait until a reasonable hour?"

"Do you know, brother mine, how many partners I found to dance with? Whose desire for me, once so integral as to be a given, I had to simply guess at? To read in the curve of a smile or the enticing lull of a question? I didn't know them, not a one, and can you guess, sweet Dream, how many of them took me to their beds?"

And Hob has heard quite enough of that. He stretches and tosses back the sheets, while Morpheus shoots him a filthy glower that softens immediately into a plea for respite with his sole visible eye. Desire either doesn't notice this silent communication, or doesn't care.

“None!” They crow gleefully, clasping their hands, and Morpheus scowls as he's jostled in place.

It's not that Hob wants to leave him to fend for himself against his sibling, only that he doesn’t fancy being in the firing line when Morpheus inevitably snaps and thumps Desire with a pillow.

Doing an admirable job of ignoring Morpheus' wounded expression, Hob groans and lurches himself in the vague direction of the kitchen. Might as well put the kettle on for this.

"Jasmine or apple tea, love?" He calls. No sense having any caffeine now. If they're lucky, Desire will wear themself out quickly and they'll be able to go back to sleep before the alarm goes off.

"Apple, if you would," Morpheus replies.

"Ooh, I'll have jasmine if you're making."

"Didn't ask you!" Hob shouts back, already adding a spoon of sugar to the third mug he'd fetched down for them.

“Oh, so forceful! You know, if you ever get tired of my stick-in-the-mud brother here…” Desire trails off meaningfully, and Hob snorts, smiling a little to himself. They know full well it's not going to happen, however much or little they remember about his desires, and even if he were – impossibly – to change his mind about Morpheus, they'd get bored of him soon enough.

He sets all three mugs on a tray, and grabs a pack of chocolate digestives while he's at it. Morpheus would never admit to being fond of them, but he doesn't need to. Hob's watched him absent-mindedly devour most of a packet while he pecks one-handed at the keyboard. Besides, Desire could probably do with something to line their stomach.

“Is being human always this delightfully contradictory? So baffling and solid and… damp?” Desire asks, lifting their head just enough to peer at Hob as he re-enters the room. It's a moot question, of course. They've been human long enough now to know that the answer is, largely, yes.

“Often. But do you know, my sibling, the very best part of being human?” Desire turns lazily to look at Morpheus, smiling wide. Their lipstick today is dark purple, and smudged at the corners of their mouth.

“Mm, do tell. You know how much I crave your… wisdom,” they say, rolling the words indulgently over their tongue. Hob sighs and nudges Morpheus’ book to one side so he can set the tray down on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

“It is that it is no longer against the Old Laws for me to do this,” Morpheus says, planting one foot against their side and shoving hard enough that they topple off the bed with an outraged squawk and undignified thump. There's a blessed moment of stillness, the same kind of breathless anticipation that Hob remembers from the battlefield, before the charge and the mud and the pain. Then they pop back up over the side of the bed with a cry and launch themself at Morpheus. He'd be more worried if he couldn’t hear the laughter in their voice, nor see how their outstretched hands target Morpheus’ ribs and armpits, rather than his eyes.

Hob's sisters have been dead for centuries now, but he remembers this well enough. Maybe if the Endless had ever been anything like children, they might have gotten all of the murderous posturing out of the way before they grew up enough for it to be a problem, he muses. Still. Better late than never.

He takes a sip of his own tea and grabs a biscuit. Lord knows he won't get a look in once Morpheus has finished trying to jam his elbow into Desire's stomach and realises they're there.

“It was never against the Old Laws for you to be a bastard, which is lucky because you always were one!” Desire gasps, writhing away from Morpheus’ pointy limbs. Hob's been at the receiving end of those elbows before, and even when Morpheus is being gentle, they're decently sharp. He wonders idly if either of them'll tire of this before their tea goes cold, and decides not to intervene either way. Serve them both right if they have to drink cold tea.

“You tried to kill me!”

“Don't tell me you're still hung up on that?”

“I am, because you tried to kill me!”

“Well it's not like it worked!”

Not really the point, Hob reckons, but then again he's had plenty of mates that have tried to kill him.

“More by good fortune than good judgment,” Morpheus hisses.

“Oh, so you admit to your poor judgment?”

Hob snorts, and the wounded look Morpheus swings towards him would fell a lesser man. Hob takes another biscuit.

“Ha!” Desire takes advantage of his momentary distraction to lock their arms around his shoulders and blow a loud raspberry against his cheek. Hob doesn’t think he's entirely successful in hiding his smile. Morpheus doesn't even try to hide his look of disgust.

Well, he had to learn the downsides of being an older brother at some point, Hob supposes.

Judging that the worst of the scrapping is over, he perches on the edge of the bed and pats Morpheus’ flank idly. Desire, loose-limbed with alcohol and triumph, flops over him to reach for their tea. Morpheus magnanimously doesn't jab his fingers into their exposed side.

“Thank you, Robert darling,” Desire says, eyes half-lidded as they drink. It comes out far less coquettish than Hob imagines they intended; too genuinely content. Morpheus sighs, and frowns, and doesn't quite do a good enough job of hiding his own ease as he sits up and leans against Hob.

“I suppose you intend to stay the night?” Morpheus asks. There's nothing of the dignified dreamlord about him now, with his hair flattened on one side and just a little lank, and pillow creases on his cheek. He peers at Desire, half of his weight still supported by Hob, who takes another slurp of tea and polishes off the last of his biscuit. It's still unbelievable, sometimes, that he may see his dour and distant old stranger like this. Something tangible, something grounded, something he can hold. Unbelievable, too, after the way they had almost parted, after the way Morpheus had almost –

Well. Doesn't bear thinking about, really.

“Mm, yes, if you'll have me.” Do they have to work to make everything they say sound like a double entendre, Hob wonders, or does it come naturally? He's not entirely sure they even notice they're doing it.

“You're always welcome,” Hob says. “Guest room's all made up, and there's a spare toothbrush under the sink you can have.”

“How very kind. Dream, dear, isn't your man kind?”

“Unreasonably so.”

“Ta, love,” Hob says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Desire rolls their eyes theatrically, as though that might mask how their expression softens. “Now drink your tea, I'd like to get a few more hours’ sleep before I need to get up.”

Morpheus grumbles but straightens up, plucking his mug from the nightstand and cradling it in one hand while he reaches for a biscuit with the other.

“Should we expect any of our other siblings to join us tonight?” He asks, managing somehow not to spray crumbs everywhere as he does so, which is a bit unfair. Hob has centuries more experience talking through mouthfuls of crumbly biscuits, and he still can't do as good a job of it. “I take it you did not venture out alone this night.”

“No I didn't, but don't worry,” Desire says, tilting their head back as they drain their mug, a neat ring of purple left behind on the ceramic. “My sweet twin is unlikely to make an appearance. I certainly hope, at least – she went home with that little exorcist friend of yours. If she comes here, then something’s gone dreadfully wrong.”

They grin, cat with the cream pleased at the expression on Morpheus’ face, and flick their hand in something like a wave. “Well, goodnight brother! Robert.”

They flounce away towards the spare room, and Hob presses his smile into the curve of Morpheus’ shoulder.

“I hate them,” Morpheus grumbles. Hob kisses the bony jut of skin where his t-shirt has slipped, once, twice.

“No you don't,” he says. Morpheus sighs, sets his mug down, and returns to hold Hob's face still for a proper kiss. Not that Hob would try to get out of it.

“No,” he agrees softly, pulling Hob down with him for a cuddle onto pillows that still smell a little of peaches. “No. I do not.”

#dreamling #dream of the endless #desire of the endless #hob gadling #This was originally going to be part of 'Em's retirement home for wayward Endless'#in which Dream retired and all of the other Endless followed (except destruction who didn't want someone else saddled with the job)#A sort of 5+1 thing with each of the ex-endless siblings interacting with dream and hob #and 1 of the current endless #But unfortunately my brain isn't up to that so you guys get this instead #Anyway I think a lot of problems would have been solved if Dream and Desire had gone through developmental stages like regular siblings #Here we see the 'toddler' phase. Hob is lucky they're not biting each other #Not exactly a writing tag

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187days · 2 years

Text

Day One Hundred Seventy-Four

It was a lot quieter in the halls today, and that’s probably because so many of the kids who’ve been disruptive have been suspended, or because students are buckling down to finish the year strong. Also, rainbow flags, rainbow accessories, and rainbow face paint abounded because it’s Pride, and I kind of love that students feel comfortable celebrating. I said to some of my friends the other day that they’re so much more open than even just a few years ago, and it’s really cool (note: if you disagree, you can see yourself off my blog because I’m an ally and always will be). And if it brightens up the building for everyone, all the better.

Meantime, the seniors darkened the building and held a ten-minute dance party in the halls and bathrooms as their senior prank, which I thought was hilarious.

And, yes, I still describe today as quieter than past days, heh.

My classes went really well, too, and I’m especially happy about my World students’ work in all three sections. The strength of the multi-genre project is that it sparks so much passion and creativity, and students engage even in June. No one’s even trying to pack up early, and it’s awesome. The coolest piece I saw today: a drawing one of my Block 2 boys did of a stork and a bear in Ukrainian and Russian colors that, flipped sideways, turns the animals into maps of the two countries (the stork’s wing, the bear’s body). It’s amazingly done, and, obviously, it’s part of a project on the ongoing war. He’s making an infographic for his next piece, and I suspect that’s going to turn out really well, too.

I snuck out of the building during APUSGOV (Mrs. R was on her lunch break and watched my students for me) to pick up sandwiches from the deli and bagel shop down the road- a student and staff favorite- as a graduation gift to my seniors. We ate together, they worked on their political participation projects, and everything was great. Their last day of classes is technically tomorrow, but it’s senior skip day, and I’m not giving a final next week (they’re supposed to come in during the “exam block” and can make revisions on their projects, but I think a lot of them are just going to call out), so I treated today like the last day. Longtime readers know I write letters to graduates, and I gave them out at the bell today. Their responses were really sweet.

Track practice was short and to the point because that’s all it needs to be: strides, blocks, relay passes. The Meet of Champions is on Saturday, and my girls are ready to race!

#teaching #teachblr #teacher #edublr #educhums #education #high school #coaching #track #mrs. r #pride #so much joy #so much fun #day one hundred seventy four #senior prank #post season

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heyhoeudoin · 5 months

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Can I request a senku x fem reader where she goes with the group to the cave instead of magma and her and senku end up cuddling for warmth and senku is all flustered by it.

WARMTH

"Guess you can still be flustered, huh?"

pairing: senku ishigami x fem!reader

words: 2.9k

genre/s: fluff, comfort?

warning/s: she/her (sorry!), s1 ep 21-22, swearing, mention of tits

synopsis: senku never would have imagined that he'd get flustered over a simple hug (and like it a lot)

masterlist

a/n: i know it's been a year... i got busy, but better later than never! also, while rewatching this episode, i got so emotional like holy sht. the way senku got emotional in this episode just got me tearing up! i love senku so much and i miss dr stone a lot more than i thought i did (IT'S ONLY BEEN A YEAR SINCE IT ENDED LIKE?!?!)

as the group walked up to the edge of the cliff, the sun rises and the stone in suika's hand glowed bright blue shocking everyone around.

"it's blue... a gemstone," chrome says.

"why is it glowing?" suika asks looking at the rock she's holding.

"oh my god, it's scheelite!" you exclaimed as your eyes sparkled at the gem-like-stone in front of you.

senku smiled at you and exclaimed, "ten billion points for you, y/n!" he then walked forward pointing, and bending down at it. "it glows blue when exposed to ultraviolet light. reactions to ultraviolet light are especially visible right before the sun rises. in other words, only right now."

"a magic stone that glows just for this moment... " gen says with a small smile.

chrome went closer to the stone with a curious face. "i've never seen anything like it," he comments.

"me neither," senku says with sparkles in his eyes. "it's an ultra-rare gem. you guys did an incredibly good job, chrome, and suika. this stuff is used in modern filaments. atomic number seventy-four: tungsten!"

"it's the strongest metal in the universe!" you continued his thought as you kept hitting senku's shoulder in joy and excitement.

"ow~" he muttered holding his shoulder. you quickly wrapped your hands around the shoulder you kept hitting to try and soothe it while giving an apologetic look.

the next day, everyone gotten ready to make a cave expedition, and by everyone, it's just senku and chrome.

"this small chunk won't be enough, but it came down the stream in the cave. there must be tons further inside. tons of this heat-resistant treasure called tunsten," chrome says as he held up the stone.

"we only have one set of lights left," senku says holding up the said last pair of lights. "the last member of the exploration team will be... magma!" he called out making everyone shock, most especially you. "tungsten's tough as hell. we're going to need brute force to collect it. let's go cave diving. we're a trio of spelunking buddies. to the fun treasure dungeon!"

"buddies?!" magma exclaimed, shocked, and confused.

"senku, chrome, and magma?!" kohaku exclaimed.

"i've never heard of such a risky group," suika says.

"i-i-is that even safe?!" ginrou exclaimed. "he might be like, 'i'm the chief!', and attack you, or something, senku!"

"come on, let's get going—"

"objection!"

the group turned to where you stood firmly with a hand raised in the air. "what is this? a court?" gen commented.

you dropped your arm and stomped your way to senku with a pissed off expression. "you may be a genius, but you're still a dumbass." you looked down at him as you jabbed your finger into his shoulder. you spread your other arm to point at magma. "i do not trust him yet!" you exclaimed, bluntly. "which is why i'll be coming with."

senku deadpanned at you and sighs. "y/n, there's only three lights and we need magma to carry the scheelite," he stated.

you rose a brow and placed a hand on your hip. "oh? and you're saying that i can't do that," you retorted with a challenging tone.

senku's mouth snapped shut. how can he forget? you're a hundred percent the strongest here! he shakes his head. "well, it can't be helped," he says, shocking the rest. he turned to magma and told him, "you heard her. take those off."

"whaaat? that easily?!" chrome exclaimed.

senku shrugs, sticking a pinky in his ear. "i can't really stop y/n from doing what she wants. if she wants to come, let her."

"then who's going to carry the rocks?" gen asks.

"y/n will," senku answers.

"what?!" gen screamed. "i-isn't that a bit...? can y/n even handle it?" his arms waved around.

kohaku crossed her arms. "are you saying women are weak?" she looked at him pointedly.

gen furiously shook his head at her. "no no, of course not!"

"right, i never told you y/n's last name, haven't i?" senku comments as he turns over to you, who's walking over wearing the equipment.

"my full name is l/n y/n," you announced. "i am more than capable of carrying the scheelite." gen starts foaming at the mouth. however, those who aren't from the modern world, they don't understand.

"basically, y/n's family is famous for a lot of crazy things and she's stronger than anyone else here," senku explains. "now let's stop wasting time and go!"

you and senku followed chrome to the cave where he got the scheelite from where a small stream of water ended. senku dipped his fingers into it. "the water's lukewarm," he mentions with a chuckle. "we can definitely find some treasures."

the three of you ventured deeper into the caves. however, once they got to a certain part, senku immediately noticed something. "get back!" he screamed, extending his arm behind his back.

you and chrome stopped, tensing up. "what's wrong, senku?" chrome asks.

senku bent down, moving carefully, and cracked a piece of the floor. "it's mica. it's like baumkuchen." you let out an 'oooh', but chrome looked confused. "it's a rock that's brittle enough to break with your hands," he says as he tears a layer off of the one he's holding. he then looks up, shining the light in front of him. "look, they're natural pit traps."

the three of you look over to the abundance of pits. "damn," chrome lets out. "nature's traps are nasty."

"is it possible to get out of that once you fall in?" you then asked.

"yeesh, try to get back up with a rope or a ladder and it'll just cave in on ya," chrome grimance.

senku stood back up. a crack, you heard from under his foot. you leaped over and push him away. you tried to land as delicately as possible, but the ground couldn't handle it. a hole formed immediately beneath you, making you fall straight into it. you reached your hand up to try and grab the edge out of reflex. another hand reached out for yours and took hold of it. it was senku's hand... although he is having a hard time pulling you up.

"no, senku! let go! it's going to cave in under you!" you were able to scream out. true to your words, the ground beneath senku did cave in. you both fall into the pit.

"senku! y/n!"

you pulled senku closer to your body, putting an arm under his neck and legs. you quickly moved your body upright and looked down. your feet hit the ground with a thud and you bent down into a squat so that you don't crush your legs. you let out a sigh of relief as you stood back up and gently placed senku down.

"are you okay?" you asked him while removing the stuff behind your back.

senku stares at you dumbfounded. "no, no, are you okay?"

you chuckle. "i'm fine, senku. i continued the momentum, or whatever you call what i just did to prevent shattering my legs," you tell him reassuringly.

"go sit down while i try to think our way out," he says as he walks over to the wall in front of you. you did what he said and sat down, your eyes never leaving him as you didn't want to miss it in case it happens. senku sometimes lets out these cute noises whenever he thinks or tries something out. to your pleasure, he's making the noises! (a/n: bro he's so cute in this scene) you let out a giggle after he slides back down from trying to climb out.

senku turns to you with a raised brow. "what're you giggling about?"

"it's just... you're adorable," you bluntly answer him.

he blinks, then slightly smirks from the familiarity. "how long has it been since you've last called me that?"

"it's been a while that's what," you say with a smile. just then a stream of water flowed down into the cave. you and senku looked up to see chrome peering down, holding a glass bottle.

"chrome, what are you doing?" you ask with furrowed brows.

"if i keep pouring in water from the pond that's nearby, you might be able to swim back out," he explained.

that caught you off guard. you turned to senku and asked, "will that work?"

he starts cackling and from that alone, you already got your answer. "hang on, that's not bad," he says, then raised a finger in front of his face. you perked up, smiling with glee as you listened to senku's calculations tangent. you love it whenever he says his calculations out loud, and he does it with his pointer finger raised in front of him as well! it's adorable... and insanely attractive.

senku lowered his finger and lets out a laugh. he looked up at chrome and shouts out, "chrome, i'm going to tell you how to craft something. can you do it?"

"yeah, of course i can." chrome nods. "don't underestimate chrome the science user!"

after you tossed the bag with the big glass bottles, you waited patiently as you listened to senku instructing chrome on what to do. shortly after, pillars of water starts flowing down into the pit. "huh? how is the water going from low to high?" you and senku heard chrome ask out loud. you giggled as senku explained to chrome what a siphon is.

you looked to see the water slowly, but surely rising from the floor. your feet being already submerged into it. then your gaze went to senku, who's looking up. "are you sure you won't freeze before we could get up there?" you asked with a hand on your hip.

senku turned to you, still looking up. "i did the calculations. it should be fine before we get hypothermia," he says.

you rose a knowing brow. "that's for a normal person, senku, and you're not a normal person." by this time the water is already about half way at senku's body (you're taller than him so it's not really half way at your body yet).

senku stuck his pinky into his ear, shrugging. "it'll be fine," he says.

it was not fine.

the water's only at half way of the pit, but senku's already shaking and chattering from the cold. you slowly floated your way to senku and wrapped your hands around him. this shocked senku, jolting a bit from the sudden touch. "what are you doing?" he managed to ask.

"here, the tits will keep you warm."

senku gapped at you. why are you so goddamn blunt? because of his shock, he missed the part where you gently placed his head on your chest and guided his arms to wrap around your back. "well, aren't you red?" you say with a teasing smirk which brought him back to reality.

"huh?" senku felt flustered and embarrassed. he tried to push himself away from you, but with his strength versus yours... yeah it didn't work. "stop that!" you scolded him. "be glad that it isn't magma who's cuddling with you right now."

senku grimaced at the thought. "don't even mention that!" he exclaimed, looking up at you, making you chuckle. in the midst of your chuckle, he tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer to his body.

"well aren't you bold?"

he looked away, avoiding eye contact and letting his head rest on your chest. "i am doing this for the sake of getting warmth so that we both don't die of hypothermia," he says.

you rolled your eyes. "oh please, just admit you're liking this much more than you thought you did," you teased him.

his ears tipped red as he stayed silent.

you watched senku and chrome fanboying at the treasure cove of rocks with a smirk. a chuckle left your mouth, but the mood quickly died down as you pressed your lips together. "are you guys done yet? the sun's going to set soon and we should go!"

"ohhh come on! just a little bit longer," chrome whined.

"yeah, after all, we found a mountain of treasure," senku added.

you hooked your hands on the back of the boys' shirt and lifted them up. "when i say let's go, let's go."

the three of you exited the cave and the sun's already setting. "hurry up," you say as you picked the bag senku's carrying and hugged it against your chest. senku looked at you with protest, but you merely rose a brow at him which caused him to back down.

"why are you suddenly in a hurry?" chrome asked, looking slightly confused.

"you'll see."

once the three of you drew closer to the village, you dropped the bag in front of you took and out your makeshift blindfold. "senku dear~ could you wear this for me real quick?" you asked as he turned around.

he rose a questioning brow at you. "and for what y/n?" he asked. but you ignored his question and covered senku's eyes. you picked him up and threw him over your shoulder like a sack. "y/n? y/n?!" you picked up the bag up from the floor and happily jogged back your way to the village while humming.

chrome blinked then ran after the two of you. "what are you doing, y/n?!"

senku now stood in a room, blindfolded and hands tied. he knows that that's your hand on the back of his neck which means you're standing directly behind him.

"hey, senku-chan~ welcome home," gen says in front of senku, but he doesn't know that.

"huh? what's going on?" senku asks with an unwavering tone.

"hah!" kohaku triumphantly laughs. "don't bother trying to call for help, senku. we're all working with gen," she announced.

senku chuckles. "so you bastards finally figured out the hack, huh?" he says. "all you need to do is hand science and my head over to tsukasa, and the village is safe. it's perfectly logical." you could feel him trembling with nervousness. "...leave y/n out of this," he muttered to which only you heard.

gen lets out a short snort. "well, i have no idea what you're talking about, but..." he gave you a nod. you untied his hands and slowly took off his blindfolds.

senku stared in front of him, eyes swirling with nostalgia. you stared at him with a fond smile. it's been a while since you've seen him that emotional. he stepped towards the telescope and peered into it. he took a step back in awe. "an astronomy telescope... or rather, an observatory..." his voice gotten softer by the end. you blinked, trying to get rid of the tears that threatened to fall.

kaseki lets out an excited laugh. "january forth; rock day!" he exclaimed.

kohaku stepped up with a wide smile. "y/n told us it's your birthday today, senku!" she said.

"we all got you a birthday gift!" suika happily announced. senku walked closer to the window to see mostly everyone from the village standing outside.

"y/n told us everything we needed in order to make the telescope, and the whole village worked hard to make the observatory. you're going to have to fine-tune it yourself, senku-chan," gen explained.

ginro approached senku with a smug look. "are senku~ are you moved for the first time in forever? you can cry, you know. you don't need to hold it in," he teased.

"you're so low, ginro," kinro commented.

senku turned to the group with a smirk. "good job, everyone! this is extremely practical. we can use it as our own watchtower against tsukasa," he mentions with a wide cheeky smile.

"y-yeah, that's true," kohaku replies, not sure what to make of his reaction.

"your feedback's as rational as ever," gen comments.

"a guy doesn't bother mentioning his own birthday, and yet..." senku glanced at you. you gave him a smirk and a smug wave. a chuckle escapes his mouth.

"actually, i found out on my own even before y/n said anything," gen corrected to which senku immediately understood and the two conversed on how gen found out.

a while later, it's only you and senku left in the observatory. "did you really think i'd let them hand over your head to tsukasa?" you rhetorically asked. "and also, i can't believe that's the first thing you thought of. do you not have faith in them? you healed their priestess."

senku didn't reply as he stayed silent, looking up at the stars. you sighed as you walked over and hugged him from behind. "are you mad at me for giving away your birthday?" you softly asked. "well, i wasn't planning on giving it away, but gen approached me for a birthday gift idea and... this happened."

"i'm not mad at you, y/n." he rolled his eyes. "it's just..."

your hold on him tightened. "it's fine. i know. you don't have to say anything," you tell him.

senku turned around and wrapped his arms around you, laying his head on your chest. you felt yourself warm up a bit and held him closer. "so i am right." senku lifted his head up to look at you with confusion. "that you're liking this much more than you thought you did," you explained with a smug smirk.

he turned his head away, avoiding eye contact as he stayed silent and his ears tipped red.

masterlist a/n: this turned out way better than i thought it would.

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topguncortez · 11 months

Text

A Supposed Miracle || Bradley Bradshaw

Top Gun Celebration | Main masterlist

synopsis: A year ago you survived the unimaginable, but you weren't sure if it was actually the miracle they said it was. Written as part of my 1 Year TG Celebration:)

word count: 2.2k

warnings: Uranium Mission, description of injuries, mentions of PTSD, amnesia, paralyzation, cursing

prompts: "I don’t care if we are fighting, or if you’re mad at me, I’m still gonna be there for you.”

Rooster wasn’t sure what he was doing. What had possessed him now, of all days, to show up at your front door, he wasn’t quite sure. The last time he had seen you, you were barely alive. Blood seeping from your body, your temperature near dangerous levels, breaths so shallow and pulse so weak, Rooster had to press his ear against your chest just to hear your heart beating.

When the two of you were rescued, you were whisked off into the belly of the ship while he was being flocked to by sailors commending him for a good job.

“I didn’t do anything right,” He remembers saying to Maverick, as he sat on the cold metal exam table.

“Yes you did, you both survived-”

“I paralyzed her!”

Rooster knew that it wasn’t all his fault, but he had no choice but to move you. You were sitting ducks in the middle of the snow-covered field, wearing your green flight suits. You had cried and begged for him to leave you there, telling him you would rather “die on the battlefield in glory” than live a life where you could no longer walk, or take care of yourself. But Rooster wasn’t about to do that when an enemy helicopter arrived and opened fire on the two of you. He didn’t think twice as he picked you up in his arms, despite your cries and hits against his body as he carried you into a wooded area.

“You fucking dick, Bradshaw! You should’ve left me to die!”

“You can blame me for saving your life later.”

Three days. Seventy-Two Hours. Four thousand three hundred twenty minutes. two hundred fifty-nine thousand two hundred seconds.

That’s how long the two of you were out in the snow-covered woods. Both of your beacons had been crushed when you intercepted the SAMs to save one another. Rooster, who had merely a concussion and some bruised ribs did his best to try and keep you alive. He wasn’t sure where all the blood was coming from, too scared to cut away your flight suit to find out. He did his best to stop the bleeding, switching from packing snow against your body, to pressing a hot wire against the exposed skin. The two of you split an MRE that somehow managed to survive the wreckage. He could remember you making a joke about it.

“Not sure if we should be even eating something that can survive a jet fire.”

But Rooster made sure to save the last Twizzler bites in the package for you. He had hardly slept, forcing himself to stay awake to make sure you were still alive, and keeping a watchful eye for any wolves or other wildlife. He knew that his defense against a wolf was going to be useless, but he had gone over in his head what he would do to make sure you lived. On the last night, you were out there, Rooster held you tightly in his arms, the both of you coming to the realization that you might not live to see another sunrise out in the woods.

“You need to be the one to tell him,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. Your skin was sunburned and your lips chapped from dehydration, “He won’t try and fight you.”

“He hates me, Reap, he always has,” Rooster said, gently rocking you back and forth.

“Jake doesn’t hate you,” You shook your head, “He is intimidated by you. He knows that you are the better pilot. But if it’s anyone else that tells him I didn’t make-” Your voice broke, “That I didn’t make it. . . he’ll drink himself to death. He’ll want to know everything.”

Rooster looked up at the night sky. All the stars seemed to be out, shining brightly above the two of you.

“I loved you first,” Your voice pulled Rooster away from his analysis of the stars, “You broke me when you left. Didn’t say why or where…you just left.”

“And I have regretted that day for all my life,” Rooster said.

He could so vividly remember seeing your acceptance letter to USNA sitting on your desk when he came home from one of his classes at the local community college. He didn’t even know you applied, let alone were interested in the Navy. But he was so mad, so angry that you had gotten something that he had wanted his whole life. Instead of waiting for you to come home from work, he quickly packed a bag and left, not so much as leaving a note to explain. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago that the two of you had finally reunited.

And now, you were going to die in the arms of your first love.

“I love you, Y/N,” Rooster said, and he felt your body tense for a moment, before it relaxed in his arms, “I have always loved you. I have never stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you.”

You squeezed Rooster’s hand, “I… Love…”

Rooster looked down at your face, seeing the light go out in your eyes, “No… No, no, hey,” He shook your body, patting your cheek lightly, “You don’t get to do this,” He laid your body gently down on the ground, placing his hands in the middle of your chest and starting compressions, “C’mon, Reaper! C’mon! Don’t…” Rooster looked up at the sky, “You son of bitch, you give her back to me! You give her back to me right fucking now!”

— — —

They called it a miracle. But it felt like anything but that to you.

You spent a whole month, unconscious in the ICU in England, before you were moved back to the US, where you spent another two weeks hooked up to machines. When you woke up, you had no recollection of the last several years of your life. You didn’t know that the blonde man sitting next to you was apparently your fiance, or that you had graduated top of your class at TopGun, or hell, that you had even made it to TopGun, to begin with. You didn’t know what had happened out in the woods, other than that you were paralyzed from the waist down, and you would never fly again.

The only person that you did recognize was Maverick, and even those memories were a little hazy. He had helped you get settled into your house (which had been totally renovated to be wheelchair accessible). Your fiance, whose name you learned was Jake, helped you get reacclimated to most things. He was nice and was doing everything he could to help gain some memories back. Over time you remembered certain things like Jake’s birthday, or that you had a 1972 mustang mach 1 sitting in Maverick’s hangar, or flashes of the last mission you were on. But the most prominent memory in your mind was of coming home to an empty house and that blue Bronco gone from the driveway.

You had asked Jake about Rooster several times, and he just danced around the subject. He told you that Rooster was a part of the mission, and he had taken a different position instead of staying in North Island with the rest of the team. You also remembered that when Jake lied, his right eye would twitch.

You had spent the better part of that year in intense physical therapy. Your doctor believed that you could probably regain some function and learn to walk with assistance. You thought that hell week at USNA was hard, but nothing would prepare you for this journey. Day after day, Jake would pick you up from therapy physically and mentally exhausted. Learning how to walk again at age twenty-seven was a lot harder than toddlers made it look.

Between your doctor, various therapists, Jake and Maverick, by the time the one-year mark of the mission came around, you were able to stand and walk with the help of your walker. Being able to graduate from physical therapy felt better than any promotion you might’ve received from the Navy.

But now here you were, a year to the day later, staring at the man who had been constantly on your mind. You had actually started to believe Jake’s story about Rooster taking a job somewhere else because, for the last year, he had been totally MIA. Jake had taken you to the Hard Deck and out several times with the dagger squad in the past year, and every time, Rooster wasn’t there. Nobody mentioned him. Nobody even talked about him if you were around. There had been no texts, no calls, and no letters from him in the past year.

You were actually starting to wonder if maybe he was dead.

“So you are alive,” You scoffed, “Congrats.”

“Reap-”

“No,” You shook your head, “You don’t get to fucking call me that. Do you even know the hell I have been through in the past year?!”

“I’m sorry,” Rooster said simply, “I just couldn’t face you knowing that I put you in-”

“A wheelchair?”

He sucked in a breath and looked down at his shoes. He looked a lot like the man you remembered. Sandy brown hair, sunkissed tan skin, those sweet baby cow eyes that you had fallen in love with. He was wearing a pair of Levi’s that hugged his thighs just right, and one of those infamous Hawaiian shirts that used to belong to his dad. His Rayban caravans dangled off the chain of his dog tags that were tucked underneath his white tank top.

Rooster licked his lips and looked up at you, for probably the first time since the standoff had started. You had cut your hair, it was shorter than what he remembered, sitting right above your shoulders. He could see that your face had some new-age lines to it. Your arms now had more black and colored ink than clear skin on them. And your eyes, those once soft and loving eyes, were cold and hard as you glared at him.

“I’m sorry,” Rooster said again.

You shook your head, “Why are you here?”

“Because I-” Rooster still wasn’t sure why he was here. He thought he would have more time to figure that answer out before you asked, “Because I wanted to see you. I heard that you are coming tonight and I-”

You scoffed, “So you decide now, a year later, that you wanna show your face?”

“Look,” Rooster was trying to keep his cool, but his patience was starting to wear thin with you, “I don’t care if you hate me. I don’t care if we are fighting, or if you’re mad at me, I’m still gonna be there for you.”

“But you-”

“You weren’t the only one who lost something out there!” Rooster yelled. You looked taken aback by the sudden increase in his voice, “Okay? You weren’t the only one out there for three days. You weren’t the only one. . . planning a fucking funeral in your head. You weren’t the only one who lost something out there.” You looked down at your lap, hearing Rooster take several deep breaths to calm himself. He knew that he fucked up but not coming to see you sooner, but he wasn’t sure how he could face you.

“Did you tell Jake to lie to me?” You looked up at the man.

“No,” Rooster shook his head, “I asked him about you almost every day for about three months. I wanted to know how you were, what you were doing if there was any update on your injury, or if you gained your memory back, but Jake just kept it to a minimum. Eventually, he told me to stop asking.”

“Fucking Jake,” You rolled your eyes, “I broke up with him about three months after I woke up. It was just too hard to pretend to love a man when I hardly knew him.” Rooster nodded, “But to make you feel better. . . I asked about you too.”

Rooster clenched his jaw, trying to push back the tears in his eyes. You held your hand out to him, and he walked forward, placing his large hand in your smaller one. You squeezed it, just like you did when you died in his arms a year ago.

“I’m sorry.”

The two of you let out a soft chuckle as you spoke at the same time.

“You first,” Rooster said.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you when you found me. I just knew right away I was fucked and I didn’t see any point in living a life where I can’t fly. But I realized how fucked and selfish that was to tell you that. You saved my life, Bradley, a-and. . .” You blinked a couple of times, trying to find the right words, “Thank you for that.”

Rooster’s jaw dropped slightly, and he gave your hand a squeeze, “I’m sorry for being too scared to come and see you. I let my own fear and self-hatred get in the way. And you saved my life too.”

You smiled at him, “Do you want to come in for a drink?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388 @desert-fern @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @bradshawseresinbabe @Munsonswhore86 @happypopcornprincess @Sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @thedroneranger @angelbabyange @callsignharper @genius2050

taglist form:)

I just wanna say a quick shoutout to @a-reader-and-a-writer for sending in this request and being just an all around awesome person. you guys don't see it on here, but I'm in a discord with Vee and she is one of the most reliable, and knowledgeable, and nicest people I have ever had the opportunity to interact with. I can always count on Vee to pop in with an answer to my questions or a funny one-liner or angst that hurts so deliciously good. She's an amazing writer and friend and fandom-dweller (. . . yeah that's the word). She's always so positive and works hard to create an awesome and safe space on her blog, on the dash, in the server. She's just amazing <3

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mistyresolve · 1 year

Text

| Malicious Compliance - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 6k

Summary - After a near-miss on a mission Diver (reader) decides it might be time to reconcile with Ghost the next time they get a chance. Unfortunately (very fortunately), the next chance they get is when they are forced to take refuge in the world's smallest safe house. And Ghost had never been one for words so he shows his forgiveness in a more unorthodox way.

Tags/Warnings - 18+ ONLY (mdni), explicit language and content, foreplay, size kink, slight breath play, he’s your superior and he’s all about you, p in v,

A/N - yup, more porn with plot because it’s fun and i’ve been ✨inspired✨

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

Ghost wasn’t in the wrong for being angry with you. He was one of the more reasonable LTs, but you tested his patience, questioned his authority, and disobeyed his orders. Not only that, but you disappointed him. You had completely disregarded his orders and nearly got yourself and a crew mate killed in the process.

You were angry with yourself too. If it were just your life on the line you would have been smug, but you put another at risk. You prided yourself in your ability to get yourself out of any sticky situation, sometimes it was by the skin of your teeth. Hence the alias “Diver”. You received it from your first platoon leader because you dive into every risky situation. Usually, eyes closed. Usually, with no plan. And somehow came out the other side every time.

Usually, you got a yelling at and the occasional latrine duty.

This time was different. As soon as the team landed back on base Ghost stalked over to you. He ripped the rifle out from your hands and shoved you with enough force that you stumbled, barely catching yourself from falling. Oh, he was livid.

“You forget yourself, Dive,” he tossed your gun back into the chopper and pressed onto you again, “Your recklessness is going to get someone killed one of these days. And you better hope that someone is you before it's anyone else.”

The words stung, but he was right.

“Get on the ground and give me a hundred,” he barked. He would write you up later tonight and inquire about other punishments.

You dropped to the ground, your fingers splayed out on either side of you and waited for his go-head.

“Hands together.”

You shifted your hands closer together, creating a diamond shape with your fingers. The change would make the push up’s only a little harder but it would catch up with you eventually.

“Down.”

You lowered your weight.

“Up.”

You raised yourself, arms snapping.

“Down,” he repeated and you listened, eyes searing into the ground beneath you. When he you gave the command to continue on your own you did. Lowering yourself down, nose almost touching the ground. The breath that pushed out with every extension of your arms blew at the dusty pavement. Your movements were practiced and full of power. This wasn’t the first time you had to drop and give 100 since you had a bit of a reputation.

You were on 30 when he growled, “Stop.”

You paused, your nose to nose touching the floor and maintaining your body weight in the down position.

“Restart and make sure you count this time”

“One,” you blow out, not because of the exertion but because you yourself were angry. Each breath felt like it was stolen, “Two. Three. Four…” The muscles in your arms began to burn something sweet. You leaned into the pain, using it as a crutch to remain levelheaded. You earned the pain. You glared at the black boots that were planted two feet in front of you, “…Sixty nine. Seventy.”

“That’s enough,” he was still angry, but he had places to be and watching you wasn’t a priority. He would take care of the rest and you later.

You didn’t stop, wrenching your gaze to his. Temper simmering. Sweat beaded at your temples and dripped down your arms. Sweat droplets stained the pavement. You continued counting. He said 100. You were going to give him 100.

He matched your glare, his own eyes narrowing on you, but he didn’t try stopping you again. Instead, he pivoted and left you there. Counting. You watched him leave, watched as he rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of his own fury. In the chopper, he looked like he wanted to throw you out the side and watch you freefall back to earth.

You didn’t stop even when his form disappeared. Your teammates had been kind enough to leave with him, knowing you didn’t want the company. The last 15 push ups were the hardest and the slowest. For the last 5 you shook, strained, and ground your teeth together, gathering the last dregs of strength. When you hit the 100 you brought yourself to your knees, allowing time to catch your breath.

The pilot was sitting on the side helicopter, your gun resting in her lap, “You deserve it?’ she questioned and held out the rifle for you.

Breathless you say, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

She might not have been there for the actual incident but she most definitely didn’t miss out on the aftermath, “Kinda wish I brought popcorn with me on missions. You guys always leave me with a show,” she kicked off the platform and added with a wide, fox-like smile, “Especially when he’s on board.”

It wouldn’t take a genius to discern that she was talking about Ghost, who had a certain affinity for the dramatics. You shrug a shoulder at her, grabbing your gun and picking up your day pack, “He and I don’t get along on the best of days, and I’m really good at pissing him off.”

She hummed, “You better figure that one out before it gets to the point where he starts grounding you.”

“What, give him flowers and an apology card?”

“He seems like a chocolate kind of guy,” she started walking with you towards the hangar. She gave off the vibe that she thrived off the drama. Not in a nosey, malicious kind of way, but she would have no qualms about being a spectator.

“He’d kick my ass if I did that,” and he would. He would kick your eyes just for bothering him with your presence.

“If that’s what it takes for him to come around, let ‘em,” with that she parted from you, twiddling her fingers over her shoulder as a goodbye.

Mud splashed beneath your feet with every running step, it splashed up your pant leg and covered your boots. You had lost your guy's tail hours ago but it was still raining hard enough that you started running the last miles to the supposed safe house. You used the term house loosely because as you came up on the fire watch tower you had to double check with Ghost to make sure he had the right location. He assured you with a nod.

The latter to the spiralling stairs had since been removed and he had to intertwine his fingers to give you a foothold and hoist you up to the platform. You reached for his day pack first, then extended a hand for him. He’s heavier than he looks because you were far from weak but even with your free hand clamped to the railing you struggled to heave him up with you.

“What do they feed you?” you groaned, rubbing at your shoulder.

“Children. Let’s go,” he quipped, grabbing his bag and taking off up the stairs two steps at a time. When you reached him at the top he was already thumbing the key out of the whole carved out of the wooden railing.

The fire tower was decommissioned years ago, but all the maps and posters were left behind. The Osborne Fire Finder in the center of the room was left on the coordinates of whatever last fire was called in. You scanned the room and Ghost closed and locked the door behind you. There was a rounded table pushed into a corner, and a small counter and a sink adjacent to it. A desk that was littered with old reports and notes, remnants of what must have been the radio station, and a tool. And a singular bed.

“Cozy,” you dropped your bag onto the desk and started drawing the curtains to the millions of windows, “What’s your plan, LT?”

“We need to get our radios working and contact HQ for an exfil,” he was already removing his radio from its pouch, its antenna was missing and the headset that usually accompanied it was left behind. A bullet clipped its’s earpiece and ripped it off his head to be exact. Adrenaline was too high for anyone to bat an eye at the fact that a couple of inches to the left and he would have been dead. That was also moments before he called a withdrawal and you and he got separated from the rest of the squad. Your radio has also seen better days, it took a direct shot. It saved your life but the fact that both of your radios were damaged was beyond unlucky. You tossed your radio to him, or whatever was left of it.

“Were you trying to get shot?” he examined the device before setting it on the table next to his. He turned on a propane lamp, it hissed to life and its unmistakable smell quickly filled the room.

“Were you?”

“Shh.”

You started to remove your vest and soaked jacket. Ghost hung his vest on the chair opposite him and got as far as unzipping the top of his jacket before he got distracted. He squinted at the desk, searching the radio parts when he spotted what he thought he could use. Finding what he was looking for he grabbed it all and returned to the table.

The rain hammered against the glass panes and the wind whistled through the cracks around the door. This tower wasn’t the best insulated and combining that with the years of neglect meant it wasn’t retaining heat like it probably use to. You searched the cupboards and chest if see if someone stored blankets here beforehand.

“Aha!” you pulled out a green military issues blanket out of one of the chests, “How long think that’ll take you?” You asked as you leaned against the desk, the blanket wrapped around your shivering shoulders.

“If I can,” he sighed, “I’ll have it figured out by morning. Just have to improvise…everything,” he already disassembled everything and he was inspecting each component. This wasn’t the first time he’s had to rebuild his radio or the first time he’s had to improvise. It was just that every time he caught a glimpse of yours he lost his train of thought. That bullet was meant for you and it was meant to be fetal. That fact was nagging at him, pulling at his chest.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you watched him fiddle about. The last couple of weeks you had been preparing what you were going to say to him about the last mission. Practicing how you were going to apologize to him. You cleared your throat, “I, uhh,” he looked up from the table, sensing your unease. For a brief second, you considered going and sitting out in the rain just to get away from him, “About our last assignment. You were right about me and I was out of line.”

He rested his temple on a fist and glowered at you from beneath his brows, his expression angry.

“Would you stop mad dogging me so I can get through my speech,” you snapped, throwing the blanket onto the bed.

He threw up a hand in the what? gesture, “I’m not mad dogging you.”

“You are.”

“’m not.”

“Just,” you waved a hand at the radios still disassembled before him, “glare at that so I can concentrate.”

He rolled his eyes but lowered them to the table, pretending to be considering the materials and parts.

“Thank you,” you blow out a breath, recollecting your half-prepared speech, “I didn’t think he’d run in after me,” you confessed, “People aren’t usually dumb enough to do that—”

“You are.”

“Yup. Let me finish. I understand that you as a superior have to consider everyone’s safety, and I haven’t exactly made that easy for you. The last thing I want is to put you and my team at risk. On the other hand, I work better on my own. Like you,” he looked back up this time some of the anger had dissipated, but he looked like he was rallying to say something so you put a hand to silence him, “I’m not asking you to relieve me from the squad. I’d miss them too much. I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove myself. Let me prove to you that I can go solo. Or atleast let me join you every once in a while so I can learn.”

“Dive, you have no idea how much paperwork you’ve cost me,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I have a little bit of an idea,” you mumbled shamefully.

“I can’t take you on my assignments, and I can’t send you on solos,” he looked uncomfortable. Or maybe uneasy, “You need to prove to me that you can follow the orders I already give you.”

“I will,” you almost started pleading, “I promise, and if I’m alone I won’t be putting anyone else at risk.”

“It’s not just about your squad, Dive,” he picked up the casing from your radio, the plastic and metal left a mangled mess from the bullet, “I need you to stay alive, and I can’t make sure of that if I let you run off on your own. One day you won’t make it back.”

You blinked at him.

I need you to stay alive.

He wasn’t mad at you for being brash, he was scared that one of these times your luck was going to run out. He was scared you were going to die on him. That you were going to leave him behind.

He tossed the casing back onto the table, defeated.

“Ghost, I didnt—” you hesitated, searching for the right words.

I didn’t know that you cared that much.

If you did your interactions with him would have been very very different.

“Don’t,” he shook his head. This was not how he was planning on exposing himself. Not that he ever planned on confessing in the first place. He was going to take it to his grave. He was planning to get rid of the sickly warm feeling in his chest every time he saw you. Every time he was around you or thought of you.

You pushed off the desk and made your way to stand in front of him, in between his legs. He tilted his head back to look up at you, his hands twitching in his lap. You took one of his hands and crouched before him. Even in the dimly lit room, you could see his pupils flare as you placed his hand on your chest, right about your pounding heart. The heat from his palm soaked into your still damp shirt, warming the skin underneath.

“I’m alive, no?” you placed your other hand on top of his, the size comparison between your hand and his made your toes curl in your boots.

“Yes,” he was utterly still as he searched your face. He was all analyses and contemplation. He touched you like he was afraid you would dissolve before his eyes; like if he spoke too loud you’d slip through his fingers like smoke.

“Go ahead,” he didn’t need to verbalize whatever he was thinking because you could see it in the crease at his brow, the tightness in his jaw.

He glided his hand up to your face, his bare thumb drawing a line from the side of your mouth and across your cheek. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, diving into the mess of wet hair. The sound of the rainstorm outside faded into nothing when his other hand cradled the other side of your face. You reached up to his mask, fingers finding their way underneath to pull it up over his mouth and nose. You half expected him to stop you, for him to tell you all the reasons he shouldn’t be touching you, but he didn’t.

He didn’t give you time to admire him before he was leaning down and his soft mouth was on yours. The kiss was sweet and innocent, nothing more than him wanting to feel you closer. Something about the kiss was tentative and unsure and in an attempt to soothe his uncertainty, you entangled your fingers into the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer. He tilted your head to open the kiss and allow him better access. He nipped at your bottom lip when you didn’t immediately open your mouth to him. His tongue swiped at the same spot on your lip as if to apologize before delving in to explore. You moaned into him as his tongue found yours and as he licked and kissed his way with you.

The kiss may have started off as a manifestation of tragic tormented desire, but it very quickly morphed into something desperate and hot. He kissed you like you were opium and he was chasing a high. He tasted you like he was craving you.

A hand dipped down to your waist and he tugged at you till you were straddling his thigh. He ran his hands up and down your body before gripping at your hips. His thumbs dug into the sensitive flesh there. Not once did either of you pull away. Not even for a breath. You tug down the zipper on his jacket, and then immediately dove under the bottom of his shirt desperate for the feel of his bare skin. He groaned at the contact, his muscles tightening at your chilled fingers. Heat and pleasure shot down to your core at the sound.

He could feel your cunt pulse against his thigh, and he thought his soul had left his body. He fantasizes about having you in this exact position before, riding his leg. Riding him. He’s thought about you underneath him, begging for more. If he wasn’t so desperate for you he would have been giddy.

His grip tightened and it was sure to leave marks that would last for days, “Go ahead, Dive. Grind on me,” he kissed a constellation from your lip across your neck, sucking bruises into the delicate skin.

You rolled your hips once and the unhurried pace only amplified the pleasure that shot up your spine. You mewed at him when he guided you into a slow gentle pace and leaned back into the chair to get a better view. His lips were red and swollen, and his lids were heavy with lust. You pushed a side of his jacket off his shoulder, a silent command that you wanted it off. He took his hands off you just long enough to shrug off the jacket and yank off the shirt underneath. He was all hard muscle, golden skin and ink. Scars mottled his skin, some old and some new enough that they were still in the healing process. Each one was a near-miss and a miracle. You would find time later to kiss every one of them.

With tender hands, he lifted the thin material of your shirt. The speed and precision at which he removed your bra were enough for you to make a mental note to ask him just how many times he’s done that maneuver afterwards. If only to get a rise out of him.

“Lemme see you,” his eyes roamed over your body leisurely, his rough hands scraping against your supple skin, “You’re fucking beautiful,” his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when you started rocking your hips again. What he wouldn’t give to be in this moment with you forever.

A lewd haze made your head heavy forcing it to fall back, your mouth hanging open with a moan. A hand reached up to catch the back of your head, fingers curling, “Keep your eyes on me, Dive,” he laid his accent on thick. You locked eyes with him, his pupils were blown. You braced your hands on his leg, nails digging into the fabric and the muscle underneath. The friction was just where you needed it, and every motion was like electricity in your veins.

Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized what exactly you were doing. You were grinding your wet pussy on your lieutenant's thigh, while he murmured obscenities into your skin; and it should have made you feel ashamed it instead made you feel like every nerve ending was firing. It was naughty and deviant but it only made it more thrilling. The probability of someone finding out, or the sexual tension that was sure to follow was exhilarating.

He dragged his mouth from your neck to your breast, sucking a hard nipple into his mouth. His teeth nipped at you, only for his tongue to follow to alleviate any pain. A hand reached up to knead your other breast, his thumb flicking over the sensitive bud.

He felt like heaven and each point of contact was absolutely divine.

Small pants turned into throaty moans and your hips stuttered as you chased your climax. You were teetering on the edge with eyes closed when you heard, “Atta girl, come for me,” and you crashed into the orgasm. Your mind went blank and all you could think about was him, all you could feel was him. Ghost helped lull you through it with strong hands holding you down on his leg and guiding your shuddering hips.

“Oh my god,” he groaned. Pure electricity was streaming through your veins. More. You needed more of him. You could feel the slickness between your legs and it was most likely seeping through your pants and wetting his. Good. You wanted to be all over him. Moving in for another kiss and immediately opened his mouth for you, letting your tongue dominate his. He buckled his belt with one hand as he adjusted your positions, shuffling you backwards until the back of your knees met the bed. He pulled down your pants and undergarments before settling you back onto the bed. Leaving you completely bare for him. You were at the perfect height to lick a long, sloppy line up his defined stomach. His wide shoulders and narrow waist made him look delectable.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, pulling the belt from the loops, and going for the zipper next.

“I want you to fuck me,” you bleated. You would have said anything he told you to.

The wolfish smile he gave made you squeeze your thighs together, “You’re going to have to prove to me you deserve that first.”

When he didn’t move to pull his pants down you reached for them yourself, you wanted to see what he hid under there. Licking your lips, “How do I do that? Want me to suck you dry?”

He grasped your wrists, stopping you, “Touch yourself for me. Show me how you do it when you think of me.”

Of course, he knew. Of course, he knew you whimpered his name while you touched yourself at night. He knew from the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way your attention lingered on him, on his

“I thought you weren’t going to send me on any solos?” you retort, spreading your legs even further apart. His pupils flared as he watched your arousal drip down into the sheets and the groan that followed sounded like he was in distress.

“You’re a brat,” he knelt on the bed, one knee in between your legs to block you from closing them on him when he dragged a hand up your leg, stopping just before your cunt. The proximity and promise were intoxicating, and you worried you would cum again before he even touched you, he brought his lips just shy of a kiss, “Touch. Yourself,” it was a command. He held onto his self-control like it was a living, breathing entity. He teased it just to the point of discomfort before reigning it back into submission.

“Are you going to pull rank on me, LT?” you lifted your hips towards his fingers, and he allowed for the contact. He dipped them into your arousal, drawing a line from your core back to your thigh. His head dipped down to look at your mess, and his next breath was short of a gasp.

“Do you want me to?” he questioned, although he sounded far away. Not far in physical distance, but his mind was someplace else entirely. He was imagining the taste of you and the way you’d push his face further into your pussy if he dropped to his knee and eat you out. He would have done just that if he hadn’t already set his foot down, “Now, Dive. Or I leave you like this,” This time when he met your eyes you were met with sadistic honesty. He would. It would nearly be the death of him, but he would leave you wanton on the bed. He would turn around and finish fixing the radio.

Your breath caught in your chest and then your hand slid down your stomach before reaching your center. Still sensitive from your earlier climax you jolted at the first bit of contact. You bit down on your lip to keep from crying out when you pushed a single finger in with ease. You were already ready for his cock, you would have taken all he had to give you, and more. He palmed the thick bulge through his pants with a hand as he watched, matching his strokes with each pump of your fingers.

Your fingers were nothing compared to how he would feel but knowing he wouldn’t give you his frustrated you beyond belief. You rubbed tight, swift circles around your clit, while your other hand worked your cunt, needing every bit of stimulation. He hooked an arm under your knee, holding it up and to the side to allow him a full view.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he shook his head in disbelief that you were actually beneath him and pulled his cock free from its confines. He was massive. Long, yes, but he was thick. The head alone would hurt going in. Pre was leaking from the tip and his thumb swiped it to coat the underneath of his shaft. You were expecting him to be big but he was next level. He was going to tear you apart.

No wonder he wasn’t preparing you so thoroughly.

You practically pounced on him. Well, tried to. He moved faster than you and shoved you back onto the bed, his teeth flashing in the dim lamp light, “Did I say stop?”

“Please,” you could only hope you didn’t sound as pathetic as you felt.

You did.

“Please, Riley,” your wet fingers wrapped around the arm that held you down.

“Say my name, baby,” he tilted his head to the side, his chest heaving in anticipation.

“Please, Simon. I need you to touch me,” please, please, please.

With one hand still holding you to the bed, his other hand replaced yours. Shoving two thick fingers into your weeping cunt and the wet squelching sounds it made were offensive. But, oh my god, he felt like sex itself. Long awaited and godly. He wasn’t rough but his fingers were snug and every pump was fast. His fingers curled and he hit the spongy spot inside you. He brought you to the edge fast and hard. You bowed off the bed, hips raising. If it was to get away from him or to somehow get him closer, you couldn’t tell if your life was dependent on it. You choked out a sob and another climax threatened.

He moved with your every jump and shake, he heeded to your body and listened to every sound that escaped you. He cataloged every expression and reaction.

As your orgasm suffocated you the moan that followed morphed into a scream from the force of it. Your vision evaded you for a second, and stars swam. Your legs gave out on you and trembled as he rode the high with you, his movement slowed and tender.

If he so much as asked you for your name you wouldn’t have been able to remember it. Faintly you could feel his hands rub calming circles onto your thigh, murmuring affirmations. He had his fingers in you mere seconds and he had to dumbified. He was too good at it.

At base, there was a group of girls that gossiped about how some of the men are be in bed. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t taken part in some of those conversations. All out of boredom and fun and Ghost was a subject in those conversations a couple of times and just as you expected his reputation precedes him. You knew he’s been with other women, you’d heard from those same women the specifics, but you couldn’t help the jealousy that bubbled up like soda.

He slid his cock into your pussy and bottomed out before you could comprehend what was going on. He slowly stretched you out deliciously and you were so full of him it felt like he was in your stomach. You felt a hand brush away hair from your face, the action bringing you back to your body.

“Tell me when,” he murmured into the space between you, his voice was like velvet. You felt him twitch inside you, his own restraint taut. Every muscle in his body was tensed, readying for your approval. You made a cautious roll of your hips. The discomfort liquefied into sensual heat, and you sighed at the release.

He moved methodically and with unhurried thrusts. He listened and watched to know when he needed to stop and give you a moment to collect yourself. He was so careful with you. So gentle.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

His strokes went from languid to rhythmic snaps. He leaned down for a kiss, bracing himself on the bed with his elbows. In between kisses, he whispered to you about how good you were doing taking him. Honey dripped from his tongue and coated his words.

The head of his cock knocked against your cervix and you clung to his tattooed forearm, teeth sinking into the flesh and ink there. He growled at the sudden pain, his fingers fisting the sheets. He would accept whatever marks you gave him, and he would show them off. He would come crawling back for more before the old ones could fade away.

“Fuck me,” he huffed into the sheets and gritted his teeth, as your nails raked across the span of his back in an attempt to bring him closer. A thin sheen of sweat coated your bodies.

“Faster,” your hand disappeared under the back of his mask to find silky hair and tugged. He was more than happy to do as he was told. He shifted back on his knees, throwing both your legs to one side so you were still on your back but he could enter you from behind. Somehow, Somehow he was able to stroke deeper inside of you, with an angle that felt euphoric. The moan he unleashed from his chest was downright obscene.

You were practically drooling and your eyes rolled, “Yes, yes, yes,” you weren’t going to last. Your skin felt too tight and your blood was too hot. Judging by the downright obscene moan he unleashed from his chest, he was close too.

Again his hand found your breast and squeezed hard enough to bring attention to it, before sliding up to your throat. His fingers encircled and tightened just enough for it to become a little difficult to breathe.

He’s killed grown men with that very same hand around their throats. He could do the same to you in an instant and yet you didn’t shy away from him. Your trust in him drove him absolutely wild. His thrusts became sloppy and irregular.

“Cum with me,” you begged, not just with your words but with your eyes. You needed him like air like he was pleasure itself.

It broke him, your words broke him. It was all he needed for the tether to sanity to snap and he drove himself into you, his fingers digging into flesh and muscle in an attempt to ground himself to his own body. His new vigour was merciless and forced whimpers from you, ripped them right from your chest.

Your thirst climax was devastating, so intense not even a sound could escape you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, your cunt spasming around him. If he didn’t pull out to release himself on your ass when he did you probably would have kicked him off you from overstimulation. His groans and ravaged pants conveyed his own fatigued and satisfaction before his words could. Strength betrayed him and he plopped onto the bed beside you, taking your achy body with him so you were laying across his broad chest. You laid silently for a time and you traced the lines of his tattooed arm and the bite mark you had given to him. His heart hammered against his chest, and his voice resonated against your ear as he spoke, “You felt exactly how I imagined you’d feel,”

A sheepish smile spread across your face, “You felt better than I imagined you’d feel,” and he did. A man hasn’t made you feel that good in…well, ever.

He made a sound that resembled a laugh, “We better get you cleaned up,” he delicately moved you off him, offering the blanket you found earlier for warmth while he dressed. He wet a tea towel with the canteen of water underneath the kitchenette and helped you clean up his and your mess. Then he tossed you a clean shirt from his day pack, “Get some rest. I need to finish fixing this damn thing so we can get the hell out of here.”

You don’t know how long it took him to fix the radios (or if he slept), because you fell asleep shortly after but when you awoke in the morning he had already packed everything up and called in an exfil. They were going to pick you two up in 20 mins, and you and Ghost spent that 20 sharing hot, sloppy kisses with your body trapped between him and the door. If the chopper took any longer you were sure he would have taken you right there.

You readjusted your satchel for the third time, tightening the straps till you couldn’t anymore. The pilot was the same woman from your last mission, her all-knowing eyes widening when she saw you, “You been working out more, Ghost? Or did your vest shrink in the wash?”

Oh, shit.

He looked down at the badge on the chest, before jerking his attention to the badge on yours, of the lack thereof.

Somehow you’d mixed up your vests on your way out the door.

“Honest, mistake,” he shrugged and removed it with expert efficiency switching it with you for his.

“I’ve never made it,” the pilot teased, not even trying to hide her smile.

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A/N - he’s so yummy

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pileofwords · 2 years

Text

live stream

pairing: s.coups x reader length: 1.2k genre: fluff summary: seungcheol is in the middle of an impromptu live stream when you, unaware, burst into his room and are caught on camera.

You weren’t thinking of much when you headed to Seungcheol’s room and burst through the closed door.

His good morning text had been one telling you that you could come over after work and that had been, quite literally, the only thing that had gotten you through the rest of the day. The sole thoughts floating around your mind were of the food you’d brought over and how much you wanted to grab the boy in question so you could eat it together.

“Seungcheol, beloved, light of my life, world’s best boyfriend, I have– what?”

Seungcheol stared at you like a deer in headlights from his position sitting cross legged on his bed. His eyes flickered to the phone he had propped up against a couple of pillows, then to you; confused, you followed his gaze back to the phone. There was a beat of silence, then you slapped your hand over your mouth as your heart dropped very dramatically into your stomach.

“Oh no.”

Seungcheol looked like he was somewhere between wanting to swear and wanting to burst out laughing and couldn’t quite decide which direction to take.

“Oh no,” you repeated, slowly taking several steps backward, even though you weren’t visible on screen from this angle. “Live?” He nodded, confirming what you were already certain of. Whatever poor soul was monitoring his live was probably having a complete breakdown; you just groaned. “Ah.” Over three years of sneaking around down the drain. You’d known this day would come eventually - it was inevitable - but you hadn’t exactly expected it’d be today when you woke up this morning.

From his spot on the bed, Seungcheol weighed his options. One quick glance at the screen showed comments coming in so fast they were nothing more than a blur. Even if they didn’t upload the replay, he knew there would be clips saved and some three hundred and seventy thousand people had just heard the exchange live – there wasn’t exactly a way to talk yourselves out of this one. And, honestly, he didn’t really want to.

So he looked at you.

He tilted his head in the direction of his phone. Wanna join?

You raised an eyebrow. Is that allowed?

A shrug. I don’t care.

A hesitant step forward. I dunno. You sure?

And he opened his arms, a smile finally blossoming over his face. “C’mere.”

You paused for a second longer until he wrinkled up his nose ever-so-slightly and wiggled his shoulders; you caved immediately, plopping down on the edge of his bed, just barely visible at the edge of his phone screen.

“Baaaaabe,” he whined and grabbed your arm, tugging on it until you obliged him and scooted closer; he wrapped his arms around you fully and rested his chin on your shoulder before smiling at his phone.

“Say hi.”

When you finally looked at your images on the screen, you started to pout. “No fair, you look way better than I do.”

“No I don’t!”

“Cheol, I ran over here after my workout, I look like a trainwreck. I accidentally crashed your live and I look like a disaster, this is the worst possible first impression I could make.”

Seungcheol laughed, your favorite giggly ‘ha ha ha’ laugh, the one that filled you up and made you feel warm, and he squished his cheek against your shoulder. One hand slipped around to rest against the small of your back, drawing slow, deliberate circles there in reassurance.

“I think you’re the prettiest in the world.”

That’s all it took for your face to begin heating up, turning a splotchy red for all four hundred and eighty thousand viewers to see (when did so many more people show up?).

“Carats, this is my partner.” There was an unmistakable note of pride in his voice that only made the red spilled over your cheeks darken. You hadn’t thought it possible, but the comments looked like they were coming in even faster than before and you went cross eyed trying to catch any words at all.

“We’ve been together for…a little over three years?”

You nodded in confirmation. “Yep!” You glanced back at the screen for a second. “I know you guys already know this, but he’s the best.” You watched a delightedly smug little smirk appear on his face and rolled your eyes. “But you have to stop telling him that or his ego’s just gonna explode and he’s gonna be totally insufferable.”

“Hey!” He whacked your arm playfully, the smirk replaced with a pout, and this time it was your turn to laugh.

“I'm teasing, you know I love you."

That’s all it took for his pout to be replaced with the widest grin and he gave your waist a gentle squeeze. “Love you most.”

“Ugh, gross, publicly declaring your love like five minutes after we tell people we’re dating.”

And he was laughing again, his smile so bright it was blinding, crumpling into you as he dissolved into giggles, which only made you laugh with him. There, in his arms, laughing until your sides hurt – that was home.

It took a minute or two for you both to settle down, but Seungcheol began to play with a strand of your hair once he did. “Babe, what’d you come in for in the first place?”

“Ah!” You sat up a little straighter, suddenly remembering the purpose of your mission, and turned your head, lowering your voice so it wasn’t picked up on the stream. “I brought your favorite for dinner because Shua told me you haven’t eaten yet. He wanted to do a movie night? You wanna?”

He nodded. “Mmm. Sounds good.”

You grinned. “I’ll go tell Shua and Jeonghan. Take your time!” You slid off the bed, rolling your eyes when Seungcheol grabbed your arm and tugged you back in to leave a quick kiss on your cheek. You stuck your tongue out at him playfully before disappearing into the hallway, pulling his door shut behind you.

Seungcheol waited until he was sure you were out of earshot before he turned his attention back to his phone. “Carats,” he started, his tone carrying just a hint of warning, “be nice to them.”

The comments hadn’t slowed down since you walked in the room, but he caught a lot of heart emojis, “so cute!!”s, and general statements of affirmation.

“They mean a lot to me, so you have to be nice, okay?” He waited a minute, pushing his hair up and out of his face, only for it to fall right back into place. “I know you will be, but I just wanted to say it anyway. I’m gonna go eat dinner now. Everyone have a good night, sleep well.” He brought his hand up in front of his face to wave at the camera. “Bye bye!” And he ended the live, leaving his phone there, propped up against the pillows, as he ambled off to find you.

—

Later that night, he posted one picture on weverse; him smiling at the camera with you pressed up against his shoulder, fast asleep, face obscured by shadows. His fingers hovered over the screen for a second before he edited the post, adding a caption.

our own heaven 😊❤️

#caratwritersclub #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen scenarios #s.coups x reader #seungcheol x reader #s.coups imagines #choi seungcheol #s.coups #seventeen #sometimes i start fics and then have no idea how to end them and this is what you get #me as i throw heaven's cloud lyrics in at the end of this fic: it's fine heaven's cloud solves everything #ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

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