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gloomwitchwrites · 19 days ago

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Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Four

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: post-apocalyptic au, swearing, dubcon elements, touching, kissing, dirty talk, sexual content, jealousy, possessive behavior, manipulation, mild degradation, oral sex (female receiving)

Word Count: 4.5k

You make yourself an offering. You and Ghost give into your base urges. Soap comes knocking.

Chapter Three // Chapter Five

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

Warmth at your back. Solidness against your thigh. A comforting halo of safety.

Home.

Where there is a hammock on the porch. Where the garden calls your name. Where you sit amongst your archive, losing yourself in the endless books.

Inhaling through your nostrils, you exhale through your mouth, yawning slightly as you stretch your leg muscles, the tension melting away, feeding into the moment of peace.

You’re floating. Content.

There are no marauders. No gunshots. No skull-faced lieutenant dressed in black.

A dream is all it is—a distant nightmare that has passed into memory. It will no longer plague you like an itch. Freedom is in your hands. Vast. Open. A field of endless flowers.

Beside you, something moves, and all that peace is yanked from behind your eyelids.

One eye opens, searching. As you turn your head, a sliver of sunlight cuts through your vision. With an annoyed groan, you retreat from the light. You sniff, and the place smells wrong. It doesn’t smell of home.

“You’re moving too much,” grumbles a male voice.

British. Gruff. Familiar.

We’re taking her with us.

You don’t belong to me.

Your eyes snap open. The wall is an off-white with a hint of yellow, not the florals you’re used to. Above you, the ceiling is the same. This is not your bedroom. This is not your space.

Not a dream, then. Which means—

Ben.

The blood and bullets return, creeping in until it consumes, forcing you back to a moment you long to forget. Unable to contain the pain, you release a little whimper, sounding like a kicked dog.

A large hand gently grasps your upper arm. It’s warm—a little rough. “What’s wrong, love?”

Lieutenant Riley. Ghost. Captor.

A wave rises—laced with grief. Last night, Ghost insisted he could not take you home. That he would not take you back. Home has been ripped from you. By him.

The hand upon your upper arm squeezes in reassurance, urging you to turn toward him. Part of you resists. Refuses. But the pull of comfort is a siren’s song, and there is a man here willing to give it.

You roll onto your back, only for Ghost to push up onto his elbow, leaning over you. The middle of his brow is creased with concern, his whiskey-brown gaze roaming over your face before checking the parts of you above the sheets.

“Are you hurt?”

The tenderness in which Ghost asks surprises you. His grip shifts, cradling your cheek, thumb gently brushing back-and-forth across your skin.

Ghost’s head tilts, gaze roaming over you with an assessing look. “I was rough with you.”

You swallow, saliva sticking in your throat. “You were,” you agree.

His fingers curl slightly, catching on the small hairs on the back of your neck. It’s just a light tug—a redirection, but you surrender to him, allowing Ghost to draw you in.

“Are you in pain?” Ghost’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

You shake your head. “Not the physical kind.”

The corners of Ghost’s mouth slightly turn downward. “I can’t take you home.”

“I know,” you reply, voice cracking. Your eyes burn, tears threatening to claw themselves up to the surface. “You said that.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it sounds like he means it.

The future is uncertain, laced with the unknown probability that you will likely never return to the life you knew. But this new world shaped you—made you understand that you don’t always have a choice.

Whatever happens—whatever life you’re about to be handed—you will survive.

You always do.

“I want to believe you. But I don’t trust you.”

Ghost leans in further, the tip of his nose nearly brushing yours. “You shouldn’t.”

Piercing. Sharp. A hollow point on impact. The pain runs deep through your veins, seizing your blood.

This man is no savior—no sanctuary. But he is all you have now.

What will you do after processing, when you’re reintegrated into society? Will they dump you onto the street? Force you to fend for yourself?

Your answer is cradling your cheek, asking if you’re all right.

Survival. Always survival.

“What do you need?” asks Ghost, a husky bite in his voice.

The pain will swallow you up if you allow it, shredding your resolve until you waste away from despair. Dust. Smaller than dust. A scattering of atoms. A small drop in a large ocean. Yet a life raft floats in front of you, asking you what you need, inviting you to grab hold.

Placing your hand flat against Ghost’s chest, you splay your fingers wide, gently caressing. Ghost groans low in his throat—the sound nearly a growl.

“I want to forget for a bit,” you whisper. “To not be afraid.”

Ghost shifts closer, his grip tightening to a possessive hold. “Do I frighten you?”

“Yes,” you gasp as Ghost’s lips linger just shy of your own, teasing the promise of a kiss.

“Do you know what you’re asking for? With me?”

No.

“I don’t care,” you reply, sounding more desperate than you mean to be.

This is a power play, a way to draw him in, to want you enough that you’ll be protected once you make it to the safe zone. Nothing about Lieutenant Riley’s behavior says that he’ll force himself on you, but his actions haven’t entirely been pure. He might be a bad man, but he isn’t the worst of them.

“Won’t lie,” he growls. “You’re a bloody tempting thing.” Ghost’s thumb drops to your throat, pressing lightly against the pulse point.

You press yourself into him, showing interest. A low groan escapes him, his pupils dilating with arousal. Showing a bit of vulnerability with Ghost might result in nothing. Give him your body for the morning, allow him to rut and fuck to his contentment, only to toss you aside once you arrive at the safe zone. It’s a real possibility. A true fear.

Yet there is hesitation speaking in your ear—whispering.

He comforted you during the executions.

He placed Ben somewhere Zac and the others will find him.

No one tried to take advantage of you with him around.

Small acts of kindness. Moments of gentleness. Each is a confusing justification for how you’re feeling. Ghost is not to be trusted, but you might be able to rely on him in this unknown world.

But you also remember his boot on your back, the way he shoved you against the armored truck, how he joined you in the shower uninvited. They negate the good, and you’re left with a neutral reservation of how to approach this man to your advantage.

So you fall into what you know.

“Then take the offer,” you sigh, offering your mouth.

Ghost lingers in the moment, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. Thumb sliding up your neck, Ghost presses it to your bottom lip, dragging it down to admire your teeth. Releasing, it pops back into place.

“And what are you offering, hm?” he muses, snuggling closer to you.

The boxer briefs he wears hide nothing, outlining every inch of what he has to offer. There is no mistaking his interest.

“Me,” you answer, all breathy and soft. “You can have me.”

“And I make you forget for a bit?”

You nod, and Ghost shakes his head. “Do you really want this?”

The answer is unclear like swamp water. Ghost isn’t shoving you down into the bed. He’s not forcing your legs open to slot himself between. But he isn’t pushing away or denying you. Either would be preferable. At least you’d know where you stand.

This back and forth is worse.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” you entice, tilting your chin.

“Yes,” he replies automatically. “Badly.”

Badly is a growl, bordering on desperation.

Oh, fuck.

Ghost’s grip on the back of your neck tightens—almost hurts. You attempt to move and find that you cannot. “You called me a selfish bastard last night. Now you want to have it off with me?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” you counter.

Ghost smirks. “No.”

“You’re familiar with a woman hate-fucking you?”

His smirk becomes a knowing grin. “A good hate-fuck is my specialty, love.”

You roll your eyes, the palm against his chest no longer a caress but a barrier. Pushing at him, you attempt to scoot closer to the wall—to create some distance.

“No,” he says, the singular word full of authority. Ghost surges forward, rolling you beneath him, trapping you against the bed.

“Get off me,” you snarl.

“Thought you wanted to forget?” he chides. Ghost’s knee slots between your legs, forcing them open a bit.

The only thing between your bodies is the shirt you wear. Nothing else. Can Ghost sense your arousal even though you deny it yourself?

“I do,” you answer. Ghost arches a single eyebrow. “I did,” you correct.

“I don’t believe you,” he teases, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, lips dangerously close to falling upon you.

Like a flint strike, a spark snaps into existence. Ghost’s hand delves downward, fingers featherlight as they skim over your bare thigh, only to curl under your knee. He urges your left leg out and then up against his waist. Through his boxer briefs, Ghost’s erection settles where your pelvis and hip meet.

“What would I find if I touched you?” asks Ghost, his hand sliding higher. “Would you be wet for me?”

“No,” you lie.

Ghost clucks his tongue like he knows the truth. His hand moves higher. Higher. Higher. With a roughness that makes you moan, Ghost squeezes your upper thigh, fingers digging into your skin.

“Should we find out, love?”

That large hand of his shifts to your inner thigh, creeping closer to your exposed sex. There is no underwear to create a barrier, and the shirt you wear is bunched around your stomach. As his thumb brushes over your labia, your hips involuntarily rock into his touch. Ghost’s response is an answering groan, his eyelids fluttering slightly as he nuzzles the side of your face.

“Are you wet for me?” he asks, voice a whiskey-bite of a caress.

Breath heavy, chest heaving, you open your leg wider, giving Ghost complete access. It’s just a touch, brief and tentative.

“You are wet for me,” he sighs, thumb pressing to the entrance of your pussy.

You can no longer deny—no longer pretend that his closeness isn’t affecting you. You hate this man. You want to push him away, to claw out his fucking eyes, to scream and curse him with all your energy. But he smells nice, his touch gentle, and the intimacy in which he holds himself over you speaks to a desire within him that seems to go beyond the bonds of simple arousal.

It makes no sense. It’s absurd. Infuriating. Confusing.

You are breaking. Fracturing. Is this even survival anymore? Are you simply giving in?

Just a small twist of his wrist and Ghost’s thumb ascends to gently circle your clit. You gasp with pleasure, head falling back to expose your neck. Ghost dives in, running his tongue along your throat.

Fuck. Oh, fuck.

“A hate-fuck doesn’t have to be rough,” croons Ghost. “Can take you just like this.” His thumb plays with you, circling and circling until the soft tingle of pleasure becomes a building, pulsing thing that vibrates under your skin. “Make you beg for me,” he breathes.

With his other hand, Ghost grasps your throat, forcing you to look at him. He holds you close, lips just shy of touching.

“I’ll fuck you slow. And you can tell me how much you fucking hate my guts as I rearrange yours.” Ghost presses his thumb directly against your clit, making you shiver. “What do you say, love?”

“I think you talk too much,” you murmur, purposefully goading Ghost to action.

“Then let’s put our mouths to better use.”

He moves first, closing the distance, pressing his lips to yours. Acceptance is all you can do—all you can offer. You’ve started this game, insisted on this, and now there is nothing but to follow through. You need Ghost to want you, to keep wanting you.

Grasping the back of his neck, you meet him with equal need. While you need him on your side, you also need to let go, to release some of this tension and pretend that your life hasn’t been upended.

His hand between your legs gently strokes, slowly building you towards your release. You gasp against Ghost’s mouth, and he chuckles, going in for one more kiss before descending, peppering your neck with affection.

Your hand roams over his muscled back. There is no consistent smoothness to his skin. Scars are present. Some clean and thin and solid. Others jagged. Rigged. And you briefly wonder where he obtained them all.

Ghost’s tongue tastes the hollow of your throat. “This needs to fucking go,” he growls, tugging at your shirt.

He ceases playing with you, both of his hands grasping your shirt, pushing it up your body. A sudden wave of apprehension rises. The shirt is a barrier, an illusion of safety. And there it goes, right over your head, tossed to the floor.

Ghost’s grasps the sides of your ribcage, planting a kiss between your breasts. “Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, turning his head to tease the underside of your left breast with his tongue.

“Lieutenant,” you mewl when he sucks a nipple into his mouth.

You fist his hair, tugging Ghost up your body. He makes a pleased sound as he rises to meet you, seizing your mouth with a kiss that steals your breath. His strength is a powerful thing, yet the way he kisses you—touches you is almost reserved in its intensity. There is no intent to harm, to make you fear him.

Ghost breaks the kiss, easing his weight onto one arm. He reaches between your bodies for his boxer briefs, shoving them down and over his thighs, kicking them away. There is nothing between your bodies, not even the sheets.

Sitting up, Ghost settles between your legs on his knees. Every inch of Lieutenant Riley is on full display. Solid, thick muscles. Criss-crossing scars. Tattoos on his fingers and an entire sleeve down his left arm. Whiskey-brown eyes with pale eyelashes that pierce right through you.

This is a wraith. A Sentinel of Hell. Dangerous. Fierce.

And you’re beneath him, panting with the anticipation of bringing your bodies together.

“Tell me you hate me,” he commands, voice gruff and laced with lust.

“I hate you,” you murmur as Ghost reaches out and caresses your inner thigh.

His hand roams upward, smoothing over your stomach. “Again.”

“I fucking hate you,” you say a bit louder.

Ghost fists his cock and pinches one of your nipples between thumb and index finger. “Again,” he growls. “With more venom.”

“I hate you,” you moan. “You’re a selfish fucking bastard. And I hate you.”

Another pass of his hand, fingers tracing lines down your body, sending little sparks of pleasure through you. It’s blissful agony, and though you do hate Lieutenant Riley and the situation he’s put you in, his touch is welcome.

Your legs fall wider.

“Bloody hell,” breathes Ghost as he slides his hand up and down his cock.

In other situations, like this, when you were simply trying to feed yourself or put a roof over your head, the men would already be on top of you, grunting like feral animals for a few thrusts before finishing. There was never any pleasure in it. Never any desire. They would quickly fall asleep, leaving you hollow like an abandoned burrow.

Predators. Every. One. They all leered—sneered at you like you were filth, as if the only place you belonged was beneath them.

Lieutenant Riley doesn’t gaze at you like that. There is appreciation in the way he takes you in. A longing. A…yearning that makes you question all his motives for taking you in the first place. Under his attention, you feel wanted. Desired.

Another stroke, and a bead of precum blooms. You lock onto it, gaze focusing in as more emerges from his slit. As if sensing your thoughts, Ghost wipes it up with his thumb. Reaching out, he presses his thumb flat against your skin between your breast, drawing a line of cum downward.

“Open your mouth,” he commands.

You comply, and that thumb slides past your lips and over your tongue. A slightly salty flavor flowers. Now you know his taste.

Ghost drags his thumb over your tongue, then your bottom lip, and to your chin. “Grab your thighs. Draw your legs up. Keep yourself open for me.”

Refusing his authority and pushing back is natural at this point, but in this, you submit. And you’re glad to.

Ghost lowers himself, lips finding yours. It’s not a tease of a kiss, but an embrace, surrounding you with lustful need. You’re going to enjoy this. Deep within you, you understand this, and you want to explore this primal intensity.

Another kiss. Lower. Down your neck. Over your breasts. Across your stomach. Descending. Further. Further still.

His tongue teases, and a little cry escapes you.

“LT!” You nearly come off the bed as someone pounds on the door. “You awake, Ghost?”

“Shit,” mutters Ghost, his warm breath brushing against your inner thigh.

Releasing your thighs, you sit up slightly, staring at the door. There’s a stranger here, wanting entrance. The lusty haze over your eyes evaporates, your head clearing like a rainstorm surrendering to the sun. You went too far. Ghost has his head between your thighs and you were holding your legs open for him, enjoying every second of his tongue.

“Fuck,” you whisper as a spike of panic rises.

You start to draw inward. Even your legs are retreating, pulling away from Ghost.

“No,” he growls, large arms hooking under your thighs. He drags you back. “We’re not done.”

The stranger pounds on the door again. “Ghost!”

“Piss off!” he shouts over the top of your thigh.

Whoever is on the other side of the door laughs. “Captain sent me.”

With a deep sigh, Ghost rests his forehead against your stomach. “Stay here,” he murmurs. He lifts his head, lips glossy, and there is so much hunger in his gaze that it momentarily spears you. “I’m not done with you.”

Jesus Christ.

Ghost pushes off from the bed, and you remain the stagnant deer, frozen to the spot. The pounding comes again, the door rattling loudly in its frame. He strides forward, steps purposeful and pounding.

Disengaging the lock, Ghost yanks open the door. Bright sunlight pours in. “What the bloody hell is it, Soap?”

Soap. You know that name. He sat beside Lieutenant Riley in the Humvee.

Without the plain black balaclava on, you have a clear view of Soap’s face. His eyes are a lovely blue, his dark brown hair is styled into a short mohawk, the sides shaved but not bald. In his arms is a stack of neatly folded clothes.

Soap’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline. He whistles, taking in all of Ghost’s nakedness. “Damn, Lt. What a greeting.” He shrugs, smiling like an idiot. “Feel a bit overdressed.”

“You’re taking the piss,” mutters Ghost. “What do you want?”

Soap opens his mouth, clearly intending to deliver a message, but his gaze snags as if caught on a fishing hook.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes as he focuses in on your nude body.

You snatch the bedsheet, covering yourself quickly.

“Eyes on me, Sergeant,” growls Ghost. There’s no kindness in it—only authority.

Soap’s gaze lingers for a few seconds, eventually shifting back to Ghost. “This an open invitation, Lt?”

“No.”

“Sure about that?” asks Soap. He starts to lean to the side, peering at you around Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost steps into his line of sight, cutting you off from his view. “Put one foot inside this door and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Soap snorts. “Okay, Lt,” he laughs. “I’ll back off.”

Tucking the sheet around you, you scoot down the bed, leaning forward to listen in.

“What’s all this?”

“Clothes,” answers Soap. “Clean uniform for you. Things for her.”

Ghost grunts and extends his arms. Soap surrenders the clothes to him. “Should grab breakfast before it’s all gone.”

“We’ll do that,” mumbles Ghost.

Soap shrugs, and then a wickedly mischievous grin spreads over his face. “Unless this is your breakfast?”

Ghost’s answer is to slam the door in Soap’s face.

There will be no continuation. It’s clear from the heave of Ghost’s shoulders before he turns around to face you. And it’s not like you want to anyway. The fleeting moment of desperation and craving for human connection is shattered. Reality has made a home in your bones, sobering you against the lust you felt only minutes ago.

“What did he bring?” you ask, sliding to the edge of the bed.

Ghost walks up to the bed, dropping the stack on the edge. He starts to sort it, dividing everything into two piles.

“There’s pants and a long-sleeved shirt for you.” He tosses them into your lap. “Socks. A jacket.” Ghost goes through the clothes one more time. “Nothing else.”

No bra or underwear. That’s fine. You can go without for now.

As you start to turn away with the intent to dress yourself, Ghost’s arm rises, his large hand grasping the side your neck. You’re forced back around, staring up at him. He takes a step forward into your space, but you don’t break eye contact. You don’t dare look away.

Everything is falling back into place.

You hate this man even if his mouth made you moan. All you know has been ripped from you, and Ghost is leading you toward a huge unknown without even considering what you want. It’s wrong. It’s fucked up.

It’s a drowning.

In an act of defiance, you attempt to jerk out of his hold, but Ghost remains firm, squeezing until you comply.

“If you want to belong to me, just say the word. I can make it happen.”

You remain mute. Silent.

Fuck him. Fuck all of this.

You are not a toy. Not a piece of property. You are a person, and that should be enough. At home, you were an equal, and no one dared lay hands on you. But this is not home. This is…society. What’s left of it. The very dredges of humanity.

And it’s like scraping the bottom of a shit pot.

Whether Ghost likes your silence or not is unclear. When he releases your neck, he doesn’t ask again, and he doesn’t make conversation. He completely turns away from you, dressing like you’re not even in the room.

Tears form, threatening to spill over, to make you appear weak and frail before him. Angrily wiping at your eyes, you drop the sheet and give Ghost your back. He’s already seen you naked. Fuck—you were holding yourself open while he tongued your pussy. What’s a bit of skin?

You dress quickly, wanting to fix your hair in the mirror before you leave. But as you turn around, you find all your thoughts leaving you. Ghost is a masterpiece of a human, and that ember from earlier sparks again, insisting when it shouldn’t.

His pants are black camo. On his upper body is a long sleeve tactical shirt, solid black in the front and back while the sleeves are black camo. Ghost reaches for his gun, attaching it to his thigh. Next are his knives which he lays out on the small desk nearby. You observe but say nothing as he laces up his boots and slides one of the knives into it.

You expect the skull mask, the eye black. Instead, Ghost slips on a plain black balaclava. On his upper bicep is the flag of the United Kingdom and of the United Nations. Neither of those should exist, and you don’t entirely believe what Ghost said last night. There are still questions lingering in your mind, and though you desperately crave answers, this doesn’t seem like the time.

Ghost clears his throat as he adjusts his belt. “Let’s get some food in you.”

A bit of bite comes to the surface. “As I recall,” you begin. “You were wanting to put something else in me just a few minutes ago.”

Ghost stills, his hands still on his belt. “Are you already on your bullshit today?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter.

Guiding the belt through the loop, Ghost tugs, tightening it. “You said you wouldn’t cause problems.”

“How am I causing problems?” you reply, extending your arms outward as if the problem is a physical thing in the room with you.

Ghost shakes his head, giving the belt one more tug before securing it. “My control is thin right now, love.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your ‘love.’ I’m not anything to you. We’re not friends. Or lovers.”

Ghost chuckles, placing his hands on his hips. “What would you like me to call you?”

“Use my fucking name.”

Just a few steps and Ghost is on you. You stagger backwards, falling onto the bed as he cages you in. “It is taking everything in me not to rip off your clothes and bend you over.”

“Fucking try it,” you snarl.

Ghost is completely calm, unfazed by your outburst. “You’d look so pretty full of me.”

You know he’s goading you. And you fall for it. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“I��d keep you here,” he continues. “Fucking breed you until you’re dripping.” Ghost pushes in, and you have nowhere to go. His face is so close, the fabric of the balaclava scratches your skin. “Put a baby in you. Then you’d truly belong to me.”

No. No.

“You’re no better than those men you killed.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, bird. With me, you’d be protected. Cared for. You’d want for nothing.”

“You don’t even know me,” you reply. “Every word you say is a lie.”

Ghost shakes his head. “I don’t lie.” You scoff, but he continues. “And you can’t take back what happened this morning.”

With both hands on his chest, you shove at him. Ghost doesn’t budge. He is a rock. Immovable.

“You wanted me,” he murmurs.

“Shut up,” you stammer, shoving at him again.

“So wet,” he purrs. “And it was all for me.”

“Stop,” you plead, giving him another shove.

Ghost pushes off from the bed in one fluid movement. Grasping your wrists, he yanks you up and onto your feet.

“I’m not your enemy,” he says like his word alone is enough for you to agree.

It’s all fucked. All of it. You need to survive, to make sure you’re safe for whatever comes to greet you, but you’re afraid. Fearful, like a cornered animal.

Lieutenant Riley is your enemy as much as he is your protector. It’s maddening. Unfair.

I don’t want to go with you. I want to go home.

You lick your lips, trying so desperately hard not to fall apart in front of him. “Then show me,” you plead.

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sturniowhore · 7 months ago

Text

Kiss Cam!

Warnings: Fluff, Secret/hidden relationship, Chris x Fem!reader, swearing

Tags: @d3axplr @miss-ykwho @mattsturnziolio @joemamaaa42069

A/n: this shit is so ass ngl LMAO sorry if some of the wording doesn't make sense i'm exhausted and I refuse to download grammerly! Also I hope I didn't screw up the hockey scenes I know NOTHING about the sport

Dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

In which.. Y/n and Chris decide to keep their relationship out of the public eye. What happens when they decide to go to a hockey game and they appear on the kiss cam on live television..?

You and Chris shuffle through the crowds of excited hockey fans trying to find your seats. Chris leads with one of his hands behind him, allowing for you to take hold of it so you don't get lost amidst the swarm of people.

Eventually, you two make it to your designated seats. You sit down waiting for the game to start, Chris's arm drapes over your shoulder "you excited?" he turns to you with a toothy grin. To be honest you could care less about the game, you didn't even know which teams were playing tonight. You still wanted to come with Chris though, knowing it'd make him happy. "Yeah! Can't wait! Also.. who are we rooting for again?" Chris laughs, leaning in and placing a kiss on your temple.

As he starts explaining, the screens in the middle of the arena started counting down and the lights dim. The crowd starts cheering, awaiting the players to come into view. Chris stops speaking immediately, his eyes widened and glued onto the ice. You smile at his excited expression and turn your head to one of the screens.

The lights of the arena came back up as the sports commentator announced the first team. "WELCOME TO THE ICE THE BOSTON BRUINNSSSSSS" The crowd went wild! People were jumping, screaming, waving their arms around in support. "WOOOOOO" Chris cheered clapping his hands together. The opposing team was also announced, it was the other half of the arena's turn to cheer.

The game soon started, the opposing team taking the lead. The people in the stands were on the edge of their seats, watching the puck glide around the ice waiting for it to go into one of the goals. One of the players from the opposing team scored a goal. Half the crowd started cheering, the other half kept quiet out of respect but still had sour looks on their faces.

Your boyfriend sucked his teeth, using one hand to rub his chin in frustration. "c'mon c'mon" Chris muttered under his breath as the game continued. He was watching the game with intensity, his eyes never leaving the ice.

Soon enough the Bruins made a goal, the score was now 1-1. Much to everyone's disliking the game paused for an intermission. People got up to use the bathroom, grab something to eat, stretch their legs, trying to use the short break to the best of their ability not wanting to miss anything.

You yawned, head leaning against your boyfriend's shoulder. "what? ya bored already?" He smirked down at you. "no no just uhm..." Chris laughed at you failing to find an excuse, holding you close to him. The screens in the middle of the arena changed, it went from the arena's name to a white page with the words KISS CAM in pink letters and hearts around it.

"here we go with that corny shit" Chris rolled his eyes. "stop, I think it's cute" you pouted at him and turned back to the screen. The first pair that was shown were an elderly couple, the woman was first to notice and pointed it out to her husband. when he saw the screen he gently cupped her face and gave her a soft kiss. "aww that's so sweet" Your eyes widened at the sight, a slight pout forming on your lips. Chris tried to suppress his smile but failed. He leaned down, his breath tickling your ear "that's gonna be us in 40 years." You blushed at his words, your eyes peering into his "yeah? you think so?" "oh I know so 100%" Chris said with confidence. You couldn't help but smile at his words, you loved that he was thinking of a future with you.

The next pair on the kiss cam brought you out of your trance. It was a father and his daughter, the girl looked no older than 3. The father pointed to the screen to show his little girl they were on tv, the girl grinned ear to ear clapping her little chubby hands together. The father kissed his baby's cheeks and she let out a happy giggle. The whole stadium erupted into awes, smiling at the wholesome interaction in front of them.

Chris's arm's were drawing patterns on your shoulder mindlessly, he was distracted by the bustling crowds of people walking up and down the stairs to notice that you were trying to get his attention. "Chris..." no response "Chris" you repeat, again no response. "Chris." you say a little louder this time, this catches his attention "hm?" he questions with a lazy look. You point at the screen in front of you. He looks over expecting to see another couple you found cute, what he saw wasn't what he expected at all.

On the screen, he saw himself and you displayed in front of everyone that was inside TD garden, not to mention the thousands of people watching the game live on television and he knew some of those people were probably his fans. His eyes widened at the sight, on different circumstances he would've kissed you on the spot not caring about a thing. But this was different.

You've gotten enough hate just for hanging out with the triplets and being in their videos, imagine how much hate you'd get for kissing one of them? Let alone dating. You and Chris kept your relationship hidden from the public for years knowing that you would get crucified if some of the fans found out.

You were in a state of panic not knowing what to do. You looked at your boyfriend for answers, he was just as clueless. You looked back at the screen hoping it would've moved onto another couple, it didn't. The camera was still on the two of you. "I swear whoever's operating this is praying on our downfall" You nervously chuckle Chris is silent, still in a state of shock. "just kiss already!" some stranger said from afar.

Chris's thoughts were running wild in his mind, He didn't want his fans to go ballistic on you but the thought of the two of you kissing in front of thousands of people was making him go crazy, he wanted to show the world that you were his and his only.

"Fuck it." Chris grabbed your face with both hands pulling you into a forceful kiss. You were stunned. Chris pulled away, grinning ear to ear at your surprised expression. The kiss cam moved on to another couple soon after, not paying attention to the two of you anymore. "I can't believe you just did that" you say astonished. Chris still grinning, faced towards the ice and shrugged "I mean we were on the kiss cam right? we had to" "but your f-" "don't worry about it ma I'll deal with it" Chris grabbed your hand interlocking it with his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of your palm. You had a shy smile plastered on your face "I uh.. thought you said kiss cams were corny" "they are" "then why'd you kiss me?" you questioned. You knew the answer, he knew you knew the answer. "Oh y'know, we couldn't let the people be disappointed" trying to act as nonchalant as possible, failing terribly. "of course of course" you played along.

The intermission ended and the game continued. Chris had a hard time focusing on the game, his mind wandering to the events that had just unfolded a few minutes ago. He wanted to for so long to show everyone that the two of you were together and he finally did. He didn't care what the haters had to say, all that mattered to him was that you were his and that he was yours.

hours later....

You and Chris went inside the house. Both of you were exhausted, you planned to take a nice warm shower and to finally get some sleep. But someone had other plans..

"what the fuck were you guys THINKING?" Nick screamed at the two of you. Matt watches from the couch with amusement, holding Trevor in his lap. "what are you-" you were about to question him but the man cut you off by shoving his phone in your face. On it was a clip of you and Chris kissing on the kiss cam. "oh.." Soft chuckles came out of Matt's mouth "you both are fucked everyone is going insane." He was right, that video has a million likes and hundreds of thousands of comments.

"Are you guys mentally okay!? Did you not use your brains for a second!? Why on EARTH did you do that!?" Chris rolled his eyes at his brother's antics. "Nick what the fuck were we supposed to do? The stupid cameraman wouldn't move on until we kissed each other" "You could've said no!" "Its fine Nick, whatever's happened happened. You don't gotta worry about it anymore kay?" Chris shrugged. "fine fine but you're gonna have to deal with this cause i most certainly am not. Good night." Nick put both his arms up in surrender and walked to his room.

Matt got up from his spot from the couch. He walked up to you both, he gave Chris a supportive pat on the shoulder and he shot you a reassuring smile before walking up to his room, Trevor following close behind.

You plopped down on the couch, your face was buried in your hands. "we shouldn't have done that" you groaned, your voice filled with regret. Chris sat down next to you "hey.. it's gonna be fine, I promise if anyone tries some shit I'll block them and they will no longer have access to any Sturniolo Triplet content" His hands went to his cheeks as he gave a faux surprised look. You laugh "you can't block them all" "yeah but if I block 3 of them I'm sure the rest will get the message" He grins. You shake your head in disbelief, a playful smile resting on your face. "alright now no more sadness we just came back from an awesome bruins game and we need to keep the good vibes goin'. I'll run you a bath yeah?" With that Chris ran up the stairs to the bathroom. You couldn't help but chuckle, somehow that man always knew how to make you laugh even in the most dire situations.

You picked up your phone opening Tiktok, you weren't surprised when the first video that popped up was the kiss cam clip. You knew you shouldn't, you knew what you were about to do was dumb, but you couldn't help it the curiosity of peoples opinions took over. You opened the comment section bracing yourself for the hate and insults

comments:

user3453985: I KNEW IT

user7654876: I'm not even surprised they were so bad at hiding it I LOVE THIS THO

user2832733: AWWW CUTIES 🩷🩷🩷

user003328: they're perfect together omg!

User33314: really? her? he could do sm better tbh. 🤷‍♀️

user22383: @user33314 like who? you? girl please sit down.

As you were reading the comments your smile got bigger and bigger. Sure there was some hate, but the amount of positive comments were drowning them out almost completely. Everything might be okay after all.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fluff

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seresinhangmanjake · 10 months ago

Text

His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You used to be a Lady, a daughter of a Great House until Feyd took you. Since then, your sole purpose has been to warm his bed, but when Rabban asks about having you for himself, Feyd makes a choice that changes your future.

Words: 2600

Notes: Possessiveness. Grumpy Feyd. I know it's similar to another one of my fics, but I realized that after the fact, so...

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You didn’t sleep. Not a wink. You laid in his bed all night, waiting for the man who never came, and your heart didn’t cease its ferocious beats for a second. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? Is he ok? What happened? The sun rises without answers to those questions.

You shoot up in bed when the door eases open. Expecting to find him, you’re disappointed to see instead his harpies enter one after the other. They don’t look at you. One goes about riffling through your dresses in the closet, one heads into the bathroom and you suddenly hear a rush of water filling the tub, and the last of them goes to the vanity Feyd brought in for you, lining up makeup and hair pins that she intends to use on you.

The air about them is poised—an echo of who they used to be before they were turned into pets—as, for the moment, their vile, more carnivorous side lies dormant.

Feyd only allows them to near you a couple hours after they’ve been fed; the peak time between their hunger sated and their bellies rumbling. At any other time, your uniquely foreign scent wafts to their nostrils and they are incapable of holding themselves back. More than a handful of instances—when they’ve managed to manipulate the guards to open their cages with their seductive smiles—they’ve gone on the hunt for you; one time in particular, sneaking into the bedroom in the middle of the night and yanking you from Feyd’s arms with the intention of sinking their teeth into your flesh. Feyd had been so furious he’d cut a finger from each of their hands.

Still, they don’t scare you. You see in them women not entirely unlike yourself: owned, and therefore, changed. Soft are the women who have had the luxury of marriage and child-rearing in the comforts of wealth and beautiful homes—and good for them; how lovely to be soft—but it is the women who have not a choice in their existence that develop a steel shell. And you and the harpies have steel shells. In that way, they are your kin, and you try to subtly express that when you can, even though their allegiance to Feyd can make that quite difficult.

“Where is he?” you ask.

They ignore you, continuing with their tasks, and you huff. Yes, sometimes they refuse to speak with you, and always it seems when you need their words most. In the past, you’ve been tempted to dangle your arm in front of their sharpened fangs in the hope that the offering will encourage their cooperation, but you’ve yet to find the bravery for that. Plus, Feyd would lose his mind. Well, he would lose the rest of it.

“You’ve spoken to me before,” you continue. “Why not now?”

One of them stops and faces you. She glances at her sister who shakes her head.

“Tell me,” you plead.

“We are not permitted to speak with you on the matter,” the other says to your frustration. That is not good enough. Regardless of how he sees you and how you feel, he is the one thing keeping you alive on this lifeless planet and you refuse to go about your days worrying over his safety and what his disappearance means for your fate.

You throw the sheets off your legs and stand.

“I don’t care,” you spit as your silky nightgown falls at your ankles, but then you reconsider your tone. The harpies do not do well with aggression. Being so animalistic, their instincts are easily drawn out, and they tend to attack when attacked, which is not a fight you would win.

You take a calming breath, placing a hand over your heart. “We are the same. He owns us, he clothes us, he feeds us,” you remind them. “On this planet, I am as much your sister as you are each other’s. We all care about him in a way and if I knew what happened to him, I would have the decency to tell you.”

The harpy who drew your bath returns to the bedroom. Having overheard your words, she crosses her arms and says, “With respect, my Lady, we are not your sisters,” she says. “We have never had him the way you have, and he does not feel for us the way he does you.”

Your clenched jaw loosens, lips parting. If you had assumed anything about the relationship between Feyd-Rautha and his harpies, it was that they had once been where you are; that when you came along, they lost their rank and became something alike the handmaids from your home world. You’d assumed that when they warmed his bed, their handmaids were the women who entertained him before them, and so on like a disgusting, perverted pattern. But if that is not the case, then your sense of identity is even more confused. Not to mention, nary a soul has referred to you as ‘Lady’ since you were taken from your family. So why show that respect now when Feyd practically stripped you of the title months ago?

You look to the only one of the three who seems unsure of the situation. She’s biting her lip, worrying the fabric of your unworn gown between her fingers.

“What about you?” you ask her and her head lifts to meet your eyes. She’s the smallest of them—pixie-esque, like you read in fairytale stories as a child—and despite the core of their primal nature, the gentlest. “You want to tell me.”

The harpy by your vanity hisses, but the gentle one does not shy away at the warning. “She has been kind to us,” she tells her sister in the most self-assured tone you’ve ever heard leave her mouth.

The sister snaps back. “He instructed us to do one thing: get her ready for the day and act like nothing is wrong. It was not to tell her what happened.”

You lightly gasp. “So something has happened,” you state, feeling your heartbeat quicken. Your chest begins to rise and fall to match the rapid rate. “Is he ok?”

There are a few seconds of silent pause before Pixie stands a little straighter, setting her shoulders in a strong line. “Our Lord na-Baron was answering for the death of his brother.”

Your head jerks back. “Rabban?” you question, your brow pinching. “Rabban is dead?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And Feyd is the one who killed him?” That doesn’t make any sense. While Feyd has complained enough for you to know Rabban is a bumbling idiot, he eventually found a way for his brother to serve a purpose. Why would he kill a man when he is no longer the nuisance he once was, you wonder, so you ask, “Why?”

“The Lord Rabban…made suggestions,” Pixie tells you. One of the harpies groans as the other shakes her head.

“What suggestions?”

She bites down and swallows hard, then she says, “He suggested that the na-Baron share you for his own pleasure.”

Instantly, you’re hit with a wave of nausea. Share? Share you? The concept of a foreign woman hopping between men of status is not unusual, but at this point, you assumed if Feyd were going to participate in something like that, he would have sent you off already. Not doing so didn’t even surprise you. He’s too possessive.

“You said he was answering for Rabban’s death,” you say, but answering for that surely wouldn’t have taken so many hours, not when the Baron saw Rabban as a waste of space. “So where is he now?”

—

He doesn’t notice when you step into the training room and you’re thankful for that. You came on a mission to extract more answers out of him, but you don’t mind having a second to admire him sparing against his trainer.

He’s sweaty. You like him sweaty—sweaty and bare-chested and perfectly, effortlessly mesmerizing as aggressive grunts leave his lips. You silently watch their violent dance, your form mouse-like by the door until his trainer looks up and halts to stare at you. Feyd whips around to follow his line of sight, then he sighs and turns back to the smaller man. He mutters something as he grabs the rag at his belt and runs it down his face.

The trainer leaves and Feyd places his knife back on the table among many others. “I told them to keep you away today,” he says dully, monotone, not meeting your eyes as he runs his finger over the blade and fiddles with the hilt. “Incompetent brats.”

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“I was busy,” he responds without letting a beat pass. He continues to avoid your stare and mess with the knives as if he’s never wielded them before.

You slowly step down the stairs into the pit of the room. “Busy killing your brother?” you ask. The muscles in his back twitch and flex under pale skin as he grips the hilt harder.

“That is none of your concern.” The distance between you lessens until you’re a foot from his back, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Even though you killed him because of me?” you ask. His neck ticks and his head tilts and shifts to adjust to the tension. When he still doesn’t respond, you try another angle. “Why are your harpies referring to me as their ‘Lady’?”

That seems to do it. Feyd faces you, crosses his arms, and leans his lower back against the table. “You think spending one night without me gives you permission to be nosy?”

You don’t give in to his method of shutting you up by aiming to make you feel silly and guilty. Instead, your eyes narrow and you mirror the crossing of arms. “Why am I a Lady again?”

“You just are.”

“Are you sending me home?”

His eyes flash. Blue irises darken a shade. “Don’t be stupid.”

“So I’m a Lady on Giedi Prime?” you ask, dropping your chin to emphasize how ridiculous that sounds.

The edge of Feyd’s jaw sharpens as he clenches his back teeth. “Stop asking questions.”

“Then answer one,” you say.

It’s a shot taken by an untrained hand, as he doesn’t enjoy demands, especially not from you, but you figure you have nothing to lose in the attempt, so you don’t cower under his menacing glare. You wait. And much to your surprise, he surrenders.

He blinks, and when his eyes open, they have softened ever so slightly. Then he says, “You’re marrying me,” and everything from your lungs to your limbs freezes in shock.

“W–What?” you stutter. That makes less sense than Rabban’s sudden death.

Feyd groans and stands straight, his arms falling at his sides. “See what being nosy gets you?” he snaps. “I wasn’t going to tell you immediately, and you had to go and ruin it.”

He grabs a fresh knife and stomps his way over to a dummy, ready to attack something other than you for the insecurity that he can’t completely contain. You’ve never witnessed him insecure, but you know the feeling when you see it—the defense mechanism, the distancing himself, the grumbly attitude.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you press as he slashes and stabs at the soulless victim. “I’m marrying you because you killed your brother for wanting to fuck me?”

With a grunt, the dummy’s head severs from its torso and flies off in your direction. It rolls and rolls and stops just before hitting your feet. The dead eyes stare up at you in silent amusement. Now you’ve done it, they mock.

“I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, do you understand me?” Feyd growls.

Your eyes shoot to his. “The marrying you part or The your brother fucking me part?”

He tosses the knife aside. It clatters against the ground as he closes in on you. His hand wraps around your neck. “Don't test me,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “I will sew your damn lips shut if I have to.”

An empty threat if you’ve ever heard one. He would never harm you, but even if he were going to try, his fingers would need to be squeezing much tighter.

You roll your eyes. “Well then how am I going to suck your cock?”

Something about the tease stuns him. His tense features immediately settle and his whole body eases with his exhale. Glancing at your lips, he licks his own, and you think he might decide to kiss you—after all, it’s been a good twenty-four hours since the last one—but he doesn’t.

You snort. “Didn’t think that one through, did you.”

Long fingers unwrap from around your neck. “You’re not funny,” he mumbles with an odd sense of shame.

“If you don’t find me entertaining, can you maybe take the time to explain all of this better?”

Feyd considers keeping his mouth shut. You know him well enough to know that. However, it’s ridiculous to contemplate since he’s already spilled the bigger news. Nothing could be more shocking than you, after the bed-warming position you’ve held for months, becoming his wife.

“My uncle was going to take you away from me for killing Rabban,” he finally says. “So I told him I've had plans to marry you for the alliance and that's why I refused to share you. Rabban wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he had to die.”

Raising a brow, you say, “The Baron accepted that explanation? My House may be one of the Greats, but we do not offer much for Giedi Prime.”

Feyd shrugs. “My uncle enjoys anything that causes upset. Marrying me means we will always own something very valuable to your family.”

It would likely offend another, but you don’t mind being owned. While the Baron may believe the Harkonnens as a whole will own you, you belong to Feyd and Feyd alone. He’ll never allow anyone to hurt you and now he’ll never have to fight or argue with anyone to stake his claim, which works for you just fine, to say the very least.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

Your head tilts as you smile. “Caring enough to protect me.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” he says. “I didn't do it for you, I did it for my own benefit.”

Your sweet smile morphs into a smirk. “The benefit being that you get to keep me all to yourself…for the rest of your life.”

With a scoff, Feyd rolls his eyes and crosses his arms again. “Whatever.”

“Feyd…” you sigh, leaning into him.

“What?” he returns in his snarky tone as if he doesn’t want you near, but he doesn’t step out of the bubble of your space.

“I'm happy.”

A pink tinge sneaks onto his pale skin, and he quickly looks away. And before he has a chance to come up with some witty remark to smack you with, you grab his face and press your lips to his.

You hold on to him until he starts to kiss you back, and then he's reaching for you, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, and you know you won't be going anywhere for a good long while.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #austin butler #dune part 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha imagine

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

Text

you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.

bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.

this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?

so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."

you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.

you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.

but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.

quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.

you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.

you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?

#warm up #spilled ink #writeblr

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navybrat817 · 5 months ago

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Finding the Positive

Pairing: Chop Shop Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky didn't have the brightest outlook on life until you came along.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, bit of backstory, fluff, reference to smut, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by a sweet nonnie ask and part of my Jaded to Joy AU, which began with Double Shift. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics and gorgeous Bucky edit by the amazing @nixakimbo. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you met Bucky, something slowly changed inside him. Before you came along he tried his best to stay positive for Becca, but seeing her struggles with her illness and the stress she was experiencing from medical bills still clouded his heart a little. She deserved a bright future, not a financial burden. Taking a job at the chop shop only darkened his outlook more, leaving him a bit jaded in the process.

A couple of the guys were in the same boat as him, doing what they could to get by or try to build a better life. The rest seemed to get off on taking advantage of others. It made him feel sick. And wasn’t he complicit to everything by working in a place like that? He wasn’t hurting people physically, but he worked with stolen vehicles and parts. It affected people. And he wasn’t that excited at the prospect of opening his own honest shop because why get his hopes up?

But then you showed up in his life like a blazing sun, radiating warmth and hope. You found reasons to smile on bad days, which made no sense to him. He knew you were struggling, that things in your life were far from perfect. So how did you carry yourself as if the weight of the world wasn’t weighing you down?

“I try to look for something positive every day,” you told him. “Even if it takes almost all day to find it.”

It may have sounded corny coming from others, but you said with such sincerity and conviction that he wondered why he hadn’t tried to do something similar. If Becca found reasons to smile and so did you, why couldn’t he? Why wasn’t it that simple?

“So, you don’t see the negative?”

“No, I see the negative and I allow myself to feel it because ignoring it won’t do me any good. I just don’t allow myself to dwell in it,” you explained, nudging his shoulder. “Being positive doesn’t mean I’m happy every single moment of every day. I’m still learning, still growing, and still looking for the sunshine even on the dark days.”

“And what happens one day if you can’t find the sunshine?”

You gave him one of your brightest smiles. “Then I’ll have to be my own sunshine, won’t I?”

It was inspiring. Life wasn’t easy for you, but you refused to let it get you down. Your attitude on your worst days was still better than Bucky at his best. While he would never see the world through rose-tinted glasses, your outlook made it look a little brighter. And while he allowed himself to vent or feel anger, he didn’t stay in that headspace. He took your words to heart and made sure to look for something positive.

You were in the kitchen when he got home from work and he was content to watch you at the stove with a soft smile on his face. The blend of spices made him smile more when he realized you were cooking one of his favorite meals. You were so thoughtful, so beautiful, and you saw the best in him. He’d never be able to give you a fancy house, but he’d give you a better home one day.

“Hey,” you smiled over your shoulder, his heart skipping a beat. He captured the image in his mind and tucked it away for when he’d need a reminder of the good things in his life. “How long have you been standing there?”

He strode across the room and rested his chin on your shoulder once he was close enough. Wrapping his arms around you, he turned his face and breathed in the sweet scent of your perfume. Soft yet surprisingly powerful, just like you. “Long enough to find my positive for the day.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me about it,” you said, resting a hand over his as he began to sway you back and forth.

“Well, work sucked and I’m pretty sure one of the guys tried to steal the lunch you made me,” he told you, smiling when giggled. He kept his hand over yours when you tried to grab a cooking utensil. “But I finally got that overtime pay and it was more than what I expected.”

He didn’t like working the extra hours if it meant being away from you, but the money helped, and he wouldn’t have to do it much longer. It was for a better future, a brighter future. One that he was building with you.

“That’s great!” His heart skipped a beat again when you turned your head far enough to brush your lips against his. “That’s a huge positive.”

“It is,” he said, helping you stir. He was a decent cook, but a novice compared to you and you always managed to put together delicious meals on a budget. “I started thinking about us working at the shop together. Me working on cars and bikes, you in the office making sure things are running smoothly.”

“And sneaking into the office for a quickie?” You pressed your hips back against his, making him groan and grit his teeth when you did it again. You were the best kind of tease. “I know you, Bucky.”

As tempting as it was to put you on the counter and feast on your delicious cunt, there would be plenty of time for that after dinner. “I know you, too, and you’d welcome that,” he said, nipping between your neck and shoulder.

You gasped, shutting the stove off. “I would,” you agreed as you leaned back against him. “I think that’s my positive of the day; thinking of us working together and creating more memories.”

He shut his eyes. Having someone so loving and uplifting wanting to spend time with him blew his mind. It seemed too good to be true, but it wasn’t. This was his life.

“I’m looking forward to it, baby,” he whispered.

He was looking forward to every moment with you, even on the days where it would take longer to find the positive.

No nickname yet for this reader, but I adore them. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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demonic0angel · 5 months ago

Note

In reference to the On Sight Speedsters post, Jason tells Batman that he(Jason) can't work with the Flash anymore because his girlfriend WILL refuse to talk to him for a week. Bruce is extremely confused until Jazz starts ranting about time correction missions during the next family dinner.

Part 2 of this post and this post.

Bruce stared in a strange mixture of exasperation, exhaustion, and empathetic concern as Jazz ranted and raved with her hands moving around in dramatic gestures.

"— and how the hell does it make sense?! Every time they use the speed force, they inevitably mess up the timeline and create a world where everything goes wrong! Just yesterday, I had to bail on a date with Jason in order to prevent the fifth apocalypse of the month!" She turned around and stared at Bruce intensely. "Don't you see?! The Flash family are even preventing Jason and I from being in love!"

After living with overdramatic and theatre student wannabes for so long, Bruce just nodded numbly. "I see."

Jason stared at her with a lovesick, besotted look on his face like she hung the moon and stars and sun and was now even turning the Earth. Bruce almost wanted to ask him why he made his life harder by wooing a princess from another world, but then he would've had to scold and lecture the rest of his kids and none of them listened to him anyways.

Bruce resisted the urge to sigh tiredly.

Life was hard as a father.

Dick looked exasperated. "We should find a way to fix it, so Dan won't attack Wally again. I think he even bit Wally this time."

Jazz paused in her rant to wince. "Oh yeah, I remember that. Dan had to go and prevent your death again for the third time this week."

This time, everyone winced and grimaced.

Bruce finally sighed. "I will go and talk to Flash, and hopefully, we can prevent future issues. How often does this happen?"

Jazz glowered. "Every other day. Sometimes, multiple times a day."

Jason nodded, rubbing Jazz's shoulders. "Can confirm. I've seen Dan sometimes go out of his way to hunt down one of the Flashes. And if this isn't fixed soon, I won't be working with any of the Flashes anymore."

"Jason, no!" Dick cried. "What about Wally?!"

"Screw him! He's making my girlfriend mad!"

Jazz nodded vehemently, looking like she was ready to get fired up all over again.

Bruce sighed again.

Why on earth did he allow his kids to date interdimensional beings? And better yet, why did he even adopt kids in the first place?

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whatifitis · 3 months ago

Text

♡ can we start it all over again? - LN 4 ♡

Summary: The person you thought was the love of your life turned out to be a liar. So now you're left with nothing, no love, no home, and no plans for the future. Everything feels awful but as soon as you feel things are getting better, you run into your first love.

Author's Note: After a long ass wait, here's part 3 to 'i wish you would've stayed'. thank you guys for all the support on this little series <3 yall are the reason i write

WC: 3469

CW: cheating, thoughts about not breathing, yearning from Lando, excessive song references

What I thought was for all time turned out to be momentary.

After a long day at work, you were excited to be able to come home and finally see the love of your life.

Even after all this time together, the love between you two was still so exciting and palpable. You were practically running up the steps to your shared home, fumbling with the keys a bit. You opened the door and didn’t find Gabe in his office like he usually is.

You heard some noise coming from your bedroom and booked it down the hallway in excitement, but when you opened the door, you were met with a sight you never thought you’d have to see. Red auburn hair swayed as the figure rode Gabe, covering his face.

You couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your mouth. The two heads turn to face you and shock is drawn all over their bodies.

“Mikayla?!” you question, watching as your cousin climbs off your fiance, failing to cover herself with your bedsheets.

“I-” is all she’s able to voice.

Gabe is scrambling off the bed, “It’s not what it looks like, baby-”

“Don’t “baby” me. You lost that privilege the second you stuck your dick in someone else.”

“No! I didn’t- It’s not-”

“Oh! So you just tripped and it fell into her vagina?!”

Being met with silence, you’re quick with your movements, walking to the closet and packing whatever you can grab in this moment of fury and despair. You can feel heat consuming your face and body. Tears are forming on your waterline but you refuse to let them see you fall.

You zip up your bag and make your way to leave, stopping for a moment to look at the person you thought you knew. “Loving you was the biggest mistake I ever made. Someone will get the rest of my stuff later. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

You don’t even spare a glance at Mikayla. But, as you’re about to close the door, you pause, feeling the band around your finger: “Oh, and I guess you’ll need this for her” - you spat, tossing your engagement ring to Gabe’s feet.

After everything, everything you told him, he still went behind your back and chose someone else. Come one, come all, you guess. It’s happening again. He called you the love of his life. God, how could you be so stupid. You think back on everything, and it’s all making sense now.

Mikayla wasn’t necessarily ecstatic when you’d told her that Gabe had proposed to you. You were disappointed and confused but brushed it off as she had just broken up with her boyfriend at the time.

When you confessed to Gabe that you were disappointed in Mikayla’s reaction, he reassured you and told you he’d talk to her for you.. Gabe was always quick to problem solve and he always enjoyed making you happy, so when he jumped at the chance to speak with Mikayla, you didn’t think anything of it. After her “talk” with Gabe, Mikayla was giddy. She apologized for her initial reaction to your engagement and asked if she could help you with the wedding planning.

Planning the wedding with your cousin by your side was amazing. The two of you had a shared taste in aesthetic so it made everything feel a lot less stressful. Now you realize why she was so excited. Helping you plan the wedding allowed her to invite herself over a lot to “go over details”. It was almost as if she was planning her own wedding.

You are such a fool. You ended up lost inside a memory of someone’s life, it wasn’t yours.

After everything that just happened, you weren’t sure of what to do or where to go. You were driving around in silence, trying to keep from completely breaking. You call a friend of yours, asking if you could spend the night with her and that you could leave in the morning. Pietra, your friend, assured you that you could stay as long as you need.

After a long and dreadful drive, you had arrived at Pietra’s house. She sat you down on the couch and handed you a cup of tea. “Y/n, what happened?”

You took a deep breath and tried to stay composed enough to tell her, but you couldn’t. The words you wanted to say were stuck in a lump in your throat. Your breathing became irregular as you struggled for air. All you could do was break down into tears as Pietra moved closer to you and pulled you into her arms, rubbing her hand up and down your back.

The weight of everything just came crashing down on you now. You lost the love of your life, your cousin, and all your future plans in one day. You don’t have a home. You don’t have love. You don’t have the one person you trusted with your life. You don’t have the person who put you above everything else. You don’t have the person who had the ability to turn your bad days into good days. You don’t have the person who loved you for you.

You don’t even have Olive anymore.

The two of you grew fond of each other after you and Gabe moved in together. Olive became your best friend in a way. As crazy as it seems, she helped you pick your outfits a few times. But she's not yours. Nothing is yours. Was anything ever really yours?

Time passes and you’re able to calm your sobs. Through your hiccups, you tell Pietra about everything. You tell her about Mikayla, about Gabe, about how you feel so lost now.

“I’m sorry, my darling. I didn’t expect this, honestly. But don’t worry about finding a place to stay. Stay here for as long as you want, it’ll be nice to have you around. It’s hard to find time to hangout with you and I miss seeing you.”

“I missed you too. And thank you for letting me stay here, I don’t know how to repay you. I can pay some rent or something.”

“No. Don’t worry about that. Just help me make some brigadeiro when you feel up to it.” she says, offering you a soft smile.

“I’ll try. I think I’m gonna head to bed now. I gotta get to the office early tomorrow.”

“No. What the fuck? You just got your heart broken. Your whole life just fell apart. No offense. Take the day off, matter of fact, take the whole week off. We’re gonna take a break. Okay?”

“I kinda wanna go to work so I can have a distraction from the fact that I’m failing.”

“You’re not failing, y/n. Gabe failed you. Mikayla failed you. None of this is your fault. You did nothing to deserve this.”

“At some point, I have to realize there is something wrong with me. My relationships never work and the common denominator in all of them is me.” you say, shrugging your shoulders and accepting that maybe love isn’t meant for you. You stand to go to your temporary room. “Goodnight, Pietra.”

“Fine. You can go wallow in your sadness but call your boss cause you’re not going to work tomorrow. I will lock you in your room if I have to.”

You shut the door to your room, not having the energy to counter Pietra’s demands. You have to fight every bone in your body to keep from sliding down the door and sobbing. At least make it to the bed, you tell yourself. Your feet heavily drag across the carpet, trying to get you to the edge of the bed and when you do, you collapse onto it and break. You cry and cry as you curl into yourself. It gets harder and harder to breathe, but you won’t be able to feel the relief of ceasing your breath completely. There’s a hole in your gut in the shape of everything you had and lost.

Gabe played you, for years. It was like he was mocking you with everything you ever confided in him. You had told him things that you’d never told anyone else, and now you regret that. You wish you could unrecall how you almost had it all. Everything you’d dreamed of, being loved and wanted.

All those braids of lies. All those “I’ll never leave”’s and “You’re more than enough”’s.

If you could, you’d go back to the night you met Gabe. You’d go back and tell yourself that he wasn’t the one. You wish you’d never met him. You had all of him, then most of him, and now none of him. What the hell are you supposed to do?

Once your sobs subside briefly, you send a text to your boss, letting her know you won’t be in tomorrow, and probably the day after. You won’t be able to get stuff done while in this state. Maybe Pietra is right. It might be best if you take more than a day or two off work to get yourself back up on your feet.

The next week is spent with Pietra glued to your side. The two of you spent everyday either relaxing or going on mini adventures around town and shopping til you dropped. While it’s been nice, spending time with P and just going out, it doesn’t take away the pain or distract you from it too much. There’s still an empty space in your chest that feels like it will keep expanding until it consumes you into nothingness.

It seems as if your soul is disappearing, leaving you to be a ghost. You still don’t know how it ended. Yes, he cheated, probably more than once, but how? Why? Were you not enough? Did you do something to push him away?

You can’t feel it yet, peace and acceptance. But you are waiting. Desperate to feel anything but this, or nothing at all.

Days and weeks pass and you’re slowly coming to. You’re back at work and you’ve been touring some apartments with Pietra. She insisted that if you moved out, you would at least live close by. You agreed to this condition and you just sent an application for the apartment you liked most. It was beautiful with a few big windows to let the sun in, a window nook you could relax in, and a magnificent view of London.

You were on break at work when your phone pinged with a notification. You look down and see his name pop up on the screen. Gabe texted you, letting you know he packed the rest of your stuff so it’ll be an easier and faster process for you to get whatever was left after that night.

Without responding, you text Pietra, asking her if she could go and grab your stuff with her boyfriend, Max. You don’t think you could stomach going back there. Not after knowing what happened in what was your room. Not after you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling questioning how many times it happened. Where it happened.

Without hesitation, Pietra says yes and lets you know that she’ll have your stuff in your room by the time you get home. You’re forever grateful for Pietra for being there for you through all this, for allowing you to live in her home. You would mention Max as well since it’s his home as well, but you found out that he had told Lando about your situation in full detail. So, he’s on probation right now.

The work day wraps up quite late so by the time you’re driving home, it’s dark and cold. You call Pietra and let her know that you were on your way back, asking if she needed you to pick up anything on your way home. She says no but keeps you on the phone to make sure you get home safe. The two of you talk about work and make plans for the weekend.

As you pull into the driveway, Pietra is already waiting for you at the door, dancing around as you hear a one direction song being played from inside the house.

“Welcome home, bestie.” Pietra screams.

You run up to her and hug her so tightly. You had just seen each other this morning but it felt nice to feel appreciated and wanted. In the past few weeks, you two had grown closer and it felt like you were kids again.

You enter the house and drop your stuff onto the couch when you feel something furry run along your ankles. You look down to see Olive.

“Pietra, what the hell?”

You look up to see Pietra with a guilty look plastered on her face, “Well, when I went to get your stuff from that bitch, I was grabbing the last bag and he had Olive in her little crate. He said he wanted you to have her. He said that the two of you had grown close and he wants you to have her. And if it makes you feel better, he said she’s been shitting in his shoes since you left.”

Bending down to pick up Olive, you look at her face and just hug her close. Turns out she is a girl's girl, and you’re grateful for her, even if she is just a cat.

“Thanks, Pietra. For getting my stuff and bringing my little Olive.”

“It’s no problem. I’m glad you got something good out of all this.”

“Me too.” you say, watching as Olive curls into you and purrs as you scratch beside her ear.

The rest of the night is spent cuddling with Olive and listening to Pietra vent about her own work life and personal life. Apparently her manager wants her to do a brand deal with a cheese company? When Pietra is lactose intolerant?

The next morning, you are awoken by birds chirping outside your window as rays of golden sun make their way to warm your body. It’s a beautiful day outside so why let it go to waste?

After kissing the top of Olive’s head, you start getting ready for the day and put on one of your favorite dresses. It’s a beautiful, pink sundress that’s loose and comfortable but hugs your figure nicely. It’d been a while since you’d worn it, having forgotten about it after Mikayla told you that it made you look like one of the twins from ‘Alice in Wonderland’. Maybe you should’ve seen the signs.

You decide to head to your favorite cafe that’s down the street. After moving in with Pietra and Max, you’d ventured to each establishment in the area and just fell in love with the aesthetic and aura of this cafe. It was cozy with cream colored walls, big windows that allowed the warm sun to shine through, and potted plants in every corner and crevice of the place.

After ordering a coffee, you take a seat at a table in the corner where you can read your book in peace. That was until you heard an all too familiar voice. “Y/n.” - Looking up from your book, you’re met with his eyes. The eyes you fell in love with all those years ago.

“Lando.”

With a shaky exhale, he quickly explains himself, “Max told me you were here. Actually, I kind of berated him to tell me where you were and if I could talk to you. I heard what happened with Gabe and I just had to see you. Can I have a seat?”

“I’m not in the mood, Lando. I’m tired and I feel like I’m just starting to get back up on my feet. I don’t want to entertain this.”

He takes a seat in the chair across from you and you watch the pleads that leak from his body. “Please, Y/n. I just want to talk. I’ve thought a lot about what I’ve done to you and I just need you to listen. Please. I don’t expect to get back together or for you to forgive me and all that. I miss having you in my life and I would really like it if we could at least be friends?”

You just sit there with your arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at him. You know as soon as you see him, you’re gonna wring Max’s neck for telling Lando about what happened and about where you were.

Realizing you weren’t going to speak, Lando continues, “I fucked up, bad. I disrespected you and essentially used you. Like I said the last time we spoke, I didn’t realize what I had til it was gone. I didn’t realize that I actually love you, like a lot.”

With a deep breath, you tell him everything you never said. “Sometimes I can find peace with the fact that you left, accepting that this wasn’t meant for me. Other nights I would bargain with God, asking him what I had to do or give up for him to bring you back. After all of this, I don’t know why I’m holding on to you. There is nothing to hold on to. And I used to be scared of losing you. I think I still am somehow, which is weird. Like if I let you go then I officially lost you. If I just hold on to every little memory, maybe you’ll come back, even if I shouldn’t. And that’s even scarier. It’s scary knowing that after all this time, you still have this hold on me. Like all you have to do is say something, and I'll come back.”

“So why don’t you come back? To me? I’ve grown, Y/n. I’ve changed. And I’m still changing and learning. I love you. And I know that even if I love you wholeheartedly, that’s not enough. I will work everyday to prove to you that I love you. I will work every moment to show you how much I care about you. The day that I left, I lost the love of my life. I lost you.”

“You didn’t lose the love of your life, Lando. You just lost the person you had loved the most so far in your life. You’ll find the love of your life, someday. But it’s not me.”

“Y/n, I don’t know life without you. Everyday that’s passed since I ended things, you’ve always been at the forefront of my mind. I found you then I lost you and looking back is torture. It hurts to know I hurt you. If I could go back and do it all over, I’d do it differently. I would’ve never let you go and I would have treated you better. I would have loved you better.”

“But you can’t. We both need to move on. This whole situation is not healthy for either of us. We can’t keep going around and around. You fucked up and you need to deal with the consequences. I need time and space from anything to do with love. I just got cheated on by someone who was supposed to love and care for me. I have to explain to every person I know why I’m not getting married anymore. I have to tell every single person that I’m not enough and I’ll never be enough. I have to tell everyone that I’m the disappointment they always knew I’d be.”

“You’re not a disappointment, Y/n. You never have been and never will. Let me show you what love really is like. I promise. We can go as slow as you’d like. We can be just friends. I can’t promise sunshine and rainbows 24/7. I can’t promise that there won’t be times where you’re mad at me. I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect. But, I can promise to stay. I promise to love you wholeheartedly, and do it proudly. I will love you loudly, shouting it from every rooftop. I promise to keep you safe. I promise to take care of you. I promise to surround you with love. While I hope you can love me again, I know it’s not easy and not something that has a high chance of happening. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please let me in again?”

As you sit there looking at this person, this person who you loved with all your heart for so long. This person who took your heart and broke it into pieces. This person who has come back over and over again. This person who hasn’t loved or dated since the last time you two had spoken. This person who claims to love you.

“I don’t know, Lan. Can you?”

—————————————————————————

Tags for pt 3: @leclerc13 @f1fantasys @htpssgavi

I only tagged those who specifically asked to be tagged in pt 3 cause I didn’t know if those tagged in pt 2 wanted to be tagged in this one 😭😭😭

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dannyriccsystem · 8 days ago

Note

Omg you know what would be so funny, the 2025 rookies or current grid doing the tell on me TikTok trend with reader! I know the trend passed, but I still occasionally get those videos.Maybe some of them stand on readers feet bc their reactions would be funny!

If you don’t feel comfortable with this I 100% understand, but thank you in advance regardless💜

IS YOU GON’ TELL ON ME?

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

Summary: “Tell On Me” trend with the 2025 rookies + the papaya boys because I love them!

Warnings: Y/N usage, suggestive lyrics and jokes, one of them accidentally gets hit in the nuts 😕, not proofread

Featuring: LN4, IH6, JD7, KA12, LL30, OP81, OB87,

Sorry this one took forever! I’m finally getting to actually finish my requests, which ARE open! Check here for more!

Jack Doohan is such a cutie but I miss his hair so I wrote him pre-buzz!!

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

“I’m liking this angle.” Y/N immediately rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s suggestive comment. If she was on the same level as him, she might smack his chest and tell him to knock it off. However, right now that was rather difficult.

Only hours ago Y/N had been begging Lando to participate in a trend with her. He refused, insisting there were much more fun trends to do, but finally gave in when he saw how excited she was. One person was meant to stop on the other’s legs, propped against a wall, while recording them from above. Then, they’d drop the phone and the person on the bottom would record the one on top. All while lip syncing some ridiculous audio.

“Quit moving your legs so much, I’m gonna fall!” She criticized him in a joking manner, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she reached into her pocket for her phone. She did a quick search of the audio, selected it, and then hit record. The room was dark, allowing her to use her flash to illuminate his handsome face.

He lipsynced the words, “If I beat that pussy up is you gon’ tell on me?” Just as the song said. Right then she was supposed to drop him the phone so he could capture her. That’s what was supposed to happen, but instead it landed flat on his nose. He jolted from the impact, causing Y/N to topple over and land on top of him.

“I told you not to move!” She laughed.

“You dropped it on my face!”

ISACK HADJAR - IH6

Everyone knows about Isack’s obsession with TikTok lip sync videos. He posted at least one a day, his specialty being Kardashian videos. And mind you, those were just the videos he posted. Y/N was sure that the amount of drafts he had harbored away was probably insane.

But, this idea? This was hers. He just happened to be the right person to ask, because of course he wouldn’t say no to such a proposal. Make a lip-syncing video with his girlfriend? Abso-fucking-lutely. Name a time and place, he’d be there. He sat in the corner of their kitchen on his back, his muscular legs in the air and propped against the wall. With very wobbly balance, Y/N stood on top of his feet.

“Okay, hand me the phone,” She laughed, barely able to stand still. Isack laughed along with her, until he realized he had to reach up and hand her something. With a focused expression, he tried to keep his legs still whilst simultaneously reaching up to hand her the phone. Sucess! Y/N’s hands gripped the phone, and Isack could relax against the floor.

“This is a long walk for a short drink of water,” He pointed out. Y/N just shrugged, and proceeded to hit record.

JACK DOOHAN - JD7

“I don’t know if my PR team will approve of this.” Jack chuckled, trying to keep his legs completely still while Y/N stepped atop of them. It took her a few tries, but eventually she managed to balance herself on his feet. She giggled softly, both of her hands on the wall to ensure her own safety.

“Well, this can just be for me then! Nobody else has to see.” She was grateful her boyfriend was an athlete, otherwise they’d be on a time crunch. Hey, maybe this could be a future leg workout for him. Who’s to say? “I’m already up here, pleaaase?”

“Hey, I never said no.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair to perfect his own style. After prepping himself, he nodded. “Okay, I’m ready. You can hit record whenever.” Y/N opened the app and found the audio saved to her favorites. She clicked record, and point the camera at him.

He lip synced with a big grin, and when it was time to swap, she dropped the phone, and started to mouth the words herself. After reviewing the footage, they both decided to keep it buried in Y/N’s drafts. The lyrics were too much, and the angles were a lot.

KIMI ANTONELLI - KA12

“DON’T DROP ME,” Kimi squeaked in his heavy accent, his voice rising an octave as he shouted with fear. His hands were clawing at the walls, looking for any sort of stability to keep himself balanced there. Y/N only laughed, causing her legs to shake more.

They probably should have swapped positions, but there was something humorous about him standing atop her feet. He swayed, arms out to keep himself steady. They were both against a wall with Y/N on her back, legs in the air. Kimi stood atop her feet.

“I’m not gonna drop you! Just hit record!” She muttered through fits of laughter, breathing in heavily to try and keep her composure. Only Kimi could make her laugh so hard. He pulled the phone out, and nearly fell just doing that. Without even thinking about it, she shifted.

Suddenly, he was on top of her. It happened so quickly— One twitch of the leg and he toppled over with ease. They both laughed as Kimi rolled off of her and onto his back, both of them lying there in their harmonious laughter.

LIAM LAWSON - LL30

“How do I even get into this position?” Y/N questions as she reviews the video once more. It was her idea to participate in the stupid trend, but now she was beginning to regret it. The two seemed to simultaneously agree that Liam would be the one on the bottom, since his leg strength was a lot better than hers.

“Okay, here.” He extended both of his arms and brought his knees to his chest. “Step on my feet, hold my hands, and I’ll slowly lift you.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his current predicament, but followed his instructions. Y/N carefully stepped up onto his feet and held his hands, barely able to balance as is.

Slowly, he extended his legs and she held on to the wall. A silent cheer passed over them as they reached the peak, both of their legs fully extended. It was… Awkward, to say the least. “Okay, now-” Before he could finish, Y/N let out a yelp as she came toppling forward.

Unfortunately for Liam, her knee landed right between his legs. He shouted with pain, rolling over onto her side. Half-laughing, half-groaning. “Babe- Ow?!”

She knelt beside him, laughing her ass off. “OH MY GOD- I’m so sorry!”

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

If anyone ever doubted that Oscar Piastri loved his girlfriend, he’d show them this video they’re making right now. Tell me, does a man who hates his girlfriend agree to film some stupid trend with her, just because her eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea. No, certainly not. How about a man who is currently lying on his back, supporting said girl on his feet as she explains the whole concept to him? Does he hate his girlfriend?

I think not.

“Okay, so… I’m gonna point the camera at you, and you’re gonna mouth the words,” She explained as if it was obvious. “And then-”

“Wait, what words? You didn’t tell me the lyrics,” he reminded gently, staring at her with that signature ‘you’re so stupid but I love you’ expression.

“Oh!” She grinned. Together, they seemed to have perfect balance. Even an awkward position like this felt natural. “If I beat that pussy up is you gon’ tell on me,” She sang very poorly. Oscar tilted his head, one brow raised.

“Really? That’s the lyric? I might get fined for this.”

“It’s for a good cause. Anyway! Afterwards, I’m gonna drop the phone and you have to catch it, turn it around, and then record me singing my part.”

So, in summary. If anyone tells you Oscar Piastri doesn’t love his girlfriend, you can confidently tell them that’s not true. He’s willing to walk the earth’s surface again and again for her.

OLIVER BEARMAN - OB87

“OW-” Y/N cried out sharply, followed by a giggle at the foolish mistake. Yeah, pro tip. If your boyfriend has long legs, don’t have him full send this trend. Y/N confidently stood atop his feet, using the wall for support. She balanced quite well, but the issue had yet to come.

With her okay, she allowed him to push his legs up. Issue? Her head hit the ceiling. With worry, her carefully lowered her, helping her get down. “Y/N, ohmygodI’msosorry, are you okay?!” She laughed as she nodded, her hands cradling the spot she hit.

“Yes, oh my God— Yes, it didn’t actually hurt that bad it just shocked me.” After getting confirmation she was okay, Ollie laughed with her, resting his forehead against her shoulder in an exasperated manner.

“I thought you were seriously hurt for a second!”

“Well for all you know I could have been.”

Yeah. Video was never posted. Was never even made.

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fruithoughts · 6 months ago

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In this world there are a couple of absolute truths; the sun will explode someday, the water is wet, capitalism is a demon and of course, Yoon Jeonghan is madly in love with his best friend.

CW: agegap(he’s 29 and she’s 23, they met when she was 19 and he was 25), bigdick!Jeonghan, fem!reader, friends to lovers, he’s so condescending but in the sweetest way?? what an asshole omg, one reference to him being a smoker, idiots in love, a lil bit of dom!jeonghan.

It's a classic, from the very first time they met, the bastard already knew he was going to end up in bed with the pretty girl with the coffee colored eyes, she retorted his unfunny jokes even when her red cheeks gave away that she was embarrassed, played along all of his little games just to give him hope that this time she had fallen into the hands of the big bad wolf, she was made just for him.

The special treatment Jeonghan provided her didn't sneak under anyone's noses, it was obvious, the only person other than himself that he allows to win during table games, just one look at him with that curious puppy face is enough to make him melt whole, he’s that weak. The only person he listens to when she tells him to stop cheating in games, that guy would give all of the stars in the universe to his girl, would fix the ozone layer in 3 business days max if she complained about global warming today.

"I could live like this" oh, that persisting little thought, always wandering in the man's head while he is around his friend, just waiting for the right moment to invade his frontal lobe and consequently force his heart into beating fast like crazy by making him think about the calm and happy life he could have alongside his love.

The dreamer thinks and thinks while waiting for his girl to finish brushing her teeth, a silly smile stamped on his rascal face as he stares at the ceiling of her room, ironically, they were watching Friends in her bed, as always; against the will of his girl who insisted that the series was silly and he only liked it because he was old.

As strange as it can sound, they had already slept in the same bed hundreds of times, most of those times due to Hannie’s habit of refusing not to take her with him everywhere he went, which more than often left them with only one hotel room to share, these nights were the most special, nothing sexual happened, which made them even more intimate.

The pointless conversations before bed, faces a few inches away as they discuss each and every scenario that his favorite girl proposes, "What name would you give your child? What if it was a girl?", "If the world ended and only the two of us were left, where would we go? Would you protect me?" She was always more touchy with him when she was tired, he loved every second of it. They cuddled until the princess fell asleep, her warm breath on his neck drove him wild, he wanted to fill her face with kisses, but he never had the courage, always waiting for the right time.

Now that once again he found himself in his friend's bed, just a month or so before his military service called for him, he wondered if he let the right time pass right by him at some point in the last 4 years, it was his biggest fear. What if the fact that he had hookups here and there over the years made her think he had no interest in her? What if the fact that he kept posting stories and photos with her made her come to the conclusion that he doesn't have romantic feelings for her because he wouldn't risk showing his possible future girlfriend to fans, and only posts things with her exactly because they’re completely platonic?

With the date of the inevitable farewell between the lovebirds approaching, something had changed, Jeonghan couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was, but things were different. His girl always loved him(just not in the way he desired so much), he always knew that, she, who was always closed off with others; had no problem holding his hand under the blanket while watching movies or laying her head on his shoulder during car trips while Seungcheol screamed at Dokyeom because he took the wrong turn again, these moments felt like little secrets, his pretty flower laughing softly at the car fights while the bastard uses their proximity to draw invisible shapes of hearts and dicks on her bare thigh until he gets his hand slapped away when she inevitably realizes what he was drawing, in they’re little world in the back seat, no one would ever know.

Well, never? Maybe it was the wrong word, especially now that everything has changed. For some reason, his friend suddenly started offering him 3 times the attention he was used to receiving from her, holding his arm while waiting in line at the grocery store, hugging his waist and hiding her face behind his back while waiting for the uber, deliberately holding his hand as they strolled through some parking lot, suddenly her behavior made it obvious to anyone with eyes to see that they were in a romantic relationship, Jeonghan was in heaven.

He wanted to fantasize, to dream, to believe that this change was due to the fact that now that he's going away, she finally realized that she loves him, that she's always loved him and that they should be together, but part of him just can’t get over the possibility that she might have just gotten extra comfortable now that she realized he's going soon, and decided to give him all the attention in the world because she’ll miss his friend.

Things were not going according to plan and it made him nervous, restless... What was the plan? To confess as soon as he was discharged from military service, his group would be on a semi-hiatus for at least two more years after his return due to the younger ones serving, it was the perfect time to develop their relationship, he was sure they would get married early too, after all, for how long do you date after being extremely close for 4 whole years? He knows his princess like the back of his hand and she has him around her little finger, she knows everything, his whole life, all of his habits, allergies, fears and almost all his greatest desires.

— Stop thinking about other things while I'm here — His girl's voice as she enters the room takes Jeonghan out of his train of thoughts, staring at her until she reaches the bed and crawls over to him to go cuddle again.

— Am I only allowed to think about you? — he asks, arching one of his eyebrows as soon as he has her in his arms, lying on top of him. — When you're at my house, yes. — She replies grumpily and Jeonghan laughs when he feels his torso being squeezed closer to her, draping one arm over his baby’s back, also squeezing her closer before depositing a little kiss on the top of her head, there's nothing this man wouldn't give to have this right here every day.

The conversation comes and goes as usual, they talk about life dramas and gossips from their respective groups of friends, some complaints about annoying and inconvenient people, just as inconvenient as...

— And that little guy you were hooking up with? Did you get tired of him already? — Jeonghan asks as if he hasn't spent the last two weeks brooding with jealousy, just the possibility of that idiot having touched his girl makes him want to rip off his own face with his bare hands. He’s not possessive at all, clearly.

She huffs before replying — And that makeup artist you were clinging to? How is she? — the tone of the question tone made Jeonghan roll his eyes, he only had a little affair with that woman, a few kisses for a week and they slept together once, no big deal, and obviously it didn't mean anything to him, just like all his hookups never did. The man's distant behavior towards the people he fucked with was always a reason for a fights between them and most of the time it was the reason for the "breakup" of said hookup status, but why would he try to feel anything for any of his fuck buddies when his true love was just around the corner? He was just paving the way.

— You know it was nothing, it never is — the man feels her little eyes burning through his face as he avoids meeting her vision, he knows where his answer will take him, he hates this part — And when will it start to be something? You're getting old, you know… — she says teasing the possibility of her friend dying alone, he knows she's joking, but that's no comfort to how much it hurts not to have the courage to just hold her face and take what he spent the last 4 years wishing for so much, Jeonghan is patient, but people can hold on for only so long before snapping.

— And when are you going to start dating? Deceiving those little boys is not very nice on your part — he received an indignant look from his friend, getting exactly where he wanted, the part where he takes control of the conversation back. It was no new's article that Jeonghan didn't really like anyone's face, the problems were always repeated in one way or another, "He's too young, he won't know how to treat you right.", "Look at the way he talks, I could bet five hundred dollars that this guy gets grossed out by the idea of eating pussy, he's just a little boy.", "Beautiful, look at the things this guy posts, he doesn't even know how to talk like a normal person and do you think he'll know how to fuck you?".

It wasn't exactly hard to figure out that Jeonghan doesn't approve of the possibility of his dear and beloved friend being a guy the same age as her, they are immature and gangly, they don't know how to do it the same way he does, they don't have the time and money to be able to take care of her like he can.

The silence coming from his petal makes him worried immediately, if that son of a bitch hurt his love’s heart, he doesn't even know what he's capable of doing — What happened, bunny? — he knew she hated the nickname, he called her by it anyway to get her out of her own head, his princess always thought too much, and he, as her perfect match, knew exactly how to bring her back to the real world.

She sighed before shyly admitting — You were right… — he felt a wave of satisfaction run through his entire body, he loved it when his theories about the girl's hookups ended up being accurate — What was Hannie right about, hm? Tell me. — he received a slap on his arm and could tell just from her breathing that his pretty little thing was sulking like never before.

— He didn't even know how to hold a conversation! He didn't talk about anything worthwhile, he didn't have anything to do with life, he was a bore! — she vented, obviously it was something that had been bothering her for a long time, and who wouldn't be bothered when it's impossible to find a nice guy? Nobody had an interesting back and forth, a way of talking that made her all soft, a way of being that was all unique and special, there was no one like that. There was no one like him.

Jeonghan saw life pass before his eyes, the hand that was on the girl's back unconsciously squeezed her waist a little harder, with his eyes still fixed on the ceiling, for a moment he really considered that he was finally going insane, would she ever notice? Was that what they were going to be for the rest of their lives?

Friends who run into each other's arms to receive the affection and love many couples out there can't dream of having for each other while complaining that they can't find the "right person"? Would she ever really find someone who matched her? Someone who isn't him? Someone who doesn't deserve his girl at all, someone who hasn't spent literal years learning all the little details and parts of her life and worked so hard to be the best friend she could ever have, someone who doesn't love her the same way he does, someone who won't know how to make her cum as good as she deserves, someone who… — Jeonghan? — like the devil, that sweet, sweet voice calls to him, and by this point, he's been starving for quite a while.

— I'd make you the happiest woman in the world if you’d let me — the words lingered in the air for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, he felt his doll's heart start to act as if she had just run a marathon, the strong beats against his chest seemed to mimic the beating of his own heart, which she surely felt too. He didn't even realize when exactly he closed his eyes out of pure fear of having ruined everything, he also didn't dare to open them when he felt her moving around on top of him, when he thought he couldn't stand to stay there any longer without running.

He felt the sweetest kiss this universe has ever dared create, immediately his hands went to his... friend’s? Face, kissing her back fervently, Jeonghan could cry if he didn't have so much adrenaline in his body after confession, the position was already perfect, they were grabbing and pulling and rubbing on each other for so long, maybe twenty minutes? Maybe two hours? Four days? It was hard to discern silly things like the time when he finally had his girl exactly where he had always wanted her.

— I don't want you to go, Jeongie... — she confessed breathlessly, holding onto collar of the baggy shirt the man wore as if he was going to disappear as soon as she let go, those shiny little eyes were capable of making him fight 9 wars, weed 5 batches, discover the cure for 13 diseases, achieve anything that could possibly make her stay with him forever.

— I know, I know, my love — he laid her on the bed with all of the care in the world, only to then, like an addict, go back to enjoying his girl's delicious mouth while he tested the territory by caressing the soft skin of her waist and belly under her pajama top — Do you love Hannie? Do you not want him to leave? — Yoon Jeonghan was worse than any whore, he wants to hear that he wasn't the only one who’s obsessed, that he's not the only one who spent the last 4 years losing nights of sleep and wasting who knows how much bath water while thinking about his best friend.

He feels his princess's warm little hands begin to explore his torso, scratching his chest and waist, sinking her sharp nails into the skin of his shoulders and the sides of his abdomen so, so deliciously, if he was a little less patient he would have already given up doing things slowly — Wait for it, you'll how learn to be patient, bunny. — Jeonghan commanded firmly when he felt his pants being pulled down little by little. His girl would be lying if she said she wasn't dying to give in, the bulge in his pants was more than enough to scare her off, but she knew her Hannie would never hurt her — You'll wait for me to fuck you when you’re ready to take it, without complaining, gonna be good to me.

The prep was long, this man didn't rest until he made his little doll cum in his mouth, then with his long and precise fingers, then with the both, he paused between the three of them so he wouldn’t overwhelm his sweet girl, he did everything to make her as open up as much possible but it would still take time to be able to fuck hard when he entered her little heaven, he was at peace with it, in fact, he was already in paradise just by eating her out.

The one who wasn't at peace was her, this asshole was too hot for his own good, if she had the strength she would have already ripped off this motherfucker's underwear with her own teeth, unfortunately no one tells you how hard it is to find the strength to be angry with someone after they just gave you the three best orgasms of your life.

— You look so much happier, baby, just needed someone to treat you the way you like — his lips and chin glittered with her honey, if they weren't so close, she would probably be ashamed to have gotten so wet, but he deserved it — It impresses me that you didn't suffocate down there, with those black lungs. They must look like two raisins — she jokes while pulling him by the shirt to get on top of her again, wiping the sweet juice from his chin with her thumb, only to put it directly in her friend's mouth, who happily received the dirty act and sucked her thumb clean.

— I won't even tell you what I'm going to leave looking like a raisin if you don't drop the attitude — he joked right back before kissing her, drunk in love. That was it, everything he ever wanted, just him and his woman locked in the bedroom, smiling like two idiots while making each other feel good, this could last forever, but now he was the one who couldn't wait any longer, all it took was her looking up to him though her eyelashes, giving him the puppy eyes he fell in love with all those years ago, it was all it took for him decided he couldn't take it anymore — Take it off, I'm tired — he says while letting his hands fall to the sides as he knelt on the bed, in front of her, looking down to his pants basically saying "if you want it, then come and get it", this scoundrel is very lucky to have such a beautiful face, otherwise he would have been punched already.

When the little game and fights were finally over and the time finally came, he entered very slowly, truly enjoying every second of his precious time and honestly, as much as it killed him to see his little princess in pain... Jesus Christ, that expression with her eyebrows tensed up and half-lidded eyes while her red mouth moans his name just so sweetly is a sight dangerous enough to kill anyone. The scene left him all vulnerable, his knees risked failing, his fingers lost strength, and in the end, Jeonghan was a weakling for his girl.

Her little sounds were all he needed to start moving, extremely slowly, he needed to train her tight little hole to be fucked by a real man — Those little boys really did you wrong, hm? Doesn't feel like you’ve ever been fucked at all — he made a point of speaking as he watched the long drag of his cock into and out of his little angel, hypnotized.

— Shut up, Jeonghan — she said angrily, it was embarrassing to remember that she had been with other people when she could have spent all of this time getting eaten out this good instead. He replied — “Jeonghan"? Where's Jeongie, Hannie? Do you want me to stop fucking you so you can tell me about this "Jeonghan" guy? — his suggestion was answered with a loud sound of dissatisfaction, and with the little strength she had below her torso, she hugged his waist with her legs to keep him inside.

Watching her desperation filled him with all kinds of feelings, just thinking about how good he could fuck her when his princess was used to his size, he could start drooling right there. He sneaks his face into her neck to start another attack, leaving purple and red marks all over his flower’s shoulder, the easing of his thick cock inside her was too good to be true, he couldn't keep his mouth shut — Mine, mine, mine. — he whispered and grunted at her ear lobe.

Maybe that was just part of having sex with someone you know so well, but he even knew what the attempts of words she moaned meant, he knew she was fighting with him for deciding all on his own that she belonged to him, he knew his stubborn girl too well to not notice — Try disagreeing, go on — he tells her all whiny, imitating the tone of the moans of his now; girlfriend, according to his head — Tell me that you're not mine, that we belong to other people, that this pretty little pussy wasn't made just for me, go on, tell me — clearly the words affected her a lot, if her watery eyes tightening until they closed and her little hole threatening to expel him from being so tight were anything to be go by. He held her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at him. — If you're going to lie to me, lie to my fucking face.

She was going insane, he was doing it so, so well, but he was so slow… Even though a little bit pain was still present, fuck it! She was barely holding on from not trembling with desire, she wanted more, she wanted him — Stop treating me like I'm made out of glass, Jeongie! — she tried to sound bossy but the neediness refused to leave the girl’s voice, Jeonghan could have melted right there.

— And you’re not? What’s my doll made out of, then? — he grabbed one of his girl’s delicious thighs firmly, leaving a hard slap that would definitely leave a mark, it burned like hell and the bastard didn't help at all, he just held the abused meat again — What’s this, princess? Did it hurt? Are you gonna to cry? — the condescension seemed to overflow from his mouth just like his girl's juices overflowed from her puffy hole and stained the fluffy bed sheet with each deep thrust, which now, very slowly as to not hurt her, were taking on a faster rhythm that made her head spin.

Having thoughts that made sense was too much to ask of the poor thing who was getting the biggest cock beating of her life, she barely heard a word that came out of her beloved's mouth, she just stared at his lips, which used to be thin but were now full and red from the intensity of their love, she just wanted to kiss him again, she needed to be a good girl to kiss him again, did he say something? He said it, didn’t he? A... A question... What was it? "What’s this?" — It’s yours, Jeongie — she replied after using all her mental strength available at that moment, which wasn't much.

Jeonghan couldn't help but smile about how stupid he made his bunny — Mhm, it’s just mine, baby — he held her sweaty little face with gentleness that was completely alien if compared to the harshness of which his hips kissed hers. It was so deep, she felt so full, she never wanted it to end, it was too good, she wanted to cry with the fact that she couldn't hold it for much longer.

— Do you not want me to stop after you finish, princess? — he asked just so softly, finding it the most precious scene in the world when his flower frantically shook her head, going "No, no, no!", his cutest little thing — Don’t worry, doll, I’ll only stop when you’re dripping with cum.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen drabbles #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan hard hours #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst

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simpingforbots · 6 months ago

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What if human ended up in Transformers One universe before and as the story unfolds.

PART ONE

Sentinel Prime

When Sentinel Prime first saw you he was disgusted. You were still on surface, running amuck with those dears, trying to survive and hide from Quintessons the best you can. Of course he first though was to just kill you, yet seeing how small, week and fragile you were, decided to use it to his gains. It did not take much of effort to catch you, being huge and you being small, easily catching up to you and wrapping you in his servo, squeezing a bit to hard to intimidate you and to bring you in to submission. Upon his return to Iocon you were presented as a sole survivor of you species when Quintessosn attacked you and "your people" and he, Sentinel Prime, was there just in time to save you from their clutches. Immideatly you were welcomed by every bot with warmth and the productivity increased, so Sentinel kept you for him self as a pet, putting a collar on you, if you tried to run he would punish you - refusing food and squeezing you a bit to hard until he can hear bones crack under the pressure. It did not take to long for you to submit to him, to scared to do anything "stupid". He would totally treat you like a chihuahua - carrying you every where, dressing you up in most expensive attire he can find and would fancy gold on you. Gold jewellery, gold chains and gold collar. and you can not leave his sight at all thanks to the chain and Arachnid. After all, why would you ever want to try to run away from your saviour.

Orion Pax

On one of his runs to the library he would accidently stumble upon you hiding from every one in a vent, something he was using to get in to library, scaring the shit out of you. you almost gave out his location if he didn't grabbed you and shut you up, without hurting of course. he was surprised just how small and week you were, so he had to ask him self just how you managed to survive so long on your own. and he could not just leave you all her by your self. Bringing you back to the mines was simple but taking care of you was a bit harder then he though. humans are completely different to transformers, needing different things to survive, like organic food, shelter and plenty of rest. And it was hard to provide. All the shady places he went to just to get thing the human needed to live comfortably. Of course D-16 was not a big fan of another mouth to feed, especialy with how many shenanigans Orion gets him self with authority, but after some time Orion managed to make D-16 change their mind. So the human has to get used to cuddling and non stop speaches about better future and legends about matrix of leader ship.

D-16

Orion brought the human to their quarters and to be fare that he was not to happy with the idea of taking care of something so week and useless. They could not do any thign to help them, the mines were far to dangerous and they were just to small. Though there were a few perk. Far to soon D-16 found out that being small is useful with getting things from hard to reach places, easily squeeze in and retrieving them, and steal things to. No one watching out for something small to steal a few cubes of energon from elite and bring to him. and something else to. it was good to find another person who would listen to his rant about Megatronus for hours, looking at him with wide eyes of curiosity. So when human started bringing him little Megatronus trinkets he allowed him self to dote on human.

Elita

Lets just say it was not something she expected to happened. She was aiming to be promoted and already had servos full with Orion and D-16 shenanigans, and with Darkwing breathing down her neck - it was clear that taking care of something pathetic as human was out of question. She did ignore you for sometime, trying her best no to squash you as you ran around, hiding in boxes, behind rocks and equipment, avoiding her bosses attention. After some time though she was quite impressed by your survival skills and staying out of way so she decided to try and trap you. Thankfully she had some access to information and manage to improvise. After fighting with shady cellar she managed to obtain something strange that was not made out of metal, just like you, and placed it in a trap she set up. Though you were smart enough to quickly outsmarting Elita's trap and escape with meal, hiding away, which did frustrate Elita quite a lot. She was the best, so how did you managed to outsmart her? She tried again and again, doing her best to hide that it was trap, but nothing work. Until she just gave up and placed another "meal" for you at the entrance of your hidey hole before catching you her self, wrapping her servos around you. Elita was quite shocked to see just how fierce you are, trying to worm and wriggle your way out of her servos, letting out strange noises. and how squishy you are. She took you back to her charging station, a separate room for her due to her rank, how ever small it is, and kept you in a glass box. You had every thing you needed to be in good shape - a ring to run in, place to rest and enough water and meal. Time to time she would swoop you out just to dote on you or spill all the frustration out, telling just how every thing went on her shift, happy to have someone to listen to her. and she found it enjoyable to dress you up, no matter how much you protested, not to fond of bows and cute clothes.

B-127/ Bumblebee

Another cycle of watching trash burn was rudely interrupted with you falling down the chute, screaming and scrambling away, all while B-127 stood there shocked, trying to process what just happened, before scrambling to catch you. There was not much space for you to run, no crack to hide and a big bot trying to catch you - it really did not ended well as you were hurt. Your sides hurt, even if all the trash you fell with managed to slow you down and cushion. As soon as you were in B-127 servos he was on cloud 9 to have someone else for company besides Steve, Ep-508 and A-atron. Not you though. You immideatly got bombarded with his non stop talking, regretting to explore trash chute for something edible with every second, but even you knew if some one was in solitary for so long they would go crazy. So you become his outlet, something to held his crumbling sanity together and so far he kept you safe, helping to salvage something edible to pull though another day and keep him company to insane bot. It did not help that Badasatron also was incredibly touch starved, petting, hugging and snuggling you when ever he could, even in his sleep, so you were basiclay trapped and any attempt to live was met with "puppy" eyes.

#transformers one #transformers #b-127 #b 127 #badassatron #bumblebee #elita one #orion pax #d 16 #megatron #x reader #prompts #transformers x reader #transformers x human

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pretentious-blonde · 2 months ago

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stay for dinner?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: a stupid conversation, past insecurities, and a boy who thinks he isn’t enough—until you show him he always was

warnings: steve self-sabotaging, crying

a/n: part 4, can be read as a standalone too. PLS give me ideas for these two if you liked them!! they currently have my heart <3 (may or may not write nsfw, if i get an idea for that, so be on the lookout!)

series masterlist

Steve set a freshly rewound tape on the countertop. The sign on the wall stating: Be kind: Rewind, clearly had not been making an impact on the general public. And if that wasn’t enough, he was desperately trying not to roll his eyes as a certain curly-haired boy to his left, perched on the desk as if it was a lounge chair.

Dustin had been pleading with him for the past ten minutes—some elaborate scheme involving a comic book store in the next town over. Steve had already told him “no” at least four times, but the word didn’t seem to register in the boy's vocabulary. He became aware he was fighting a losing battle as the kid refused to budge.

“Please?” Dustin implored again, swinging his legs idly as he watched Steve rewind the day’s returns.

“For the last time,” Steve muttered, eyeing a slightly worn Back to the Future case with mild dismay, “I already told you no.”

He was trying to figure out how he could make his declaration any clearer.

Dustin huffed, crossing his arms. “I can’t drive yet, remember?”

“Yeah, well, that’s not my problem,” Steve shot back, sliding the VHS into its designated slot behind the counter.

“I’m telling you, it’s only like a fifteen-minute drive. Tops.” Dustin glanced at the clock pointedly. “Plus, your shift ends soon. What else are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know—go pick up my girlfriend?” Steve flashed him a wry smile, letting the term roll off his tongue with pride.

Girlfriend.

It still felt new, but it also felt good. He thought it would take longer for him to assimilate to his new title as boyfriend, but he fell into the role as easily as breathing. Something that felt completely natural.

No longer was he the designated driver for his friends after work, he did the stuff that boyfriends do. And that included spending most evenings with you.

There were a few times you insisted he needed to spend time with his own friends, but he still wished you were there. Hopefully, you would be comfortable enough to tag along with them in the future. God knows he was more than willing to show you off.

“Oh yeah?” Dustin sat up, his posture straightening. “So it’s official now?”

A tiny grin tugged at Steve’s mouth. “Yeah.” He closed a drawer of tapes and rested his hands on the counter, staring at Dustin with a slightly smug expression. “It’s official.”

“Good for you, man. Seriously. That’s nice.” He said, seemingly out of obligation rather than pure interest. Then, snapping back to the real topic at hand. “But I’m not leaving until you agree to take me to the comic book store.”

“That’s like—” Steve glanced at the clock above the television sets for rent, “an hour from now.”

“Yep,” Dustin said, unabashed. “I’m persistent.”

“Look,” Steve sighed, massaging the tension in his temples. “She’s coming here once my shift is over. I can’t just bail on her to drive you around.”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Then bring her along! Maybe she’ll like it!”

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening.” A short laugh escaped Steve before he could stop it. “I’m not dragging her to a comic book shop just so you can blow your allowance on some special-edition nonsense.”

“Hey, it’s not nonsense!” Dustin protested. “They have the rare issues I can’t find anywhere else. And who knows, maybe your girlfriend’s into comics!”

“Why do I even argue with you?” Steve groaned to himself, returning to the stack of tapes in front of him—anything to have an excuse not to keep looking at Dustin’s pleading face. “You just keep going and going. It’s exhausting.”

“That’s because I know you’ll give in eventually,” Dustin quipped, flashing that self-assured grin that made Steve want to either adopt him or toss him out a window—possibly both.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Steve insisted, though the conviction in his voice wavered slightly.

Dustin was right about one thing: Steve did have a tendency to cave when it came to the kids, especially the ones he’d practically helped raise. But, as he filed away the last of the returns, a pang of guilt rippled through him.

He didn’t want to let you down. Truly, he didn’t. You were swinging by just to see him. It was a Sunday after all, so he was finishing early, and he wanted to spend as long as he could with you.

Unfortunately, he did feel a little regretful about letting his friend down. Perhaps he was spending a bit too much time with you—which wasn’t a crime—but he was struggling to recall the last time he spent alone time with Dustin.

The kid must have caught the trace of hesitation in Steve’s expression. Finally, a crack in his armour.

“Look,” he said, in a rare moment of sincerity, “just ask her, okay? If she says no, I’ll drop it.”

Steve mulled that over, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Fine,” he relented, not hiding his exasperation. “I’ll let you pitch your case when she gets here.”

Dustin pumped a fist triumphantly. “Yes! You won’t regret this.”

“I regret a lot of things, Henderson,” Steve muttered under his breath. “Now let me finish up so I can actually clock out at a decent time.”

“Deal,” Dustin agreed, but he made no move to vacate the desk. Instead, he just kept swinging his legs, watching with interest as Steve tried to busy himself with the returns.

The kid was relentless—he had to give him that.

He was half-leaning against the counter when you walked in, the lazy Sunday light spilling through the windows, making him look almost golden.

You instantly spotted him, features slightly fatigued but nonetheless tender. The boy who inserted himself into your daunting new life, making you feel less alone. The boy who made you feel safe whenever your eyes met—warm, reassuring, sometimes bashful if you caught him at the right moment.

Your gaze drifted to the curly-haired kid perched on the front desk, chattering away while Steve fiddled with cases. You hadn’t met him yet, but had an inkling as to who it might be from you and Steve’s many conversations.

The second Steve caught sight of you, the slight crease in his brow eased, and a genuine smile lit up his face. He straightened, set the tapes aside, and practically melted as you approached, arms opening to fit you just right.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you into a warm hug. His vest brushed against your cheek. You tilted your head just enough to feel the soft press of his lips against your temple.

Even though the two of you were official, your cheeks still reddened at his action. It often seemed he didn’t mind that you had company, or maybe he just didn’t care. Or perhaps he didn’t realise how brazen he could be.

Either way, you weren’t going to stop his displays of affection. You enjoyed knowing he was proud to call you his.

“Hi,” you said quietly, relishing the way he lingered in that hug, not quite wanting to let go just yet.

“This is Dustin,” he turned, gesturing to the boy with the curly hair. “I told you about him, remember?”

“Right!” You offered the boy a friendly smile, glad your assumption was correct. “So great to finally meet you. Steve mentions you all the time.”

Dustin stared for a moment, then blinked like he was recalibrating.

“Um… hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly timid. “Yeah, you too.”

That made Steve grin even wider.

Dustin, rendered speechless? He never thought he would see the day. He looked at his awestruck expression and glanced over at you smugly.

Yeah, he did that. He isn’t quite sure how, but he did that.

“You ready to go?” you asked, glancing up at him over your shoulder. At your question, Steve let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair nervously.

“Apparently, someone wants me to be their personal chauffeur,” he said, with a pointed look at Dustin. “Says I need to drive him to a comic book store.”

“A comic book store? But there’s one like four streets over, right?”

Steve spread his hands in exasperation. “Exactly what I said!”

Dustin threw his hands up. “That one sucks! Their selection is terrible and they get new shipments like once a month!”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. He sounds like a tiny professor with the fervour in his voice. Steve shot you a look of abject guilt, like he was already imagining leaving you hanging.

“Would I be the world’s biggest jerk if I did this?” he asked, the uncertainty evident in his tone. He hated to be the one to make decisions like this, picking sides and disappointing someone in the process.

“No, honestly, it’s fine.” Gently, you shook your head. “It’s still early, right?” You gestured to the clock on the wall—three o’clock, give or take a few minutes. “I’ve been all over the place today, honestly an hour or so just to get everything in order would be amazing.”

“I mean…” Dustin started, looking between you and Steve, not sure if you're just being nice or actually had something to do. “You’re welcome to come with?”

But you waved him off with an apologetic smile. “Thanks, but seriously, I’ve got a lot to catch up on at home. You two enjoy, please, don’t let me stop you.”

Dustin beamed at you, grateful for the positive turn of events. Steve, on the other hand, still looked torn, torn between not wanting to inconvenience you and also not wanting to bail on his friend.

“Alright,” he relented, exhaling in relief when he realised you were genuinely okay with this. “I’ll… yeah, I’ll drop him off, and we’ll probably poke around for a bit if they really have something he’s looking for.”

“No worries.” You leaned forward, reaching for his hand, not missing the smitten glaze in his eyes as you squeezed it. “Swing by mine after, okay? I should be done by then.”

Steve’s posture relaxed, gratitude colouring his eyes. “Okay,” he murmured, “deal.”

He leaned in, cupping your jaw and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips this time—a sweet, unhurried gesture that made your cheeks flush—again.

There was a shuffle behind him, and you could sense Dustin being extremely polite (or maybe just temporarily stunned) enough not to comment. Steve pulled back smiling, as you made your way to the exit.

“See you, Steve,” you said, backing toward the door. You cast a quick wave at Dustin. “Later, Dustin.”

“Uh, bye,” Dustin managed, raising a hand in farewell.

And with that, you slipped outside, leaving Steve to shoulder his shift into driver mode—though, judging by the fond look on his face, he wasn’t half as annoyed about it anymore.

He just got to rub it in Dustin's face, that yes, he had a sweet girlfriend. And yes, she really was that nice. All the time. Probably when she shouldn't be.

As far as he was concerned, if you needed it, he could haul Henderson around for an afternoon to give you some free time.

“You,” Dustin said, pointing at Steve once you were gone, “are one lucky dude.”

Steve snorted, but it came out more like an affectionate laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmured, casting a glance at the door you’d just left through. “Yeah, I am.”

Steve drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he cruised down the main road, Dustin rambling away in the passenger seat. The kid’s feet bounced on the floor mat, all brimming energy. Steve had to admit—it was nice to see him so pumped. But that didn’t stop him from cringing slightly at every new question that spilled out of his mouth.

Right now he was the subject of a very intense interrogation, and while he had mentioned he was seeing someone new, clearly that was not enough information for the teenager sitting next to him.

“So,” Dustin said, leaning forward, “this girl—your girlfriend—what does she do?”

“She’s writing for the paper in town.” He said, feeling a surge of pride in his chest as he got to gush about your achievements. “Gonna be a big-shot journalist someday. That’s what she wants, anyway.”

Dustin let out a short laugh, amused in a way that made Steve raise an eyebrow. “Why’re you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m just—” Dustin shook his head, lips quirked in a grin. “You and your… type.”

Steve gave him a side-eye glance. “My type?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Dustin scoffed, half-exasperated, half-teasing. “Smart writer girls. You know—the go-getter, brainy ones.”

Steve’s initial instinct was to shrug it off, but something nagged at him.

He felt a twinge of déjà vu that he didn’t love.

“Yeah, okay, I can sorta see what you mean.” He spoke cooly, but the heat rising in his chest was anything but.

“Admit it,” Dustin pressed on. “You like girls that are just a little… out of your league.”

Steve bristled, tightening his grip on the wheel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, think about it." Dustin shrugged, apparently not noticing the defensiveness in Steve’s tone. "The girls you’ve dated. They’re super smart, super driven. It’s cool how you have managed to pull this off twice.”

Steve forced a laugh, though it felt hollow on his tongue.

Pull this off? That the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Right, yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Henderson.” He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping into his stomach. “Well, if they like me, then I must be doing something right.”

“For sure. No denying you’ve come a long way.” Dustin nodded, tapping the dashboard with one finger. “Remember how you used to act at Scoops? Man, you were just—”

Steve groaned, cutting him off as he steered into a small parking lot beside a rundown building with a neon sign advertising Comics & Collectibles. Not wanting to relive failed moments from his youth any longer than he had to.

“Alright, we’re here.” He put the car into park, his posture now rigid. “You’ve got thirty minutes, max. Then we’re outta here.”

“Thirty minutes?” Dustin repeated, eyes bulging. “But—”

“Non-negotiable,” Steve said flatly, giving him a pointed look, suddenly in a sour mood. “I’ve got places to be.”

“Fine.” Dustin grumbled under his breath but ultimately acquiesced, grabbing his backpack and popping open the door. “Thirty. Starting… now.”

He hopped out, the door slamming shut behind him. Steve exhaled, jaw still tense. He watched the kid dart across the lot and pull open the shop’s glass door with excitement.

Alone at last, Steve let his head fall back against the headrest.

Are you really that much out of his league? The question looped around in his mind like a broken record.

He could laugh it off—he had enough practise doing that—but he started remembering how he felt so inadequate around Nancy.

You made him feel needed, cared for, that much was certainly true. But how long would you need him, really?

The notion stirred up old insecurities he’d thought he’d buried.

The rational side of his mind told him he had nothing to worry about. If you liked him—chose him—that was enough, right?

Sighing, he pulled out his watch and glanced at the time. Twenty-nine minutes until he could drop Dustin off and head straight to your place. He suddenly wished the clock would run faster.

Because if there was one thing he couldn’t wait to do, it was lose himself in you. If only for the evening.

Your familiar doorstep was supposed to feel welcoming, as it had so many times before, but Steve’s mind was a bundle of half-formed worries as he stood in the familiar space.

He hated to admit when things got to him, but Dustin’s teasing—albeit lighthearted—had, indeed, gotten to him. The doubts clouding his mind like a soft static he couldn’t push away.

The one statement he kept circling back to was the whole "out of his league" idea. I mean, yeah, from the outside looking in, it could be the case. But he had something to offer, right?

If nothing else was true, he at least had a decent enough face, and his personality had come a long way from high school. Hopefully, other people could see that too.

He forced his mind into silence as he took a deep breath, knocking twice in quick succession.

When you opened the door, dressed in soft, comfortable clothes that looked unfairly adorable on you, he felt something in his chest unclench. Even on a lazy Sunday—one where you had every right to be tired from your own job—you still radiated a classic warmth, one that he was selfishly drinking up, grateful to be the one basking in it.

“Hey,” you said, smiling so easily that a bit of the tension in his shoulders melted.

“Hey, angel” he echoed, stepping inside when you ushered him through the threshold. The air hit him first—warm and fragrant, hinting at something savoury on the stove. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

Little did he know, you had already taken care of most of your errands that morning. Knowing you’d be spending the afternoon with Steve, you’d gotten up a little earlier than usual to make sure everything was in order. But when you saw the desperate look on Dustin’s face as he pleaded with your boyfriend to take him to the store, an idea sparked. A little surprise for him—one you hoped would land well.

“Figured I’d make dinner.” You gave a pleased little shrug. “We don’t always get Sundays like this, and I know you had to work, so…”

“Wait,” he said, blinking, “you made dinner?”

His eyes softened as he took in your words, letting them settle in his chest. He tried not to feel indebted—but God, he wished he stopped to pick up flowers or something.

“Yup,” you confirmed, leading him toward the kitchen. “Nothing fancy. Just has to reduce on the stove for a while longer, but I wanted it ready for when you came by.”

Steve’s heart twisted in two directions at once. On one hand, it was the sweetest gesture, and certainly one that should have put his mind at ease. On the other, his mind kept whispering to him. He questioned if he was even worth this kind of effort.

The bluntness of the thought shocked him a little, but he couldn’t render it completely false. He felt like he owed you something.

“You didn’t have to go all out for me,” he murmured, smiling at you in an almost apologetic manner.

“I know.” You reached up to brush a stray bit of hair off his forehead. “I wanted to.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Thanks, angel,” he said softly, the pet name rolling off his tongue with more tenderness than he intended. Like he wasn’t supposed to be using it. “Seriously.”

You tugged him gently into the living room, where he sank down onto the couch, exhaling a sigh of relief. The day had felt so long—the slow hours, Dustin’s energy, the drive out of town—but now, in the familiarity of your apartment, it all felt calm. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

You curled against him, fitting neatly at his side as he draped an arm around you. The soft haze of a lamp cast a cosy halo over the bookshelf across the room, the very one he’d helped you build not long ago. He couldn’t help but notice the extra row of spines he didn’t remember seeing before.

“Hey,” he teased, nudging your head and gesturing to the neatly lined novels. “I thought you said no more books until you’d read all the ones you owned.”

You lifted your head to follow his gaze, a faint grin tugging at your lips. “I did read them. Which means I’m allowed new ones.”

“All of them? In, what—two weeks?”

He barely finished reading Salinger in senior year, and that took him months to work through.

“About that,” you said, sounding almost sheepish. “They were good, and I got on a roll. You know how it is when a book just sucks you in?”

He didn’t really, but now he felt as though he should.

“That’s…impressive.” He replied safely, not wanting to bring down your mood with his lack of literature knowledge. Especially when you seemed so pleased that he was there in the first place.

You used that moment to shift closer, your cheek pressing against the broad line of his shoulder. He felt the warmth you emitted, and if he allowed himself, he could imagine that maybe you enjoyed his company as much as he loved yours.

“So,” you said, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. “How was work? How’s Dustin?”

Steve hesitated, momentarily tripping over the idea that you’d be interested in the mundane details of his shift or the kid’s comic book haul. But the way you were watching him—like you actually cared—made him sigh and lean into it.

“Pretty standard, y’know?” He ran his free hand over his jaw, trying to sound casual. “Dustin got what he wanted, as usual. He’s like a force of nature—hard to say no.”

You smiled, amused. “That kid seems unstoppable.”

“Definitely unstoppable,” Steve agreed, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Eventually, after his debrief of today's events, you got up to check on dinner, stirring the pot and releasing another wave of that delicious smell. He watched, heart clenching again with gratitude and guilt.

He could see how careful you were, minding the heat, adding a pinch of seasoning, taking the time to make something special just for him.

He wondered if he could do anything to help, something to be useful again.

It felt so domestic that for a second he let himself imagine a future where this could be the norm—where the two of you shared little traditions, teased each other about groceries, woke up side by side. Equally happy with what the other had to offer.

Soon enough, you both ended up at the small kitchen table, plates filled with a hearty meal that made him groan with delight after each bite. You just laughed, pleased by his genuine appreciation.

“Good?” you asked, grinning as he nodded enthusiastically, mouth still full.

It was good. Really good. Made only better by the fact that you made it for him.

Why didn’t he think of something like this?

At this rate, he was going to have to pull a screw loose from your bookshelf just so he could prove himself again.

When you’d eaten more than enough to satiate your hunger, you cleaned up together, bumping hips in the process, trading playful glances as you washed and dried the dishes.

He followed you back to the couch, happy to follow where you dragged him hand first. You spent the rest of the evening chatting aimlessly about books, random gossip from your workplace, and his occasional run-ins with Robin or the kids.

There was nothing particularly grand or momentous about it; just a gentle closeness. Though he was worried it was too mundane, if his crappy jokes were enough to keep this thing going.

All too soon, the clock on the wall struck a sober reminder: Monday morning was lurking around the corner, and you gave him an apologetic look.

“I hate to kick you out,” you said softly, “but I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He pretended to huff in annoyance, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a small smile. You were the one with a real job, after all. “Responsibilities and all that.”

At the door, you hugged him, chin hooking over his shoulder. He could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on your jumper, mixed with the lingering aroma of dinner. It felt safe in your arms—safer than he’d felt all day.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair, voice thick with more emotion than he intended to reveal.

“For what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, sensing his unease.

“For dinner,” he shrugged, trying to hide the lump in his throat. “For letting me hang out… for, y’know, being you.”

A smile lit up your features, and you rose on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

It should’ve been reassuring, but that old worry nipped at him once again.

You gave him a playful nudge out into the hallway. “Drive safe, okay?”

“Always,” he promised, mustering a half-smirk. But the moment the door closed behind him, the warmth drained away like someone had shut off a heat lamp.

By the time he slid into his car and started the engine, he was already thinking about Dustin’s words, "girls out of his league."

Mentally, he scolded himself. But the thought stuck like glue, stubborn and unmoving. He glanced at your apartment window—light still glowing from inside—and his chest ached with longing.

You liked him. You even cooked for him, fully aware that he would have been just as content with a crappy pizza or diner fries.

So why couldn’t he let himself just be happy?

With a quiet sigh, he pulled away from the curb, leaving the comfort of your home behind. And as he drove through the sleepy streets of Hawkins, he couldn’t quite loose the hollow sense that he was missing something.

Good things always had a way of escaping him, and he couldn’t imagine how this would be any different.

You’ve never felt unsettled since moving to Hawkins—at least, not until now.

Work at the Hawkins Post can be demanding, but those pressures were somewhat tangible: deadlines, edits, the joyous feeling of being undermined for basic input. You can handle all that. But suddenly finding your supposedly devoted boyfriend slipping through your fingers for reasons you don’t understand?

That feels far worse than any work stress could ever be.

All week, you’ve told yourself not to overreact. Steve might just be busy or tired or dealing with something personal. You didn’t want to pry, and after coming clean about your own struggles, you assumed he would do the same thing. Take his own advice or whatever.

But the excuses keep piling up, and you can’t ignore the changes in his behaviour. It started with some half-hearted reasons to hang up the phone in the evenings—when he used to plead with you to stay just little longer—usually ending up with one of you falling asleep on the line, listening out for the others breathing to steady before ending the call.

The whole week he didn’t even mention spending the weekend together. Usually that was sacred time, with him arguing with Kieth and Robin to please let him have the evening shifts rather than the morning. He enjoyed waking up lazily next to you, not rushing out the door before he had his fill.

By Saturday, you decide you can’t wait for answers any longer. You head out, crossing the familiar street, eventually pushing open the door to Family Video. Robin’s face pops up from behind the counter, the bell signalling a customer.

“Hey,” Robin calls, stacking tapes. “If you’re looking for Steve, you just missed him. Morning shift—he took off like ten minutes ago.”

“I know.” You attempt a polite smile. You were already aware of his absence, watching his BMW speed away from the store, feeling even worse when it turned the opposite direction to your place. “I actually, uh… came to see you.”

“Me? Really?” She seemed half-surprised, half-intrigued.

“Yeah. I… I think I need your help.” The words spill out in a rush. You don’t realise how anxious you sound until Robin sets aside her tapes, giving you her full attention. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, but I’m kind of at a loss. You’re Steve’s best friend, and—” You pause, cheeks warming. “I don’t really know many people here yet.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Hey, hey, no need to apologise. What’s going on?” Her eyes narrow, the smallest spark of protectiveness lighting behind them. “Did Steve do something stupid? Because I can give him a good slap if—”

You lift your hands, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s not that. Or… not exactly?” Your voice wavers. “I just—wanted to know if he still… likes me? Because he’s been distant, and I can’t think what I did wrong.”

Robin’s mouth opens on a short laugh, but then she sees you’re serious.

“Oh. Wait—you’re for real?”

Heat pools in your cheeks. It sounds so ridiculous when you say it out loud, but you press on. You were here already, so if she knew something, you would rather just get this over with.

“He’s barely returned my calls, and this weekend he hasn’t even tried making plans. Last week I cooked for him—nothing fancy, just dinner—and he acted so weird about it, almost like he wanted to be anywhere else. I keep replaying it in my head, wondering if I came on too strong or something.”

She watches you carefully, reading the tension in your posture, the way your hands keep twisting into your sleeves.

“Okay, okay,” she says, gentler now. “I promise I’m listening. You think you scared him off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” You look at the floor, biting your lip. “This past week, he’s barely tried to see me at all. Usually he’s so—well, so Steve, you know? But now it’s like he’s ignoring me, except he’s still in town.”

Robin sets aside the tapes completely, leaning her elbows on the counter. Yes, she knew how Steve had been acting, practically besotted with you. So this fast turnaround was odd, but then again, Steve had his moments. Though they usually came with more of an explanation than this.

“That’s… not good,” she concedes. “But trust me, from an outside perspective, he’s been head over heels for you since day one. My guess is he’s the problem, not you. It might be in that thick skull of his, you know? It doesn’t help that it’s covered with all that hair.”

“I feel so stupid, but I didn’t know who else to ask." You let out a shaky laugh. "I’m just… worried I messed up somehow. I know it’s weird—”

“Hey, you’re not weird.” Robin shakes her head, reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “You’re worried—totally normal. Let me talk to him, okay? I’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Your eyes widen. “No, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to cause drama—”

She interrupts you with a wave of her hand. “Drama is my middle name, apparently, thanks to Steve. Let me handle him. I’ll be subtle. Trust me.”

A mischievous grin tugs at her lips. You have a feeling she’s never been subtle in her life, but you’re too tired to argue.

“Alright.” You sigh. “Only if you’re sure. And please, maybe don’t mention I… came here? I don’t want him thinking I’m this desperate, clingy girlfriend who needs constant reassurance.”

“Desperate? Clingy? He’s been the clingiest guy I’ve ever seen—until now.” She snorts. “Don’t beat yourself up. I know he adores you. He’s probably just… freaking out about something. He’s good at that. Self-sabotage is his specialty.”

The tight knot in your chest loosens just a bit, but her words set you on edge a little. You instantly think that you are the one freaking him out, coming on too strong. But you decide that silence is the best option here.

“Thank you,” you say, voice still unsteady. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” She offers a supportive smile. “Hey, you’re welcome to drop by anytime, you know? If you wanted someone else to talk to or something, but no pressure.”

“I might take you up on that.” You tell her, relieved.

“Good. Now go home, put on some music, try to relax. I’ll handle the Harrington situation.”

You’re not entirely sure what that entails, but her confidence is reassuring. After one more grateful nod, you thank her again and head back outside. Not quite feeling relief, but certainly not feeling any worse.

Steve juggled a soda cup in one hand and a stack of tapes in the other. He had the evening off yesterday and had spent it binge watching crappy rom coms while trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest. Trying to find some solace in those mundane guys managing to snag the unattainable, popular girl. They never showed what happened after the whole kiss and get-together thing. Life imitates art in a way.

He also had the day off today—normally something that would have him beaming from the inside out—but he made the decision to spend it alone. A decision that had been laced with anxiety, which now leaked into a mild depression. His nerves overshadowed any relief he felt about his schedule.

He unlocked the door to Family Video, hoping he’d be able to stash the unchecked tapes and slip out before Robin noticed the cloud hanging over him. No such luck.

She was early for her shift, waiting at the counter, arms crossed, jaw set. Her eyes locked on him the second he stepped inside.

“You.” She spoke the word like it was a challenge. “Explain yourself.”

He paused, heartbeat picking up, not expecting this level of hostility.

“What did I do now?” he asked cautiously, setting the tapes down. “I planned to bring them back before opening, I swear, I just—”

Robin cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Not that. Your girlfriend came in here yesterday, totally distressed. She thought she did something wrong. Actually asked if she might’ve scared you off by, and I quote, ‘making you dinner.’”

Steve’s stomach flipped. A wave of guilt slammed into him, sharper than he’d expected. He swallowed, remembering how you’d stood in your apartment, smiling so warmly, how you’d carefully stirred a pot of sauce just for him.

God, he’d been such an idiot.

He thought that you would have been too busy with work this week to notice his silence. He thought he hid his emotions better than that.

“She thinks that?” he managed to say, voice tight. “She really asked that?”

“Of course she did.” Robin slammed her palm on the counter. “Now, are you freaking out, or what? Because if you are, just say so.”

“Me? Freaking out?” A shaky laugh left Steve’s lips. Freaking out was putting it mildly. “I’m fine, Rob.”

She shook her head. “You’re clearly not,” she persisted. “Last week you’re gushing about your new relationship, and now it’s radio silence. What’s up with you? Spill it.”

He knew there was no getting out of this, well, unless he literally turned and ran out the store. But that seemed a bit extreme and would likely only delay this conversation.

He dreaded this part. The whole talking about his feelings and his subsequent inadequacies.

“It’s going to sound dumb,” he muttered, gaze dropping to the floor.

“More so than usual?” She teased.

“Robin.”

“Right, no.” She muttered. “Wrong time. Sorry.”

She sighed and walked round the counter so she was standing directly in front of him. Both so she could gauge his reaction and bring him some semblance of comfort. “Talk to me.”

“It’s like…” He trails off, looking away from her pitiful expression.”She’s going places, you know? Really going places. I’m just… here.”

Her expression softened a fraction. “What brought this on?”

Steve felt the memories swirl—Dustin’s pointed remarks, the creeping sense of déjà vu reminding him how Nancy once left him behind.

“Dustin,” he admitted after a beat. “He said some stuff… about me only dating smart girls who are outta my league. It got stuck in my head, okay?”

“Henderson?” Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “Steve, he’s a kid. A kid with zero concept of normal relationship drama. You’re really letting that get to you?”

He tried to muster a shrug, but his chest felt tight. No matter what angle he looked at it, it was a statement that he couldn’t disprove.

“He’s not entirely wrong,” he mumbled. “I don’t have a big plan or anything. My job’s okay, but it’s not exactly a career, and I’m certainly not saving big money—there’s no future path. Meanwhile, she’s got all these ideas, ambitions, everything.”

Robin stared, seeming torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to smack him upside the head.

“God, you’re self-sabotaging again.”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are!” she insisted, stepping forward. “Textbook Harrington behaviour: good thing’s happening, so you panic and decide you don’t deserve it. I just watched her walk out of here looking like someone kicked her puppy. She literally thinks she scared you off.”

Steve’s gut twisted further. He pictured you, eyes glassy with worry, probably replaying every moment you’d spent together. After your heart to heart the other day it became clear that you tended to overthink, he didn’t realise you could be doing that because of him.

The notion that you blamed yourself made his chest ache.

“I… I didn’t mean to make her feel that way,” he said, voice hollow.

“So don’t.” Robin pressed her lips together. “Fix it. You’re good at that sort of thing.”

He exhaled shakily, setting the soda on the counter before he spilled it with his shaky hands. “How?”

“You have today off, right?” Robin asked, folding her arms.

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“She does too,” Robin replied pointedly. “And it’s not even 10 a.m. yet. So do something nice for her. Show her you’re not running away. Because, believe me, if you keep pulling back, it’s gonna look like you are.”

Steve nodded, trying to will away the tightening in his throat. “What do I even plan? Something big? Flowers? Fancy dinner? She’s already done the cooking thing—”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “You’re not exactly wooing the queen of England. Just do something that says ‘I appreciate you and want to be around you.’ Could be a picnic, a drive, a movie—whatever. Don’t overthink it.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “But that’s kinda my specialty these days.”

“Clearly,” Robin muttered, though her tone was gentler now. “Look, the point is, she’s into you. She made that super obvious. The only person doubting it is you. So cut it out.”

Steve paused, letting her words settle. A small seed of hope unfurled in his chest, reminding him why he’d fallen for you in the first place.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, gaze locked on the floor. Then he lifted his head, determined. “I’ll, uh… yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Robin’s tense posture eased, and she gave a curt nod. “Good. Because if you break that girl’s heart over your own insecurities, I’ll murder you. In a loving, best-friend sort of way.”

Steve managed a small grin. “In a loving way, sure.”

“Get out of here before Keith shows up.” She smirked, waving him off. “And don’t forget to call her, for God’s sake.”

Snatching up his soda again, Steve headed for the door, heart still pounding but a faint sense of relief settling in.

From the moment Steve picked up the phone at ten that morning—voice shaky with nerves—he knew he was taking a gamble.

He could feel the cautious edge in your tone, the coolness that suggested you were bracing yourself. Still, he invited you over to his place for that evening, willing the dread in his stomach to subside. He told himself it would be okay, that he’d find the right words.

Robin had told him to talk, so talk he would.

Meanwhile, you spent your Sunday feeling a dread so heavy it threatened to pin you to the floor.

Why else would Steve have been so distant all week? The only logical conclusion was that he’d decided this wasn’t working. After all, you’d had that conversation with Robin—maybe she’d reported back to him, told him something that sealed the deal.

It made sense in a heartbreakingly logical way.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you felt like you’d gone through every stage of grief. You dragged yourself to your car and made the drive toward the Harrington residence, a place that had once felt so exciting in its promise.

Now it loomed large in your mind as the site of an upcoming breakup. When you arrived, you saw plenty of parking space—his parents, you recalled, were almost never home. You turned the keys of the ignition and exited the vehicle.

At least no one will witness what’s about to happen.

You made your way up the steps, breath tight in your chest. Just as you lifted a hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing Steve, hair meticulously styled, smelling faintly of aftershave. The pang in your heart only sharpened.

Did he seriously dress up for this?

“Hi,” he managed, the word catching slightly, like he was just as nervous as you.

“Hi,” you replied curtly.

Steve cleared his throat, looking awkward in a way that tugged at your heart—no matter how resigned you felt. “Uh, I think you should come in.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “All right.”

Inside, the house felt cavernous, every footstep echoing. He led you to the living room, and you couldn’t help but glance around, remembering how you used to marvel at this place—huge, yes, but also warm with the potential of summer get-togethers, that pool you’d joked about wanting to try. Now, the thought made your stomach twist.

Guess you won’t be swimming here after all.

You both settled on the couch, an awkward space between you. Steve’s fingers twitched at his sides, and he couldn’t quite meet your eye. The hush was almost suffocating, until finally he spoke, voice low and unsteady.

“Look, um… I think we need to talk.”

Your heart thumped. So this is it. You drew a shaky breath, forcing yourself to sound calmer than you felt.

“Okay. Sure.”

He tried not to grimace at the coolness in your tone. You’d never sounded so distant before, and it killed him to know he caused it. Robin’s words about “explaining himself” rang in his ears, so he opened his mouth—only for you to beat him to it.

“Listen, Steve,” you began, voice thick with tension. “I… I get what’s going on here.”

Steve frowned, something twisting in his chest. “Huh? You do?”

“Yeah," you nodded. "I kind of guessed it.”

“Really?” A flicker of confusion passed over his features. “You did?”

Exhaling, you steeled yourself, trying to keep your composure.

“Look, I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Maybe you didn’t appreciate me crying about my job the other day, or maybe I was too forward cooking dinner for you. I get it. I just… I can’t think of anything else I did wrong.” You forced a hollow laugh. “So I assumed it must be that. Maybe I scared you off.”

Steve’s brows shot up, genuine shock colouring his face.

“What you did wrong?” he echoed. “Wait—what are you talking about?”

You swallowed.

Get it over with.

“Aren’t you… breaking up with me?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Every worst fear he had about you feeling hurt was now a reality.

“What? No! No, I’m not breaking up with you.” He spoke in quick succession. “Are you crazy? I’m not doing that.”

The wave of relief that swept through you was immediate but fleeting.

“Then what is this?” you asked, voice unsure. “It’s obvious you’re not feeling this anymore. You’ve been ignoring me all week, and I’m not gonna force you to stay if you don’t want to. I just… I figured there’d be a reason.”

He grimaced, running a hand through his hair and messing up that careful style.

“There is a reason,” he admitted. “But trust me, it’s not you.”

“Yeah,” you snorted, a weak attempt at humour that came out more sad than anything. “That’s what everyone always says when they break up with someone.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath. He had never been good at this. You were the one who was good with words, not him.

“No, really. It—fuck, just let me talk.” He paused, gathering himself. The realisation that you thought you caused this somehow made his heart twist painfully. If you only knew how not your fault it really was.

God, what a mess.

He stared at the floor, feeling the weight of all his insecurities.

“Listen,” he started, voice shaky, “I’m not good at this, so just give me a moment.”

You watched him, a pang of sympathy slipping through your self-protective shell. He looked… rattled, more so than you’d ever seen him. Despite your own heartbreak, you nodded, letting him gather his courage.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling slowly. “So, I don’t have the best track record with relationships. Or even friendships. I thought I’d gotten better, but apparently not.” He let out a short laugh, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second—only to dart away when he saw the concern there.

It was hard to think when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.

“What I’m trying to say is… I always seem to get left behind. My first girlfriend left me for someone else. My old friends ditched me as soon as I wasn’t cool anymore. My parents ignored me because I sucked at school.” He swallowed hard, voice thickening with old wounds. “Then I met you, this super smart girl who clearly has the world at her fingertips—you’ve accomplished so much already, more than I ever could. It made me think: how could I hold onto that? How could I keep you interested in my life when I work at a video store and spend my free time with a bunch of teenagers?”

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his words. For a second, you just stared, feeling tears prick the backs of your eyes at how wrong he was about himself.

Without thinking, you reached out and slid your hand into his, the contact gentle but resolute.

“Steve,” you whispered, voice unsteady but filled with honesty, “how can you think that about yourself?”

His gaze snapped to yours, confusion etched in every line of his face.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, running a thumb along the backs of his knuckles.

“You really don’t see what others see, do you?”

He frowned, looking lost. “I… I’m not following.”

Blinking back tears, you gave a soft, exasperated laugh.

Of course he couldn’t see, your sweet, stupid boy.

“Steve, the first time we met, you literally lugged and built me a whole bookshelf—remember that? You practically passed out hauling the thing up the stairs.”

“Shit,” he muttered, cheeks tinging pink, “you noticed?”

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said, remembering the moment you started falling for him. “And I saw you freaking out over the instructions, but you tried to act like you totally had it under control.”

“Damn…” he hung his head. “Not as smooth as I thought I was.”

Not in the slightest.

A weak smile tugged at your lips.

“Maybe not, but that’s overrated anyway.” Taking a breath, you tightened your grip on his hand. “Steve, you’re a giver—through and through. So you don’t have some swanky office job—who cares? You have something better. You’re selfless, you help people, you care. That’s worth more than anything else, trust me. Whenever you talk about your friends, it’s like a never-ending list of names. You’re rich, Steve. Richer than money.”

He felt tears burning behind his eyes. This was not part of the plan, for him to be openly crying while you praise him repeatedly. That should have been his job tonight. Making you feel better.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he croaked, “you’re gonna make me cry over here.”

“Me too,” you admitted, voice thick with emotion. “We’re both lame.”

“Yeah,” he managed, a watery laugh escaping, “the lamest.”

A heartbeat of silence passed, and then he lifted his eyes to yours with a shy, almost bashful smile, one you hadn’t seen all week. It looked like him, the real Steve you fell for.

“Come here?” he asked, sounding almost boyish in his nervousness.

You couldn’t move fast enough.

He leaned in, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the big house, the rolling ache in your gut. His lips pressed to yours, soft at first, hesitant, then deepening as relief coursed through both of you.

He couldn’t quite stop smiling against your mouth, which made the kiss a bit clumsy, but neither of you cared. The tenderness overshadowed any awkwardness. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. When he finally pulled back, he let out a shaky exhale, one hand still cupping your cheek.

“I missed doing that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

“Me too,” you breathed.

He swallowed hard, glancing away as guilt resurged. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like you messed up. Like I didn’t—like I wasn’t into you anymore. I am. I really am. Probably too much”

“You should have told me,” you scold him, his brown eyes still glassy. “Aren’t you the one who preached about sharing problems?”

A choked laugh tore from his throat. “Yeah, well… ‘do as I say, not as I do.’”

“You’re impossible,” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable.

Suddenly, a shrill beeping noise cut through the charged atmosphere, making you both jump.

“What is that?” you asked, pulse still fluttering from the kiss.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Oh, crap, the timer!” He scrambled off the couch, practically tripping over the coffee table. You followed him with a bemused smile as he disappeared into the adjacent kitchen.

Seconds later, you found him shutting off the buzzer, cheeks flushed.

“I, uh… made dinner,” he confessed, looking adorably sheepish.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You cooked?”

“I mean, I stole your idea,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Rob said I should do something nice, so… here we are. My parents were never around much, so I learned a few things. It’s probably not as good as yours, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

A laugh rose in your chest, part delight, part lingering emotional exhaustion. “Robin told you to do this? I gotta thank her.”

He set a potholder aside, shrugging with an embarrassed smile. “She said I had to make it up to you, so… yeah. I guess I’m returning the favour.”

“You’re full of surprises,” you said softly, stepping closer.

Steve let out a quiet breath, a small, relieved grin curving his lips. As you moved into his space, he reached out, fingers ghosting along your arm before settling at your waist.

“And you, deserve it.” He murmured, voice brimming with affection. “Really sweetheart, you deserve the world.”

Something in his tone made your heart clench. Before you could respond, he leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, tender—altogether mesmerising.

He cradled your face like you might vanish if he wasn’t careful, as though keeping you close was the only way to convince himself that this was real. You tasted the faint salt of his earlier tears, felt his almost giddy smile against your mouth, and the mix of sadness and relief and overwhelming softness made you cling tighter to him.

It was the kind of moment that made the ache worth it, the kind you knew you’d replay in your head a thousand times.

You finally broke apart, just enough to catch your breath. Foreheads touching, you could see the hint of a shaky grin still hovering on his lips.

“I guess this means we’re not breaking up?” you asked playfully.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head vigorously. “But hey, you might change your mind after you try my cooking.”

“Hey!” you protested, giving his shoulder a playful shove—no malice behind it at all. “I’m not that cruel. Even if it was terrible, I’d never tell you.”

“And there you go being way too good for me,” he chuckles, but this time it feels more like the joke he was aiming for.

One that he knew deep down was not true.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine

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trumpwillkillyourfuture · 6 months ago

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People have been comparing Israel's atrocities in Gaza to slavery to explain why they're not voting for Kamala Harris ("her position on Gaza is so unacceptable that I can't vote for her even though her opponent is worse on nearly every other issue I care about"), so here's a relevant history lesson.

The 1844 presidential election was between Henry Clay and James Polk. Clay had what we would now consider an unacceptably moderate position on slavery: He thought that it should be allowed to continue where it was already legal but that it shouldn't be expanded to other parts of the country. Meanwhile, Polk wanted to see slavery both preserved and expanded.

To some abolitionists, Clay's position was effectively no better than Polk's, as the Missouri Compromise had set a policy on slavery west of the Mississippi River that prohibited it north of 36°30′ north latitude (with the exception of Missouri itself), and slavery was already legal in every state south of 36°30′. Many voters, unwilling to vote for either Clay or Polk, found someone to support in a third-party nominee: James Birney, representing the Liberty Party, who wanted slavery abolished entirely.

At the time, this position was outside of mainstream politics, and Birney was seen as a fringe candidate with no chance of victory. Sure enough, Birney came nowhere close to winning any state, but he did get 15,812 votes in his home state of New York. Incidentally, the entire election came down to New York, where Polk defeated Clay by just 5,106 votes. Had Birney's voters voted for Clay instead, he would have been elected the 11th president of the United States.

Instead, Polk went on to be the most pro-slavery president in American history, starting a war with Mexico to gain new land that would be open to slavery. A situation that Birney voters thought couldn't get any worse, Polk had found a way to make worse.

Now, 180 years later, people driven by fury at Harris's support for Israel and a belief that Donald Trump can't make things any worse for Palestinians are at risk of making the same mistake. Trump absolutely can make things worse, most clearly in the West Bank, which multiple members of the Israeli governing coalition would love nothing more than to annex completely, something Trump's biggest donor reportedly wants him to allow. Given Trump's transactional nature, it's likely that he would give Israel the go-ahead to fully annex the West Bank, which would destroy hopes of Palestinian statehood for the foreseeable future. Surely those who support the Palestinian cause can't countenance that happening by refusing to vote for Harris, the only candidate with a chance to defeat Trump?

As infuriating as it is that both major candidates are so unconditionally supportive of Israel's actions in Gaza, the fact is that either Kamala Harris or Donald Trump will be elected president in November. Benjamin Netanyahu and his extremist governing partners very much want Trump to win. It seems safe to say that the vast majority of Palestinians who happen to be paying attention to US politics want the opposite: a Harris victory. Please don't let them down.

#vote #voting #us politics #palestine #history #free palestine #gaza #gaza strip #west bank

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thanosscross · 4 months ago

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There all along - Choi Su-Bong/thanos x reader part 1/?

Summary: Losing someone who meant alot to you was hard, having to live with it for three years you finally went back to the games to try and get revenge, but a new guard refuses to leave you alone, resulting in you being sent home for the first time in game history.

Warnings: death, you purposely getting people killed, heavy heavy drug use

During the games it was safe to say that you and Thanos got very very close, much to Nam-gyu's disliking. Thanos liked you though, you stubborn, rude, and rough, but whenever you grabbed his hand shaking like a leaf scared, you were so gentle, like you didn't even know how to hurt somebody if you tried. He got the sudden urge to protect you the moment you held onto his jacket for the first time in red light greenlight, it wasn't like you meant to, you went to hide behind him and before you knew it your hands were clenching his jacket.

You didn't mind it though, Thanos was an asshole, but he was always protective over you, only ever spitting off embarrassing raps that he'd come up with on the spot about your looks. As you walked back in from mingle you held onto Su-bong's arm, he just held your hand that held onto him walking towards their little area they claimed, cheering and chanting something about one more game. As Thanos sat down he pulled you down with him, helping you down a step lower to sit in between his legs, using his thighs and hips as a back rest "So, We got one more game, then we're gonna go right?" Nam-Gyu asked, shooting you a harsh glare "I dunno Nam-su, I think we could do two more?" You snapped in a smartass tone purposely getting his name wrong as you looked at your boyfriend smiling "We can play as many as you like, as long as you like, baby" He smirked holding your chin in between his fingers, you melted in his touch, his blue eyes staring into yours like he could see every thought in your brain "It's Nam-gyu, bitch" he snapped, you just rolled your eyes, grunting as Thanos suddenly raised his arms in the air "Stop it!, don't call her that, y/n leave him alone" He stated, shooting you a stern look.

Whenever they all left for the bathroom you laid down, thinking nothing of it, until the piggy bank lowered and started to fill, the loud speaker listing off players that were eliminated. What the fuck happened in there? You started to think before your heart dropped "Player 230 eliminated" Echoed in your brain as the doors opened and everybody started to walk in, your eyes immediately fell on Nam-gyu holding Thanos's pill necklace in his hands that were covered in blood. You jumped up rushing down, Nam-gyu immediately taking notice to the fiery glare in your eyes "What did you do!?" You screamed, swinging your fist, it connecting right where his jaw curved, sending him to the ground "T-The X's just started attacking us!" He shouted being looking up pointing at the guy who Thanos first got into a fight with whenever you first arrived "H-he's the one who did it!" He shouted, not wanting to die at the hands of a grieving psycho, you stood up, freezing as a guard shoved a gun into your back, stopping you from attacking the player "We ask that you all compose yourselves, as the voting process will start tomorrow first thing, please use this time to think over your futures" The guard shouted, you just kept your glare set on player 333, you were going to for sure kill him the first chance you got. As soon as the gaurd left you, you leaned down snatching your boyfriend's necklace from his stupid friend making your way back to the bunks, crawling into his bunk laying down.

Thanos woke up with a gasp, feeling at his throat and jaw, wincing as he felt stitching thread sitting inside of his skin holding it closed "Player 230, you have been eliminated, but we are offering you a chance to still earn money, if you are willing to accept we shall allow you to become part of our staff of guards for the games, if you choose to decline, we will eliminate you from the games" The guard spoke.

Whenever you walked into the address Thanos had left you with, you were greeted by a fluffy dog, a note sitting on the counter of the kitchen

'Su-bong! Congrats on the game show! So glad you're back home, we took care of your baby for you!'

Su-bong, it was a pretty name, you weren't sure why he chose Thanos instead of that, you explored the house further, getting a new sense of who your boyfriend was beyond the games. You would continue on for three years, growing close with Thanos's previous friends and neighbor, as you were lying on the couch one night, you heard soft scratching at your door, slowly walking over and opening it, you spotted a small black and pink envelope, you felt like it was a dream, or like it was some sick joke, as you opened the card you saw the familiar shapes and numbers. You felt sick, but deep down, you had a drive, a drive to revenge Thanos in the only way you knew how to. Hearing the phone trill and the deep voice ask for your name and date of birth, repeating the information back you looked at your baby "Don't worry, your daddy would want me to do this"

Oh were you so wrong, as soon as Su-bong got information back that y/n l/n was becoming a player again, he was fuming, why the hell would you come back? What was your reasoning? God he wanted to kill you for being so stupid.

Waking up in the large room again was startling, you didn't even go to a pick up spot, you literally just fell asleep at home, now you were back? Slowly walking to the center of the room with everybody, you took notice to the different things they had added and taken away, and how quickly they rushed you to the first game. Walking into redlight greenlight you held the cross necklace tightly in your hand, yelping whenever a guard yanked you back behind one of the large green doors that were propped open "What are you doing back, y- Player 243" The guard said, and for a minute, you could swear you knew his voice, but you quickly shook it off. "Just like everybody else, trying to win money" You snapped shoving past the circle guard, not being able to shake him whispering 'still just as rough' like he knew you. After being through the games once before it made the game relatively easy, but slightly boring aswell. You opened the cross locket, new fresh pills sitting neatly inside, you never said you were clean, you had picked up the habit about three days after getting home, emptying out the remainder of his stash within a week. As you set the pill on your tongue locking the necklace back you waited for it to kick in, not ignoring the guard slowly making his way to the other end of the field.

The pill hit you faster than expected, leaving you a smiling mess skipping around the field as people panicked, having the same realization you did the first time you ever played, but you didn't care though, you jumped and skipped towards the end, purposely bumping into people as you went by causing their eliminations. As you leaped across the safety point you cheered, flipping the doll off before a hand grabbed you dragging you off through a doorway hidden within the wallpaper. You looked around, this area was different than the rest, dark blue and purple walls with no doors, just stairs "Are you high right now?" The guard asked, the way his hands grabbed you relaxed you rather than scared you, you couldn't place why though, you tried to break free of his grasp, but he just tightened his hold "l-let go y-you're hurting me" You whispered trying to break free, the walls opened up as the players funneled in to go back to the room, an older man coming over "Excuse me, but I believe she asked you to let her go" He demanded, the guard dropped his hold, you immediately clung to the man holding onto his jacket tightly as you both walked back to the room. You spent dinner time getting to know player 213, who ended up being a younger guy who was fucked over in the same way your late boyfriend was.

When lights out came, you tried to make your way back, but three guards stopped you, rising their guns and escorting you out, your hands shook violently, this was new, maybe they were onto you? You were stopped in a large room, a giant screen showing the field for redlight greenlight "Player 243, you're causing quite the distraction for one of my guards" A man in a black mask and long coat said approaching you "I-I don't even know any guards! He is causing a distraction for me!" You argued, trying to hide your body shaking to the point it could be mistaken as a seizure, you weren't sure if you were going to die or not, you had a puppy had home to care for, you couldn't die. "So we're willing to offer you a deal. go home. Don't come back, and don't try to either" He said, you tilted your head "How does that benefit me in any way?" You asked, attitude lacing your tone with a hint of annoyance "Just take the deal, y/n, it's safer" You heard someone speak from a few feet behind you "Oh my god...you!? What is your fucking deal with me!? Who are you!?" You asked looking at the stupid O mask "You look so stupid just standing there!" You shouted starting to grow angry "Go ahead number 30" You heard the other masked guy say, and you watched as the guard pulled his mask off, the black underhood covering everything that a few strands of hair and bright blue eyes, and for a moment you had to remind yourself, Su-bong was dead.

Watching him pull off the underhood your breath got stuck in your throat, his overgrown purple hair was laying in every different direction, being slightly shorter than him allowed you to see the scar underneath his jaw. "S-Su-b-" You started but he shot you a harsh glare, you felt your hands start to shake, your mind starting to spiral, god damn did you need a high right now, and a damn good one at that. "30" He replied harshly, this was a different Su-bong than you knew, you barely recognized this version. "I thought you died" You whispered, feeling yourself lose your voice "I'll explain later, just take the deal, leave. go. don't come back" He said harshly, taking long strides to stand in front of you staring you down "O-Ok, If you want me to go" You whispered, looking back towards the man in the black mask who just nodded. Su-bong put his mask back on as he walked you out towards a dock inside of a cave somewhere within the building you had played the games in. You stayed silent, occasionally looking at him, studying his face, almost four years of not seeing him, of thinking he had died, and yet he was here. As he walked ahead slightly to scan his mask you took the opportunity to pop another pill into your mouth, ingesting it quickly right as his head turned around to stare at you, somehow even without being able to see his face you could feel his glare on you.

You stepped on the boat watching as Su-bong stood back as another person held a cloth to your face, you didn't fight it off, his words repeating in your head 'Ill explain later' Was he coming back? Waking back up in your actual bed was relieving, but you had a need deepness in your chest, Thanos was still out there..and he left you. You laid in bed for what felt like months, trying desperately to find a way back to the island to find Su-bong while being high out of your mind, until one night. It was maybe three or four am, you were wide awake, music blaring in your headphones while looking at the paperwork you had out in front of you, a rolled joint in one hand, a pill in the other. Popping the pill in your mouth you groaned, none of these papers made sense at all, and you could've sworn you heard the lock to the door try to click three different times in the last minute, thats whenever you did hear it click, you quickly walked over holding the door shut, not wanting whoever was trying to break in, in. "So help me.." You heard a frustrated and exhausted voice mutter before you were knocked off of your feet.

part two comin soon, like always lmk what you think lovelies <3

#squid game thanos #thanos x reader #t.o.p x reader #top x reader #t.o.p bigbang #squidgame #squid game #choi seunghyun #choi su bong x reader

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