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flowermiist · 4 months

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A warm heart - I

Click here to read the prologue if you haven’t ♡

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Some time ago, you started a cooking channel on YouTube as a way to relax, have a proper hobby and teach others your favorite recipes as you improved your own culinary skills too. Fame wasn't something you wanted, you were more than happy with your 50k subscribers... Yet you never thought you'd stumble upon one of them.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: I would like to start off by saying thank you for all the kind comments, likes and reblogs the prologue has gotten. I was going to make this chaper longer but wanted to leave some intrigue. I’m currently working on the second chapter as I post this. Again, thank you so so much. Don’t forget to like, reblog and comment please. ♡

“Didn’t know you were that much into cooking, cap.” Garrick says, hiding a smirk and almost teasing as he sits across the captain who simply gives him a small cranky huff and his tired eyes stick back to the screen of his phone with the video playing.

Only one of the wired earbuds is connected to his ear as he watches every single detail almost carefully –

“Improving my cooking skills, somethin’ the lot of you should start doing.”

It was by far clear that John wasn’t in the best of moods after a stressing mission, his voice much hoarser and raspier than usual – the scent of the cheap cigar he had gotten from a gas station fills the tent as Mactavish sleeps with arms crossed, his head hanging low and Simon keeps guard – his eyes moving towards the conversation from time to time.

“Been trying to get the hang of it…” He speaks again with a sigh and an attempt not to be too grumpy, trying to remain as composed as he can while wiping off the sweat from his forehead, the lines on his rough skin becoming accentuated as he slightly frowns.

“And how’s it going?” Gaz asks with more curiosity now, looking at his captain and placing his elbows on the wooden table.

“Good, ’s far as I can tell.” Is all John responds, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he tries to sink deeper into the folding wooden chair tapping his cigar against the makeshift ashtray (which was simply an empty can of tuna) as the already weak string of smoke dies away.

You quickly scramble out of the bathroom, uniform already displayed on your bed. Stopping in right front of your vanity and placing a hand against the wall as you lean closer to the mirror to get a better look, trying to be as careful as possible not to mess up your lipstick – the moment you can’t find your shoes, you just get more irritated and the irritation mixing with yesterday’s hangover is not a pretty feeling, especially at this time of day.

You know you no longer have time to find your comfortable shoes the moment you look at the watch on your left wrist so you move towards your closet and take out a pair of nude stiletto heels, not the most convenient or comfortable ones but better than going barefoot to work or using one of your “I’m only here at the club to dance and get laid tonight.” pumps.

The moment you step into your car and try to start the engine, it makes that funny noise you hate but know too well to ignore.

“C’mon… let’s not embarrass ourselves, will you stop acting up before a neighbor notices and calls me broke?” You mumble to your own car like a crazy woman as the engine struggles to start.

Three days, three whole damned days since the engine of your car has been struggling to start and has started getting on your nerves – you tried to contact Harrison, your mechanic and the asshole has been completely ignoring your calls, he not only overpriced every little thing he did to your car but also thought you were some sort of stupid woman who didn’t know anything about your own car.

Sure, you could just drive to his garage and tell him the problem right away, but you were loaded with work these days and this man’s policy was to book in through a phone call to get your call fixed – otherwise, he refused to fix anything. And knowing him, there was no way he’d pick up any of your calls anytime soon.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips the moment your car decides to cooperate and the engine starts. “Good girl...” You whisper through your teeth with a smile, moving your finger towards the screen of the radio to start it.

“Well damn! Doesn’t someone look sexy as hell this morning?” Zaila says as she looks at you up and down from her desk – obviously noticing the shoes you chose this morning, you smile at her as you walk towards the reception.

“Well, to your information, I was actually thinking about bringing the leopard print ones you love so much…” You speak with a playful tone while you put your purse on top of her counter.

You give her a sly smirk, checking in with the fingerprint scan she places in front of you.

“I know I’m late… I’m hungover and my car is acting up again and that asshole won’t-” before you can even finish, Zaila moves her hand up to stop you, her various bracelets jingle on her wrist when she does this, stopping you from opening your mouth to explain any further.

You sigh as you already know what she’s about to say.

“Don’t think about it, alright? I was late too – stayed up fighting with that annoying witch living next door. Barely got any rest.”

Zaila says and you smile.

“Somethin’ to laugh about?” She asks, raising an eyebrow and giving you her best warning look.

“No ma’am.” You say with a thankful smile, getting a hold of your purse again before lightly squeezing Zaila’s soft hand and walking away towards your consulting room.

You check your phone while the computer on the desk turns on, you check your channel and smile to yourself while reading some of the comments from your lasagna recipe.

You definitely worked hard for that video and your subscribers seemed to really like it – you were aware that the ages of your views were something quite varied. From teenagers learning how to cook for themselves to middle aged adults improving in the kitchen.

Looking back at the computer in front of you, you put your phone down and begin organizing and checking some files from your patients.

Coming here with Zaila for lunch break was a good idea as always. Both of you laugh, gossip and enjoy lunch break while you sit at the small fancy restaurant that’s right across the street from the clinic.

Zaila went to the bathroom as the two of you waited for the food you ordered to arrive, leaving you alone at the table. You looked through your purse to grab your small mirror when your phone started buzzing from the call you were now receiving.

You grab it and look at the screen, reading the name of the contact, “Harrison - Mechanic.” – you huff and roll your eyes as you answer the call from the asshole that had been ignoring you for the past three days.

“Am I speaking to my favorite client?” The mechanic says, his tone sounding almost cheerful, you’ve known this man for some time now and you know him well enough to know he’s probably drunk.

“So you ignore your favorite client’s calls for three days straight now?” You reply to him. It sounds too rude, you know that but this man is an asshole too and him ignoring you was three times worse than your words.

“Oh c’mon… I’ve just been… uh…” – you wait in silence and look at your nails, already wondering what excuse he’s going to give you.

“–that doesn’t matter now since I’m talking to you, aye? What seems to be the problem with your lady?”

“What makes you think I’ll go back to your garage?” You speak, almost irritated, then catch a glimpse of Zaila from the corner of your eye while she talks to one of the waiters on her way back to the table.

“I’ll give you a discount, how ’bout that, doc? No need to make this call any longer, just, eh, come over and I’ll check on her.” Harrison speaks and you swear you can almost see that annoying smile of his as he speaks.

“You sure you won’t “forget” about your promise when I get there?” You speak, your tone almost sarcastic.

“Would I ever lie to my favorite client?” – Yeah he definitely would, but your car needs a mechanic now and as big of an asshole Harrison can be, you have to admit he’s good at his work when he wants to be.

“Alright, I’ll try to be there after work.” You finally say, ending the call to look at Zaila who is now sitting back on her chair.

John walks through the cereal aisle, gripping the steel handle as the wheels roll. He wasn’t in such a bad mood now that he left base, with the leave he got, he actually felt more relaxed.

The man would not deny he was more used to walking through the halls of a military base than walking through the long aisles of a supermarket – maybe he’d go for a few drinks after this, not wanting to spend his time isolated at home for too long. John clears his throat and rubs forehead and eyes with his fingertips, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He has the essentials in his cart, some milk, vegetables, juice, meat, rice and the three-in-one shampoo he has grown used to.

As John moves his cart towards the register, he glances at two adults and a child – the boy no older than five years and throwing quite the show as he cries and squirms on the floor while he grips a box with children’s toys. He looks at the adults that seem to be his parents, a man and a woman with worried and irritated look on their faces as they try to calm him down.

Was this the reason he never looked forward to starting a family, ugly temper tantrums? No, that would only be another excuse – Maybe the demands of his job? It would be too selfish to leave a woman whom he’d call his wife by herself taking care of a kid while he was in the middle of god-knows-where.

Had he given up the idea of starting a family of his own? Because it surely seemed late for him to try.

Did he want that life? Was he getting tired of going home to an empty house? He didn’t really know if he could call his house a home, it didn’t exactly feel like the concept of a warm family waiting for him, some kids, a wife and a dog – but at least, no children or a wife would be missing him and suffering while waiting for him to get home. To get back home from a job that has his life on the line between life and death, between doing terrible things to accomplish a greater purpose and getting his hands dirtier than ever.

His bubble of thoughts are popped with a sharp pin as the cashier looks at him and speaks, clearing her throat and almost giving him a dirty look for staying so still while glancing at the family – “Sir, you’re next.” The woman speaks as he looks at her.

“Right, sorry.” The rugged man says as he starts moving the things of his cart to the register.

You didn’t drive to Harrison’s right away after work, you stopped at home and took a shower, changing your clothes and then stopping at the grocery store – It was supposed to be a quick trip but you almost throw your bags on the floor of the store’s parking lot as you notice your rear left tire almost entirely flat.

“Fuck…” you mumble as you approach it, your breath hitches and you try to remain as calm as possible, lowering the grocerie bags on the floor, not caring about them getting dirty anymore.

You approach the tire and give it two small kicks to check how soft it was, it would be impossible to drive to your mechanic with a tire like this.

You knew how to change a tire, sure – your father had shown you a long time ago after a nail punctured one of the rear wheels of his truck. But that was too long ago for you to remember step by step and you knew the mechanic would not pick up if you called him to come here and help you. Even if he did, the man would overcharge you as always and you were not about to tolerate that, not after he promised you a discount to fix what was wrong with the engine.

Opening the trunk of your car, you search for a way to lift the liner carpet knowing the tire tools might be underneath it – You grunt as you lift the heavy box and see the spare tire underneath it. Right as you struggle to lift it a voice interrupts you.

“Need any help with that?” You turn around towards the husky unknown voice you just heard just to see a man standing there with his own grocery bags.

The silence is almost palpable as you look at him.

“Changing a tyre by yourself can be hard.” He says again, you huff after hearing his words –

“Are you suggesting I can’t do it by myself?”

you blurt out, immediately biting your tongue as you realize how rude and bitchy that must have sounded, but before you can even correct yourself the man speaks.

“Wasn’t making any suggestions, miss, just trying to lend a helping hand.” The man doesn’t seem phased in the slightest by the tone you used. He speaks with such eloquence and calmness that you are surprised he didn’t get offended and leave right after you spoke.

“Sorry, I- That was really rude of me.” You say, almost blushing from the embarrassment you just put yourself through with your own words, you didn’t mean to take your frustration out on a man offering his help.

“All is forgiven, miss.” He takes one step closer and looks at the trunk of the car where the spare tire is. What you didn’t know is that he recognized you the moment he heard your voice and saw your face, it had to be you – the girl from the cooking videos he has been watching for the last whole month; yet he was not about to comment on it because if for some reason it actually wasn’t you then it would make things too awkward, he thought.

“May I?” You immediately nod and stop staring.

“Yes- But… I wouldn’t want to bother you though.” He shakes his head and lowers his grocerie bags onto the floor.

“Not a bother at all, miss. I was just heading home. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes to change it.” You clear your throat and nod as the man speaks, the embarrassment going away.

“You sure?”

“Quite sure.”

You step aside as he lifts the spare tire with such ease only using one of his arms and using his other hand as he grabs he handle of your car’s toolbox with the other hand.

The man moves to kneel down right in front of the tire and you take a moment to inspect him. By the accent, he is clearly from here. Icy blue eyes and a masculine rugged look, not to the point he’s too intimidating but nearly there. The navy blue t-shirt he wears looks a bit tight on him, he seems older than you by a few years not too many though – you can clearly tell that by the few lines on his forehead and the few grey hairs on his dark brown beard. Last time you saw someone wearing such interesting mutton chops beard with that moustache was during a disney movie.

You try not to stare when the muscles on his arms flex the moment he grips the wheel brace as he loosens the wheel bolts by twisting them.

“You’ve got experience, I reckon.” You say as he carefully aligns the scissor jack under the jacking point of your car, he looks at you and nods with a very small smile.

“Not to brag, miss. Done this many times.” His voice rumbling on his chest, the two of you make some eye contact for a single second and he breaks it by moving the wheel brace to the jack. – “Had any trouble with your car ’fore?” He asks as the tool begins to lift up the car slowly when he twists it.

“I was about to drive to my mechanic’s after he spent three days ignoring my calls, some engine problems.” The man listens to you carefully.

“I believe three day’s enough to know your mechanic might be too irresponsable – Not to intrude with my comments though.” He moves to take out the old tire.

You sigh and nod “He’s an asshole, I know.” Your chuckle makes him sigh and give you a small chuckle of his own as he places the wheel down, shaking his head slowly.

He still can’t believe he’s seeing you in person – Well, that might sound weird but the man has seen too many of your cooking videos to deny it’s you.

“Mind giving me a small class?” You ask, taking a step closer – how ironic, he’s been the one watching your cooking recipes and learning from them and now he’s the one teaching you?

He nods.

“Wanna try?” He suggests and you oblige by grabbing the tool. “This is the lug wrench, right?” You ask and he nods again.

“We call them wheel braces ’ere but yes – It is.” He moves to grab the replacement tire and aligns the holes of the bolt with the lugs and begins to tighten them.

“These are the wheel bolts, you twist ’em with your hands as much as you can ’fore you lower the car with your jack and tighten them again usin’ the brace.” The way he explains it to you almost makes you blush as you are leaning forward and looking at the tire like a child at the aquarium.

You glance at his arms as he lowers the car using the jack again, making that twisting movement that makes the muscles on his arms even bigger, and the veins on his rough hands more noticeable.

The english man tightens the bolts before fully removing the jack from under your car, he lets out a quiet, deep grunt when he gets up again. You help him by grabbing some of the tools as he grabs the old wheel that was apparently pricked by a rusty nail.

“Good as new now, eh?” He says and you realize your mistake after be places the old tire in the trunk of your car. –“I’m so sorry- uh, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Y/N.” That clicks in John’s head, it really was you and he was almost amused to say the least.

“No need to be sorry. ’m John, John Price.”

You shake his hand, not caring in the slightest about the dust on his hand from manipulating all those tools and both tires – his hand feels rough, calloused as if he’s too used to doing these type of things often, the heavy work.

“Forgive me if this sounds strange but ’m pretty sure I’ve watched your videos a few times. Cooking, right?” John says after your hands separate.

You are immediately surprised, almost in awe and he can tell by the look on your face. You try to keep your jaw as tight as you humanly can – almost as if it would comically fall to the floor is you dared to open it.

“Yeah, that’s… me, yes.” You smile at him widely. “You’ve really watched my videos?” You ask, amused, all your worries go away as his words make your whole week, it’s the first time something like this has happened to you.

“Could say ’m a bit of a fan, actually.” He gives you a smile of his own before he continues talking and looking into your eyes, deeply.

“Wanted to start improving my skills and happened to watch one of your videos, the food I prepared turned out surprisingly well – subscribed ’bout a month ago and… been watching ’em ever since.” That raspy and collected tone of his almost soothes your nerves.

“I’m shocked- I’ve never met any of my subscribers…” You admit with a smile full of excitement.

“Well, ’sppose there’s always a first time, innit?” – there is a comfortable silence after you nod but is broken by John looking back at your car.

“You mentioned there was a problem with the engine, that right?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Mhm, it stops sometimes and it can be tricky to start it.” You speak with a sheepish smile and the man crosses his arms as he stands in front of you.

“Want me to take a look?” Honestly? You’d like to talk to him more but you have to get to Harrison’s befoee he closes and you don’t want to keep John here forever, as happy as you are right now. His grocerie bags are on the floor with yours, completely forgotten and you wouldn’t want him to waste his time.

“Don’t worry, I was on my way to the mechanic anyway. Wouldn’t want to keel you here forever.”

“You sure?” John looks at your car then back at you – you give him a nod and he sighs.

“Well… If the engine’s been playin’ games with ya and stops on your way there. Let me know, I mean-” He scrounches up his face in annoyance when the excuse of giving you his number gets too obvious but the sound of the giggle that escapes your lips makes it go away.

“Could use your number for that.” You say quicker than you expected and he immediately smiles, clicking his tongue and taking out his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“Right.” John says with that deep husky tone rumbling on his chest and a small smile on his face, almost a shy one.

After getting his number, you glance at his brown boots as he lifts up his bags and gives you a small goodbye nod, you wave your hand at him and smile almost stupidly.

“It was nice meetin’ you, Y/N.” John says and you nod too.

“It was nice meeting you too, John.”

As he makes his way to his own truck, you lift up your long forgotten bags and put them in the backseat of your car before you start the engine and sigh in relief since it didn’t give you any trouble this time.

“Well that was hot…” You mumble with a smile as you reverse the car.

Taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @thesevi0lentdelights @zekes-beard (Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be added! ♡)

#captain price #john price #call of duty #john price x reader #cod #cod mw2 #captain price x reader #captain price x you #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod modern warfare #fanfic

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nouearth · 9 months

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12 Months

peter parker x male reader.

series: 12 Months. part i.

summary: where you couldn't possibly imagine to find love and sanctuary anywhere else, you somehow find it in the presence of a boy named peter.

wc: 4.3k. genre: angst. warnings: loner!reader, sad!reader, implied abuse, implied bullying, high school senior year, slow-burn.

a/n: i'm trying something new with my writing! mostly not using all lowercase because it became a pain to type on my phone, LOL. but i welcome you guys to my fully planned series! it's exciting, but especially kind of scary since school is coming up. i might put off requests to focus on this, if it does well, but if not, i'll slowly update. i guess the reader kind of hits close to home, a little too close, since i've been feeling some type of way recently. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy the first part!

SEPTEMBER.

The big hand of the clock flicked closer to the end of the day, the small hand circling around the circumference to pass time.

Conversations of peers were usually drowned out with the help of your earbuds. The gentle strum of acoustics would counter the excitement of the students’ well-being; friends opinionated in after-school activities, athletes talked about the upcoming game with your rival school, artists boasted over the amount of commissions they’ve received overnight.

For the first time, you heard it all, and took it all in with an inhale, then silence as you stared at Peter Parker. The earbuds were slotted into your ear canals, but today, the wired nubs were worn to merely dull your surroundings as you awaited the intercom to bid the occupants of the building farewell for the day. Your leg shook, bouncing your book bag atop of it, and you held it steady when you hugged it close to your chest, chin resting at the strap. It appeased the throttle in your chest, but every time the classmate opened his mouth for a laugh, it swelled painfully larger. A pump to the husk of a balloon, a breath to the bubble of blue raspberry bubblegum, a vapor to the particles of billowed smoke, it continued swelling and roped your anxiety along for the journey. A part of you needed to talk to him, but the other part begged for reconsideration.

At some point, you forgot to breathe. Feeling blue in the cheeks, you finally exhaled the caught nerves. They drew out of you in shivers, spaghetti boiling in bubbling water if the warmth of your breath could change matter. While the man listened, then talked within his small group of friends, chairs and desks were gathered around to form a circle, you examined him cautiously. If Peter was to turn his head and meet the affection in your gaze, you were lucky to have the window by your side to turn back to, feigning interest in the clouds, the sky, the breeze in the trees. Until then, his smile unmasked pearly whites that rivaled the lights that illuminated the classroom. His russet hair was pushed back, wavy locks that were brushed simply so people could easily follow the pattern with one glance.

“Gooooood Afternoon, Midtown!” The intercom blared, and a warning from your teacher hushed your classmates into a sea of scatters. “Before we send you kiddos off, we would like to remind all of you that the Midtown Tigers will be playing against Weston’s Sea Hawks tonight! Show your support by attending the game and cheering for our team. Let’s show those dirty hawks that tonight will be the night that we can bounce back from our 18th consecutive loss!” It continued with its usual announcements of bus delays and afternoon activities before finally blaring that cathartic bell.

Footsteps crowded the halls, and your classmates joined its symphony in heavy to light strides. While you watched, your pace slowed deliberately as Peter’s friends bid him farewell. You overheard them asking him if he was going to join them in the mall, but he declined, blaming his absence on his aunt. They left one by one, until the only occupants were you, your teacher, and Peter.

“Peter?” You were up on your feet, approaching him from the back of the classroom as you slung the bag over your shoulder. Your voice cracked from the parched of your throat, mousy in performance, and you were unsure if Peter heard you. Your mouth opened again to call to him again, but he turned with a friendly smile, raising his brows in interest, and they closed.

“Oh, hey!” His face lit up when he saw you, or maybe you were convincing yourself. Not even your reflection looked at you the way Peter did. You were even surprised he recognized you. Cared to remember you. He hurriedly threw his books into his backpack before swinging it over his shoulder, meeting you in the middle of the row of desks. “What’s up?”

“I…” You’ve only spoken to him twice. The first was a mere greeting, and the second was a painful answer to his worry.

Are you okay? Yes.

The beating in your chest hiked in rhythms, compelled gravity to rob your voice, but you were conscious enough to steal it back, softly speaking. “I just want to thank you for… last year. I never got to… properly thank you. So, thank you…” You were intoxicated by the amount of times you said those appreciative words, but gratitude sobered you up, offering the latter a small, grateful smile.

“Oh…” The smile on Peter’s face simmered into a relieved line. He then nodded towards the door for you to follow him, and you did, silently by his side. “You don’t have to thank me, (M/N). I did what anyone would do.”

Everyone let it happened, except for you.

The hallway was quick to clear as students rushed to spend the remaining hours of their Friday without any regrets. The silence was deafening except for the squeak of your shoes and the whispered gossip between faculty members, and for a place you often labeled as your personal hell, it wasn’t so bad when it was purged of those that spawned that definition in your life.

Maybe you were walking slower, or you were keeping with Peter’s pace, or the hallways had undergone construction to stretch the floors, or the awkward silence between the both of you that blurred your perception, but the travel from your classroom to the exit of the building was a journey.

“Is he still bothering you? I don’t know if he’s in your other classes, but he’s not in mine, so…” Peter spoke up, alluding to the classmate who called you disgusting names, shoved your books to the floor, stole the change of your clothes during gym. And you wished it would stop there, at the actions of the cliché bully trope, but it never did. He pushed the door open, politely letting you out first, and you stepped into the warmth with a small thank you,’ and continued walking with him. Summer cicadas harmonized in their greeting.

“No, not anymore.” You lied, dropping that hand that once held onto the padded straps of your backpack to your side. The dark color of your pants masked the bruise on your wrist when you shoved it deep into your pocket. “I have him in a few of my classes, but luckily he’s preoccupied with his friends.”

“Geez, you got his friends too? That’s… gotta be a loud classroom.” He laughed, and you joined in to delude yourself, and Peter, into thinking everything was okay.

The sound of multiple engines running within the yellow busses reminded you how incredibly enamored you were with Peter. By now, motors would’ve been buried by earbuds, and the walk wouldn’t have been so deafening to your ear canals. But hearing Peter’s voice soothed the damage, and you wished you had a playlist of him saying your favorite words, reading your favorite novels, rescuing you with worried comfort. You wanted to continue the conversation, change the subject, but you never knew how, so it fell to silence. Again.

“I’ll see you around, Peter.” You spoke softly again, paused when you and Peter reached the end of the sidewalk. You were familiar with Peter’s route. He lived in the opposite side of your street, and the curved path to the right practically led him back to his apartment. All he had to do was follow the beige pavement. “…and thank you, again. It means a lot.” A genuine smile, one that you haven’t been able to sprout for weeks, months you could argue, and Peter’s breath hiked.

“Of course…” It took his breath away. The cloudy day was drawing in the last of its colors, but the rare hint of your teeth, the curve of your lips, made the sky above him, behind you, bloom in the softest blues, yellows, and whites. Selfishly, he wished you smiled more, because the release that was pulled from him evened the astonishment of a child seeing stars for the very first time.

“I’ll see you around, (M/N).”

OCTOBER.

The workload in your classes had picked up, and with the part-time job at the local bookstore, you were envious of customers who had finished their backlog of novels. Mainly working adults. Still, there was never enough hours in the day to immerse yourself in the world of a brave protagonist, slaying off demons and dragons in the pursuit of love. You never got to finish the fantasy novel you were reading, but you’d imagine it ended with the hero beheading the fire-breathing behemoth, and its head would be pridefully worn on a stick like cotton candy. Cheers erupted when the character returned, then roared when their love blessed them with one thankful kiss.

The ladder was anchored to the wooden, though creaky, floors as you held your breath from inhaling dust. When the door was pushed open by curious passersby, particles of dust sailed with the draft that was invited in, and you coughed into the crook of your arm whenever one floated into your throat. Though, you couldn’t be too annoyed. It also provided a test to see if the Halloween decorations could withstand the wind as they sat on hooks that were nailed into the ceilings. Spirals of orange and black ribbons roped cartoonish gravestones, black cats, pumpkins, skulls, ghouls, all the mascots of the holiday, from above. The draft animated them in gentle swings, delicate arcs that cooled the confined space of the bookstore, but as far as you could tell, none of them had landed on the ground.

“Looks great, (M/N)! I think we’re good on the hanging decorations!” Your manager, Anna, gave the metal ladder a strong pat before tending to the fallen dust. It shook in fear, and you did too, immediately clutching to the fly to stabilize it.

“Any else? We still haven’t decorated the windows.” You climbed down cautiously, making sure she was in your line of sight because for all you could know, she could be an omen.

“The stick on the ones I got suck, so I was thinking that we’ll decorate it on Halloween? Before opening?” She said, opening the door after to sweep out the culprits of your coughing fits.

“Sounds good.” You collapsed the extension of the ladder once you stepped off, folding it into a thicker shape, and nodded before returning the ladder to its rightful place in the storage room.

“Doing anything fun for Halloween?! Parties?!” Anna’s voice boomed despite the door muffling it. The natural luminous of her voice was something you usually cowered away from, especially when she called for you in front of customers. Luckily, the store was closed, vacant of any witnesses to the flare of your cheeks. Cardboard boxes stacked atop of one another, and for some reason, you were suddenly determined to face your procrastination head-on. “Horror movies?!”

“Uh…” The volume of your voice was still muted despite forcing yourself to make it sonorous. It came out in staggered breaths as you flattened the boxes with your weight, stepping on them at the crease and fold, until you were able to fold them into neat, flat shapes. “Not really! I usually don’t do anything for celebrations.”

“Seriously?” The sound of sweeps came closer to you. They sounded like laughs, almost as if they were mocking you. When you looked up, it was Anna’s fretted expression that reminded you that they were just sounds. No one was here to hurt you. Laugh at you.

It was just you and Anna. And sounds.

“Mm-hmm.” You simply answered, packing the flattened boxes into a trash bag before storing it back to where the stack previously harbored. The room felt bigger now. You exited after switching off the lights, and took Anna’s broom to sweep up the fuzzy stray materials of cardboard.

“How come?” Her shoulder supported her leaning stance as she pressed to the wall, watching you diligently work with crossed arms. She gasped out of realization. “Oh no—did something horrible happen on Halloween? Is that why you don’t celebrate?!”

“No, nothing like that!” You laughed. It was always genuine with her. Anna was at least twenty years older than you, but she still kept the youthfulness of a child. You were envious of it.

“I just…” Big sweeps to walnut flooring kept your mind at ease. The thick hairs brushed evenly, catching lint in the hay. They clung protectively onto the strands the more you brushed, the harder as well. It reminded you of nights, lonesome in your bed. No matter how hard you tried to remove those pesky lints, they always stayed. Always found a way to intrude. “—don’t have parties to go to.”

Nor did you have friends to watch movies with, or a willing family to celebrate with if all plans fell through. It’s been you since you can remember, and you’ve gotten used to it. Though, you’d never admit that to her.

The trail of your voice and the mindless polishing of walnut immediately foiled your discreet speech, but Anna knew better than to prod. From the day you came in for the interview, she remembered the timidness of your slouch, your pattern of speech, your orbs. One could argue that they were nerves, universal tremors one every eighteen year old got when applying for their first job. Then, she trained you. It was just you and her, and the shelves of delicate books. Over the next few weeks, Anna learned that you were as frail as the old spine of donated hardbacks.

Her knowledge of you only sank surface-deep, barely a scratch or a wound. At one point, she thought it was because of her personality: chipper as a mourning dove, loud as her neighbor’s lawnmower on Sundays, but compared to how she met you five months ago, it delighted her to see progress. Slowly but surely, you opened up to her. She knew your favorite color, your favorite meal, your favorite novel, and she was no longer insecure. There will be a time when she’d meet the root of your soul, and if it took a month, a year, or another, she’d wait.

“Everything okay at school?” She’s been meaning to ask. It was an exciting time for a new business, but incredibly stressful as well. Most never made it after six months, especially within an industry where independent bookstores have become increasingly difficult to sustain with the presence of technology. Anna was just fortunate enough to have seen such quick growth.

Anna took the broom from your hand, stashed it back in the storage room, then guided you to a table for two near the entrance of the store. It was her favorite spot because she loved seeing the wonderment of her customers when they left with the book they couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Yeah,” You quickly answered and offered her a simple smile, devoid of any purpose but to pacify her worries. It worked on your parents, and you liked to think that it worked on Anna as well. “Well, they’re doing some construction in the school gym. I heard that they’re planning to add a room for—“

“That’s great, (M/N), but…” Her arms remained crossed, below her chest, and she nodded to the bruise on your cheek. Purple bloomed high on your cheekbone. Occasionally, it throbbed whenever a draft hit your frail skin. You assumed it was its way to kiss it better, and so you would let it in seek of sating the empty feeling in your stomach. “That. I meant the bruise…”

“Oh—“ Out of instinct, your hand reached up to dab at the purpling skin. Numbed at the first layer, but you pressed deeper, and you hid a jolt with a sudden clear of your throat. “Uh… cat— got me. My mom always said to never play with strays.”

It was a lame excuse and you knew it. Anna did too. Before you could see her face scrunch into a stew of concern, you turned the bruised cheek away and looked to the heights of the sky, out the window, and wished you could fly into the night.

On Halloween, the promotion regarding a sale on donated books, though only paperbacks, if you wore a costume propelled the place to a considerable height. The small size of the store felt even smaller, even more so as Anna’s playlist Halloween music blared in the wall stereo. The sound waves and chatters of excited customers confined you, and you shrunk yourself in corners where it would be coldest. Anna took care of the crowd of patrons, while you assembled the paperbacks in a neatly order within the shelves.

Anna didn’t expect you to comply in participating in the event of Halloween, so the elation in her face was immediately framed in your mind when she hugged you tight, bruising enough to beckon the former bruise on your cheek to reappear, in your Where’s Waldo outfit. Simple, but you were a simple man.

“Excuse me?” An inquisitive voice tore your focus from arranging the novels in alphabetical order. You were kneeling to fill the lower shelf that was too low for anyone to comfortable browse through, but maintained the position as the crowd seemed to have closed in on you. “Do you know if this book qualifies for the sale, or is it paperback only?”

You looked up through your artificial glasses, and the size of your eyes matched the roundness of your frames when it embarrassingly didn’t take you very long to uncover who was under the layer of green face paint. “Peter?”

“O-oh! (M/N), you work here?” His eyes also widened, but he was sober enough to reach his hand out for you to grab onto. “That’s fitting, I guess. You always went to the library during lunch—I-I mean, not that I watch you or anything. I just— happened to notice…” The heat from your palm jumped onto Peter’s when you held on and pulled yourself to your feet. You weren’t sure what to respond to first, but the closed distance between you and Peter was distracting. A fleeting feeling in your chest, and it still overstays it welcome when you backed a step away.

Peter’s never been so close to you. He could smell the scent of ocean mist that he likened to previous shopping trips ago. His aunt may would drag him to the nearest retail store and he’d spend every second of the agonizing trip smelling laundry scent boosters while she stocked up on the pantry. He laughed to himself. You seemed like the type to use those.

“Thanks, uh…” You carefully took the hardback in your hand, examining it with several cycles of flips. It was in mint condition. Usually, a poorer state allowed an extra discount. “The sale is only for paperbacks, but…” Your eyes scanned the room. Fewer people now. Anna was still busy entertaining those that came to participate in the costume contest, a sudden endeavor to drive engagement.

“I can make an exception.” There was a swell in Peter’s heart when you gave him a smile, an uncertain small one, but nonetheless, a smile that warmed his insides. He wouldn’t have minded if he had paid full price anyhow, but he also wouldn’t reject the opportunity to save money.

He followed your steps to the back, away from the engaged crowd, and stilled as you began checking him out. “Just one book?” You looked up, and his lips were already parted as if he was about to say something, but he nodded instead.

Another moment of silence as you took his card after applying the sale to his book, and your fingers drummed to the beat of the music to fill it out, awaiting the receipt to print out. Whenever you had the courage to look at him, he was immersed in the ambiance of the bookstore. Smiling to himself, to Anna, to the laughter of the crowd, and you couldn’t help but hide one yourself, to the ground. When Peter faced you again, you quickly looked away in time, and the receipt rolled out in one smooth motion.

“How are you? Is it always this busy? I’ve never heard of this place.” Peter had a habit of stacking multiple questions with his own observations, with statements, with more questions. Rambles, people would call it. He was attentive, curious, and it all made him the more endearing.

“I’ve been doing okay. Tired, mostly. Miss Wilson’s been keeping me up though.” It was your attempt at a joke, and luckily, it landed when Peter laughed in agreement, elated as if he’d been waiting for the culprit of all-nighters to be of subject.

“Right?!” Peter shook his head when you asked if he wanted a bag, and continued, tucking the book in his armpit when you returned it to him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love her—she’s awesome. But chill out on the essays! An essay about our essays is a task sent from the devil himself.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, and a wider smile brimmed your face in support. For the first time, you felt compelled to talk, to engage into conversation. “Yeah, I missed a few deadlines, but she’s pretty lenient with late work, thankfully.”

“Really? I have a feeling it’s because it’s you! You’re probably her favorite student since you always get the right answers when she calls on you.” He laughed again to escape the awkwardness of his compliment. Subtle, but he hoped you took it pridefully.

Peter looked to the side to see if anyone was coming to conclude their purchase for the night, and was delighted to see the hardwood floor left unattended. “Are you doing anything after this? It’s Halloween, so I imagine people are probably out partying or something.”

“I’m not really a party person.” You nodded to assure yourself, mindlessly rearranging the supplies around the desk to avoid the gaze of his eyes. It sucked you in once, couldn’t look back even if you tried. It was only when Peter turned himself away that you were no longer staring into warm chestnuts. “I only dressed like this since I’d probably look a little out of place if I showed up in my usual uniform, haha.”

“You look cu—“ Peter hurriedly cut himself off, frantic before smiling again. “Nice. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” You returned his smile, soft in form. “What about you? Are you doing anything?”

“Well, I’m not a party person either—oh! There’s this new horror movie that came out a week ago! I’ve been dying to see it,” Peter sparked, gently bouncing on his toes as hope frayed within his words. “If you’re free, would you want to watch it with me?”

“Oh—“ For the first time, you had the option to say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and for some reason, Peter was always at the crime of your firsts. “W-what time? I’ll have to see if it’s okay with Anna if—“

“Let me see…” Light reflected off of Peter’s faced as he searched on his phone, but a buoyant smile that revealed his teeth shined brighter. “One showing at eight, another at ten, and one final one at midnight!”

“Is… midnight okay?” You hesitantly asked, and Peter brightened.

“Midnight is perfect.”

When you left from work, you didn’t bother to call for your parents. It would’ve gone to voicemail anyhow. Instead, Anna took the excited initiative to drive you to the theater despite your assurance that walking would’ve sufficed.

Nonsense! I’m getting my coat. Hold on! Stay right there!

The mystery of what held the rest of the night for you frightened you to the core. What if everything went downhill from here? What if Peter never showed up? What if this had been a prank all along? During the car ride, you breathed, and breathed, and breathed.

And then, breathed.

Inhaled.

Blew in one continuous breath.

Inhaled.

Your chest ran steady again.

That night, Peter made you feel normal. As normal as someone like you could be.

You didn’t plan on getting your fingers buttery, but Peter assured you that his popcorn wasn’t going to finish itself. You shared your sour gummies in return. Peter jumped when a ghost flew to the screen, and you did the same from his own erratic movements. You watched the film through half-closed eyes, peeking between the cracks of your greasy fingers, prepared to be startled by the sound of a door closing, and you laughed silently to yourself because it was silly when you flinched to a cat scurrying away.

While you focused, the structure of your nose and lips, your entire side profile, were handsomely illuminated by the flickers of the screen and Peter took in the animation of your presence, a behemoth contrast of the you he’d known silently for years; the you that kept to himself, ate at lunch by himself, did group projects by himself, studied in the library by himself, walked home by himself. It was pathetic, many would heckle to their circle of friends. Peter overheard the tease and taunts, and he wanted to defend you in those moments. But he couldn’t, not until he knew you.

When you felt the air thicken, you turned to Peter and his gaze unfurled the heavy cloud between the two of you until it vanished into smoke. It sucked you in; his eyes. And you stared wide-eyed, bewildered and lost in the sea of broken stars the screen illustrated in Peter’s orbs. They twinkled with every cut of the scene, sparkling under the terror of the performer’s haunting, until they no longer didn’t when he turned away.

Crimson blanched and wilted into his face, radiated even in the dark when you followed and turned back to the screen. You felt your cheeks rivaling in swatch.

For the first time, you weren’t scared.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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r0ttenhearts · 9 months

Text

won’t you hold my hand again?

distant!xiao x reader

sypnosis: you find xiao at a party after he ghosts you

warnings: angst, no comfort, edibles, mentions of being high, cigarettes, abandonment

“is that xiao?” your breath hitched at the mention of his name, the bright red cup in your hand crinkling. it had been a month since you last talked. every text you sent him being seen, just ignored.

you could still remember his dismissive tone the last time you saw him in his dorm room. the only thing keeping his attention was his phone, not you.

“xiao, why aren’t you listening to me? what’s gotten into you?

“i don’t care about what you have to say. can you go now?”

at the time, the new blonde haired girl being in his contacts wasn’t something you were aware of. only when you saw them both snuggled up together in the library was when you were forced to face the truth, something undeniable but you wished to not see.

now here he was a few feet away from you, same red cup in hand but a distant look in his eyes as he scrolled through his phone.

your friends giggled as they pushed you towards the living room, towards him.

you knew you should have refused their pleas to join them to attend this party. and now you’d have to swallow your regret for the next few hours.

hu tao’s loud cheers from behind xiao snatched your attention to the brown haired-ghost lover as she set a plate of brownies on the table. her wide grin answered the one question you had the second you saw the plate in her hands.

“have an edible xiao, loosen up!” she laughed as she handed xiao one who reluctantly took his split half.

yanfei smiled as she handed you and xinyan a piece. it’s not like you hadn’t taken edibles before, but you slept off your high for the most part. this time you’d be wide awake and experience everything to it’s fullest.

you noticed a pair of golden eyes on yours, your stomach churning. you’d rather be out of it if you were forced to be around him.

with a queasy smile the brownie popped into your mouth. your friends laying on the floor beside you as you waited for it to hit.

an hour passed before you were laughing loudly with your friends. the bright lights seemed brighter than before and your skin prickled with every playful touch from your friends.

“sooo, (y/n). what happened with xiao? you guys were all buddy-buddy. now you don’t even look at him! spill!” hu tao’s chipper attitude was still prevalent even while high.

you shake your head, waving your hand dismissively. “dunno, guess he got with someone else.” you answered.

“that blondie, huh? she keeps coming over.” hu tao twirled her hair around a finger, letting a strand fall. “i always liked you better, (y/n).” she giggled.

“thanks.” you whispered quietly. at the mention of the teal haired boys name your eyes wandered to his sitting form. he was still slouched over on the sofa, the same position he was in earlier. the only difference were the wired earbuds in his ears. the sounds only heard by him.

a part of you wished to take the other earbud and pop it into your ear, enjoying this moment with him. but you knew even if you found the courage to take it, he’d only be wishing you were someone else. the thought made your stomach churn.

if only you had listened to yourself you wouldn’t have found yourself in this position.

you were seated on the balcony with xiao, a few hours had passed since you both took your brownies. the night had been a blur to you both, but you both knew the burning question in each others minds.

what happened? why the sudden distance?

“so, how’s your relationship been? you bored yet?” your bold question caught xiao off guard, his eyes widening before a scoff escaped his mouth. you couldn’t hide your disdain for him even now.

“i’m satisfied with my relationship, (y/n). why do you think i haven’t called you?”

ouch.

“a heads up would’ve been nice.” you mumbled. xiao wouldn’t meet your gaze as you kept it locked on the dark sky above. he heard your sigh as you shifted to face him. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“how could i? i knew how you would react.” you shook your head at his response. “you knew how i’d react because this has happened so many times. you knew it was fucked up xiao. so why? why did you make me all of those promises?”

xiao winced at your questions. the shared past you had with xiao was never pretty, never something to recall fondly. it was a messy, hurtful relationship. his calls would only come when he was alone, stopping once another girl would worm their way into his life.

but this last time had been.. different. you were both in university now. before the last time you two had spoken you had hurled insult after insult, wishing to never see him again.

he had complied with your wishes for six months. that was until you found him sobbing alone in the library. you tried to ignore it, ignore him, but his soft calls of your name brought him back into your life.

it wasn’t like him, not at all. but with interlinked pinkies he promised a future where he wouldn’t go away. he promised to stay in your life even if he found a new lover, the way he did throughout your younger years before relationships were consuming.

“i meant it at the time, i just don’t anymore.” he said coldly.

“you never changed.” you spat before standing up from your slouched position. the lit cigarette between his fingers only irked you more. a detail you hadn’t noticed in your current state.

“you’re still such a shitty person, you know that xiao?”

“i’m not a shitty person. i only am to you.” the lit cigarette burned bright as he brought it to his lips. the indifferent expression on his face only furthered the growing pit in your stomach as he blew the smoke out. “it’s strange, isn’t it (y/n)? you’re the only one who sees me that way. it’s not my fault i fell in love, i never planned this.”

“you promised—“

“you were promised by a different version of myself. now, if you’ll excuse me, i don’t want you to ruin my high.”

with a quiet click of the balcony door closing you were left alone. the fairy lights felt blinding as your senses were overwhelmed. nothing had changed between you both. the rift that slowly opened in the space of a month was now a chasm. the dark space between you was now impossible to mend.

or perhaps it was never meant to come together again, and it was meant to stay apart the way it was before he made you that promise.

“i shouldn’t have thought twice about you, xiao.”

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a/n: super late 1k followers celebration fic @_@ sorry for the wait everyone! i appreciate all the comments, likes, and reblogs you guys do on my fics <3 thank you for supporting me. 🤍

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #xiao x reader #xiao #xiao genshin #xiao angst #xiao x reader angst #xiao x y/n #xiao angst genshin

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starryeyedjanai · 7 months

Text

no better time than now

kinktober prompt: edgeplay | steddie + gareth | explicit

read on ao3

When Gareth sees he has a snapchat video from Steve as he's walking out of his office to go to an all staff meeting, he doesn't think anything of it.

Why would he?

Steve's not the one who routinely sends him lewd or sometimes nude pictures of himself.

That would be Eddie - the menace who somehow conned Gareth into joining his harem of men.

That's a bit dramatic, but he thinks having a minimum of four paramours he's fucking is kind of excessive. But he digresses.

Steve is definitely the tamer one of the two, but that's not to say he isn't into all the same stuff as Eddie. Gareth sometimes joins in on their little romance, fucking himself on Steve's cock while Eddie looks on and tells him how fast to go. Or sometimes Eddie fucks Steve as Steve is sucking Gareth's dick, both of their eyes on him.

So he knows how Steve is separate from Eddie and he knows how they are together.

The point is, Steve sending him a video during the work day is usually some story about something Eddie did, so he doesn't think twice about opening it as he's walking down the hall, earbuds plugged into his phone already from a previous call, but not in his ears, the wires bunched up in his hand.

Gareth's face flushes red so fast his head spins and he immediately turns on his heel and walks directly back to his office, closing the door behind him.

Because he's looking at a video of Steve's mouth wrapped around Eddie's cock, his eyes all hazy with pleasure as he looks at the camera.

He presses a hand down on his cock, as if that'll stop it from getting hard as he watches the series of videos of Steve sucking Eddie off.

The last video ends with Steve pulling off Eddie's cock, a line of spit lingering between his mouth and the tip of Eddie's dick.

Gareth stands there with his back to the door, his hand pressing on his dick, wondering what he did in a past life to deserve this.

In the middle of a work day???????? he puts in the chat, waiting for a response.

His phone pings several times in a row as the next set of videos comes in.

He closes his eyes and debates just leaving his phone here in his office and walking to his meeting. It's what he should do.

He should leave and go to the meeting.

But the temptation is too strong. He opens his eyes and presses the purple square because he has no self control and he's already a little half-hard.

The video starts with the front facing camera on Eddie and he's saying something so Gareth quickly shoves his earbuds in his ears as he turns the volume up, walking over to his chair to sit down.

"Sorry, Gare. Steve has been so impatient this afternoon. We're working on his patience and he needs an audience for all his good work. Jeff and Grant got these too, so at least you're not alone," Eddie says, a twinkle in his eyes.

The sound of sucking in the background makes Gareth's jaw clench.

The camera flips around onto Steve, laying on his stomach on their bed, one hand on Eddie's dick, stroking it gently, as he sucks one of Eddie's balls into his mouth. His eyes are closed and he looks so fucking content slobbering all over Eddie's balls.

The video ends and Gareth feels lightheaded.

He opens up his text thread with Grant and Jeff and texts them if you plan on getting anything productive done today, do not open the snapchat videos from Steve.

From Jeff, he gets the message: too late 😔

Grant says thanks for the heads up. we can all watch it together on my phone later if you want?

Gareth texts them back: I am definitely taking you up on that Freak. And: Jeff, I cannot believe you saw it and let me open it at work.

It JUST happened. I'm also compromised here is Jeff's reply.

He's about to send something back when a slurry of pings and notifications tell him that Eddie's sent them more videos. Because it's obviously not Steve sending these videos. He's going to kill that man one day.

He opens up Slack and messages his boss that he's suddenly not feeling well and has to miss the meeting. The thumbs up on his message he receives is more than enough, so he gets up and locks his door.

He sits back down and opens up the snapchat video and the camera is still on Steve, who's back to sucking Eddie down his throat. With the noises in his ear - the loud slurps, Eddie's soft moans - it feels like he's there, almost. Like he's in the room with them, watching as Steve's gentle mouth on his cock pulls noises from Eddie's throat.

Eddie reaches down with the hand not holding the phone and taps Steve's hand on his hip. Steve pulls his mouth off him with a loud pop.

"What's the lesson here today, sweetheart?" Eddie asks.

Steve lets out a sigh and says, "That I can't always have your come when I want it."

Gareth has to clench his hand, his nails digging into the palm of his hand, so that he doesn't groan out loud at that.

"You're impatient," Eddie's voice says. "It's so much better when you work for it, right honey?"

Steve isn't glaring up at the camera like Gareth would be if Eddie used that condescending tone of voice with him - he's looking up reverently, even though Gareth can tell he's a little frustrated.

He types in the chat How long has it been? because Steve getting frustrated is a sign that it's probably been going on for far longer than Gareth would have the patience for.

The next video, Eddie tells Steve, "Gareth wants to know how long it's been."

Steve looks up and drags his mouth off Eddie's cock. He says, "It's been hours," with a whine.

Eddie laughs behind the camera. "It's been one hour tops."

Has Steve come? he asks them after the video ends.

"No, he hasn't come yet either. He's being so good today," Eddie says, stroking a hand through Steve's hair as he sucks hard on his dick, hollowing his cheeks. "He's just been between my legs, sucking me until I say stop and then biting me when he gets frustrated."

Eddie's voice is so fucking fond as he says that, laughing and petting Steve's hair.

Gareth can see the bite marks. Eddie's thighs are littered in red and purple marks from Steve's mouth on him.

"You wanna show him how nicely you ask for-" Eddie starts to ask and the video cuts off.

Gareth reaches down to adjust his dick in his pants.

The next video starts with Steve saying, "Can I bite you please?" with his mouth hovering above Eddie's thigh.

"Why do you wanna bite me?" Eddie asks.

"Because this is hard!" he says, annoyance seeping into his voice.

"It is hard, baby," Eddie says with a laugh, using his hand to tap tap tap his hard cock against Steve's cheek.

Steve pouts up at the camera.

Jesus fucking christ. They're ridiculous.

But Gareth is sweating, and his dick is straining against his slacks.

He can't jerk off at work.

He can't jerk off at work, right?

Everyone, the entire staff, is at the meeting in the conference room on the first floor, so it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to whip his cock out here and jerk off to this, would it?

There's the off chance that someone might leave the meeting to go to the bathroom, but would they venture up to the third floor for a bathroom break? He doesn't think so.

He weighs the options in his head as he waits for the next set of videos to come.

The worst scenario is that someone might hear him, but he's really good at being quiet - years of sharing a wall with the living room of his house and then years of sneaking off to the bathroom to jerk off in college with just the door separating him and his roommate has taught him how to be near silent when he comes.

He thinks he could do it.

He could watch and listen to what's probably the end of Eddie and Steve's "lesson" and jerk himself off slowly, like he's a part of it too, like the lesson in patience is for him too.

Fuck, that's probably part of the reason why Eddie sent it to him. He's also too impatient sometimes, and Eddie makes sure to punish him for it.

The next set of videos comes through and he unzips his pants, decision made, and gets his cock out. He grabs the box of tissues on his desk and slides it closer.

Eddie's hand is in Steve's hair as Steve sucks a mark into his thigh, biting and pulling the blood under his skin to the surface. Steve pulls back and presses a kiss to the new mark.

"Good boy. You wanna get on your knees and show your boys how good you are for me, not coming this entire time?"

Steve eagerly nods and pulls himself up between Eddie's legs, tucking his knees under him. His cock is hard and red and dripping.

He strokes it slowly, angling it up so Gareth can see the cock ring around the base of his cock.

Gareth thinks he needs one of those right about now. He strokes his cock as he watches Steve stroking himself, spreading the precome down his cock until his cock is shining with it.

He probably isn't going to last very long despite just starting, between the need that's coursing through his veins and the fact that he's doing this in his fucking office.

Steve shudders as he speeds up a little, the slide slick as he humps up into his hand a little. He fists his cock for another few moments before pulling his hand away. He's breathing heavily as his cock twitches and more precome drips from the tip.

Gareth's cock twitches in sympathy.

He gets back on his stomach between Eddie's thighs and Eddie says, "Open your mouth sweetheart."

Steve opens his mouth and Eddie's cock thrusts inside. The choking noise as he hits the back of Steve's throat is so loud, but the video cuts off a second later.

This is torture, seeing these little snippets and not having the real thing. He loves watching them together. He never really knew he was into voyeurism until meeting them. He didn't know he was into a lot of things before he met them actually.

And being so far away from them, seeing these videos that end abruptly, having them talking and moaning in his ears- it's not enough. He wishes he was with them right now - between them, watching them, anything.

He sets his phone on his desk and leans forward in his chair so he can see it and so that when he comes, he won't get any of it on his clothes. The chair mat beneath him is much easier to clean than his pants if he accidentally gets any on it.

Eddie's thrusting comes to a stop as Gareth opens the next video a minute later.

"You've been so good. Do you think you deserve it now?" Eddie asks and Steve nods slowly, pulling back to nuzzle into the crease of his hip. "I think so too. Go ahead, sweetheart."

Fuck. Gareth starts stroking himself faster, tightening his fist around the head of his cock on every stroke.

Steve sticks his tongue out and licks a stripe up Eddie's cock before sucking the head into his mouth. He uses his right hand to stroke Eddie's cock fast and tight, licking around the head, tonguing the frenulum.

"Fuck, Stevie," Eddie says, his voice strained. He thrusts up into his grip, and into the warmth of Steve's mouth.

Gareth grips himself tighter, knowing Eddie's going to come soon.

Steve takes his hand off Eddie cock and opens his mouth wider, relaxing his jaw as Eddie thrusts up into his mouth roughly again.

Gareth can hear the way Eddie's cock fucks into Steve's throat. Eddie's guttural moans are loud in his ear as he chases his orgasm in Steve's mouth.

Gareth speeds up his hand in time with Eddie's thrusts, his breathing getting heavier. He almost can't bite back the groan that forms in his throat when the video cuts off. His phone pings almost immediately with more videos, so he doesn't even have to slow his hand down before he's seeing them again.

Eddie continues to use Steve's throat like a fleshlight and Gareth's balls draw up as he watches on.

Eddie moans loudly as he comes, the first spurt probably going directly down Steve's throat. He pulls back and jerks himself through it, his come pulsing out over Steve's tongue, on his lips, on his chin.

Gareth shudders, looking at Steve's face, and he comes hard as Steve's tongue darts out to lap at the head of Eddie's cock, digging into the slit like he wants more. Another glob of come spurts out onto his tongue.

Gareth cups the head of his cock in one hand as he comes, stroking himself through it silently. He pants through it as the video ends, shivers running through him.

He leans forward and puts his head on his desk as he comes down.

He can't believe he just did that.

He picks up his phone and sends them a snapchat of his hand still coated in come, the text across the screen reading I hope you're fucking happy.

He cleans himself up, but still feels so dirty afterwards.

He's lucky he only has another couple hours of work and no more meetings today. There's no way he could sit in front of any of his coworkers and look them in the eye knowing that a wad of tissues coated in his come is sitting in his trash can, buried between random flyers.

He's also lucky his boss thinks he's sick, because that means she's probably not going to be beating down his door after the meeting ends. He opens the window in his office to air it out

He gets a snap back from Eddie a couple minutes later, a picture this time.

It's Steve, on his back, come streaked up his chest, coating his chest hair. He looks so fucking blissed out, his cheeks red as he smiles at the camera. Gareth's heart pangs in his chest. He can't wait to see them later.

There's no text on the screen, but he knows they'll probably make fun of him for jerking off at work later. Or at least Eddie will. He's such a menace.

He opens up his text thread with just Jeff and sends Do you wanna get Steve and Eddie back tomorrow for making us horny at work?

I thought you'd never ask is Jeff's immediate reply.

#janai.doc #steddie #steddie/gareth #stranger things #gareth stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie x gareth #steve x eddie #st fic #st ficlet #steddireth #steddareth #what is their ship name

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Special Interest 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You find a seat at the cafe with your vanilla chai latte. You place the paper bag with the wire handles on the table and pull out your phone. You love this cafe, it’s like a little home away from home. A much-needed escape from your parents.

You love your mom and dad but they can be a bit much. You’re barely into your twenties and they’re already talking about big things. Like a husband and grandbabies. Hullo, you’re a young entrepreneur, you’ve got a business to run.

Your mother’s text greets you. She wants to know when you’ll be home. You hate to leave her on read so you send ‘dunno’ and flick away the chat. A few items sold! Score. You put some stuff on clearance and knocked a few bucks off. May as well just get rid of it.

As you reach for your tea, you sense something. Like a shift in the earth. There’s a disturbance in the force. Be calm, Jedi.

You peek up over your phone and meet two sparkling eyes. Oh clam shells, it can’t be. It’s that guy from the bookstore. Again! Charles? You can’t remember, you want to forget as quickly as you can.

You slide the bag in front of you and slouch down, trying to hide behind it. Too late. He’s coming closer. He looks down at you as you try to ignore him, thumbing through old emails to look busy.

He sits one table away. Nice. Very subtle. Or maybe you’re being paranoid. Either way, this coincidence seems less than serendipitous.

You do your best to form a bubble around yourself. You take out the book you bought and flip through the patterns. Those sunflowers are adorable. You could do one for your mom. Oh, what about little bees to go with the flowers?

There’s a scuff on the ground but you don’t look over. You lower the book slightly, pretending to read the description of tulip as you peek from the corner of your eye. This guy is the definition of manspreading. You shouldn’t care so much but you can see his boot as he has his knees open like a Madonna music video.

You raise your eyebrows as you argue with yourself. You should just go home. Your mom will be happy to see you. Well, happy to have help with dinner. The biggest reason, you’ll be less annoyed.

You sigh and tuck your phone into your purse. You get up and pull on your jacket,sliding the books back in the bag as you swipe up your latte. You sidle around the table and that man clears his throat. Keep your eyes on the prize; escape.

Even if you’re overthinking it, he’s ruined your day. He tainted the haven of the bookstore then infested the cafe. You sip your drink as you pass by the windows of the cafe, refusing to look inside. You hear the door as you brush by the next facade, a hobby shop with dice and cards. Still, you keep your sights ahead of you.

You reach into your pocket and close your hand around your earbud case. You hear footsteps, some ways back, but near enough to track. He wouldn’t follow you… You think better of putting them in and pull out your phone instead, holding it out before you as you pretend to check a notification.

You swipe your thumb up and drag the camera open. You try to angle it so you can see over your shoulder through the front lens. Whoever it is, you can’t see them without being too obvious. Damn.

You drop your phone and black the screen. You move to the other side of the sidewalk as you come to fourway light. You turn, hands in your pocket, and stare at the light across from you, waiting for it to change. Casually, you take the opportunity to glance to your side. You see a blur disappear into the insurance broker but nothing else.

Maybe you are getting in your head.

🧶

You get a strange request on your Etsy. Several purchases with a message from the buyer. You check as you sit in the kitchen, laptop open as you try to wake up. Your mother grumbles as she cradles her own mug and mulls over the day ahead of her. She works from home too but she doesn’t consider your work a real job.

You lean your chin in your hand and squint. You’re stomach squirms as you make sure you understand the message. You feel a shadow looming above the screen and you look up at your mother as she gives you a goofy face.

“Doing calculus?” She teases as you sit back and rub the tension from your forehead.

“N-no, I just… I got a big order but the customer wants to do a pick-up,” you grab your coffee and take a sip, hoping to find sanity somewhere in the brew.

“A pick-up. Here?”

“Well, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t get it, they paid the shipping.”

“Maybe they want the money back.”

“They didn’t mention it but yeah,” you stare at their name.

Most people have their first and last displayed but this one is just Farmer’s Delight. They said they're local but live out in the country so the mail often gets lost. How odd. Sounds like a boomer.

“I mean, you could do a public meetup? Customer is always right.”

“Mom, this isn’t the 90s anymore. The customer is wrong,” you huff.

“How big is the order?” She wonders, “I mean, your little crafts are so cute but it can’t be that much work.”

“That’s not the issue,” you sniff and take another deep gulp. You go back to their order and teethe your lip. “It’s over three hundred dollars.”

“Holy moly,” your mother gasps, “little crafts my tush!”

“Mom,” you warn her, “I’ll just tell them delivery is the only option.”

Your mother is quiet. She slurps her coffee, bringing your ire to dart at her over the top of your screen. You hate that noise.

“I’ll go with you, honey,” she offers, “how about… you can meet at a Starbucks or something? That’s what they say these days, meet in public.”

“Is that what they say? And who are you trying to meet up with?”

“No one… I’m in this trade and sell group for Royal Doulton figures and the ladies there, I would only meet them with mace in my purse.”

You chortle. Your mom can be silly even when she’s nagging you. You’re just happy it’s not her usual spiel.

“Who knows, hon, this could be your meet-cute,” she spoils your moment of gratitude. You sigh and roll your eyes.

“You don’t even know if it’s a guy.”

“Ugh, okay, crush my dreams,” she pouts, “I’m just saying… sounds like a big spender.”

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #drabble #series #special interest #ghosted #bookstore au #au

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lgbtsana · 5 months

Text

OFF THE RECORD ; AHN YUJIN ONE-SHOT

you’ve been chatting with an online friend for about 2 years, you knew them as their alias ‘ahnz’, they never posted their face but you knew almost everything about them. but, did you really know what they were saying was true?

it’s been about two years since you turned to online friends instead of real life ones. the ones you made offline were just complete assholes. it was always when you needed your real life friends the most is when you realized how fake they were.

you’d call one of your friends, lim dahye, sobbing uncontrollably, begging for her to distract you from your parents fighting. yet, all you got on response from her, “sorry, who are you again?” while you heard giggles in the background. you had considered her a closest friend, but all you received was humiliation.

the closest friend you made throughout the two years online was ahnz. the only thing you knew about them was they were a year older than you and that they, or well she, was a girl.

you had given her a nickname “hannie” and you were happy to know that she thought the nickname was cute and that she liked it.

the more the two of you talked, the closer you two got. you felt like you could trust her, although, you hadn’t met her in person. she just seemed different, not like the other people you had trusted before.

there was one night that your parents started to fight when you received a text from ahnz, you had nicknamed her in your phone as ‘hannie’ since the app you used, let you.

she had sent you a link to a girl group performance, the thumbnail had a girl with short hair poking her cheek. “she’s so pretty, her makeup looks amazing...” you spoke in awe.

you stood up to grab your wired earbuds, since you couldn’t afford wireless ones, and watched the performance. it was a very useful distraction from the fighting going on.

hannie: y/n, check out this video :o [link]

y/n: omg, they’re amazing performers!!

y/n: wish i was that good lol

hannie: don’t say that! i’m sure you’re amazing at it :(

y/n: i see their group name is ive, how do you pronounce that? like i’ve?

hannie: i hear people pronouncing it ivy or i’ve, i guess it’s a matter of preference? idk though

hannie: which member caught your eye?

y/n: hmm, the one with the short hair with bangs. she had so much charisma and just looked fierce! she’s so pretty~

after you’d sent that message, you realized ahnz went quiet. so, while you waited for a response, you decided to watch some more videos of the group she had sent you.

———

the next day, during class, you received a call from hannie. your teacher, mrs. lee, gave a stern look towards you. “no phone calls during class, miss seo.”

you nodded before answering the call, “sorry, mrs. lee. it’s... an emergency.” your quick answer made her give you a nod, “go out in the hall then, y/n.”

“hannie, what’s going on?” your concerned tone rung in her ears, “y/n, are you able to... meet up...?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“what?”

“are you able to meet up with me?”

the question hung on a string. a string that was about to snap clean in half. you felt your heartbeat increase as you weren’t sure what to answer. sure, you’ve talked to her for two years, but you’ve only thought about meeting up once.

you weren’t sure if you were ready to meet her.

“y/n?” her voice entered your senses again, making you gasp softly.

“ah, sorry-” you barely let out a whisper as you apologize quietly. “y/n, if you’re able to meet up, please come to 4-5, samseong-ro 146-gil, gangnam-gu, seoul. it should be nearby you, yeah?” you hum giving her the confirmation she needed.

“see you then, hannie.”

you walked back into class and all eyes were on you, “so?” your teacher stares you down, waiting for some kind of response.

“what?”

your teacher huffs in annoyance, “what was so important?” your thoughts quickly scramble to make up an excuse, “ah- my grandmother passed away.” you give off a weak smile to keep your act straight as your teachers eyebrows narrow.

“i thought your grandmother passed last year?” it was true, but you had an excuse up your sleeve, “that was on my mother’s side, the recent one is on my father’s.”

mrs. lee quickly gave an apology, which you accepted. she didn’t know it was a lie after all.

———

after your classes came to an end, you found yourself in front of the building that hannie suggest you meet up in. but, it was starship entertainment? you weren’t sure why she’d ask to meet up here.

you shrugged before hitting an intercom, that looked very high-tec. you watched as it lit up and noticed a very small camera, recording your presence outside.

“come in,” a female voice is heard thru the intercom as the fancy doors opened to let you in.

“oh- t-thank you...?” you struggled to sound genuine as you were still, very confused. just why did hannie want to meet here?

you hesitantly entered the tall building and nervously looked around. you felt you stood out against the rest, but not in a good way.

you felt very underdressed, everyone else looked as if they were wearing designer clothes (they probably were), you didn’t feel like you fit in.

a taller figure was approaching you with a smile and it felt like time slowed down as you took in their physique. she was nearly 6-feet tall, her smile was very charming, alluring. her hair was on the shorter side, seemed to be a wolfcut. she has a leather jacket on, seemed to be in the middle of recording something, but you weren’t totally sure.

she looked exactly like the female from the fancan video hannie had sent you. just what was hannie playing at?

“hello, are you y/n?” the tall female looked at you with the same charming smile she approached with. with a slow nod, you gave her the confirmation she needed.

“i can’t believe we’re finally meeting each other! my name is ahn yujin,” she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “you know me as hannie~” the teasing tone of her voice made you jolt back, surprised that the female was actually hannie.

“h-hannie?” your voice was failing you. the sudden surprise of learning she’s your closest online friend was big, you could barely let out your voice.

she gave a simple nod before saying, “you can call me yujin now!”. she reached for your wrist, making your pull it back without thinking.

her eyebrows furrowed and yujin looked down at the ground, “ah, i’m sorry. this must be a shock..”

you nodded, “very shocking, i mean i was just watching a fancam of you a few days ago.”

yujin let out a giggle, “i wanted to know your thoughts~” she lightly punched your arm with that same smile.

faking hurt, you grabbed your arm and yelped in pain, “you pain me, yujin!” you laughed, before noticing yujin was looking at you with wide-eyes.

“what?”

“you called me yujin this time,” her voice seemed filled with emotion. what emotion? you couldn’t read it.

you shrugged “you told me i could.”

yujin pulled you in for a tight bear hug, “this makes me so happy! i can’t wait to introduce you to the others~”

you smiled as you gave the same amount of strength into the hug, “already? we just met~” you teased as you received a pinch in response.

A/N: maybe there will be a part two? we shall find out in the future. i do like how this turned out, did you guys enjoy?

TAGS... idol!yujin x fan!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, light angst, online friends to irl friends to lovers, friends to lovers, reader becomes a fan of yujin after she introduces ive to them.

TAG LIST...

@zuritastic

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tearsoftime0086 · 7 months

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Small Heartsteel Settphel fic inspired by some fun idea bouncing with friends :) Sett's mother is really harping on him to go out and find love - what she and Aphelios don't know is that he already has someone in mind...

“You’re almost 30, Settrigh! It’s time to start thinking about settling down. Having a family.”

Aphelios peeks through the half-open door to Sett’s room. He’s resting lazily in bed, phone in one hand and twirling earbud wires in the other. The two of them match eyes.

“Your mother?” Aphelios signs. Sett grins and nods.

“Ma, you make it sound like I’m two steps away from my deathbed.”

“You never know! It’s best to be prepared about these things.” comes her chirping voice over speakerphone.

Sett shakes his head and laughs. It’s a deep belly laugh, one that tells all three of them he’s not taking her seriously. “I’ll keep it in mind, Ma.”

“I just don’t want to see you lonely, Settrigh. Who will you have when I pass on?”

It’s at this point Aphelios realizes he should come back later, but Sett holds out a hand to stop him. “One sec,” he mouths, before turning back to the phone. “Now don’t talk about that, Ma. You’re gonna outlive all of us.”

“Tch – you shouldn’t say things like that to your mother. It’s improper for a parent to bury their child.”

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” he responds, “But I’ll keep it in mind, Ma.”

“You should. And don’t eat too much of that protein mix! It’s bad for your skin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sett murmurs, “Hey Ma, I’ll call you later – something just came up. Love you.” He stares at the phone fondly before looking back up at Aphelios. “Sorry, did you need me for something?”

The remnants of Sett’s fondness remain on his face – the soft curve of his smile, the crinkle around his eyes. Aphelios freezes, before realizing Sett’s now talking to him. Haphazardly taking out his pad, he writes, “Wanted your thoughts on some instrument tracks, that’s all.”

“Sure, I can take a listen,” he says, standing up and moving over to his desk. Aphelios shuffles over as well, trying to grab his laptop out of his bag on the way.

Cursing his luck, Aphelios realizes he exited the song file and needs to load it again. “Sorry,” he signs rapidly, before writing out the rest of his apology. “Didn’t mean to waste your time.”

“You’re not wasting my time,” Sett responds. A small pause, before scoffing. “Has Ezreal been on your case for that?”

A hesitant nod, but one, nonetheless.

“Don’t worry about it. It's nothing personal – he’s just used to the idol circuit. Everything’s so streamlined there.”

“I also cut the call with your mother short,” Aphelios scribbles.

“Ah that?” Sett laughs, patting him all too firmly on the back. “You did me a favor. If I'd talked with her any longer she would’ve gone into the ‘You’re going die single and alone’ part.”

The file’s fully loaded at this point, and Aphelios debates whether or not to go straight into business. But no, he has to satisfy his own curiosity.

“Are you interested in anyone?” he writes, the plainness of the text hiding his sheer anxiety in jotting down each word.

Sett hums. “Maybe. Maybe not. Why do you ask?”

He feels his cheeks go red. Aphelios ducks, trying to hide it under his bangs. “For band reasons. The media wouldn’t like it if they found out you were dating a fan.”

“Well, I never said it was a fan,” Sett says. “But hey, looks like the song’s done.” He shakes the pair of earphones in front of him. “Let’s take a listen through these first. You know, average listener and all that.”

As Sett passes him an earbud, Aphelios lets himself imagine that he’s the subject of Sett’s feelings. Just thinking about it causes his heart to race. He takes the earbud, almost sure his face is flaring red right now. He has to snap out of it – stay professional, for god’s sake. Sett’s one of the biggest stars in the world, and he’s just the lucky instrumentalist in his concept band. They operated on different scales.

Sett coughs lightly. When Aphelios flips over to him, there’s a humorous glint in his eyes as he gestures to the play button.

For a moment, it makes his pining wish seem like a reality.

#bits and baubles #league of legends #settphel #sett #aphelios #I don't know the exact lore on this skinline so I took a couple liberties ^^#heartsteel

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pinksugarscrub · 8 months

Text

Addiction

Earth-42! Miles Morales x reader

Scenario: Coffee date with music on the side.

(optional : song - sabor a mi)

The sun was still relatively high in the sky as you exited Miles' apartment complex. Your shoes hitting the pavement with an audible 'smack' as you jumped down the last two steps.

"Oye, what did I say-" Miles gently tugged you back to his side, a small smile on his lips. "-don't wander off without me."

You looked back at him sheepishly. Not hesitating to wrap your own arm around his waist. The soft glow of the sun hitting your face. "Sorry sorry, just excited."

Miles chuckled before pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "I can see that." He couldn't help but admire the sweet and innocent look on your face. Eyes always so full of life. "I'm pretty sure you have an addiction chiquita."

The two of you began walking down the gum stained pavement. Cars whizzing by without a care. It was times like this that made you fall deeper in love with Brooklyn.

Coming from a smaller town the city both amazed and frightened you. You had to consider yourself lucky that your mom had rekindled her friendship with Miles' mother, Rio. The thought of traversing this new world without Miles sounded unfathomable. No...a life without Miles sounded unfathomable.

You rummaged through the pocket of your jacket. 'Visions Academy' embedded in bold letters across your chest. "It's not an addiction! I can stop whenever I want..." The pout on your lips unfurling once you felt the familiar wire of your earphones.

Carefully slipping the left earbud into his ear before settling the other in your right. "Plus, who am I to deny someone when they offer to buy me a drink?" You blinked at him as you feigned innocence. Coughing into your fist as you muttered his name. "I'm talking about you Morales"

Miles laughed, slipping his phone out of his pocket as he connected the end of the aux chord. Not giving you the opportunity to protest as he pressed shuffle on the playlist he had been creating for you.

"Como que it's my fault?" He gently flicked your forehead. A smug smile on his lips. "You're the one who was practically begging me to take you out right now."

You squeaked at the sudden pain inflicted on you. Sending Miles a harmless glare that quickly dissipated once he kissed the area.

"Yeah well," you huffed. Puffing out your cheeks as butterflies filled your stomach. Miles wasn't normally so affectionate. Especially out in public but, you weren't going to complain. "I wanted to grab some for your mom too. She's covering someone's shift tonight, right?"

Miles Morales cared about many things. His alter ego, his education, his family, ---but most importantly--- his mother. Ever since his father had passed away there was a subtle yet noticeable shift in the way Miles lived out his life.

Working harder to maintain the house while she was away. His room still cluttered but much more organized. Homework completed before she got home. Even going as far as trying to learn how to cook.

Miles also had his uncle to thank for supporting them financially seeing as his mom wanted him to focus on school. Not willing to force her little boy to grow up too soon.

That's why it meant the world to him to hear, see, you cared for his family just as much as you cared for him.

"You remember that?" He didn't even attempt to hide the lovesick look on his face as he smiled at you. "I told you that like a week ago."

Your favorite song began playing as the tension built between the two of you.

"Of course I do," you murmured. Eyes tracing the outline of his jaw before moving back up to his soft brown eyes. "I love your mom and...I love you."

You knew you should have anticipated him spinning you around, pressing his lips to yours. But no matter how many times you had kissed. This boy always left you breathless.

Your collective bodies shuffled to a stop in front of the coffee shop illuminated by the dim yellow light bulbs implemented for the aesthetic.

You were starting to wonder if he would taste even better after a cup of coffee... Maybe you do have an addiction.

#atsv #spiderman atsv #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales #fluff

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sande5098 · 4 months

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I was wondering if you could do one where you're Ava Bekkers daughter, and you're around 14, and the episode when there's a shooting at the park you're there and you get shot, so when you get rushed into the hospital they immediately know who you're, unfortunately you're in critical condition and you do flat line but Dr Rhodes gose against code and starts doing chest compressions to save you and you do come back and you call out for your mum and he tells you that they'll get you to her, so when you wake up you're all bandaged up and you see Ava waiting for you to wake up, and she reassures you everything is alright and you scoot over letting her sit beside you in bed before you rest your head on her chest, and she promises to get ice cream and you two joke around before you both fall asleep together, and when Connor comes to check on you both he sees you both cuddled up so he leaves you both alone. Sorry it that's a long request.

Critical Condition

A/N: so sorry this took so long, let’s just say that A-Levels are a bitch and my psychology teacher is very unhelpful. I know that the millennium park shooting does take place on a Saturday but for the minute it’s a Friday

Requested: Yes, By anonymous.

Characters: Reader, Connor Rhodes, Ava Bekker

word count: 1.9K

————

You hadn’t wanted to go to school that day, most of your friends were either sick or away on a school trip and without them there to keep you company, school would practically be hell. Instead, you headed for Millennium Park at least, you could get some food there or even just chill out and attempt to do your schoolwork which had been emailed to you after you phoned in sick for yourself.

Your mum was going to be at work until 6pm so you had plenty of time to relax for a little. Either way you went to the bean statue and sat at one of the empty park benches, it was till early, almost 9 o’clock meaning that there was hardly anyone there since practically all children were at school and the majority of people there with families with young family’s or children with their babysitters.

As you put your bag on the ground and took out your laptop to open up YouTube on a tab and play some music through your wired earbuds you smiled as some young children ran by you with their slightly unstable legs which struggled to keep up with the rest of their bodies. You looked back at your laptop and quickly opened up your emails to see what work teachers had given you, most of it was easy enough: Biology Chemistry, Geography, English, Maths and Computer science. While you had a lot of your harder subjects today, at least you could do the work outside of a stuffy, noisy classroom.

You settled down into your work, occasionally taking a sip of the coffee you brought with you in a flask. Distraction didn’t come easy to you, and raven after the obnoxious school bell went off at the end of each class, your friends still had to shake you out of your school work trance. You were shocked that after you had made it to 11:35 and had almost completed all your school work that your attention was dragged away from your laptop. Looking up you could see a stampede of people running towards you, many carrying toddlers, and then you heard it. The distinct sound of gun shots you felt your eyes widen and your throat constrict with your heart practically in your mouth as you closed your laptop and started to run with the crowd.

You were shocked that after you had made it to 11:35 and had almost completed all your school work, your attention was dragged away from your laptop. Looking up, you could see a stampede of people running towards you, many carrying toddlers, and then you heard it. The distinct sound of gun shots, you felt your eyes widen and your throat constrict with your heart practically in your mouth as you closed your laptop and started to run with the crowd.

You could feel yourself slowing down, stamina was never your strong suit and the crowds where pushing each other out of the way trying to get to safety. It was at that moment that your footing fell from beneath you and you fell face first onto the ground, smacking your head hard, a sickening crack had brought tears to your eyes as you stumbled to get back onto your feet again; forgetting your laptop that had flown across the ground.

You started running again, tears clouding your vision and blood in your mouth from your heavily bleeding nose. Gun shots were still flying everywhere, the sound of people screaming and falling behind you and in front of you haunting your thoughts as you begged whatever entity who was out there to spare you today, that you would never skip school again, that you could go home and see your mum today. You were too busy in your own thoughts until you felt blood oozing down your back as you fell for the second time. Not having the strength to scream anymore you just lay there, slowly drifting off into the darkness…

————

The first thing which you remembered was the sirens, all of a sudden it was loud and busy. There were multiple people standing over you in some form of uniform, your eyes wide open and you pulse racing, you could feel it everywhere. Were you… Panicking? As you thought back in your memories, noting was really coming to mind, suddenly there was an agonising sharp pain in your abdomen, crying out in terror and fear, you tried to sit up, only to be unable to. There were shushing sounds all around you, telling you it was all going to be okay. From what little you took in you could see it was red… blood? A shooting. It was all coming back to you now.

You properly looked at the people in front of you, they’re wearing blue and black with white writing, police officers were the most likely, why not paramedics? Was the shooter still there? Your breathing hitched and you could feel yourself starting to panic again. One of them lifted you into their arms and you gripped on tightly to them, trying to speak to him, he stopped, trying to listen to you. Your voice came out ragged and weak, even surprising yourself. "Tell my mum, I’m sorry". He smiled, "You will be able to tell her yourself." He said back… With that you drifted back into a dose, still accompanied by pain, screaming, sirens and beeping.

You recognised the hospital you were being rolled into on the stretcher even from the bleariness of your eyes as they squinted open. 'No no no no no... this was not were you wanted to be.' Although it didn't really matter, your mother would have found you eventually but you knew just how deep a load of shit you would be in for skipping school. As you looked around yourself you could see blood everywhere, the crimson red starting to haunt the insides of your eyelids, even if you didn't think it was there it was.

That was when you looked up at the man overhead of you, you could briefly make out Connor Rhodes, your mother's current off and on partner; although she didn't realise that you knew that. "Don't tell mum please" was all you could whisper out hoarsely before coughing up more blood, a nurse handed you a sick dish which all the blood dripped into. "We'll do what we can, Y/n". You smiled briefly but before you could thank him you felt yourself drifting off into another sleep before you could stop yourself, the shouting for a crash cart didn't even allow you to open your eyes again.

----

"She's coding! Get me a crash cart!" Connor desperately shouted as he immediately lowered the gurney and threw the pillow to one side before starting chest compressions. Even though Ava and he had their spats he couldn't bring himself to obey protocol in that moment. This child was the light of Ava's life and who knows what would happen if she weren't to make it. He had to blink the tears back from his eyes as he was instructed to stand clear of the defibrillator thankfully, it only took one shock to get her back, and before he have time to think he immediately ordered that they take her to surgery to remove the bullet and sort out the internal bleeding before Dr Lanik even had the chance to berate him for breaking the protocol.

"I want my mum," he heard a faint whisper of the words and looked down at the 14 year old who looked like she was about to cry. He smiled as reassuring as he could at he, "She'll be here with you when you wake up but we've got to remove the bullet for you." The young girl nodded before the anatheisa took hold and she closed her eyes yet again... now the real work started.

----

Connor watched as the E.D started to get back to normal well, whatever normal meant several hours later. The place was an absolute mess, blood even managed to find its way onto the ceiling, which he had found it hard to believe. Connor had yet to even find Ava, his colleague was so busy that they had been separated to do their own surgeries. Walking into the break room again, which had mostly been cleaned up he saw Ava. The usual happy blonde woman was collecting her stuff, getting ready to leave after getting changed out of her bloody scrubs. She had an extremely tired look on her face. "Ava?" She turned to look at him, "I'm not in the mood Connor, I want to get some sleep. I'm going home." She replied, attempting to walk out past him. He stepped in front of heralding her forearm. "Ava, Y/N is here. She was involved in the shooting."

Ava stopped and looked up at Connor searching his eyes for any type of deception, "No... No you're lying, where is she?" Connor swallowed the saliva building up in his mouth, "She's in the ICU, room 4" Ava felt her heart constrict as she pulled herself from Connors grip and ran for the stairs up to the ICU. She had never ran the four flights of stairs so quickly, the tears were in her eyes, as they ran down her cheeks and dropped onto the floor causing a slipping hazard if others weren't careful enough.

Reaching that room and looking through that window to see a child wearing her daughters features with tubes sticking out from all over. She carefully entered the room setting down her bags and pulling the chair in the room over to her daughters bedside, picking up the girl's limp, cold hand and holding it in her own. She felt like it had been hours she had been sitting there for when her daughter opened her eyes for the first time. "Y/N/N, Honey, shhhh you're okay. I'm here with you. There's no need to be frightened anymore." Ava softly hushed her, wiping away her daughters unshed tears, glistening in the corners of her eyes.

"Mom? I'm so so sorry, all my friends were going to be away and I didn't want to go to school so I went to the park.. I'm so so sorry." Ava hushed her daughter once again. "It's all right, Honey, we'll talk about it later."

You shuffled yourself over on the bed a little, wincing as you done so, looking over at your mom, she gave you a disapproving look which you chose to ignore as patted the bed for her to join you. Ava pushed herself from the chair and settled beside Y/n on the bed, "Sleep my love, we'll talk later over Ice-cream alright?" You nodded and felt yourself drifting back to sleep surrounded by your mothers love. Ava was not long behind her. It had been a very long day after all.

Connor watched in through the window and smiled softly at the mother and child who he was both deeply fond of. Just another day of work and keeping families together, including the woman who he loved.

#sande5098 #chicago med fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #one chicago #ava bekker x reader #ava bekker x daughter reader #chicago med imagine #request #connor rhodes #ava bekker

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heeracha · 2 years

Text

## take a chance with me. — l. heeseung

content/warning(s): hee x gn!reader, hee being a denial dumbass, high school au (?), based on niki's take a chance with me bcs that's my fave rn lmAO so kinda higkey self-indulgent lmAO, unproofread, tell me if i miss something <3

wc: 0.8k

note: uhhh,,,, i should be studying but,,,, idk lmAO anyway,, drop by to say hi or smthng, thats all, take care, stay safe. <3 i should get back to my work lol

his giggles, his voice, his eyes, everything. you could list everything that you love about him, so you just came to the conclusion that lee heeseung is your favorite everything. the way his eyes would crinkle when he smiles, it makes your heart swell. when he makes those cute noises, a smile comes up to your face. but the fact that he is clueless as hell makes you frown.

just like that one song, lee heeseung doesn’t even know that you would stop time and space just to make him smile.

you would always ask him how his day went, wanting him to go through every detail just to get to hear his voice. his voice that calms you down, takes every problem away. he could be yelling and you’d still choose to listen to him over music. his voice truly is your favorite song, no matter if he’s talking, yelling, singing, mumbling.

it keeps you sane, but at the same time, it makes you melt.

jay kept convincing you that you should just make the first move because everyone knows heeseung wouldn’t. everyone literally knows that you were head over heels for heeseung, except for the boy himself.

it makes you sigh.

your friend also said that heeseung feels the same for you. you know that. but another thing about heeseung is that he won’t make the first move because he won’t make any move at all. lee heeseung is a hopeless romantic. too hopeless to the point he prefers to be in an unrequited love situation even though the person he likes likes him back.

you.

and according to jay, everything is up to you. so, you decide to make a move.

day one.

“heeseung, i like you.”

he laughs. “i know, y/n. i like you, too. that’s why we’re friends.”

stupid, stupid, stupid.

day two.

“heeseung, i like you.”

he smiles, confused. “is this a way for you to appreciate me as your friend?”

fuck.

day three.

“heeseung,” you hold his hand in your hands, shaking it with emphasis as you say the words once again. “i. like. you.”

“i like you, too—”

“heeseung.” you stop him and he looks at you, defeated.

so, he was playing dumb the whole damn time. “look, y/n.” he softly says, pulling his hand away. “i don’t feel the same, i’m sorry.”

“heeseung,” you softly say and he looks at you. “everyone knows that you feel the same. i know you feel the same. what’s the matter?”

he only presses his lips into a thin line.

“deny it all you want, hee.” you softly say. “I can see it right through you.” you sigh and heeseung only looks at you. “i don’t want to force you, but i hope you do explain it to me.” you smile, softly patting the back of his hand that you’re holding. “i’ll wait for you, hm?”

you take one step forward, tiptoeing to press your lips against his cheek. with no words, you walk past him, going home. heeseung stands there, thinking. he knows he was being obvious about his feelings for you, but he hoped you were oblivious as hell, not knowing it was him who was oblivious all along.

you and heeseung would always send each other song recommendations, listening to each other’s music taste. on the way home, heeseung gets a text from you. you sent him a song. take a chance with me. heeseung grabs his earbuds, untangling the wires and connects it to his phone to his ears.

in the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take.

day four.

you close your locker, heeseung is there on the side. he holds one stemmed small flower that he probably picked out of the school garden.

you look at him, turning to him. he gives you the flower.

“i… like you, too.” he confesses and you smile. “i was just scared,” he softly chuckles. “only a few couples survive and get to be happy. i just… don’t want to be in a relationship with you if that would be a way for you to grow to hate me, and me you.” you nod, understanding him. love can rip you both apart. “it’s still a possibility, but… i think, i will regret it if i don’t risk it. there would be too many what ifs. and i should disregard the world because… this is us, anyway. not them.

“so… if you’re still up for it, you want to figure this out together?” heeseung asks and you chuckle, nodding.

“i would love to figure things out with you, hee.”

he smiles widely, pushing your strand of hair behind your ear before taking the flower he gave and putting it above your ear. you softly giggle and heeseung presses a kiss on your forehead.

he doesn’t get enough, so he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss on your cheek as you wrap your arms around his shoulder, closing your eyes to sink into the moment, savoring it.

lee heeseung, your favorite everything, finally takes a chance with you.

rbs and feedbacks are vv much appreciated <3

#ugh lee heeseung i love you what the hell #Hiraya-M #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung soft hours #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fluff #heeseung reactions #heeseung x reader

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archivalofsins · 9 months

Text

Gunsli as a Mikoto enjoyer you must be losing your shit now that his second trial is drawing closer and closer! You're going to avidly defend him, right?

Meanwhile

Me *carrying a large stick around the panopticon*: FUTA, MU I JUST WANT TO TALK COME OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!

Futa & Mu: We're not on trial anymore-

Me: The phones...

Them: Huh?

Me: WHOSE FUCKING PHONES ARE THESE?!

Them: ?!

Me:

Well?! Any answers?

Mu: You already did this with me during my trial?!

Yeah, it wasn't really about you it was just for the bit-

So, huh Futa?! Huh whose phone, is it?! Because I know this isn't your phone for several reasons!

So, let's run this down from the beginning-

Question 1

Which cellphone is Futa's?

Sorry, to disappoint but in the battle between iPhone and Android Futa is firmly on the side of Android.

This is made abundantly clear by the fact that unlike Yuno who owns wireless earbuds, Futa's owns wired ones. Something not supported on Apple devices since 2016.

So, why did someone who owns an android phone have what appears to be an Apple charger plugged into his laptop near that flash drive? Well chances are he hooked up that iPhone to his computer to get some information off the phone, erase that information, then move it from his laptop to that flash drive.

We also know this iPhone isn't Futa's because he displays the UI of his actual phone while looking through the color inverted version of twitter-

At which point we can see his UI is completely different from the phone we see breaking at the end of Bring It On.

Futa's phone is also put on full display at the beginning of Bring It On and in other instances showing multiple physical discrepancies between it and the phone that breaks at the end.

From camera placement to general make of the phone and the brightness on the red of the phone case. All things that have remained consistent over the course of Milgram. Making it more apparent which phone is his.

Question two,

Why would Futa take someone else's phone and what information could he need?

He states what he needs and what he's using the phone for at the beginning of Bring It On,

"Found one…! Countdown till I make you say sorry. Let’s go! A victory march! Dan-Da-Dan. Eat this! Don’t act like you have no idea! We won’t forgive you. You’re the crazy one! Ban-Ba-Bang." - "All evil hypocrites should disappear. I won’t stop until you say “sorry”. Now let’s begin to hunt down the liars."

He's using it to get information on the people involved in the incident and track them down.

The rest of the members of the party he was working with for a time. That ended up putting all the blame for that incident on him. This is probably why he's not hanging out with them when he goes to the arcade and is instead watching from a distance.

Using the situation to get rid of two people at once since the hat girl was possibly involved with the group as well hence the line,

"Flames closing in, are both sides losers?"

"Fuck it! You won’t be forgiven; it was stupid licking each other’s wounds." - "You can’t escape, how do you like the taste of punishment." - "You gotta be kidding, I’m an undead hero!"

I've already speculated that Futa's murder was the result of him reacting to the outcome of the hat girl situation and that Futa and this other victim were a part of the same group before.

(I have made way too many posts on Futa: X, X, X, X, X, X, X and many more. Back to the topic at hand though.)

However, the hat girl could have been uninvolved with the group as well. Yet, taking into consideration the very targeted and extreme harassment the group is depicted doing in Backdraft while Futa is looking on in shock and terror I think it's hard for me to not consider this being personal in some way.

That display perfectly calls back to these lines of Futa's in Bring It On,

"I won’t stop until you say “sorry”." - "Now, let’s be reasonable. We are the ones that blow the horn for justice. We will punish you down, this is a warning."

Futa has made it abundantly clear he only does this until the other party apologizes or backs down. Something the hat girl was already doing while the others continued to attack her anyway.

In Backdraft, Futa also spray paints the ones who did this in black as they were doing it. Then we see their tags on the image of the victims have been spray painted over on the wall with black as well once it cuts to the girl.

Black is used as the color to highlight the words on Futa's second trial CD as well,

I believe this color is being used to highlight Futa's version of justice. Just as he says in the voice drama that Es and him are no different, both simply stating that something was bad and things going out of control.

Adding to this Es (and the audiences) judgement of Futa is represented with the same color at the end. As if visually stating the judgement the audience gave to Futa should actually be given to these people instead and reiterating the little difference Futa sees between what he did and what Es and the audience is doing now.

Backdraft even going as far as to have the eyes behind Es be the same color as the spray paint, the people in the group are portrayed using to harass that girl. Making it seem as though by punishing Futa we're supporting the people who did this instead of the other way around.

This makes Futa's question of,

"Should I succumb, make your wish come true?"

Come off as though he's not only speaking about Milgram (Es, and the audience), but the others involved in the harassment of that girl who may have begun doing the same to Futa hoping he'd react in a similar way to their previous victim.

Something alluded to through this image and messages at the end of Bring It On.

QRT Storm Pazuzu　（＝Futa） I think I’ve got all her details now. Based on her previous tweets I’ve worked out her school. The fact she lives so close is hilarious lol Judgement☨Onizuka You’re the worst offender of all.

"Full of yourselves, are you?" - "Bye bye idiots and devils with the faces of angels." - "You gotta be kidding! I’m the real hero!" - "You gotta be kidding, I’m an undead hero!" - "You’re the crazy one! Ban-Ba-Bang!"

Also we see in Bring It On through Futa's inverted colored phone screen that his icon looks like blue fire or mirrors JudgementOnizuka's normal colored one and vice versa. Implying some sort of connection between the two of them.

It's also telling that Futa is represented by fire and Onizuka water especially given the repeated line of,

"Can't douse this fire."

Within Backdraft.

The lyrics,

"Don’t get cocky, you in that cypher!"- "Holler-holler from safety, so worthless."

These lines can not only refer to the audience or Es but the people he used to hang out with or individuals getting overzealous/too confident with their harassment online. Something the group he used to be in did.

Backdraft also shows off Futa's willingness to just fight head-to-head about it through the line.

"The fight’s up here! Come up to the ring and face me!"

"You won’t be forgiven, a coward, never!"

Question 3

How did he get the phone? Whose is it?

"Are both sides losers?" - "The fact she lives so close is hilarious lol."

It's more than likely the hat girl's phone. Just like the phone we see get smashed in After Pain appears to have belonged to Mu's victim and former friend. Once again, making this another way Futa and Mu parallel each other and why they were paired up.

If the hat girl were also in the group or followers of these people before she began getting harassed, Futa would have an easier time looking over, keeping up with, and figuring out who was responsible for the harassment. That is if he did get her phone after she died.

It would also be similar to how Mu's victim seems to have been involved with Mu or the friend group Mu was in before she passed away as well. However, the phone could belong to Futa's actual victim then when we see it falling to the ground and breaking in Bring It On could be during the altercation portrayed in Undercover.

One thing is for sure Futa and Mu both use breaking phones as imagery for silencing others-

That and they both have a very firm grasp of framing.

Futa would still be able to look over old interactions he was in from his own phone. So, like with Mu in After Pain and It's Not My Fault there may be some playing around with time. In fact, I think there may be playing around with time present in all the prisoner's music videos that becomes more overt depending on the prisoner's personality.

In Futa's case, this is probably why the interactions on his own phone have those inverted colors while the interactions on the one we see break later does not. This coloring choice could denote that these interactions happened before what we are witnessing now. You know how flash backs are usually put in grey or muted colors.

Just as it's implied through After Pain that the messages on Mu's phone happened before her bullying. Futa just goes about displaying this in a vaguer manner.

There are also these things from Bring It On as well that I covered elsewhere before, but I believe it was in reply to someone else's post or something because I can't find it in my archive.

These read,

WARNING [FUTA'S TWITTER ICON] "CONGRATULATIONS [REDACTED]! YOU BROUGHT JUSTICE TO THE WORLD!!! CONGRATULATIONS [REDACTED]? YOU BROUGHT JUSTICE TO THE WORLD???" WARNING [FUTA'S TWITTER ICON] CONGRATULATIONS [REDACTED] YOU BROUGHT [REDACTED] TO THE WORLD!!! CONGRATULATIONS [REDACTED]? YOUR BROUGHT [REDACTED] TO THE WORLD???

I also mentioned this before with this but again can't find it but on the map during the final fight we can see Futa's indicator moving away while appearing to spawn back in.

Also the D in world is styled after his twitter icon-

And at the beginning of Bring It On his phone switches between the Bring It On screen and his twitter feed each time the video glitches before he heads out-

So, yeah- Some credit for all the work Futa did trial one trying to cover up the truth is long overdue.

Whelp that's it. Fuck you Futa for pulling one over on me though really thought that was his phone he dropped.

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama

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heyitsme1040 · 1 year

Text

Connected Through Music [s.r]

summary : Steve takes back the hoodie he'd lent you so he can go to the store. When he gets home, he realizes that you forgot something in his pocket and finds your mp3 player. Out of curiosity, Steve looks through your music and finds a playlist titled with his name.

pairings : Steve Rogers/Reader

warnings : None. This is just purely self-indulgent fluff. The nickname sweetheart is used. There's no use of Y/N, pronouns, or descriptors of the reader. If I did miss anything that should be a warning, please let me know.

word count : 1,600

AO3 (x)

a/n : I've been editing a lot of works in progress the past few months. I keep thinking that they aren't long enough to justify being posted, and have come to the realization they're just fine. Instead of stressing myself out with writing these, I need to enjoy writing them again.

“Sweetheart,” Steve called out from your shared room. “Do you need anything from the store? I’m gonna head out soon.”

“Would you mind grabbing me a new pair of earbuds? I don’t like the wireless ones Tony handed out, and my wired ones only work in a certain position,” you replied while walking out of the bathroom.

“No problem. Also, I’m taking this back,” the corners of his mouth turned up while he grabbed the hoodie he’d lent you weeks ago that you kept.

“What? No, don’t steal my hoodie!” You whined.

“Actually, it’s my hoodie,” he chuckled. “I lent you it, and it magically disappeared. I’m merely taking it back.”

You pouted while he pulled the hoodie over his head. As soon as his head reappeared, his eyes softened at the look on your face. He turned to his closet and rummaged around before pulling out a red hoodie.

“Here,” he held the hoodie out to you, “you can steal this one for a while. This one still smells like me.”

You beamed up at him as you took the clothing in your arms and buried your face in it. Inhaling deeply you smelt sandalwood and the ocean. Steve was right, it smelled better to you than the other one had. You were quick to pull it on, loving how soft it felt.

“See? Now we both have a hoodie that smells like the other,” Steve wrapped his arms around you and tucked you into his chest.

You kissed over where you felt his steady heart beat. You quietly groaned as the alarm on your phone went off. With one final squeeze, you made your way out of Steve’s warm embrace.

“I’ve got to go,” you mumbled. “Nat and Wanda wanted me to meet them in the garage so we could go to the mall.”

“Alright lovely. I hope you three have fun,” Steve kissed your forehead. “There’s supposed to be a new bookstore that opened up not too long ago. I meant to tell you when I found out, but I know you’ll want to look around.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you stood on your toes and kissed his cheek. “Be safe at the store.”

“I promise.”

Steve watched as you grabbed your purse and made your way out of the apartment. He changed out of the sweatpants he was wearing and tugged on a pair of jeans. Quickly typing what you asked for from the store onto his phone, he did one final walk through the apartment seeing if there was anything he’d forgotten to add onto the list. Satisfied that everything was written down, he slipped his shoes on and grabbed his wallet and keys.

Finally done picking up the things the two of you needed, Steve slipped his wallet into the pocket of his hoodie and made his way back to the Jeep. Putting the bags in the back and returning his cart Steve began the drive back to the compound. He turned up the radio, listening to whatever station you’d left if on last. Instinctively, he looked to the passenger seat only to find you weren’t there beside him. Steve was grateful you left the radio on your favorite station so he wasn’t entirely without you.

As he pulled up to the security gate, and showed his S.H.I.E.L.D. badge to go through he let his mind wander to you. He hoped you were able to enjoy yourself at the mall. He couldn’t wait to hear about what you got and did.

It doesn’t take long to have everything put away. Steve makes sure to place your earbuds on top of your laptop before putting his wallet on the nightstand. When his hand slips into the pocket, he’s met with the feeling of worn leather and cool metal. He puts his wallet down, then reaches back in to see what else was in his pocket. Wrapping his fingers gently around the slender metal object, he pulls out your mp3 player. Your earbuds are wrapped haphazardly around the light blue object, wire exposed in sections. He shook his head at the state of your earbuds, chuckling at how you’d described them earlier compared to what he was seeing. He carefully unwrapped the wire from your beloved device and threw them away.

He was surprised that you’d forgotten your music player in his hoodie, you usually make sure it was with you. Sure, you had music on your phone, but you preferred your music player. When missions required everyone to shut off their phone and go dark for a period of time, you would still have your music. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he powered on the device to see what songs you’ve been listening to recently.

He smoothly navigates from all of your albums to the playlists you’ve made. He’s shocked that as he scrolls past your driving playlist, your training playlist, and your sleep playlist that he suddenly sees one named after himself. He taps the playlist and feels his chest warm at the playlist. It’s a mixture of songs he’d told you he liked before the war, songs he’d said he liked that you showed him, and songs that just reminded you of him. He walked into your shared living room and connected the mp3 player to the speakers in the room and pressed play.

As the music began to quietly drift its way through your shared home, Steve heard you opening the door.

“Babe! I’m home,” you called out in a huff.

Steve made his way to your voice, finding you in the kitchen. You had some bags on the counter and were putting something in the fridge. Steve stepped up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. You quickly leaned back into his chest while closing the fridge.

“How was the store?” You asked, fully relaxing into his hold.

“It was fine. Did you have a good time?” Steve swayed the two of you to the music he could still hear from the other room.

You nodded, turning to face him, “I did, but I’d rather be home with you.”

Steve hummed his agreement while leaning down to capture your lips with his own. “I missed you,too. C’mon I want to hear all about your shopping adventures.”

“I found the bookstore you mentioned. It’s a small one, but really nice. We mainly walked through the stores browsing. I did pick up a few clothes, and a new pair of trainers for the gym. For the most part we just chatted while we got lunch,” you shrugged. “What about you?”

“The store wasn’t as busy as I expected it to be. I picked up what we needed and found some stuff to make my mom’s casserole one night this week. I took our Jeep instead of my bike since we needed some more things than usual, then I came home and put everything away. And when I got home you know what I found?”

“What?” You murmur against his lips, resting your foreheads together.

“You forgot your music player in my hoodie,” he began. “And I couldn’t help but chuckle at how worn your earbuds were. So I got rid of them, after I put your new ones on your laptop. I was curious what you were listening to so I looked. And I happened to find a particular playlist named after me.”

You couldn’t fight the blush that dusted your cheeks, burying your face into his neck. Steve picked you up and set you on the counter. Gently prying your face away from him, he stood between your legs making your eyes meet his.

“Don’t be embarrassed Sweetheart,” he cupped your cheek. “It was sweet. The thought of you being reminded of me while listening to music, you humming along to these songs when I can’t be around. It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I know you made it for yourself, but just finding out that I’m on your mind as often as you’re on mine melts my heart. When I was driving back the radio was on that station you love, and I looked over expecting to see you there. You weren’t, but it felt like you were,” you leaned into his palm at the touching words. “How’d I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

You shook your head while letting a sheepish smile grace your lips, “Well if that’s the case I guess it’s a good thing I got you a surprise.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have–”

“I know, but I wanted to. I saw it and thought it’d be a good idea for you, too,” you gesture to one of the bags.

Steve plucks it up from the counter and hands it to you. You place one hand over his eyes, making him laugh, and use the other to pull out the small box. You pull your hand away, pleased to see he had them closed. You tugged his hand up and set the box into his hold.

“Okay, open!” You gleefully prompt him.

Steve’s eyes land on the box, and quickly recognizes a silver version of the mp3 player he’d found in his pocket earlier. “Baby, you didn’t have to. Seriously. Thank you, so much,” he tenderly kissed your lips.

“We can both enjoy our music, whenever we want to. Stay connected through it when the other isn’t able to be here,” you gently promised, holding his hand.

Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.

#steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you

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rancidpancakebatter · 11 months

Text

Another Way to Fly-[P.P.] | Chapter Three

Pairing: TASM!college!Peter Parker x female!college!reader

Summary: You've been dating Harry Osborne for three years. You love him...but maybe not as much as you once did. Maybe not enough.

AU Where Norman isn’t as sick- he’s just an asshole- and Gwen didn't go to Oxford. Harry is functioning as an apprentice at Oscorp (He graduated with a master's in two years because of his studying abroad). You, Peter, and Gwen are all seniors at ESU. Because Peter isn't Spider-Man and Norman isn’t dying, the whole “Goblin” thing is scratched from the record, so Peter and Harry are besties.

Prompt: Based on an ask for my 200 Follower celebration

Word Count: 5.3k

Content Warnings: Swearing, Implications of sex

Previous | Chapter List | Next

As you walk in, Peter can tell that you are clearly irritated. You move stiffly, and your brows are furrowed slightly. To anyone else, they may believe you were just thinking about something, but Peter knew you really well.

He met you about four years ago in the campus library. It was finals, and the building was packed with students pulling out their hair and silently sobbing at tables crowded with colourful worksheets and laptop charging cables. He had almost tripped over you, walking through the shelves on the third floor. You were hunkered down in the 150s of the Dewy Decimal System. Papers and textbooks were fanned out around you, and you typed away on your laptop, oblivious to the world as a soft melody spilled from your wired earbuds.

Your head shot up when you noticed a foot land on a piece of paper before quickly hopping off, but still leaving a large, dirty footprint on your notes. You pulled out your headphones and looked up, ready to use all of your pent-up frustration and stress to rip the offender a new one, but before you could even start, his panic started spilling out.

“Oh, Jesus. I’m so so sorry. Shit, uhhh lemme just…” He picked up your notes and tried to wipe them off, but the dirt just smeared. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. You can have mine.”

The boy standing above you was tall, his curls flopping over as he moved his head around. You could tell he was lanky under his layered shirts and baggy jeans. He was pretty. You blinked a few times, breaking your train of thought to focus on what he said.

“Are you taking Intro to Psychology?” You asked.

His face reddened slightly, “...No.”

You quirked an eyebrow at the strange man. “Then how could I borrow your notes?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times before a dry chuckle left his lips. “I, uh, I don’t know.”

Your irritation melted at the sight of this awkward man. He obviously didn’t mean any harm, and it’s not like your notes were ruined, just dirty.

“What’s your name?”

“Parker- er, I mean Peter.”

You laugh at his uncertainty.

“Did you get a concussion on the way over here?” you tease.

Again, the man flushes, “No.”

“So which is it?” You ask, “Parker or Peter?”

He blinks a bit, pulling a face like he’s trying to solve a riddle, “Both.”

“You’re name is Parker Peter?” You ask, your confusion only building.

He buried his head in his hands, shaking it side to side, then pulls his hands away and sighs.

“Can we start over?” You nod your head, and he does a little spin, reappearing with a smile splitting his face. “Hi, I’m Peter Parker, and I’m so sorry for stepping on your notes and then making it worse by smudging everything and being incredibly awkward.”

You chuckle, then tell him your name.

“Cool, well, it was nice to meet you (Y/n). I’ll leave you alone forever now.”

He turns to walk away, but you call after him. He turns with a look of surprise on his face.

“You can join me if you want. There’s not many places left to study, and if you’re working, it’ll keep me from getting on my phone.”

Peter smiles at you and takes you up on the offer. You sit in silence for about two hours before Peter gets a phone call. You are only mildly annoyed by the interruption, and Peter looks embarrassed to have disturbed the peace. He gives a “Harry” directions to find him and begins packing up his stuff.

A few minutes later, you noticed a shadow cast over you and looked up to see crystal blue eyes. You hold each other’s gaze for a moment before he finally speaks.

“Hi, I’m looking for a really annoying know-it-all with a skateboard.”

His smile gleamed in the light as he stood over you in a well-tailored dress shirt and slacks.

“Hey! I’m right here, asshole.” Peter exclaimed.

The polished man only broke his eyes away from you then, walking around you and looking to Peter with a teasing smirk. “Oh! Hey Pete. Sorry, I didn’t see you past this beautiful woman.”

Peter slugs him in the arm, and they hug.

Boys, you think as you roll your eyes.

“And this ‘beautiful woman’,” Peter says, “is (Y/n). I stepped on her notes and then made a complete fool of myself. She took pity on me and let me study here.”

You stand as graciously as you can with your left foot asleep. “Yeah, he even offered to replace my notes for a class he doesn’t take.”

Harry laughs, and then his eyes roam over your body. It’s a quick scan, but it makes your heart race.

“Psychology?” He asks.

You look between them, a little surprised. Peter matched your expression. “Yeah, Intro. How’d you know?”

“You hunkered down in the physiology section,” The blond says with a coy smile, “...and I think I’ve seen you in class before. Room 3304 with Professor Markle, right?”

You confirm his memory, and he extends his hand to you. “I’m Harry.”

That day you formed a little study group. You agreed to meet at the campus coffee shop on Wednesdays. You met Gwen, who seemed really nice- albeit a little too put together. You guys all got closer, and you brought up the idea of trying different coffee shops until you found one you all liked.

That summer, you discovered Cafè Luna, Harry’s last name and its significance, about Gwen’s dreams of studying abroad, and that Peter had really good taste in music. You guys would get together and have Harry get you into different bars to see the local shows and drink. Eventually, it became just your and Peter’s thing, as Gwen wasn’t big into the music, and Harry couldn’t get behind the whole “eat the rich” message as much as he wanted to.

Slowly you grew to be very close with Peter. You began to confide in him, and he, you. You learned about how his uncle had passed, and that it was just him and his aunt. You told him about growing up in Brooklyn. You were invited to Hannukah and Birthday dinners. May also had a Christmas dinner, and Harry kissed you under the mistletoe after months of heavy flirting. It was a good year.

And now, Three years later, Peter knew better than anyone when you were peeved. Especially when you dramatically plopped into your chair next to his, letting your bag drop to the floor next to you. Peter also knew that asking you what was wrong was dangerous. Sometimes you snapped, denying there was any problem at all, or you would rant for hours on end (that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but regardless) until you were blue in the face. And with your arms crossed firmly across your chest, he thought it would be more of a snapping response.

He also knew that there were a lot of things that could cause your sour mood. Sometimes it was a simple fix, like a greasy cheeseburger or a walk in the park, but sometimes it was much more complicated. He sincerely hoped it was a simple fix.

“Hey, Led Head.” He tried, testing the waters. This was a nickname he gave you because you love Led Zeppelin.

“Hey, Pete,” You said with a slight bite, but it didn’t feel directed at him. You could’ve been explaining the difference between fettuccine and fusilli, and the chill would remain the same.

“How’s your day goin’?” His Queens’ accent dripped into his words.

He didn’t miss the sarcasm in your “Swell, how’s yours?”

“Eh, can’t complain,” Peter shrugged, tapping his pencil on his desk, “but it looks like you can.”

Just then the professor walked in, and any remark you could have made was silenced as you all tuned into the upcoming lecture.

You try your best to focus on taking notes, but Peter notices the way you’re constantly fidgeting, one hand scribbling and the other tugging on your shirt, your skirt, your socks, etc. This goes on for the whole duration of the lecture, and after watching it go on for thirty minutes, Peter can’t stand it anymore.

You feel a nudge at your arm and look up to see Peter hunched over his desk, leaning in towards you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You huff slightly, annoyed and not wanting to get into it right now. You still had another hour left of class, and you just wanted to get through it.

“Come on, Heartbreaker,” Peter said, charm skating off his tongue. He was pulling out the big guns now. Calling in the “this nickname always makes you feel special, but only certain people can use it, and I’m one of them” nickname. This was a nickname he gave you because you loved Led Zeppelin, that song specifically. “You know better than to try and lie to me.”

Your shoulders deflate as you give in.

“I’m just…uncomfortable.” you settle on.

Peter props his head on his hand dramatically, waiting for you to expand.

“I had a sweater, but now it’s stained– probably forever– with my latte that I didn’t get to finish this morning, and my breakfast is probably still sitting in the middle of the road covered with tire tracks, and my tits are out, and my clothes are tight, and it’s cold, and I feel like I can’t breathe!” You harshly whispered all in one breath.

Peter stifled a laugh, and you slugged him in the arm, now unable to suppress your general irritation any longer.

“Alright, alright,” He says, pushing you away slightly.

“We can get you some food and caffeine after class, but for now,” He pulls off his jacket and hands it to you. “You can wear this.”

You gladly take it, and as soon as you bring it over your shoulders, you’re almost overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne seeping into the fabric. You take an unashamed, long sniff.

“Peter, what cologne do you use? This smells fucking amazing.”

Peter doesn’t answer, just shaking his head with a quiet laugh.

“Seriously,” You say more to yourself than your desk mate, “I need to get Harry some of this stuff.”

You turn your head and see him giving you an “I can’t believe you,” look- a “You say the darndest things” look- and you start snickering. In turn, Peter also starts snickering. This exchange compounds exponentially until you’re both swallowing down full bellows of laughter. Your hand is over your mouth as a few choked snorts seep through the cracks of your fingers. Peter’s fist is pressed firmly against his lips, trying to seal the leak of laughter.

“Excuse me.” Your heads raise, and the laughter in your throat dies at the pointed glare from your professor. “If you’re done flirting, I’d like to continue my class.”

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding you as you sank into your seat and pull Peter’s hoodie tighter around you, as if to hide. Peter mumbled out a sorry, seemingly just as embarrassed as you. Your professor looked as if she was holding back an eye roll before turning back to the rest of the room, and continuing her lecture.

You weren’t flirting. Of course you weren’t. And certainly not with Peter, one of your best friends and the best friend of your boyfriend since childhood. And he definitely wasn’t flirting with you. He was in a happy relationship with his high school sweetheart, who was truly an amazing girl- even if you two weren’t particularly close. The mere notion of you two flirting is laughable, improbable, and downright preposterous.

You refused to look anywhere other than the screen your professor projected her slideshow on. You couldn’t focus on the presentation she had no doubt slaved over. You could see from your peripheral Peter looking over at you. You couldn’t meet his gaze.

You were consumed by a tight feeling in your chest and a thought that made you sick. It was just there for a moment; it didn’t mean anything. It flashed across your mind the same way a “That’s a cool shirt” or “Do we need eggs?” might, but you felt guilty regardless.

I want Peter to flirt with me.

It rang through your head- echoing and shattering the contents within. Your hand reached up towards your neck, where a thin ‘H’ rested above your heart. The metal felt warm to the touch; the edges feel sharp enough to slice your skin.

I want Peter to flirt with me.

You didn’t, obviously. That would be weird. It would ruin your friendship. It would ruin your relationship. You didn’t see Peter like that. Sure, he was pretty, and smart, and kind, and a tried and true “momma’s” boy, but you were never into him. And you’re not now.

You took the jacket because he’s your friend. And as your friend, he offered it to you. To make you feel better, because that’s what friends do. They help each other and make sure they’re comfortable. And you were laughing because Peter made a silly face. And it’s funny when you’re friends make a silly face. It meant nothing more. Your professor called it flirting because she was upset, annoyed. Not because it looked like flirting. Not because anyone thought you were flirting. You certainly didn’t. And Peter obviously didn’t think so either. Because he wouldn’t do that. Because you’re just friends.

The kind of friends that would force the other to sit down at a diner nearby because they have the best burger in town. And he’s completely right. Nothing in this world compares to Benny’s Burger Palace.

You've probably seen a place like it though- a retro diner with rounded chrome trimmings on all the counters and tables. Checkered tiling, slightly yellowed from the years. Red, patched booths with the softest cushioning and well-worn vinyl. Benny’s got great shakes, is open twenty-four hours, and always sells breakfast. But they also sell- you guessed it- burgers.

Benny had unfortunately passed away in the eighties. But since then, his son had taken over- Lenny- and the recipe was well preserved. Lenny was a big man with a shiny bald head, and a black apron folded in half and tied around his waist. He was always at the grill with a bright smile readied for every customer and a deep laugh that rattles through your chest. He recognized you guys as soon as you walked in and immediately threw some patties on the grill, telling you, “Your booth is open.”

Your smile was lukewarm, though still appreciative. Lenny, of course, didn’t notice a difference. Peter did. You hadn’t said much since earlier when your professor called you out. You were very vocal, with your joy and your rage, so your near-silent brooding was nerve-wracking. The last time you were this quiet, you disappeared for a few days, then returned with bangs and a new tattoo. Then there was the breakdown a month later that resulted in you breaking up with Harry for two months. Neither of you liked to bring it up, and if anyone asked, you guys had been dating for three years. Peter didn’t even know why you had broken up. He just knew that you were mad, and you ended it.

He had tried several times to spark a conversation with you and was confused as each attempt failed. You met each statement with a half-interested grunt or hum. And now he sat across from you while you played with your sleeves and stared out the window.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sighed, knowing he was eventually going to ask. You were never very good at hiding when you were in a bad mood. And your mood had worsened since that interruption in the classroom. Peter was your friend, but you realised you didn’t want to tell him what was on your mind- especially when you didn’t know what it meant.

“Yeah, I think I just needed to eat something.”

Peter didn’t quite believe you but accepted the answer, for now.

“And some caffeine?” He offered.

You gave him a small smile and nodded your head. Peter immediately flagged down your waitress to order a pot of coffee.

She returned with a youthful pep in her step, ponytail bobbing and smile gleaming. Her eyes never left Peter as she dropped off the coffee and a small bowl overflowing with creamer, and then she reached across the table to move the sugar towards him. Peter politely thanks her, and she hangs around for a few awkward moments before she finally moves onto another table.

You reach for the (single) mug she brought to the table, tucking your knees up to your chest as you fix your coffee. Once satisfied, you take a sip, the warmth travels from the inside out, and you can tell it’s a strong brew from just a small taste.

You finished your first cup in silence, which was only broken now, by Peter, as you struggled to open more creamer cups.

“So…is there something particular bogging you down…or is it just…a bad day?”

You pause in your stirring, thinking through the best answer.

“Norman stopped by, unannounced, for dinner last night.”

You took a sip, feeling validated by Peter’s sympathetic wince.

You told him all about him ogling you and every passive-aggressive (and not-so-passive) insult he threw your way. You told him about the fundraiser and the fit he threw over the food you had made. When you got to the “Adult Film” comment, Peter interjected.

“Yikes! What did Harry say?”

Your face twisted like you had eaten something sour, and in a way, it felt like you had. As you spoke, you felt the bitter taste the words left on your tongue. You cleared your throat, making sure to “speak with your chest.”

“He didn’t say anything. He watched the food for me so I could go upstairs and change.”

Peter made a face of disgust, but just then your overly bubbly server returned. She placed each burger in front of you, and you ignored that Peter received more fries than you. Again, she tried to speak a little while longer, trying to ignite a conversation not realising she was trampling over the coals already set ablaze.

You took a bite from your burger and you can taste the love and history seared in. As juice starts to trickle between your fingers, you get lost in this perfectly flavoured, flame-grilled patty. It’s so good you could eat it plain. But you don’t because you’re not a psychopath that eats plain patties.

You’re so lost in your delicious burger that you don’t see the distracted way in which Peter is picking at his fries. There’s a question hanging from his slightly pouted lips; confusion resting on his brow. He lets you enjoy a few bites before eventually he decides that he did hear you right and that he needed clarification.

“Wait…Harry didn’t say anything?”

You shook your head no as you swallowed your bite.

“He didn’t say anything?” Peter asked again.

You nodded your head, quickly grabbing a napkin to wipe and cover your mouth.

“What do you say to that? ‘Hey! Don’t say that!’” You scoff, “Like Norman would listen.”

Peter gave you a sad look before muttering a “Yeah, I guess,” before encouraging you to go on. You told him about the rest of the night (or at least the rest of Norman’s stay), before skipping to this morning. You told him about the outfit conundrum and the coffee-breakfast fiasco and when you finished, Peter let out a sigh, letting your words wash over him.

“Damn,” he finally said, “That sucks.”

You hummed an “mh-hm” as you bit into your burger, then insisted that he share about his day around a mouthful of cheddar, beef, tomato, lettuce, and some in-house sauce you desperately wanted the recipe to, but knew you would never get.

As you ate, Peter told you all about how Gwen is getting ready for England- about how stressful it is to get her ready in just six weeks. But also how sad it is knowing that one of his favourite people would soon be living in a different country for a year, and the best he could do was visit.

He told you about how he needed to find a roommate, and he was considering Ned, someone he met at the Bugle, who was apparently pretty cool. He told you about his nightly phone call with May, which was funny, to you, because they saw each other all the time. Seriously. If Peter wasn’t home or at work, he was with May: helping her out with groceries, with the laundry, or fixing anything that squeaked in the house. It was really sweet.

Peter then starts talking about other things, and you chew along as you follow his train of thought down every broken track and blindsiding curve. You honestly feel a lot better with food in your stomach. You forget just how hangry you can get.

But as helpful as that burger was, you knew it was the company you shared that made you feel better. Peter Parker had once again worked his magic, and you felt loads better. He’s making you smile and laugh, helping you forget all the shitty hours before now. Time is now at a standstill. There’s nothing here but you and Peter, in your own little world.

You feel a nudge at your foot and Peter wears a face of faux-indignation. You make your own face that reads, “What do you want?”

Peter fights back a smile, “You weren’t listening.”

You swallow your bite, “Yes I was, you were talking about your essay on some bacteria in the metabolism.”

“No,” he says kicking your foot again, “I was talking about the differences between Acrocanthosauruses and Carcharodontosauruses, but you were too lost in your burger to care.”

He breathes a dramatic sigh, imitating “every woman in a period piece ever” and the very reason he refuses to watch any of them with you. You smack his foot, breaking him from his false wallowing.

“Was there a reason you were ranting about dinosaurs again?”

Peter returns the smack with a kick of his own.

“Well, you would know that I was studying prehistoric plants in my botany class right now if you were a good friend.”

His words hold no ire, instead, they are spoken in a nasally, mocking tone. You kick him back, defending yourself anyway.

“I am a good friend! I’m paying for lunch and letting you rant about dinosaurs uninterrupted.”

Peter kicked your foot again with dramatically furrowed brows but a smile he couldn’t hold back, “I give you dinosaur lessons for free. You should be grateful for all that I share.”

You return the kick, “I am! I loved last week’s lesson on cephalopods-”

“The Nautiloids, specifically.” Peter corrects, swatting at your foot again, “Cephalopods include a lot of things, such as squids, octopi, and cuttlefish.”

You roll your eyes at Peter’s triumphant grin. With no whitty remarks left you smack his foot again, this time a little harder, and stick out your tongue. Peter takes that as a declaration of war, and soon, a game of footsie breaks out. Towards the end of it, your pumping both of your legs as if biking while Peter does the same.

You call a truce when Peter notices the waitress coming back over. Her uniform had changed since you first walked in. Now she wore her hair down, the chestnut waves falling over her shoulders. Her apron was folded over, much like Lenny’s, and her shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show she had cleavage without really showing it.

“Hey, just wanted to check on you.” She says through a smile with way too much teeth, to Peter. Not you. She has only been looking at Peter, this whole time, who is of course, oblivious.

“I think we’re ready for the check.” You say shortly.

The girl doesn’t say anything, just nods her head and promises to be right back. You pull out your wallet, card ready for when she returned. She passed the check to Peter when she returned, once again, ignoring you completely. Peter made a confused face before passing it to you. While you filled out the receipt the waitress tried once again to drum up conversation.

“I’m Margot, by the way.” she stutters out.

Peter is polite as ever, offering his name and his hand to shake.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard you talking about dinosaurs.” You notice the way she’s leaning forward, all but shoving her boobs in Peter’s face. “I just think they’re so cool. What’s your favourite one?”

You felt an anger rise within you. Margot looked to be a few years younger than you, maybe eighteen or nineteen. She’s young and pretty and way too obvious. Couldn’t this girl just leave you guys alone? Were you just fucking invisible? Why couldn’t you just talk to your friend in peace?

Before sweet, oblivious Peter could answer her, you snap, “He’s taken.”

The young woman looks at you with a sort of horror on her face as she straightens back up. She looks between you guys a few times as her cheeks begin to redden.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t realise-”

“No, not by me!” You almost shout.

You want to slam your head against the wall. Why is it that everyone thinks you’re a couple, or want to be? Is being friends so crazy?

“Just in general. He has a girlfriend.” You lamely explain. “Who isn’t me, but is very real.”

She looks at you with a look that could be confusion but you take it as disbelief.

“...okaayyy…” she says as she awkwardly steps away from the booth. You fell back against the cushioned seat, sipping on your coffee as you avoided Peter’s wide eyes. You couldn’t avoid his laugh though. He very obviously thought your behaviour was hilarious. In fact, he voiced just how funny it was that you “defended his honour.” That you chased off the waitress he was too oblivious to notice was flirting with him, all on his behalf.

“You pulled a ‘me’ at the bar!” he choked out between gasps of laughter, clutching his stomach as he fell deeper and deeper into the seat of the booth, referring to all the times he’s had to step in when a guy just couldn’t take a hint.

You didn’t say anything, just stomped his foot under the table until he got the message. You weren’t truly cross with him, merely embarrassed. But Peter got that, because he always did.

And you were always grateful for that. Especially now as your walking Peter back to class as he tells you all about the dinner May is planning next weekend. She was making a five-course dinner to celebrate Gwen getting into Oxford and was super excited about it. It warmed your heart to hear Peter’s impression of his Aunt as she insisted all of his friends were in attendance.

“Seriously dude,” Peter says with wild eyes and a finger pointed in your face, “you have to be there, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You swat his hand away with a laugh and check his shoulder as you walk across the street, and passed the library. Peter laughs along with you and he’s happy to see you feel a lot better.

Your smile is back and radiant, and your sass has returned. Along with that twinkle in your eye, the setting sun makes your irises glitter like river stones. There’s a slight rosiness to your cheeks from Jack Frost’s ruthlessness in these November days. And Peter was tracing the constellations he found on your face- mesmerized by the fables they told.

Halfway through the story of when you stopped believing in Santa Claus, you got a call and both of your wonderment was broken. You can see the health and science building in front of you. But you feel it. A force that pulls you. Like a marionette on a string, you pull your phone from your pocket.

“It’s Harry.”

You don’t know why you sound so sad when you say it. You didn’t mean to say it like that. Through a dead sigh and slumped shoulders. With a subtle drag at the corners of your mouth and a tightness in your chest. But you do feel bad, for not being excited to talk to him. You should be.

You tuck your phone back in your pocket, deciding that you just like spending time with Peter, your friend, and you haven’t gotten to do that often. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to your boyfriend, you’re not avoiding him, you just didn’t want to say goodbye to Peter just yet.

“He can wait,” You say more for yourself than Peter, but you feel like you’ve made the right decision as his smile stretches across his face.

Peter beams and gives you a small thank you as you continue to walk Peter up the stairs. Once to the top, you stand across from one another, just smiling. You wrap your arms around your friend and he returns the favour. You bid him farewell, promising to see him next weekend and he promises to text you later.

You can’t fight the smile on your face. Not when you open your phone again to see four missed calls and two text messages from Harry. Not when you pick up the phone and he lightly scolds you for not answering. Not as he tells you he has the driver circling around the campus because he got out of work early, and wanted to surprise you by picking you up. You can’t fight it when you finally get in the back seat.

Harry grabs at the side of your neck once you’ve settled and pulls you closer to lay a strong kiss on your cheek.

“Did you have a good day?” He asks.

You can’t help but laugh as you tell him that you actually had a terrible day, “But I got lunch with Peter and that made up for a lot of it.”

Harry agreed, “Ole Petey Boy can turn any day around.”

You laughed along, “He sure can. It’s a gift.”

Before you can tell him what went wrong in your day, Harry is telling you about the amazing breakthrough they had at oscorp with a regenerative plant species. You don’t quite understand what he’s saying, but you know it’s good because of how excited he’s getting. And it’s rare to see him express excitement.

He stops talking and looks to you for a response. You gasp, then tell him all about how amazing he is and how smart he is. He smirks, thanking you but trying not to let you see the compliments inflating his ego in real time.

In an attempt to not look so big-headed, he said, “Well, I couldn’t have done it without my researchers- Gwen included. Which reminds me…My father wants to host another gala next weekend, to promote our breakthrough and announce the Marathon.”

Suddenly everything is bad again and you wish life would give you some kind of warning before your neck breaks from the whiplash. Harry notices the way your face falls and offers you comfort in his arms. You curl up against his chest as he absent mindly strokes your hair.

“I’m sorry dear,” he offers, “I know you don’t like the Galas.”

“No, No, it’s not that,” you say with a sigh. “It’s just….May wanted to have this dinner, for Gwen, and she really wanted all of us there. And I promised I would.”

You rest your chin against his chest, batting your eyelashes over your hopeful gaze.

“I’m sorry dear, I’ll be sure to send her flowers and a nice Piedmont.”

Your hopes are dashed. It seems you're going to a gala instead of a Parker family (and friend) dinner.

Tag List: @actuallypeterparker, @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @supernerdycookietrashblr, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz

55 notes · View notes

squippy360 · 2 years

Note

Just wanted to request Yandere Dark Dom Natasha with Depressed male reader because I'm fucking depressed right now. With fluff at then end (if you're okay with that and sorry if I bother you) I also can't figure out how it starts and how it end 😐

Natasha Romanoff x Depressed!Male Reader

Cw:(workplace harassment, sexual harassment, fluff, smut, praise, strap on, I hope you like it!)

You were just minding your own business at your workplace. It was your lunch break so, for once, you happily marched down to the break room. You had just got done with a whole bunch of work you had been procrastinating about and finally got it done so you could move on to all the easy stuff. You were actually enjoying your job for once…until a certain someone appeared.

Another co-worker and my boss came into the break room. I happily took out my lunch and ate it. My boss came over and sat with me. We began to talk about small things as my boss waited for their coffee to finish making. He soon left after the beeping from the machine rang loudly in the air. They got their stuff and made their way to the door. The co-worker from earlier came over and sat near me. She struck up a conversation that started out talking about pets and animals, to our love life.

"So, are you with anyone?" She asked. I smiled and stared down at my cup of juice/coffee/ect. "Yeah. I have a loving girlfriend." I said, daydreaming a bit. "Oh really? What's she like?" She said, scooting just a bit closer. I nervously squirmed a bit. "Uh…she's really nice and she takes care of me a lot. I really love her." I smiled a bit. She leaned over with a smirk and put a hand on my thigh, slowly moving it up. "I bet I could take care of you better~" She purred in my ear.

I shivered and went to stand up. N-No thanks. I-I'm a l-loyal good boyfriend." I nervously said. She stood up and pinned me to the wall. "I want to make you my little lover~" she purred and bit my earlobe. I whimpered and tried to push her off of me but she was taller. "C'mon~ I'm sure I can get y-you to scream for me~" She teased. I flinched and broke away, running to the bathroom.

I locked myself in and shakily got out my phone. I put a hand over my mouth and tried to steady my breathing.

"M/n? You usually don't call at this hour…" She said. "I-I know I don't get off for another 2 hours b-but I really need you right now…!" I sobbed out. "Hey, What happened? Are you hurt? Who did it? Please talk to me." She began.

"A co-worker got to touchy with me…I wanna come home…" I whimpered. "Oh love, who is it?" She asked sweetly. "It's (C/w/n). The one who's married to Sammy…" I whispered. "Oh I see. Try and hold out for me, Love. I promise as soon as you get off, I'll be there for you, don't worry. You can talk to me until then." She said. "Ok…thank you…" I whispered.

"So, what are you doing?" I asked as I stood back up to wash my face. "I missed you so much that I attached one of your shirts to my pillow and held it. You're just too cute. I couldn't help it. Everything reminds me of you." She admitted. I smiled sheepishly and blushed. "I just hope you won't mistake me for a pillow." I joked. "I would never." She chuckled. I heard shuffling on the other side of the line before I heard a door slam. "What was that?" I asked. "I'm going out to get some stuff." She answered. I pulled out my earbuds. I stuffed the wire in my shirt and stuck one bud in. "I'm going back to work but please keep talking to me. I feel like I'm going to pass out…" I breathed out. "Of course, Love. I'd love to hear your voice right now~" She hummed.

I made my way out the door but stopped when I saw my boss. "Oh! S-Sorry boss. I-I was just heading back to my desk-" I got cut off by their hand. "Please. Take the rest of the day off. I saw what happened and I will make sure they deserve proper punishment and get fired. I have connections so they won't be working any time soon." The boss said with a smirk. "T-Thank you so much…!" I cried. They hugged me tightly and reassured me that this will never happen again. We went our separate ways and I got my stuff to head back home.

"So how are you feeling? Milk chocolate, Dark, or Milk and caramel?" She suddenly. I realized where she was now. "(Your option) please." I said and began my journey while partially listening to her tell me about her day and recent missions. We got 20 minutes into the call when I could hear her voice go lower and she started praising me quietly in my ear.

"I wanna hold you so bad right now~ I wanna run my fingers through your hair. I want everybody to fucking know how much of a good boy you are for me~ All cuddled into me so comfortably." She whispered. I shivered and shakily got my keys and opened the door. I stumbled inside and took off my jacket, going straight upstairs to hop into bed. "Please get home soon…" I whimpered as I shoved all my clothes off and quickly hopped into my pajamas. I cuddled up in bed surrounded by soft pillows and blankets.

"I'm 5 minutes away…I can see you all cute and curled up in bed for me~" She hummed. I blushed and hid in the mountain of softness. "I can see the pillow you are talking about." I giggled and poked at the pillow with my shirt on it. "What? You're telling me you don't have a pillow of me?" She teased. "Well…sometimes…" I mumbled. We soon hung up since Natasha was almost home and my phone needed to charge. I frowned as I held a pillow. It started out as small sniffling and quickly evolved into loud sobbing.

"Love? I'm home!" She said. I sobbed louder and buried my face in the pillows. I heard her walk upstairs and open the bedroom door. "Oh Love…" She whispered and I heard her come over to the bed. I felt the bed dip in front of me and her arms wrapped around me.

"Why do you even bother with me?! I-I'm practically useless and I-I can't even defend myself! You deserve someone way better and not someone as needy as me!" I cried. She pulled the blanket away from my face and made me look at her. "You have no idea how much I love you. I've always loved you. Even before we met. I've always loved you~ You were meant for me and me only. You are mine and I am yours. I don't care about other people. I can take care of them. I just want you. You're everything I need and more and I'm about to show you. " She whispered lovingly to me. I was about to ask what she meant by that but then she pinned me down to the bed. "I'll have you crying tears of pleasure in a few minutes." She promised. I shivered and put a hand over my mouth when she yanked my shorts off and licked her lips.

I shivered and whined when her warm mouth engulfed my cock. "N-Nat…ngh. O-Oh…! P-Please, you know h-how fast I cum…!" I whined and gripped the bedsheets. "I know baby~ Cum then~ i'm not stopping anytime soon." She growled and pulled it something out from under the pillows. I looked within hazy eyes at the strap- on she had on. I squirmed in pleasure and whined softly. "Please Mommy…please fuck me with your cock!" I begged, knowing she couldn't resist me begging her with the puppy eyes.

She smirked and lightly smacked my thigh. "Good boy~" She purred. I moaned at the praise and lifted my legs up. "Please~" I begged as she quickly put the strap-on on. I saw her put a vibrator inside her and she handed me the remote. "I know how much you love to please Mommy as well~" She growled and poured a lot of lube on the strap and my hole. I shivered at the wetness. "Mommy! Please! I- NGH!" I let out a sudden keen when she thrusted inside. "Keep fucking moaning~ Your voice is so pretty~" She praised and slapped my ass. I turned the vibrator up a quarter and she let out loud moans. Her forehead rested on my shoulder and her hands intertwined with mine.

I arched my back and screamed out when she bit down on my shoulder. "Everyones going to know that you belong to me~ I love you~ No one else is going to ever see you like this but me." She growled and marked up another part of my neck. "CUMMING♡" I screamed and creamed all over my tummy. She didn't stop at all and instead sped up. I screamed out loudly.

"NATASHA! NATASHA! NATASHA! NATASHA!" I cried out with every thrust. I accidentally turned the vibrator all the way up and she moaned loudly in my ear. I gasped when I felt her cum drip down onto my body. My eyes rolled back and I couldn't help but cry. This time, it was from too much pleasure. My whole body spasmed when her hand touched my cock and jerked it hard.

"N-NO! I-I'M GONNA CUM AGAIN! I-I'TS SO MU-MUCH!" I sobbed. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouILOVEYOU!" She moaned and gripped my hand hard before cumming again. I was shaking and crying into a pillow when she flipped me on my knees and fucked into me hard. "OH!!! OH!!! OH♡" I screamed. She didn't stop at all. "God I'm so fucking horny for you right now. I can't stop." She purred and bit down on my neck more.

I shook my head, trying to signal that I can't do it anymore. "P-PLEASE! CAN'T CUM ANYMORE! I-I CAN'T!" I begged. She slammed into me one more time and bit down on my neck hard as she came. I fumbled for the vibrator and turned it off. She fell on the bed and I collapsed In on myself. My eyes betrayed me and the last thing I saw before I passed out was Natasha moving my hair out the way before cleaning me up.

Next up: HYDRA Steve x Male Reader Final

#natasha romanoff x male reader #avengers x male reader #x male reader #male reader #marvel #marvel fic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x male reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Unexpected 30

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Three days since Lloyd’s return and you’re already suffocating. He may not be his most volatile but he’s always better in small doses. So you wake up a bit earlier than usual and gear up; leggings, cotton shirt, a hoodie too tight to zip, and your pregnancy belt.

He rolls onto his back and groans. His bruises are fading but he’s still in pain. He lets you know it. His griping is driving you nuts. You need a break before you beat him up yourself.

“Where are you going?” He asks groggily, rubbing his cheek only to wince as he touches the bruises there.

“For my walk.”

“Your walk?” He pushes himself up on an elbow to look at you, “what does that mean?”

“It means you were gone for a month and I got a month of freedom,” you sneer, “it’s nice out, so I like to walk around the neighbourhood a bit. It’s good for the baby.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he sits up and groans, rubbing his discoloured stomach.

“I can handle myself, Lloyd, it’s almost eight in the morning, there aren’t any thugs out their waiting to jump me,” you scoff, “the only thug around here is in this room.”

“Hm,” he lays back on the pillows, “fine.”

“How about I bring you a coffee before I go,” you offer, “hate to say it, but I think you’re in worse shape than me. I just really don’t care if you’re left to fend for yourself.”

“Wow, you know, peaches, I think I overestimated you,” he shifts and lets out another strained groan, “you’re not as nice as I thought.”

“Well, you could get your own coffee. I mean, it’d be justice considering I can’t have any. And it’s all your fault.”

“Baby cakes,” he whines.

“Ugh, see, this is exactly why I need to get out,” you shake your head, “I’m not your mother, Lloyd, she’s gone home.”

“But you are mommy,” he grins and you resist the urge to find something to throw at him.

“Ew, I’m gonna get the coffee on, then I’m gonna get my shit and go,” you turn on your heel and shuffle away, “I have faith in you, Marion, you can make it to the kitchen.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he bemoans.

“You’ve called me worse and you know it.”

💎

You leave the coffee dripping from the machine and a mug beside it. The burner will keep it warm long enough for him to find a way down. You shove your feet into your sneakers, leaving the laces loose as you can’t bend far enough to do anything about it. Besides, your feet are swollen as fuck.

You put in the wired earbuds that came with your phone and turn on the podcast you found about some old reality show you used to watch when you were younger. You remember how you would wake up in time to watch it on primetime before heading out for another night shift. Colin’s looming memory hardly makes you think anymore, he’s just someone who was there, just a bystander in your wasted life.

You follow the long drive and breathe in the fresh scent of pollen, your allergies tickling behind your eyes. You’ll have to water the bulbs Harlan planted when you get back. They’re starting to sprout up.

Birds bathe in the marble bath and tweet around the feeder Dottie helped you hang. In Lloyd’s absence, you’d done your best to distract yourself, to do the things you could never do in your old duplex. To enjoy what you could before a baby got in the way.

You reach the gate and stop to take a breath. You brace your back, just over the top of the thick belt, and start down the street. The neighbourhood is sparse, a collective of oversized mansions across lush fields, framed with perfectly trimmed hedges. You try to meter your breath as you reach the end of the Hansen estate.

As you pass in front of the next house, you nearly scream. A man nearly bowls you over as he hops through his gate and catches your arm as he steps back, steadying both of you. Your earbuds tug free of your ears as your hand hits the wire. The stranger lets you go and pulls out a wireless bud from his ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Me either,” you say as you lay your hand on your stomach, his eyes following the habitual touch, “I wasn’t paying attention at all.”

“Neither was I,” he chuckles and scratches his neck, just along the stubble that weaves into his thick beard. He’s familiar in a very unnerving way. “I’d feel awful if I’d knocked you over,” he nods to your stomach, “both of you.”

“Oh, uh, well, it’s all good,” you say as you pull up your dangling earbuds, “I was just about to turn back at the end of the street anyway. Can’t make it much further.”

“Ah, do you mind company? I was headed in the same direction.”

“Please, I don’t want to slow you down,” you note his obvious running gear.

“I don’t mind. Always good to get to know the neighbours,” he smiles, his eyes sparkling at you, “Andy.”

He offers his hand and you consider it. You shake it stiffly and return your name.

“So, which house do you live in?” He asks.

“Just next door,” you point over the tall brick wall before heading away from it, resuming your usual path.

“Hansen’s… wife? Wow, I didn’t even know he was married.”

“Oh? I guess… I guess we don’t go out much.”

“Well, I’ve seen you here and there,” he admits as he walks with you, keeping an easy pace with you, “I just didn’t know how to say hi, I guess.”

“Mmm, right,” you nod as you wrap up your earbuds around your phone and tuck it back in the pocket of your leggings, “I guess I’m not very… observant. Especially since I got knocked up. I tend to zone out a bit.”

“My wife was the same way,” he intones, “do you know your shoes are untied?”

“I’m aware. I can’t really reach.”

“Hold up,” he stops you with his arm across your path, “it’s a tripping hazard.”

“But–” you stop yourself from arguing that they’re tucked in.

He tugs them out from under your feet and you feel him knotting them tight. He reappears as he stands up and you continue down the lane. He’s friendly enough and it wouldn’t be so bad to know someone beyond the man you call your husband.

“So, you said your wife was pregnant… how old is your kid?”

He’s quiet as he takes a breath, “he was fifteen.”

You cup your hand over your stomach, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says, “really. I’m not saying it to get sympathy. It’s just… what happened.”

“Still, it’s a lot to go through. Losing a child,” you can’t help but peek down at your belly.

“And a wife,” he adds, “car accident. I’m working through it.”

“I’m–”

“Don’t. No sorry’s. None of it. It’s behind me,” he assures you. “You and Hansen, how long you been with him?”

“You care that much?”

“Well, I’d rather talk about your family than mine.”

“Fair enough. Uh…” you’re not sure how to answer, “too long.”

He laughs, “yeah, about what I expected. He’s a character for sure.”

“You know him well?”

“Not as well as I thought, apparently,” he says, “never even said anything about a wife. Or a kid… kids?”

“Just the one,” you say as you reach the corner and stop, “I’ll tell him you said hello.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t,” he puts his hands on his hips and squints against the sunlight, “I know him, but I wouldn’t say I like him. Or that he likes me for that matter.”

You push your lips out and make a noise, “got it. Actually, I don’t know why I thought he would.”

“He’s not really the neighbourly type,” Andy remarks as he checks his watch, “anyway, I’ll let you go. And next time you go out, get your husband to tie your shoes. Can’t have you falling out here.”

“Will do,” you muster a small smile, “sorry to slow you down.”

“Not at all,” he bounces in place, “it was nice meeting you, neighbour.”

“You too,” you reply and turn on your heel, leaving him to stretch as you head off back to the house in no hurry. You unfurl your earbuds and put them back in your ears, skipping back to your place in the episode. Lloyd can wait a little longer while you finish your podcast in the garden.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #unexpected #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series

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