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aethelwyneleigh27 · 8 months

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Realizations

Dad!Simon Ghost Riley x Wife!Reader

Thank you guys so much for 1k, it means the whole world for me because now once did I expect to ever have my page grown this big and not once had I imagined that I would make these many friends here who happened to be so sweet. Also to @connorsui who has been most definitely been waiting the answer to this.

So in honor of 1k, I wrote this long awaited backstory for Ghost and Lovie (Ghostie's parents) that I hope you guys will enjoy since it so happens that our beloved @ave661 has posted another Dad!Ghost render. (Credits to her again for the renders in this post <3) (Sweetie, I love you but that tag on Soap with this render was unnecessary 😭🫶)

To the people who congratulated me, through replies, likes and reblogs, I owe y'all a fat kiss. Mwahhh <333

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @thesnowurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @demidemon09

Warnings/Disclaimers: Stalking (not by Simon), Typical mentions of CoD violence?, Mentions of Simon's past abuse, Creepy guy?? (Not Simon), Mentions of violent and a bit gory descriptions on what wanted to do to the stalker, This is not proofread yet.

With the words of my mother and in true reputation style, Are you ready for it?

I think I need to say this on my account again, English is NOT my first language and all copyrights regarding the plot and some characters within the storyline belong to me. Edit: please help me y'all, I'm losing so much relevance in the span of less than a month, my recent works have gotten nothing and I'm scared that this post proves that. I think I've learned my lesson never to take breaks ever again 😭

Simon never imagined himself in this predicament, always thinking that he'd be out there somewhere, more likely drowning himself in a mission. Not even a home, he thought that if it hadn't for your persuasiveness to interact with him back then then he'd still be back in that shitty apartment complex.

Simon placed his duffle bag on the wood of the porch, the jingling of his keys while he looked for the correct one. He tried his best to make as little noise as possible, it was passed midnight, the last thing he would want was to disturb his wife and daughter from resting.

Hauling the duffle bag in and throwing it on the couch, Simon opt to see what his girls were up to. The giggling and commotion making him smile, you both were supposed to be asleep by now but you were unable to put her to rest because she's just too hyper, so that left you to entertain her by tossing her up and catching her.

"Dada..!" A squeal from the room came, the little one snapping her head to the opening of the door making you look as well, Simon took a peek from the half-way opened door.

Adorable little thing clapping her hands together, pleased that her dad is home while sitting on her mom. She got off, crawling near the edge of the bed with no sense of danger, fortunate for her that her dad is quick with catching her before you could.

You took a deep breath from the shock, looking at your husband and smiling sweetly at him. He asked you not to get off the bed as you were about to, laying next to you he snakes his arm underneath you on your waist and pulls you in.

"I missed my girls.." He said, voice deep and laced with exhaustion, despite that his hold and gaze was the warmest it could be.

"We missed you too Si, so much." You mumbled as your eyes flutter shut to enjoy his touch. You opened them to the sound of a kiss, he kissed the little one's forehead then yours.

Sometimes you vaguely remember the first time he and you met, how it even came to be, this life of domesticity. You, him and your little girl, family is a heavy word for Simon but it was just perfect. This was the family he wanted, the family that he thought he didn't deserve and never would have.

The feeling of coming home to all this started because you were so forgetful, who knew that would be the skill that brought you to him..?

• ──── ✦ ──── •

He emptied his pockets, to the lieutenant's dismay, the box of cigarettes only had one stick left. Since he was going out to smoke it anyway, he might as well get another box from the convenience store nearby. He took his keys from the kitchen counter and headed out, hearing a little commotion that peeked his interest.

Simon never paid much mind to whatever was going on within his apartment building despite the many gossips that were present within the building and the renters. So it happens that the old lady next to his place mentions how they'll be a new tenant in the other apartment next to his.

'Thank God' Simon thought, not that he was particularly religious but he'd been hoping for the longest time for the former renter to leave because let's be honest, who wants to live next to a frat boy with no sense of shame or consideration given that walls are thin? Little did he know he'd be blessed with the next one..

"Oh- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.." Simon hears a voice from a little below him, he'd only register what had happened after the fact. Poor girl carrying this box bumped into him a little too hard, so much so that she stumbled back a bit.

You stared up to the 6'4 man blinking, he only shrugged it off to which you smiled to. You tried to make small talk since you were new and it wouldn't hurt to at least know one person right? After all, you were trying to step out a bit of your comfort zone.

"Hi.. I'm [Name].." He only stared at you for a while and replied, "Simon.." you gave him a warm smile before nodding and continuing to bring the boxes into your new apartment while your new neighbor entered the elevator.

You cut the boxes open to start unpacking, a few minutes in and you decided to go on a short break, you rummaged through the small box of food only to find that the recently bought box of tea was empty. You sighed at this, humming as you remembered the convenience store you passed by earlier on the way to the apartment.

Taking your keys and locking the door behind you, you made your way out the complex and walked a few blocks, you only started to notice how late it was with the streetlights coming on even though the sun is only about to set. That's something to get used to, hmm?

The cool breeze hits your skin as you enter, scent of faint instant coffee and many other kinds of foods and products made themselves known. You walked around for a while, checking on what other things you might need but then you tried to remind yourself that you were saving up and on a budget so you took a box of tea and walked up to the register.

You heard footsteps behind you falling in line, after placing the box on the counter, you searched your pockets for your wallet.

'Shit..!' you cursed yourself out mentally trying not to panic as Simon basically watches you frantically patting your pockets, you left your wallet back at the apartment. "You left your wallet-" Simon stated the obvious, "I'll cover it.." there wasn't even a time to argue with him, he just stepped next to you and placed the pack of cigarettes.

"I'll pay you back as soon as we get back to the apartment" You insisted to which Simon only shrugged and declined, it's just a box of tea and it's not like it'll make him go bankrupt, besides he liked your taste, the one you got happened to be his favorite brand.

Since you were headed in the same place anyway, you and Simon walked back together side by side, however one thing you did find odd was when he gently took you wrist and pulled you inward next to him, he was the one now closest to the road.

The walk back was silent, a comfortable silence. A few days after that encounter, you made sure to make an effort for him to know that you appreciated his gesture back at the convenience store. The lieutenant was alarmed by the knock on his door, opening it to find no person but a tupperware filled with buttery shortbread cookies.

He smiled at how tiny the plastic container looked in his hands, how he noticed the note attached "Thanks for the tea, this isn't that special but I hope you like it -[Name]" and the Sanrio themed stickers stuck onto the lid and on the top part of the tiny note. You ran out of sticky notes..

Simon found himself snacking on those cookies later on, oddly enough, they reminded him of his mom.. how she used to love baking back then, it was her way of escape whenever Simon's "father" wasn't home, as well as gardening.

For the first time in a while Simon "Ghost" Riley let out a smile that wasn't smug or a smirk but a genuine smile, one that had warmth to it, one that no matter how hard his mind tried to surppress it, his body refused to.

It didn't take long for you and Simon to get to know each other a bit, little by little it seemed like you two were becoming like friends rather than just neighbors. Let's be honest, who just randomly gives their neighbors weekly baked goods for the sole reason of "just because they wanted to"?

You found yourself always looking forward to the Friday nights chilling with him at the rooftop, mugs with hot tea on hand while he smoked and you read.

Listening to his stupid jokes and remarks that slowly turn into deep conversations and life things. Simon was just... far more open than he's ever been, sure he's talked about his day before to his comrades but never like this, not in a way where he's pouring his heart out, letting you in on how he feels about certain things.

He just got back from a mission, a rough one to be exact. Shoulders slumped from exhaustion as he walked the streets near the apartment complex, no space for his bike so he had to leave it somewhere private while he fidgeted with it's keys.

Simon swore that he almost jumped out of his own body, first instinct being to push you off but he recognized you. He gave you a questioning look, hands were shaking as you so desperately linked you arm around his.

"Hmm?" He hummed, hearing you mumbling something but it was incoherent to his ears.

"Behind us.. please Si, help..." Come to think if it, you never knew when Simon turned into Si. Best believe he knew and still remembers when perfectly.. not the time, there's a serious threat, he didn't look. He didn't need to, guessing by the heavy footsteps, some creep decided to follow you at this hour.

He slowly slipped his arm away from your grip and snaked it around your waist, pulling you in closer to his side while the two of you continued treading closer to the complex. You closed your eyes for a few seconds at a time hoping it would end.

• ──── ✦ A few days later ✦ ──── •

Knocking, frantic knocking was what Simon heard at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so why the sudden visit? He opened the door and saw you, Simon knew something was off from the look on your face, you looked pale as if you were sick to your stomach while trying so desperately to catch your breath.

"Can I please come in.. Simon..?" You asked in between breaths. You looked around you, especially behind you, body shivering a bit. He took notice of this and had no hesitation, he pulled you in by your arm. His grip firm but gentle, Simon closed the door behind him.

"Remember that guy who was creeping around when I asked for your help..?" You tried to explain but Simon already knew the moment your mouth opened. You had a stalker.. it was best to call the cops on shit like this.

Simon did his best even though not knowing much about how to comfort someone, he did well in making you feel safe without having to tell you that he'll do so, you just know it in your gut that he'd protect you even if it's just now.

Your breath picked up, slowly backing away from the door as you heard footsteps, clenching your fists and hoping that he didn't see you enter Simon's door. Simon wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place and from further backing away from the door.

You felt his palm drag up and down your back, it was extremely warm, it stopped for a while. His arm wrapped around your waist, other hand in your hair pushing your head down a bit so it was buried in his chest while you gripped his shirt. Simon felt your trembling body against him slowly relax.

"Deep breaths, angel.." The nickname he whispered would've made you smile under any other circumstance but not right now, you needed to calm your nerves before you panic and make an impulsive decision that could hurt yourself. Like instructed, you followed along Simon's demonstration, pressing his forehead onto yours maybe just a bit too intimately.

You winced at the loud sound of banging on the door, you knew it too well. Simon shoved the handle of his combat knife in your hand, he told you that if anything were to happen, protect yourself with it.

As soon as the Lieutenant swung the door open, you could hear punches, things knocking over and among other things, your stalker's voice.

You'd never forget that, how pitchy it was. Nails on the chalkboard was the best way to describe it, how the man was cackling almost made you annoyed. Simon called on security and the man was dealt with, you came out from hiding and saw both fear and anger in Simon's eyes.

You would never know how much he wanted to tear that man's heart after skinning him alive for even bringing fear into your eyes.

Simon "I care too much for someone I just met" Riley finally saw how his knuckles and fingernails were caked with blood, went off to go wash it and himself.

Getting back to you after half an hour, you reached out for him only for him to withdraw, you looked at him confused and he looks at you with pure guilt..

Your eyes widened in realization, "Oh Simon.. I'm not scared.." you smiled at him. He reached out a shaky hand to you, hesitating before closing his hand back.

You took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and giving it a small kiss, hoping it calms his nerves. Well it did the opposite, it even more overwhelming for him having you kiss his palm while you look up at him, watching you nudge your face into his palm so invitingly.

The way your lashes just sat perfectly atop your cheeks while you slowly blinked up at him. Pressing the same scarred and calloused hands that almost killed a man that night on your face and rubbing the back with you thumb.

Simon had never felt that much guilt before for hurting someone, only after he saw the look in your eyes, which in turn were not something he caused. For the first time in his life too, Simon was comforted by something or rather someone immensely..

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avocado-writing · 1 month

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Hi dear! I would like to appreciate your works. I really enjoy everything you wrote, Wish you have a great day! 💗

Since you're taking requests, could you please write Wade with a polite, sweet and delicate partners. He's with a person who's the definition of "Too pure for this world and MUST be PROTECTED at all cost" His partner showers him with love and validation, and always love to listen to him! Thanks! 💓

possibly based on real life events.

Wade Wilson is so in love, it must be sickening to everyone around him.

In fact he knows it is and he does not care. He’ll say “look at this meme the love of my life sent me!” and the person who he shows will roll their eyes, as if you don’t have incredible taste in cat pictures. He’ll monologue constantly about how cute you are and how much he loves that scrunchy thing you do with your nose. He’s recited committed-to-memory facts about you so many times that his friends can parrot them too.

“Yes, I know what their favourite film is, I know you took them to a special viewing of it for their birthday. It’s cute, Wade,” says Laura, patting him on the arm condescendingly. Well, it’s not his fault you’re so wonderful! There isn’t a single thing about you that’s not perfect. He’s constantly bowled over about just how much affection he can fit in his body for you. The other night he was going on about something stupid - he can’t even remember what now, maybe it was about the new Taco Bell menu? - and then realised you hadn’t interrupted him once to shut him up like most people would.

You’d looked over the top of your magazine at him when he’d pointed this out, brow cocked.

“Why would I want you to shut up? I like listening to you talk, Wade.”

Marry you. He’s going to marry you. Every day, then divorce you every day too so he can marry you again.

You are probably too good for him. Most of his social circle thinks so. You’re patient and kind, when you’re not at your job - where you work at a charity adopting out senior animals, as if you could be any more of a fucking angel - you like to spend your time in his shitty little kitchen, baking desserts for him to get home to. He’ll find you getting Al to taste test for you and his apartment full of laughter and joy.

Man, he’s definitely put on like, six pounds since the two of you started dating. He needs to be stronger in the face of your cupcakes.

They are really fucking good though.

He walks in that night with a plushie under his arm. It’s a cow. He remembers you mentioning offhand how cute you thought cows were, so he decided to grab the biggest one the toy store one the way home had just because he knows it’ll make you smile. You don’t need any more stuffed toys; you sleep with them all in the bed and they’re pushing him off the side at this point because of their sheer number but, well, he likes seeing you happy.

And then he hears sobbing.

“Sweetheart?” he asks, immediately panicked. Are you injured? Has someone come to hurt you - has he painted a target on your back because of his job? Bile fills his throat as he stumbles forward…

…and there you are, sitting in front of the TV, PlayStation controller in your lap as tears run down your face while the end of the game plays out. Wade has never felt such relief in his life, laughing as the ache of it is taken from his chest. You turn to him with wide, watery eyes.

“Don’t you laugh at me, Wade Wilson!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But babe… are you crying at the end of Kingdom Hearts?”

“No!” you lie, trying to mop your face off with your sleeve. Then the music hits its crescendo from the crappy speakers and you start wailing all over again.

He loves you. He’d kill a million billion people for you. It would take a hell of a long time but hey, one word and he’d do it. If anyone even lifted a finger to hurt you he’d execute them so thoroughly that every generation of their family would be wiped out of existence too.

To put it in terms you’d approve of, he’d do anything for you. But he also knows you’d never ask him to. You’re just that wonderful.

“… would it help if I got us take-out and you started playing the second one?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to confirm.

“I could be in this fucking game, beat Donald Duck’s little feathery ass. Disney, make it happen.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Pizza or Chinese?”

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

#My writing #mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu x y/n #mcu imagine #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #deadpool x you #deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson imagine

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improbable-outset · 7 months

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📂 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭.𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞

I think it’s about time I post the SFW version of this HC collection. Just like the NSFW version, I’m going to try and make this as accurate to his character as possible while putting my own input too. I wrote the NSFW back in September so there might be some HC that will be slightly different. My interpretation on Miguel’s character will evolve.

Also since the NSFW alphabet was written with a gn Reader, it’s only fair I do the same here too. Fair warning, going through these head cannons is NOT going to be a walk in the park 😭 just a heads up

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

📄 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

There’s a lot to cover here but I’m going to try my best to summarise this headcanon. Given the fact that Miguel has experienced a complex family dynamic in the comic books, especially from his mother ridiculing him, I think he’ll have a hard time expressing affection

And on top of that, he’s been isolating himself to keep the multiverse in balance. So having receiving affection like that will be foreign to him since it’s not something he grew up with

I mean you could point out that he showed Gabriella devotion and affection as a father because he didn’t want her to experience the same shitty childhood he did growing up

After the dimension collapse, he’s more closed off and reserved. It’ll take a lot of effort to build that trust in someone again and openly express his emotions

Going back to his background now, even after Miguel tried to fix his relationship with his mother, he was always brushed off and was seen as self-centered. This would definitely reflect in his relationship having grown up being misunderstood

📄 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think this depends heavily on the timeline on when you actually meet him. We’ve all seen the post credit scene in the first movie when he was testing out the gizmo for the first time

I know we've only seen a glimpse of his character but I can’t imagine him being as cold and bleak back then as he is now, after he broke the canon

That being said, I think it would’ve been easier to be friends with him back then. Sure, he would’ve been a sarcastic asshole sometimes (affectionate) but at least he wasn’t closed off and easily irritated as he is now during ATSV

But if you’ve met him after the incident of Gabriellas’s dimensions collapse, let’s just say it’ll be a rocky road. It’ll take a while for him to break that outer shell (do not underestimate when I say a while). I think Jess is probably the only person that could get through to him, possibly Peter too.

It’ll take time. It’ll always take time… you can understand why he’s angry and stressed

📄 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

We can collectively agree that this man is touch starved and I don’t just mean sexually. As much as he hates to admit it

Once you both made your relationship official, it’ll be you that would rest on his chest first whenever you would need comforting. He’s used to being relied on— whether it’s serving his partner or when leading the Spider Society— not the other way around. He can’t bring himself to be dependable on someone just yet

But later on, when he does break down that barrier and swallow his pride for once, you’ll get him to rest on you. Initially he does deny that he needs such comfort but if you coax him enough, he’ll give in

He’ll be stiff at first with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped around him, but with each passing second he slowly relaxes his muscles under your embrace

Sooner or later, he’s melted under you and if you're lucky, he’ll fall asleep. Poor guy needs a break

📄 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Deep down, underneath that hard exterior he secretly desires to settle down with someone. He yearns to come home to someone that will be excited to see him and just be present in his life. I haven’t read the comics yet so I’m basing this off ATSV Miguel but, he hasn’t experienced anything like that. I feel like he has fantasised to be in Peter B Parker’s shoes a few times where he can go home to a family

He’s grown accustomed to coming home to an empty apartment with nothing but his AI assistant to keep him company. But just because he’s used to it, doesn’t mean he likes it that way

After he lost Gabriella, the gravity of his loneliness really hit him. Especially given the fact that it wasn’t his official family, it was his variant’s and he was just replacing him

The grief still stayed though. He knows he’s never going to have that family again and now he’s back to everything being hollow

Once he does finally get to settle down I can imagine him struggling to adjust to his new lifestyle, now that he’s living with his partner

At first he’s barely home, always in HQ and busting his ass keeping everything in order because that’s what he’s used to

But after he realises his old habits, he tries to amend himself. He’ll try and put more effort in domestic tasks just to be around you more. Sure, he still has that underlying stress and he’s still getting used to not being cooped up in his office. But that feeling will subside once his habits change

📄 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think this depends on who’s at fault here, the reason why your relationship has ended. But it’ll highly likely be because of Miguel’s overworking habits and not putting priority on the people he cares about

Sure the multiverse is important but he can get another Spider Person like Jess or Peter to take care of it while he takes a break. But he doesn’t

Throughout your relationship, you try to help him change his habits and his routine so he can live a healthy and more fulfilling life. Even grow a family together if that’s what you want. Unfortunately there’s only so much you can do and everything just feels like one step forward, two steps back— even after you communicate that with him and give him so many chances

He’s probably too blinded by his stress to even realise the harm he’s causing in your relationship. He finally gets that wake up call when he comes home to see you pack your bags

It’s up to you where you want to go from there…

📄 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I know in the comics, he did propose to Dana and as much as I’d love to see him as a husband and be his pretty little housewife, he can’t make that sort of commitment unless he heals from his past

If he wants something solid with a healthy and long lasting marriage, he needs to sort himself out otherwise there will be consequences later on down the line. Unresolved emotional baggage can lead to him being emotionally distant and unexpected outbursts

Even if he doesn’t mean to hurt you, there’s still a part of him that’s still wounded and he’ll bleed onto people that don’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his heated outlet. He needs to be able to be open with his partner if he wants to commit to them

Didn’t expect this sort of turn lol. It will take time but I think Miguel might want to settle down and if he truly wants it to happen, he’ll put in the effort

📄 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Miguel knows that he is a big man and he’s aware of his strength which is why he’s always careful with you. Obviously the last thing he wants is to hurt you physically

However, when it comes to emotional, I think he’s the one that needs to be handled with care. Like I mentioned before, he’s living a post tragedy so it will be hard for him to be vulnerable at first

There are times where he’ll have outbursts but he’ll never in a million years resort to hurting you. He’ll regret even reaching his tipping point afterward though. You don’t deserve that when all you’ve been doing was looking out for him

📄 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I wouldn’t say he’s much of a hugger. Not openly anyways. He’s not good with PDA and would rather show his affection, both physical and emotional, privately

But if you do initiate the hug, he wouldn’t refuse. He probably needs it anyways. He would slowly wrap his arms around you and gently embrace you. I think he does squeeze a little after

With his big broad arms, he can easily wrap around your body. His hugs are warm and they always make you feel secure in his arms. His height makes it easy to envelope you too

📄 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Oh boy….I could see this go either two ways.

One: he’ll either have a barrier around himself that will prevent himself from being emotionally vulnerable to avoid getting hurt. So he would have a hard time expressing his love vocally but will show you through other ways like act of service or being protective over you. He won’t directly say I love you unless you initiate it first.

Or two: he’s so distraught from his grief that the fear of loss still lingers. So he’ll take every chance he can get to remind you that he loves you with all his heart

“Te amo mucho.” “Te quiero.” “Eres el amor de mi vida.”

There’s that underlying fear that he’ll lose you, either by being snatched away from him like Gabriella or you’ll leave him one day. But at least you’ll know how much you mean to him while you were together. That will give him a sense of ease

Either way, both situations are driven by his tragic past. Though personally, I’d prefer the latter

📄 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think Miguel’s jealousy will stem from the fear of loss again and the desire for stability in the relationship. Sure, he has support from his colleagues from the Society but that’s not the same as receiving devotion and love from a romantic partner

And because of that, he’ll be more vigilant about perceived threats to your relationship, driven by the fear of losing you. The vigilance could exhibit as jealousy if it means preserving that special emotional connection you both share and a tinge possessive over you too. It’s possible that this could be a defence mechanism for him after everything he’s been through

Not saying that he doesn’t trust you or anything, but I know that he will give anybody a death glare if they even look at you the wrong way. He knows his height and physique can be intimidating. This does go hand in hand with security that we will cover more on later

📄 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Awhh my absolute favourite prompt. I know Miguel loves kissing his partner on the forehead, giving his height and all. It’s just so sweet and tender and he’ll probably do it throughout the day when he can’t vocally express his love

He loves watching you try kiss his cheek especially if you’re shorter and stuggling to reach. He just finds it so endearing. He’ll bend a little so you could reach his face and peck his cheek of course. He loves your kisses too

The first time you both shared your first kiss was after the third or forth date. He bent over to reach your eye level while you lifted your head up

He held your face gently and titled his head before he leaned in. God bless Kris Anka for giving this man such smoochable lips by the way

📄 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

You would think that after he lost his daughter, Miguel would be eager to be a father again. He would love to have children of his own.

Yeah…think again. I don’t think he’ll agree that easily. You can’t tell me that the idea of having children again wouldn’t trigger some sort of relapse. He’ll either think he wouldn’t be a good father or he wouldn’t want to replace Gabriella.

Call me bleak, but he just watched his daughter disappear in his arms (and committed omnicide) and is left emotionally traumatised.

Even if we all know he’s not at fault and he was unaware of the consequences at the time, that’s not going to stop him from blaming himself.

Initially he would probably abstain from having children until you came into his life. Seeing your character, not only as a partner but your personality in general, will probably shift his perspective a little

The thought of being the father to your children will probably motivate him into being better for your sake. He can’t imagine having children with anyone else now especially seeing the way you interact with other babies like Mayday

An added bonus if you’re carrying his child. He will place his hand on your bump to feel the baby kick and I think that momentary bond with his unborn baby will resonate with him.

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Morning routines can be pretty peaceful, especially with you around now. Waking up next to you makes everything better for him ten folds

He’s usually the first to wake up (no surprise) and goes to the bathroom to get ready for the day

By the time you’re up he’s already in the kitchen. Unless you’re an early riser too. Before you got together, he’s breakfast would consist of instant coffee and maybe a toast if he’s lucky

But now with you around, you make sure he has a proper meal before he starts his day. And he has noticed that he’s more alert and aware after a nutritional breakfast. He’ll always be grateful for that

📄 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Night routines aren’t as blissful though. There are some nights where he wouldn’t be home, probably in another dimension tackling an anomaly again. It comes to no surprise being in a relationship with a superhero

But that doesn’t make it any less lonely for you. Your heart does ache for him and you’re always worried about his safety. Some missions take days and it’s hard to predict when he’ll be back home

But when you finally do get to share a night together, things are more content. You would either spend the evening cooking together or watching a movie. Either way, you’re grateful that he’s safe at home

📄 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Initially, Miguel was reluctant on expressing himself with you. He doesn’t want to put his burden on you even though he constantly remind him that you’re his partner. You’re there to support him, yet he still insists that he’s fine

And because he bottles everything in, his behaviour is effected whenever you’re together. Easily irritated, uncharacteristically quiet and only giving one word answers

He quickly realises that keeping everything in is doing your relationship more harm than good and you’re only getting hurt in the process

Slowly but surely, he eventually opens up, revealing layers of himself to you overtime. This could include sharing his past, his fears and his dreams which builds a deeper connection between the two of you

📄 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

You know, the first time I was introduced to Miguel, I saw him as a ticking time bomb. Ready to burst any second. But it didn’t take long to realise his perspective on things

The only reason he was pissed off in the movie was because he was challenged. Imagine busting your ass trying to keep the multiverse in order so you wouldn’t have to repeat one of the biggest mistakes you’ve done and then someone comes in and puts it at risk

Sure, the way he acted out was uncalled for but like I mentioned before, unresolved emotional baggage

However, when if comes to his partner, he’ll put more effort into being more patient with things. Building that trust and intimacy will take time but it’ll be worth it. When it comes to your relationship, he’ll avoid rushing into expectations and let things happen organically

I know he’ll be good when it comes to respecting boundaries, especially the fact that there will be moments where he would want to be alone to collect himself. He will know you would follow through and it’s only fair that he would respect any of your wishes too

📄 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think he’s pretty good when it comes to remembering what you like. I know that later on in the relationship, he’d love to learn more, what makes you tick, the good and the bad, and what will instantly boost your mood. I wouldn’t say he would remember the nitty gritty details about you but he will remember the important things.

It’s the least he can do after everything you’ve done for him and giving him the safe space he needs

However, he’s not very good when it comes to keeping up to date with special events. I’ll get into more details later on so you can understand where I’m coming from

📄 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

This is going to sound a little corny but Miguel’s favourite memory with you is when he finally built the courage to be emotionally vulnerable with you for the first time

You can imagine how this was a massive step since it’s all foreign to him. He was hesitant when he was venting to you for the first time, with his head resting on your lap and your hands running through his hair

That was when he felt the weight being lifted from his shoulder. Being a leader and having people rely on him for everything was draining but you saw past all of that. You managed to see the man inside him after unravelling the hard exterior. A momentary bliss in his blaring background noise of his life

That was the first time he realised he had found his person. Someone who saw the gray instead of seeing things as black and white

📄 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Being a superhero and a leader of an elite force, Miguel will naturally be protective over you. His commitment to you also means keeping you safe from any danger not just as a civilian but as a devoted lover too

This also ties in to his fear of loss just as I mentioned earlier about his jealousy. Except this extends beyond mere jealousy with a genuine desire to shield you from harm

There are different ways he will express his protective nature such as creating a safe space for you or anticipating potential threats that could put you at risk before it could even happen

📄 𝐓𝐫𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Does this man put effort into your relationship…

You guys might hate me for making him look like a terrible partner. I’m just trying to be realistic here… but I think he won’t be best when it comes to remembering special events like anniversaries, birthdays and whatnot. It’s not that he doesn’t try

This guy is literally dimension hopping throughout his daily routine at work as well as keeping the Spider Society together.

I know that going to different dimensions is probably gonna fuck up with his internal clock and he’ll lose track of the days very easily

I’m not trying to make excuses for him or anything. He’s a busy man and overworked (like I didn’t reiterate that enough). But if it really upsets you, I think you should really communicate with him. Remind him of those special days because I know it’ll probably slip his mind. If he cares about you he should try to make time for you, right?

But on the other hand, he might even surprise you when you least expect it. You’ll probably assume that he’ll be in another dimension that special day and you come home to see him surprise you with gifts and such. I can imagine that happening too

📄 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Wouldn’t really call this ugly but this is a huge flaw that isn’t talked about enough

After the broken canon incident we already know he’s left traumatised but I think he has some untreated PTSD too and he refuses to get the help he needs

He doesn’t want to be seen as a ‘broken leader’ (his words maybe) when he has so many people from the Society relying on him (toxic perfectionism?)

Unfortunately for him, if he doesn’t tackle these issues now, it will affect his relationship in the long run

📄 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think we can all agree that Miguel naturally does put effort in his look, whether he’s single or not. He’s clean shaven and his hair is slick back everyday. So I can imagine a morning routine with him making himself look good. And I think he knows he looks good too

But when it comes to going out on dates and stuff, he will definitely put more effort in his appearance

I can see him asking Lyla for advice on what to do on the first date and how to make himself look more presentable, especially if you’re someone he wants to take seriously. He’s a little rusty with these things but he’s a quick learner too

📄 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I can’t see Miguel having the whole “my partner is my other half” belief. I think it’s an overstatement to him.

But if you’re both compatible enough, he will be aware that you bring out the best in him. Whenever he’s on the verge of overworking or overly stressed out, you’re always there to keep him grounded and give him the pep talk he needs to hear. He’s never been supported and loved while simultaneously reprimanded for his bad habits like this

Without you he realises that he’s a mess but now that you’re here, he has that drive to be better not just for the sake of your relationship, but for himself too. He has somebody special to look forward to seeing after work now

So sure, his partner doesn’t make him ‘whole’ but you do make him a better man and that’s all he needs

📄 𝐗𝐭𝐫𝐚.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Finally, I can say something wholesome about this man. So I know that he has a personal gym near HQ where he would train and keep in shape.

I have a strong feeling that he enjoys it when his partner watches him work out. It’s a serious ego booster for him. At first he was a little weirded out that you would just stare, it wasn’t something he wasnt used to, but now he loves it when you admire him from afar.

It gives him that extra motivational boost to do better. He loves it when you steal quick kisses between each sets too.

Speaking of which, you can’t tell me that one scene in the movie when he flawlessly destroyed those grenades from the vulture that he didn’t do it with a smirk under his mask. He knew he ate that.

📄 𝐘𝐮𝐜𝐤.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Something that he wouldn’t like in his partner. I can’t lie, it was pretty hard to pinpoint with this one but after brainstorming, I think I know what he wouldn’t like

This might be controversial since this trope is pretty popular but I don’t think the whole sunshine x grumpy trope will work with him

Maybe in a different universe where he’s not responsible for the stability of the multiverse, something that is a life and death situation, while leading the Spider Society and already has a lot on his plate. But unfortunately that’s his life now. He’s given up too much to stop now

The last thing he needs is a partner who’s overly optimistic and doesn’t see from his perspective. The fate of the multiverse is in his hands after all

He’s been misunderstood his whole life. He needs his partner to just be present and listen to him and not tell him to keep his chin up when he’s not in the right state of mind for it. He needs someone who understands the gravity of his responsibilities

📄 𝐙𝐳𝐳.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’ve mentioned this before but I’ll say it again. Miguel suffers from insomnia and gets repetitive nightmares of the multiverse collapsing one day. Sometimes his mind constantly relives the moment of his daughter fading away in his arms.

He just can’t get a rest from that.

But after being with you, they do eventually calm down. Listening to your steady breathing as you sleep, nestling in his arms or on his chest really helps calm his nerves.

Call me Miguel’s psychologist the way I yap about his fucked up mental state. I wanna write Miguel having some sort of melt down while reader comforts him but I know no one wants to read that 💀 properly will post it on ao3

Here’s the NSFW version if you’re interested

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @patchesofwork @monarchberrysblog @miguelbaby @swiftyangx12 @tarjapearce @smokeywhalee @lazyjellyfish300 @ghost-lantern @jadeloverxd @scaleniusrm @wandasfifthwife @ultravioletrayz @theorphicangel

Anyways, I’m logging off and going to bed

- Ayrus xox

490 notes · View notes

sturniolosiphone · 4 months

Text

Mrs. Officer

I made this for my best friend and had nowhere else to post this so sorry if it's shitty the last time I wrote fan fiction was in 2012 about One Direction (I also don't know how to add the cool pics yall do)

**Hardly proof read**

“I make her wear nothing but handcuffs & heels and I beat it like a cop”

y/n’s POV

It’s been five months since Nate ended things with me and by this point I thought I would be healed from everything he put me through but I still find myself missing parts of him. I miss the status it gave me, I miss the chaos, I miss the holidays back in Boston and being surrounded by his family and friends. Well, except Chris, I do not miss Chris. Chris has been in Nate’s life since they were small and was always around throughout our two year relationship - I tried so hard to gain a connection with my ex's best friend but no matter what Chris was standoffish and cold. We all go to the same small university in Pennsylvania and my sorority and their fraternity always have events together so keeping away from them has been challenging. Lately I have been mostly keeping to myself and trying to stay away from any mixers or events because I can not face them and honestly it’s not even Nate who gets under my skin the most it’s Chris. When he sees me around campus he acts like he has never met me or rolls his eyes at me or makes some snide comment about what I am wearing. I am sure Nate has told him that I do not care for him but he is the one who was a dick to me first and at this point he needs to grow up. Tonight is Halloween and I have decided I am finally going out tonight. I am known as the party girl in my sorority and my absence has not gone unnoticed and I can not give Chris Sturniolo the satisfaction of thinking he is controlling me and I will make sure to wear a costume that will really piss Chris off.

Chris’ POV

“Do you think y/n is coming tonight?” I asked while mindlessly scrolling on my phone.

“For the tenth time Chris I have no fucking clue if she is coming tonight. Why do you keep asking me? If you care so much, text her” Nate rants.

“Assuming I care about that bitch is really bold kid” I mutter, still not looking up from my phone.

“I mean you were the one who was interested first until I slid in and stole her from you” Nate teases.

“That was almost two years ago” I roll my eyes. ”I am just happy you are the one who got stuck with her” I smirk at Nate.

I can't grasp what exactly makes me tick about y/n. Was it the fact Nate purposefully went after her once I showed interest? Was it the slutty outfits she paraded around on campus? Her smart mouth? I can’t figure it out but all I knew was she drove me crazy and made my dick twitch.

“Let’s get ready for the party, people will probably start getting here soon” Nate says, startling me out of my train of thought.

“Yeah, okay” I nod, getting up from the couch.

y/n’s POV

“Are you sure this looks okay?” I say while staring at the full length mirror looking at myself in every angle possible. It’s not that I’m not confident I just want my comeback to be memorable. I decided on being a sexy cop wearing a crop top, a badge, short shorts, a hat and functional handcuffs.

“Yes y/n you are slaying! Nate is going to be so pissed.” Madi beams back at me in the mirror. I shake my head and stifle a smile. As much as I don’t want to see him it would be fun to remind him of what he had.

“I don’t want this night to be about him” I say, turning to Madi, looking into her eyes. Madi is dressed as the corpse bride. “I am honestly going to do my best to steer clear from him and his douchebag of a friend.”

“No no I agree, you just look really good” she squeezes my hand. " I wish Chris wasn’t such a douche, I mean he is pretty hot.” Madi giggles.

“I would never.”

As we start nearing the Fraternity house my nerves start getting the best of me and my stomach starts to turn. I slow down walking, trying to catch my breath and Madi notices.

“Y/n I love you but I am not letting you talk your way out of this one. You can not let them control your life. After a couple of drinks I am sure that you will relax and this house will be packed. You might not even see them.” Madi assured me. I nod my head, run my hands over my face and let out a deep breath.

“Okay..fuck..okay let’s go” I say while grabbing her hand and we take off towards the house.

Chris’ POV

The music is so loud and my head is swimming..I think I may have pre gamed too hard. My nerves are shot at the thought I may see y/n tonight after what feels like months without properly seeing her. She hasn’t been around much and I would know because I scope out every event looking for her but I know Halloween is her favorite. She would always make Nate carve pumpkins and bring her to haunted houses. He complained to me the whole time but I would have done anything to be in position. To watch how scared she would get and hold her and make her feel safe. No matter how hard I tried I was always a dick to her while she dated my best friend..I was just so fucking jealous and couldn’t stand the way he treated her and she just let him. Fuck, I need to get some fresh air. I start making my way out the house when some girl I am pretty sure I hooked up with last semester stops me.

“Oh my god are you supposed to be Steve Harrington from Stranger Things?” she slurs.

“Yeah and I am guessing you’re supposed to be Eleven?” I ask flatly.

“How did you know?! Yes! Can we please take a picture together?” she smiles.

“Yeah whatever” I put my sunglasses up on my head and bring my bat up.

“Thaaaannkk you Chrisss” she says hardly being able to stand. I just nod and try to find the nearest exit of the house. I step out onto the porch and close my eyes. Maybe y/n won’t come tonight.

“Madi please stop walking so fast these shoes are not meant to do fucking track and field” I hear y/n yell and my eyes fly open.

“Sooorrry y/n” I hear Madi sing while skipping.

Before I can retreat back into the house, y/n spots me. Madi grabs her hand and they start making their way up the stairs to the front door.

“Chrisropher” Madi snaps.

“Madi” I snap back.

Y/n walks past me without looking in my direction. Of course she would be wearing some slutty costume. I absent-mindedly adjust myself before saying “Come y/n it’s been so long, haven’t you missed me? No hello?” I smirk.

“Fuck you Chris” y/n spits.

y/n’s POV

“Okay I hate to laugh but the fact that Chris was the first person we saw is kind of crazy” Madi laughs once we enter the packed living room. I laugh and roll my eyes.

“I definitely need a drink after that, do you want one Madi?”

“Yes please”

I walk towards the keg and wait in line. I’m actually not as shaken up as I thought I would be after seeing Chris. I will just never understand his issue with me but I am not letting myself ruminate on it. I fill Madi and I’s cups up and as I turn around I can feel the liquid spill down the front of me.

“Oh shit sorry…wait y/n! A little birdy told me you were here I guess I didn’t believe them” Nate says.

“Hello Nate. Yeah I’m here and now my costume is ruined thanks to you.” I grumble as I grab napkins to wipe myself off.

“How are you?” Nate slurs. “I am sorry for all the like shit I put you through y/n really I am” he pouts while putting his hand over his heart.

“All the shit? Do you mean cheating on me for two years with multiple girls? You mean humiliating me in front of everyone? Is that the ‘shit’ you are referring to?” I snarl.

“You know Chris always told me that you were just some dumb girl and I really should have listened to him. You can't even take a sincere apology from the man who made you who you are.” Nate boasts.

“Made me who I am?” I laugh. “Nate you are a president of a Fraternity get the fuck over yourself my god.” I yell. I make my way back to Madi with two half filled cups.

“Umm..what happened to you?” Madi asks, scanning my face while grabbing her cup.

“I don’t even know it’s so packed in here. I just kept getting bumped into! I am going to go to the bathroom and clean myself up!.” I can’t let Madi know what happened between Nate and I. I don’t want to ruin her night but I just need to have a little bit of alone time.

“I can come with you if you want! Maybe help you with your costume?” Madi offers.

“I’m okay, thank you” I offer her a smile.

“Keep your phone with you y/n, I mean it” she says sternly. I salute her and she rolls her eyes.

Chris’ POV

“Wait you spilled a drink on y/n? Purposefully?” I ask Nate while standing in the kitchen.

“Not purposefully but whatever she deserved it” Nate states. “You should’ve seen the look on her face once she realized it was me.” Nate laughs.

“You do realize that you are the one that cheated on her and made her life a living hell?” I ask, feeling my face get hot.

“What? Now you suddenly care about y/n’s feelings? Didn’t seem like you cared too much when you were trying to convince me to break up with her for two years” Nate responds while putting his hand to his chin while pretending to think hard. “But you know I could always tell you wanted her” he wags his finger at me. “You wanted to feel her mouth around you didn’t you? You wanted to hear her moaning your name, right?” Nate taunts.

“You better fucking watch it kid” I say while shoving Nate.

“Okay enough let’s break it up” some random guy yells while getting in between Nate and I. I decided to head to the bathroom to try to cool off. I don’t know why I have been such a prick to y/n when Nate is obviously the issue. Great, no line to the bathroom. I try the door and it's locked. Of course. I knock loudly on the door.

“Yo, is anyone there?” No response. “Hello? Come on bro I have to go” I yell over the loud music. I put my ear to the door and I can hear the water running and sniffing.

y/n’s POV

I feel like such an idiot while I stand in front of the mirror trying to desperately get this sticky beer off of me and fix my makeup. Why am I even crying? This is such a pathetic state to be in at a party.

“Yo, is anyone there?” someone yells. “Hello? Come on bro I have to go.”

I freeze. It’s Chris. Of course it’s Chris, why wouldn’t it be Chris? Please god get me out of here. The excessive knocking is making my head hurt.

“WHAT?” I yell throwing the door open to be met with a startled Chris.

“Were you crying in there? Chris asked with his eyebrow slightly raised.

“Nothing gets past you huh?” I say while trying to get past him.

“Oh no you are going nowhere” he says while pushing me back in the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

“What is your fucking issue with me Chris?” I snap.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about y/n '' he starts.

“Spare me the bullshit you haven’t liked me since the day we met and I haven’t done anything to you!”

“Haven’t liked you that's rich” Chris mocks. “Haven’t liked you y/n? You have been all I thought about for two fucking years but you chose Nate.”

“What? What are you talking about?” I ask wondering if I heard him right. Chris sits on the side of the bathtub and puts his face in his hands. Chris sighs.

“I don’t know what I am saying” he mumbles through his hands.

“I mean you can start off with a sorry perhaps” I say while prying his hands away from his face. He looks up at me and smiles and rolls his eyes.

“I am sorry y/n I really am. I don’t know why I have treated you the way I have for so long. I think I may have been jealous of you know like your relationship or whatever” Chris confesses.

“What? Did you think I was trying to get in between you and Nate? I never wanted that” I say while putting my hands up defensively. Chris giggles.

“You really are dense, aren’t you?” he stands up towering over me. “I wanted you y/n..just you” he stares down at me. I feel like I am being pranked, is there a camera in this bathroom? Is Nate outside listening?

“Don’t fuck with me Chris” I whisper and shove his chest. “This isn’t funny at all. You act like you don’t even know me anymore. It’s been five months and this is the first time we’ve held a conversation and you want me to trust you? I can’t.” I say holding back tears. I have felt so alone after the breakup and I can’t handle being taunted.

“No I get that” he says while tucking a hair behind my ear “I have been really shitty towards you and I guess if I was you I wouldn’t trust me either but I am serious “ he tips my chin up forcing me to look into his eyes “I have wanted you for so long, Ma” he licks his lips. I involuntarily squeeze my thighs together looking for any type of friction.

“Chris” I whisper.

“And that fucking outfit jesus christ y/n” he smirks down at me. “Turn around for me baby..bend down in front of the sink” he whispers in my ear. I’m fucked. I turn around slowly and see my flushed face in the mirror and bend down. Chris tuts.

“No, don’t get all shy on me y/n. I have heard you in Nate’s dorm. Look in the mirror.” Chris demands.

Chris’ POV

I look in the mirror and see y/n’s flushed face. I can tell she’s breathing heavily with the way her breath is fogging up the mirror. I press my clothed hard on against her and she bucks her hips back. “You’re such a needy girl aren’t you? I have been waiting for this for so long Ma you have no idea. We are going to take our time. Can you be a good girl for daddy?” Y/n nods her head. “Words baby”

“I’m going to be a good girl Chris” Y/n says breathlessly. I back away from her and she whimpers. My hand meets her ass with a loud crack which makes her jolt. “Who are you going to be a good girl for?” I tease.

“A good girl for you daddy..always a good girl for you” she whimpers. I can tell she’s embarrassed with the way she keeps trying to hide her face.

“And I want you to watch y/n I want you to watch yourself while I touch you okay? I want you to see all the pretty faces you make” I lean over and whisper in her ear. She nods again. “Words y/n. I’m not going to tell you again.”

“Yes daddy,” she moans.

“Pull your shorts down.” I watch as she pulls her shorts down as I palm myself through my jeans. No underwear. I lock eyes with her in the mirror. “No underwear y/n? You’re such a slut huh? Look at you clenching around nothing” I tut. “I bet you wanted me to find you like this with your shorts off bent over the sink with your pussy soaked” I laugh.

“Please” she whines.

“Please what baby?” I taunt.

“Please daddy please touch me I need you so bad”

y/n’s POV

I never would have thought I would be begging Chris Sturniolo to touch me but here I am bent over a sink with my pussy on full display for him. I have never experienced anything like this before. Sure Nate and I had sex but never like this and I’m almost scared I won’t be able to take it. Chris gets on his knees and starts kissing up the back of the thighs and I can feel myself dripping down my legs.

“God look at you Ma, you look so pretty” Chris says and while wiping up my slick and putting his fingers in his mouth letting out a satisfied moan. I clench begging for something, anything at this point. “And look at how you respond to me, you're such a good girl.” Chris spreads my legs and buries his face in my pussy and focuses on my clit.

“Fuuck Chr…Daddy.” I moan out. He swirls his tongue around my entrance before plunging it fully in making my buck my hips against his face. “S-Sorry Daddy I didn’t mean to move.” I plead.

“No baby it’s okay I want you to fuck my face like the little slut you are” Chris says while grabbing my ass. I start fucking myself against his tongue and I can feel my legs start to shake.

“I’m close..I’m so close” I pant and Chris snakes his arm through my legs and starts drawing lazy circles around my clit. “Yes please just like that…nghhh..fuck fuck I am going to cum” I scream out and I see stars while I ride out my orgasm all over Chris’ face.

Chris’ POV

Y/n turns her head to face me and giggles.

“What?” I smirk.

“You still have all of your clothes on” she laughs. I stand up and she turns to face me and grabs the back of my neck. Our lips smash together and I let out and moan as she bites my lip and runs her hands through my hair. She grabs my sunglasses off of the top of my head and places them on her eyes, breaking the kiss.

“Against the wall Daddy” she barks at me trying not to laugh.

“Oh are you giving orders now?” I smirk. I can feel a wet spot sticking to the tip of my cock.

“Well I am the cop you know? So..against the wall” she stands on her toes and whispers in my ear. I back up against the wall and watch her unbuckle my belt.

“Shirt off” I whisper while taking her police hat off her head and running my hands through her hair. She surprisingly listens, taking her shirt off. “Bra too” I say. I watch in awe as her tits bounce. “Fuck y/n. You are stunning.” She pulls my boxers down and my cock springs out hitting her face. I hiss at the cool air.

“You’re so big daddy” she looks up at me through my sunglasses. I just nod and lick my lips. I don’t know how long I am going to last if she keeps looking at me like that. She kitten licks the tip of my cock and I can’t help but buck my hips forward burying my cock in her throat. She hums around my cock making me throw my head back.

“You’re taking me so well fuck. I want you to get yourself ready for me okay baby? Stretch yourself out for daddy” I instruct her while I watch her finger her pussy. I grab her hair fucking her throat and watch her gag and spit on my cock. She grabs my balls and gives them a firm a squeeze. “Fuck yeah Ma, just like that. You going to swallow all of me y/n?” I moan out. She nods and looks up at me through her wet eyelashes. My hips stutter as I squeeze my eyes shut and cum down her throat.

y/n’s POV

I make sure to lap any cum with my tongue as Chris winces at the sensitivity.

“You are fucking unreal y/n” Chris laughs.

“Oh I know” I wink back at him.

“Are those handcuffs real?” Chris nods at the handcuffs left on the top of the toilet already getting hard again.

“Yeah” I smile shyly back at chris. “They’re real”

“Stand up, turn around and hands behind your back” Chris demands and I do as I’m told. I know he had me stretch myself out but I can’t help being a little nervous considering he is way larger than Nate. Chris walks over, grabs the handcuffs and cuffs my hands behind my back.

“Bend”

I bend over the sink and glance up at Chris who is just staring at me.

“What?” I ask nervously looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“You just look so good I can’t even believe my eyes bro” Chris says dumbfounded.

“Calling me bro right now is crazy” I say rolling my eyes.

“Right..sorry officer” Chris winks at me and lines up with my entrance and grabbing my hips. He slids into me slowly without breaking eye contact. He is so fucking huge.

“Jesus y/n your pussy was fucking made for me” Chris moans and bottoms out. I can feel him in my stomach. “You tell me when to move baby…you’re taking me so well, such a good girl for me” he soothes me while rubbing my back.

“S..slow please move slow.” I whine out. Chris starts moving slowly and I rock my hips back starting fuck myself back on his cock.

“Yeah baby, you're doing so good. You look so pretty fucking yourself on my cock for me. Can I go faster?” Chris breathes out.

“Please daddy” I moan. Chris wastes no time and starts to pound into my pussy.

“Deep breaths baby you can take me, fuck you’re so wet” Chris mumbles and lifts my leg up until my knee is on the sink. “Fucking look at you Ma so fucking good for me” he pants. I just nod my head. “Have I fucked you dumb baby? Too tired to talk to your daddy?” Chris laughs.

“Gonna cum” I mumble out, hardly able to talk.

“Go ahead baby cum all over my cock make a mess all over me y/n” Chris grunts. I scream out cumming all over him while babbling. Chris continues to pound into me.

“Dad..dy too sensitive” I whimper.

“I know baby I’m almost there, so good for me” Chris huffs out. “Can I cum in you baby?” he questions.

“Please daddy please come in me” I beg.

“Yeah want me to fuck my baby into you? Want everyone to know you’re mine you dirty slut” Chris’ hips stutter filling me with his hot cum. We both hiss while he pulls out of me.

“Here let me get those cuffs off of you, do your arms hurt?” he says, looking concerned.

“Just a little but I’m okay though” I smile at him. Chris helps me clean myself up and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“I really hope this isn’t it. I’d really like to hang out more, you know? I have a lot to make up to you” Chris says.

“I don’t think this will be the last time Chris but I really have to go find Madi” I laugh.

“She’s going to kill you” he says while shaking his head.

“I know I have 40 missed calls”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #smut #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo

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teatreeoilll · 8 months

Text

𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐑𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 (𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐗 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . •

w/c - 9k content - MDNI! 18 + , minors and ageless blogs do not interact! fem!reader, evil!reader, a lot of plot with porn, much hurt, much angst, cussing, mention of drinking and smoking, VERY shitty parenting, child abuse, character death but not one of the mains, manipulative themes, i invented suguru's parents names, did i say much hurt? everyone's in their early twenties, cellist!Geto, saxophonist!Gojo, violinist!reader, shitty!everyone, kinda dark really i guess so please read at your own discretion, I'm sorry, really

a/n - there will probs be a second part based on the ending, if my back will ever stop hurting from being hunched over my laptop for four days straight writing this insanity.

Dedicated to the dear @telvess who read every scene like five times while I wrote and re-wrote this.

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° .•

Jealousy. As a result of your young age, you couldn't put it into words quite yet, but you felt it - choking up your dry throat as your father held your head steady with his fingers digging deep into your scalp to make sure your head wouldn't move an inch.

"Look, child," he said, "really look."

"M-My head, Dad," you sniffled, "It hurts."

You peered through the tiny crack in the large white doors into an empty rehearsal room. Bare walls, empty chairs - all but one, where a young boy sat in the middle, dragging his bow across the strings of a cello like it would be the last thing he does in his life. He did it fervently, desperately, repeatedly over the strings to rumble the sounds through the room. His brows furrowed. His raven black hair was a cluster of strands jolting up and falling on his face each time he moved. It made him look exactly like what you felt - electrified.

Your jaw slacked, and your heart raced within the confines of your chest.

"You see, child?" Your father's words lingered above your head, "Can you finally hear what beauty sounds like?"

You heard, and it haunted you.

When he's playing, anyone would agree that Geto Suguru is breathtaking. Below the cuffs of his white button-down are pale hands, guiding long, strained fingers to move feverishly across the fingerboard. Above them, his face, a marble carving with half-lidded eyes, pointed idly at his cello.

Weary music for weary people, he thinks, lifting his gaze just enough to meet the dull faces with greying hair filling the large hall. Their constipated expressions stare back at him. They're just waiting for the cue to clap, although he doesn't mind - not as long as each note of the concerto* he played was perfect.

And by god, do they clap. A standing ovation, long enough to escort him in his path to the stage exit, loud enough for the echoes to linger as he greets the tall, blue-eyed man waiting for him there and frenzied enough to make your knees buckle under the tight fabric of your tailored evening dress.

"It was a good one," the blue-eyed man says, "as far as alarm clock music goes, that is."

"Funny how you keep calling it that, Satoru," Geto chastises, his fingers undoing the clasps of his cello case, "but you're always on the verge of falling asleep when you hear it."

Oh, you think, fiddling with the violin in your hands, so that's Gojo Satoru. Everyone knew who he was; the Gojo family name was arrogantly plastered on the walls of every concert hall in the city, including the one you were about to play in now.

Your tremble. You can't help it - that standing ovation set the bar so high you fear the bow in your hands might snap from the intensity of your grip. But it doesn't, and someone briefly introduces your name on stage.

You glance at the two men, catching Geto's uninterested expression. Your stomach churns. The dignified way it graces his annoyingly good-looking features makes your muscles tense; it's as if he's exhausted from doing the crowd a favor by allowing them to worship his playing.

Arrogant fucker. You think, and he nods at you stiffly, acknowledging the misfortune of performing after him.

As you drag your feet across the polished floor, you can only hear the sound of your own erratic breathing. "Breathe in, breathe out," you mutter under your breath as your shaking knees give the last of their strength to get you to the center stage.

And then a twitch, a breath hitch, and a loud thud.

The room hums with gasps for an instant before going silent again, and every eye in the vicinity watches you lay splayed across the wooden floor.

The shame burns in your cheeks, rushing through your face down to warm your aching body. As a desperate escape you turn your head away from the crowd, only to catch in the corner of your eye the two men still standing at the stage exit.

Don't look at me. Don't look at me. Don't look at me.

"Oof," Gojo huffs, wincing at the sight as he turns to his friend, "Come on, we'll be late if we don't head out now."

Like looking at a trainwreck, Geto's unable to turn away. His lips purse; what a pity.

The silence grew, and you knew you must do something - anything to let this moment pass. You push yourself up, throwing a quick glance at your violin, a string snapped, fuck. "I hope -," you grunt, your voice hoarse from disuse, "I hope Rachmaninoff* gets the same gasps." A wave of suppressed chuckles and claps gushes around you. Oh, thank god.

Your cheeks are still hot, and the first stroke of your bow is hesitant, just a soft flick of the wrist to see if the three remaining strings are still in tune. Is this a good idea? But the crowd's anticipating gaze burns through you, rendering you unable to move. You focus on replacing the missing notes and play the piece - with jagged strokes coming from your still shaking hands, some notes cut it, but just barely.

Gojo nudges his friend's shoulder, "Hey, I said we'll be late."

Geto's pursed lips open lightly, his dark eyes fix intently on your bow, "Hmm?" He hums at his friend's words, dragging him back from his thoughts.

a/n - * - Bach's Cello Suite in C Minor, Sarabande. * - Rachmaninoff's Prelude in G minor, originally for piano, transcribed for violin.

"A Jazz club?" you furrow your brows at the music and the tang of smoke already reaching you from the narrow entrance hall.

You'd only met Shoko a few short weeks ago when college started, and she quickly became your only friend - as often happens to two people in a room who prefer to be alone.

"Yes, my friend's playing - you'll hate him," she says. Shoko has that thing where she doesn't change her tone when she says something sarcastic, so you're stuck nodding at her words with an uncomfortable grin on your face.

She tugs you by the sleeve of your shirt, guiding you down the stairs and through the prematurely drunken crowd that eagerly awaits what would be the third song of the evening.

"This would never pass in our concerts," you mutter under your breath, although you kind of wish it did as you look at the people laughing, reaching for another drink, huffing smoke from their mouths while making idle chatter as the players take a short break between songs.

A bright, warm note pierces the room, and like an obedient platoon to an officer's 'attention,' all the eyes fall back on stage. The white-haired man under the mellow spotlight makes a swift move to wipe the mouthpiece of his saxophone before returning it to his lips and blowing into it again - this time, a cue for the drummer, who starts a ruthless pace on his cymbals.

"If jazz is a god," Gojo's voice rings through the room, "then the saxophone is its altar."

How could he say that with a straight face? You think, unable to take your eyes off his clearly pretentious demeanor that would be borderline comical if it wasn't redeemed by his outstandingly handsome face, from the rolled-up sleeves and undone button of his blue dress shirt to the round sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he looks like pure sin.

"The Voice of Chunk*," he announces the piece and the room booms with shouts of excitement as the saxophone howls its first long and angelic Mi.

By the time the set ends, Gojo's a mess. A dusty red color flushes his pale cheeks as he pants, a mad gleam in his eyes when he looks at the crowd, which only shouts for another encore. He wipes the sweat off his brow and leaves the stage without a word.

Shoko drags you down to an empty table near the stage, a cigarette propped between her lips as she utters, "Ah," to the sound of a squeaking chair, which Gojo Satoru plops on, splaying his limbs on the wood.

He turns to Shoko, pointing a thumb at you, "Your friend?"

"Mhmm," Shoko confirms, "(Name)." She takes a sip of her cheap beer.

Perpetually assuming everyone already knew him, Satoru Gojo doesn't introduce himself. "What'd you think?" He asks.

"It was very good," you say, and mean it. He wasn't humble, but as far as performances go, he didn't need to be.

"Good?" He turns back to Shoko, looking at her like a wounded puppy, "Shoko.."

"She did say very, Satoru." Shoko sighs, "He hates the word good."

Your breath hitches as Gojo lays a large hand on your thigh, "Calling jazz good is terrible." He says, "It means it did nothing to you. Even calling it horrifying is a much better choice."

Another chair squeaks in your proximity, and Gojo removes the hand from your thigh to place it on the table, "Suguru!" He exclaims. "How was it?"

God, what's he doing here?

"Horrifying," Geto smirks at his friend.

His dark eyes turn to you as he says, "Geto Suguru," and extends a large, calloused palm, which you hesitantly shake. The skin contact makes you shudder. His eyes narrow, "Have we met before?"

The truth is - Geto knows rather well that you have met before. He spent two days after the concert thinking about your figure lying on the wooden floor, and it wasn't for the curve of your ass that pointed towards him, although that didn't escape his thoughts either. His mind raced with thoughts of how quickly you bounced back from your fall, made a joke, and started playing. Could it really be so easy?

"Oh - maybe it's - uh," you babble, your mind already trying to devise an excuse to leave.

"Ah, I know!" Gojo chimes in, "It's our tumbling violinist," he chuckles, "I never forget a girl after I've seen her on all fours."

Geto raises an eyebrow. "We both know that's hardly true."

You stare at Shoko with desperate eyes pleading for a change in topic. She puts down her drink, "Where were you Suguru? I didn't see you the entire gig." Thank god.

"Just there," Geto motions to the side of the bar, where a beautiful light-haired girl sips on a drink, "I've seen him play plenty of times."

I should be polite. "Oh, so you like jazz?" You ask.

Gojo chuckles, removing his sunglasses to reveal clear sky-blue eyes, "Entertain our guest, Suguru."

Geto leans back, arms crossed over his chest, and even his words sound carefully rehearsed - as if he's being interviewed, "It's not that I don't like it. There's just no merit to it." Against your wishes, you meet his gaze, restraining yourself from rolling your eyes at him. "It's mostly improvisation. Not one jazz piece stays the same over time - it blatantly disregards why we value music. Can you imagine someone changing even one note in Rachmaninoff's preludes?"

Is he talking about the ones I played?

Geto leans back, "And that's without mentioning the mistakes."

You furrow your brows, and your chest tightens at his words, "The mistakes?"

"Suguru's just jealous," Gojo smirks, and his arm snakes around your shoulders, "because I've got an ability he doesn't. I like to call it blue." His other hand traces lines across the wooden table, making an invisible note staff, "You see, in jazz, there's no such thing as a mistake. It's considered beautiful even if you play a note a bit too harsh or out of key. They're called blue notes."

"Well, a mistake is just a mistake, isn't it?" You lie, too proud to admit you were ashamed of the embarrassing performance they witnessed, "You shouldn't be proud or overcritical of it - it just is."

"It's a good philosophy," Geto says softly, and a faint smile appears on his lips, it makes sense now, "It works well if you just play for fun."

A decade of rigorous violin practice flashes before your eyes, the callouses on your fingers you were teased for as a child, and he dares to say it's for fun?

Your cheeks heat up, "Well, what do you play for? Suffering?"

"Perfection," he answers. Prick.

"Perfection?" You sneer, clenching your jaw, "Then what about improvisation?"

"Leave that vice for the jazz musicians." He says, and his expression suddenly changes, "I'm sorry, I know you improvised in your Rachmaninoff; you did the best you could - considering." He means it earnestly.

The veins throb in your forehead, Is he pitying me?

Gojo laughs, "If you keep bickering, I won't remain the star of the show tonight," and you notice the not-so-discreet looks of the people at the other tables ogling you.

"It's getting kind of late anyway," Shoko says, smothering her cigarette butt against the ashtray's bottom, "Why don't we go before we miss the train?"

"I'll give you a lift," Geto says, and you stare at Shoko, hoping that your wide, begging eyes will lead her to decline, "Come on," He adds, standing up, "It's raining outside, and our violinist can slip up even on dry flooring."

a/n - * - Voice of Chunk, The Lounge Lizards, 1988

"I'll see you in school," You say to Shoko, who exits the back seat of the silver Toyota, leaving nothing but a bitter smell of smoke and a long, strained silence lingering in the car.

"Which way?" Geto points to a fork in the road.

"Left, then straight for a while." And could you be so kind as to crash us into the nearest wall? You chuckle inside your head.

He turns his head as if he heard you, "So, a mistake is just a mistake, is it?"

And your fists clench momentarily, their tension softened only by the quiet, sweet sound of Samuel Barber* playing through the radio, weaving its melody with the heavy pounding of rain on the car roof, "Well, if you dwell on them too much, you're not going to have any time left to fix them." You wish you meant it.

He ponders silently before asking, "How'd you start playing?"

Is he only asking to make a snide remark? You decide to keep your answer curt. "My father gave me his violin when I was young."

The windscreen wipers work full force to make the dark road ahead visible, "My mother never let me touch her cello," he says, his unbothered tone now laced with somber notes, "I hated the thing."

The ache in your chest is almost unbearable, your fingers dig into the fabric of your trousers. He hated it, and he still plays like that?

"Then why play?" You inquire, watching the streetlights' reflections glint in his dark eyes.

Because it matters, it has to matter.

He laughs, and you can't help but notice how his face softens when he does, "It pays for college," a speck of red tint dusts his cheeks, and a strange pull flares in your chest at his defenseless look, "Don't I look like a scholarship boy?"

"Maybe if I squint," you say as he turns to look at you. You narrow your eyes, "Nope, can't see it," and he laughs again, making the remnants of alcohol turn in your stomach.

When you arrive, you step out of the car and he watches you disappear into the building's front, his fingers tapping restlessly on the wheel. A weak, burning sensation plagued the muscles around his jaw; were they really so unaccustomed to laughing?

a/n - * - Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings, Op.11

15 years ago

The Geto residence was an ever-tastefully decorated one-story house in the rural areas outside Tokyo, always graced by the echoing sounds of an Italian-made cello. Geto Suguru himself was a wide-eyed child, six years old, and already praised for being prematurely intelligent by his parents' arrogant friends; "Your little Suguru is so clever," one of his mother's friends said, leaning over the dinner table to tug mercilessly on his cheek, "I bet he'd skip a grade as soon as he starts school, don't you think, Kieko?"

To which his mother only hummed in response, quickly diverting the subject, "The Bolshoi* is performing in the city next month. Will you come?"

Suguru didn't mind these things much. He wasn't the kind of child to look for praise; he didn't care for it from strangers' mouths and never knew the delight of hearing it come out of his mother's ever-pursed lips.

The next morning, Kieko Geto sat on a sturdy, padded stool and played with unwavering concentration until the midday sun sipped through the windows, blinding her eyes. Only then did she stop, turning back to notice her son's inquisitive gaze peering from the doorway.

"Come," she instructed, and Suguru took a few hesitant steps to the middle of the room. His mother positioned the cello upright, the wooden beast towering over him as she pressed a flat palm to the middle of the fingerboard, measuring his height against it. "One day," she said, "you'll be big enough to play it, Suguru."

A phone rang, and his mother stepped out. Suguru stood a long while staring at the instrument that leaned lazily against the wall. One day - he didn't want to wait for some vague, distant day, and his arm itched with impulse.

Suguru lifted the bow from the stool, ramming it violently across the strings. It made such a horrendous sound that he thought for a moment he hurt it, and now the thing was howling in pain.

"Suguru!" his mother shrieked as she shoved him out of the way, "What did you do?" Her pale fingers grazed the cello, searching for new marks on the wood.

The bow in her hand glinted like a Katana under the sunlight as she swung it at his head.

The next few minutes were a blur. Suguru guessed he screamed since his father stormed into the room, pushing him to stand behind his back. His eyes were fixed on the creases on the back of his father's shirt, changing their shape like sand dunes as the man's arms moved frantically through the air as if he were conducting his own shouts.

The boy placed a hand on his forehead. "Dad," he tugged hesitantly on the creases, leaving red stains on the pale blue shirt, "Dad."

a/n - * - The Bolshoi Ballet

A failed poet turned local journalist once described Geto Suguru's playing as having a gut-wrenching elegance, and as you stood at the large doors leading to the conservatory's hall, you couldn't help but hear what he meant. Angelic strokes on the rumbling strings, and each note is -

"Shit," he cusses, dragging the bow harshly along the strings as if it could saw the instrument in half if he tried hard enough. Even as he does so, he can't seem to make it sound bad. The bow drops on the floor with a hollow thud, and he runs a defeated hand through his hair, brushing back a long black strand to reveal a two-inch, pale scar on the side of his forehead.

He lifts his gaze up, noticing you standing by the door. How long has she stood there? "Violinst," he says. "Come to practice?"

Seeing him laugh a few days ago must have been a figment of your imagination. "Yes," you utter.

"It's occupied until six."

You make your way to the low stage through the aisle between the empty rows of seats, "It's ten past six," you remark, and Geto glances at the clock, frowning at it like it broke a long-standing promise.

You reach the stage, putting your violin case on the still-warm seat of the lone chair in the middle. You shudder at the warmth, watching Geto lift the massive cello case as his other hand reaches into his pocket, taking out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, "You want one?" he asks, holding it open.

You shake your head, "Thank you."

He puts one smoke between his lips, patting down his pockets, "Got a light?"

You shake your head again, "Sorry."

He shrugs, his eyes fixing on the violin in your hand, and you notice the slight puffiness under his eyes. "Not my day, I guess." And it's a long gaping silence while he puts the cigarette back in the pack, "Do you mind if I stay?"

"No," Yes. "But if you scrunch your nose at my mistakes, you leave."

"I don't scrunch my nose," he retorts.

"You do."

Geto runs a long finger along the bridge of his nose down to the tip, leaning forward slightly to meet your eyes, "Straight as an arrow," he says without a smile, and you turn red at the sudden proximity, fixing your gaze on the shiny white floor beneath your feet.

"Alright then," you mumble.

Geto sits in the front row, reclining on the backrest of the crimson-colored seat with his hands resting on his spread thighs while his cello case leans on the seat next to him like a second observer. You might as well put on a burlesque show from how naked you feel under his steady gaze.

You drag the bow across the strings, echoing a dissonant tone throughout the room.

"Are you testing me?" He says with a smug smile plastered on his lips, but you hoped for a heartfelt one instead.

"Mhmm," you hum, taking a few steps forward to the verge of the stage, where you take a seat with your legs dangling from the edge, "You passed." and he chuckles, soft and low.

As you begin to play, Geto gets up from his seat to pace back and forth along the aisle, his brows furrowed and his thumb pressed against his lips while he listens to the music.

Your muscles strain, bracing themselves for the suite's climax, now's the hard part, you think, letting out a frustrated huff as your eyes fix on Geto. You miss the first note.

He halts, and your bow leaves the strings as you await his reaction in the irksome silence of the hall.

For a moment, he's desperate. Desperate for you to do what he thought was an almost inhuman feat after such a mistake.

He takes a few steps closer, towering over you while his eyes stare intently into yours, "Keep playing," he demands.

Your breath hitches as you watch him slowly lower himself to his knees beneath you. He places large, calloused palms on your knees, eagerly spreading your legs while his eyes are still honed on your face, relishing in the red flush burning your cheeks. He runs a hand under your skirt, grazing your thigh with long, rough fingers, a hint of a smile on his lips when he hears your breathless gasps, "Keep playing," he repeats.

Smile, god, you hated that smile.

You play a few jagged notes before your arms give in, and you place the violin on the floor with a soft clunk. Your now free hands grasp his hair, freeing it from his neatly tied bun to fall down his shoulders.

"Eager girl," he mutters, tracing his finger along your wet panties, and you tug harder at his hair. I'm the eager one?

"Q-Quit teasing," you stammer as he yanks you closer to the edge of the stage, pulling off your panties with a swift move. You shudder as his warm breath fans over your exposed cunt, panting heavily as his fingers dig deep into your thighs.

"Hmm?" He murmurs, placing soft kisses against your inner thighs, letting his teeth graze the skin but stopping every time right before he reaches your soaked pussy. Just do it, for the love of god, just do it.

You're reduced to a quivering mess, fighting the urge to push his head into your wetness, "Please," you whimper breathlessly, frowning at the loss of your pride under his touch, "p-please stop teasing," and you finally feel his tongue lick a stripe up your clit as he grunts softly at your taste.

"Good girl," he groans out, letting his lips wrap around your bud, burying his face so deep in your cunt you feel his nose rub against your clit while he rasps out a soft "Fuck," that sends shivers up your spine.

He was messy, fervent, eager as his tongue worked on your clit, and you grew dizzy at the sight of the usually calm and collected man disheveled and red-faced between your legs, moaning out his name as you felt yourself clench against his lips, "S-Suguru, fuck -."

He'd never heard his name come out of your lips before, but this was a better first time than he could imagine. He grew unbearably hard in his jeans, rutting against thin air almost instinctively every time you rolled your hips into his face, "Say it again," he demands, and his deep voice sends a rush of heat to your face.

Can he do it? Can he make you even more of a mess on his fingers? Can he watch while you stutter his name, while your face is a beautiful flushed mixture of those blunders he loved seeing you make?

"Suguru," you look at him through glazed eyes, and he frees the hand that grabbed your thigh to slide two skilled fingers into your soaked cunt, "S-Suguru," you whimper out when they sink deeper, pumping into your sweet spot with a harsh pace.

A drunk smile grazes his lips when you clench against his fingers. It takes him all his strength to pull away from your cunt, "You want more, princess?" He teased, fingers pumping lazily into you.

You manage to whine a quiet, "Y-Yes."

"Then ask," he coos, his smile turning into a devilish grin, and you squirm at the loss of his tongue, clutching his hair tighter.

"Please, Suguru," you breathe. How many times will he put me through this? And your muscles contract when he flicks his tongue over your cunt again, "p-please, Suguru - I'm - " you babble as he resumes his harsh pace, your thighs closing on his head, hips rutting desperately for some more sweet friction against his tongue.

"Please, fuck - " you moan, arching your back. His fingers still push into you as he groans at the taste of your wetness gushing on his tongue, licking it hungrily while you pant almost inaudible whispers of his name, and he thinks he might come from the sweet sound of your voice alone.

His lips finally let go of your clit. He pushes himself up from his knees to face you, his mouth wet with your essence as he brushes his lips against yours. Barely a kiss, but you grow dizzy anyhow, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, running your other hand along his T-shirt-clad stomach down to the bulge in his jeans.

"No," he utters. No?

"Huh?" Your brows furrow, "Do you want me to take you out for a cup of coffee first?" It was supposed to be a thought, shit.

He laughs, and you watch the lines form in the corners of his eyes, "Could be nice," he says, "besides, it's your rehearsal hours; don't you want to practice?"

"Not really," you grumble, "You can use them if you like." You reach down to pick up your panties from the floor where he discarded them, only to see him grab them first.

"I could," he muses aloud, "I'm playing the Grand Hall opening in a few weeks," and he catches your gaze for a second, "but I'd rather watch you play." And you blush as he tucks your panties into the front pocket of his jeans, "You'll get them later," he says, "If you're good."

"If I'm good?" You furrow your brows, "If I don't make any mistakes, you mean."

"No," he asserts, his words a bit loud, catching you off-guard as you fumble for your violin, "If you're good."

After you refuse his ride home, it's a long walk of shame back to your apartment. You feel as though your pride was left in his pocket together with your underwear, but maybe, just maybe, you'll make something good come out of it.

"Dad put it - " Suguru's arm held his father's in a tight grip across the coffee shop's table, urging it to release the silver spoon in his hand, "Put it back, please."

"They've got plenty," his father barks, his eyes darting around to observe the busy staff of the cafe while he hides the spoon carefully in his bag.

Suguru lets out a weary sigh, focusing on the swirling cream in his coffee mug, "So do you," he says, the taste of stale regret mixing in with his drink when he lifts it to his mouth.

"Eh?" His father's eyebrows knit together, wrinkles forming under his five o'clock shadow when his lips purse, "You here to judge me, boy?"

Suguru takes a sip from his coffee but finds it stuck bitterly in his throat under his father's hostile stare.

"Thought so," the man says, his dirty fingernails tapping on the wooden table as he adds, "Now, will you finally quit fooling around with that thing?"

"I don't know, Dad," Suguru chokes out.

"She croaked this morning, the bitch. She won't come to see you play now, would she?"

Suguru's eyes widen, his hands quivering, pads of his fingers digging into the scortching coffee mug, threatening to tumble the liquid over the rim, "What?"

"Croaked, gone, dead. She left you that cursed cello of hers," his father eyes the sugar dispenser on the table, brushing his fingertips on it, "So you'll sell it. And give the money to your father," his shoulders draw back, he's proud, "for all the things he did for you, yes?"

"I don't know, Dad," Suguru mutters.

The man's agitated expression deepens the wrinkles on his forehead, "'I don't know Dad," his father mocked, "I'll tell you what you need to know. I took you away from that vicious whore when she'd done your face in with her bow, and you've never thanked me once, just begged me to buy you a damn cello when you knew that all our money was left in that house." A brute splatter of spit lands on the table as he sneers, "And I did, didn't I? Bought you the damn thing, drove you around with it like some chauffeur. Where's my thanks? Eh, brat? Where's my money?"

The man raises his arm, and a young, blonde waitress appears momentarily by their table, all smiles when she says, "The check, sir?"

"Yes," Suguru's father says, the chair under him screeching as he gets up, "My son will pay."

For hours now he'd been contemplating where to go. Who he wanted to see. but when Geto finally gets to your door, his face still flushes with the soft pink of an irredeemable shame while his urgent, stiff knuckles pound on the door. He knew you were home. He wasn't a brute - he texted to check, but he still couldn't calm the restless ache burning in his chest.

When you open the door, there's no hello, just the unyielding feeling of his body flat against yours as he presses sloppy kisses along your jaw, groaning when his teeth graze the tender skin of your neck, "Fuck," his breath fans over you neck as he pants out the words, "you smell sweet."

His face lingers in the crook of your neck, relishing in the warmth like a cold-blooded animal who'd die without the heat. His fingers dig into your thighs so harshly you fear they might bruise them as he lifts you up, "Smell so fucking sweet - " he keeps muttering under his breath as your legs wrap around his waist, your hands clinging to the muscles on his back to keep your balance.

"Suguru," you pant when he drops you on the bed, noticing the unfamiliar ruthless look in his eyes, hardly the same one you saw between your legs a few days ago, "Did something - "

"D'you want to stop and talk?" He chuckles, large, warm hands running across your body to discard your clothes, "Hmm?" He purrs, already confining you under his body, planting soft, teasing kisses on the valley between your breasts.

"N-No," you whimper at the feeling of his teeth against your hardened nipple, and you run a hand through his dark hair to yank him away, while the other hand tugs at his shirt to signal him to fuck, take it off.

He almost doesn't want to break away from your body, not even for the sake of finally feeling your skin rub against his. But he manages to regain his composure long enough to use swift movements to discard his clothes as you watch him, strong and veiny, a body that could be carved in marble if it ever stopped moving with devious intent.

"Suguru," you knew he loved it, the sound of his name coming from your mouth. "Please," you writhe under him, desperate for any kind of touch as he looms over you, holding himself up while deep pants escape his parted lips. He's too far for you to crash your lips against his, no matter how you try. You lift your head from the pillow, and he chuckles at your efforts, pumping his already hard and leaking cock, groaning when he lets the tip brush against your folds.

"So wet already, hmm?" His hand abandons his cock to push a finger inside your cunt, the squelching noises making the blood rush to your head. He's mad with need but can't let your squirming be over so soon, "All for me?"

"Fuck, Sugu - " you cut yourself off to grip his hair, making your lips crash, feeling his tongue swallow your moans as he takes his finger out only to push his cock into you with a deep thrust, "Ah - fuck - " you moaned into his mouth, feeling his tip rub against your sweet spot when he finally bottomed out.

He starts a mean pace, and a hint of pain jolts through you while you adjust to his size, loud moans escaping your lips, "Oh my, ah - God."

"Suguru," he corrects, reaching a hand to adjust your hips, and you moan at the friction against his abdomen, "moan it for me, princess," he groans out against your neck when you pant his name, "louder - fuck - " he pleas, his breath hitches when you clench against him.

He knows he can't hold it much longer, threatening to spill his load at every pant and moan and brush of his lips against your skin, "S- Suguru - " you whine, feeling his fingers draw circles against your clit, digging your nails into his back to leave shallow red scratches along his shoulder blades.

"You close, princess?" He lets out a shaky breath when he feels you clench again, gritting his teeth at the tightness around his cock.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and your eyes shut at the feeling of his messy, erratic thrusts, "Suguru - ," you moan, "Suguru - I - " you pull his head back by the hair.

"Mhmm," he coos, "you what?" he growls, his thrusts feeling almost impossibly deep when the heat pools in your stomach.

"I - I'm - close - " And it's all he needs to hear, locks of black hair falling to brush against your face as he smashes his lips onto yours, savoring the taste of your mouth as your back arches and walls contract around him.

"Good girl," he rasps into your mouth, pounding a few harsh thrusts before his hips stutter. You watch through glazed eyes how muscles tighten as he spills his seed into you with a low groan.

He collapses atop you, pressing his sweat-dampened face against your chest to relish in the sound of the fast, thumping beat of your heart. A few more seconds, and he can measure the tempo.

"Listen," Suguru says, smoking a cigarette out of the open window of your room while he watches you get dressed in the corner, "there's a few things I have to do early tomorrow," his eyes trail out to the street lamps out the window, their blinking lights reflecting on his car outside.

"Suguru," you stand over him, brushing the pads of your fingers against the scratches you left on his back, "did something - "

"Just a few things I have to do," he says, looking around the room for his shirt, "so I'll call you, yeah?"

"Uhm, so, did you hear from Su-" You cut yourself off, watching Shoko take a long drag from her smoke with her eyes waiting for you to finish your sentence. "I mean - " you clear your throat, "You know how a guy does something, and then he -" Your face grows red at the memory of Suguru's naked body, "And you think it was nice because you had fun, and then he -"

Shoko watches you babble for a while before saying a confused, "Yes?"

"Suguru didn't call me back," you finally utter. Wasn't it enough for him that I called first?

"Oh," Shoko takes a long drag from her cigarette, "and he needs to call you because..?"

Your face flushes crimson as you bury your face in your hands, "B-Because we fucked and I haven't heard from him since," you mutter through your palms.

Gojo Satoru has a habit of entering places like his presence was eagerly anticipated, swinging the door open with a dramatic expression, "Shoko!" He cuts through the conversation, his height exaggerated by the confines of Shoko's small dorm room as he puts his saxophone on the table, "The key is stuck. I'm going to need you to fix it again -"

"Later," Shoko sounds like a reprimanding mother as she motions toward your sulking face.

Gojo's eyebrows knit together, "Did something happen?"

"Suguru didn't call her after - " Shoko reconsiders her words for a moment, "after they had a nice time together."

"Hmm?" Gojo plops down on the bed in the corner, "Well, he won't call for a while."

You raise your gaze from your palms, tilting your head at the man, "What do you mean?" And your mind races, Oh god. He can't - hate me?

"You didn't hear?" Gojo's smirk fades from his lips, "His mother died last Saturday."

Wait, the same day he came and - ?

You widen your eyes at Shoko, who only shakes her head in response.

"His parents were divorced for quite a while," Gojo continues, "he hasn't seen his mother in over a decade - "

"But she's still his mother," Shoko remarks, huffing a cloud of smoke into the room that lingers stagnant above the table.

Gojo sulks, "I was about to say that. He's been stuck in his room for a week now. My father's pissed."

"Your father?" You puzzle, watching Gojo wipe his sunglasses on the edge of his shirt.

"He was supposed to play the Grand Hall this weekend." And you squint your eyes, waiting for him to continue, "My father pays his tuition for these shows, y'know."

"Your father pays Suguru's tuition?" You repeat.

Gojo chuckles, "Well, I'm not sure for how long, now that Suguru won't even answer his phone. Dad's been planning this grand opening for a year now."

Oh?

"Can't you talk to him?" Shoko was still holding onto the smoking cigarette butt in her hand.

"It's like talking to a - " Gojo cut himself off to knock twice at the white plaster wall beside the bed.

Your muscles tense, and the sound of your own racing pulse deafens your ears.

I should say something. "He's your friend," you croak out.

Gojo's expression changes to a stern one, a terrifying sight on his soft features, "What would have me do? Make him play while he's mourning for his mother? Fight with my father only to have him cut Suguru off anyway?"

You go silent, mulling over his words, but find nothing to say.

Shoko picks up the saxophone from the table, "Which key is broken?" she asks, and there's a hint of defeat in her voice as she waits for Satoru's answer so, at the very least, she can fix something.

Suguru had stared at the cello case for days now, hesitant to take the instrument out of its shell. He started staring at it when he took it from his mother's house after the funeral and kept staring at it on the two-hour bus ride and the three-hour train journey, and then, when he leaned it against the wall of his apartment, he still couldn't take his eyes off of it.

It called him. Not in the way you called him - the kind that made his heart flutter when he saw your name pop on his phone screen, which he ignored, simply having no clue as to what to say.

He still ran the imaginary conversations in his head every time you did, letting out sad chuckles into the stale air of his room. How have you been? Oh yes, my mother died, and I'm sitting here with her instrument, which she always loved more than me. Is it nice? Oh, it's more like a successful older brother - you want to hug him just as much as you want to chuck him out the window. Would you like to grab a coffee?

"It's been almost two weeks since you sat there," Geto stands in the little kitchen of his apartment, making a cup of tea he knew would join the others piled up on his bedside table. I'm talking to it now, he thinks, I've finally gone insane. "How about you pay rent?" He chastises the instrument.

For a moment, he thinks it really might pay his rent - for about four years - if he decides to sell it, and keep the money to himself. His hands find themselves opening the case.

He inspects it for a long while, his hands brushing reluctantly over the wood until they find the small scratch in the varnish, the one he'd left there over a decade ago, and he focuses on it. It's small, pale looking, almost too tiny to notice, like the scar on his forehead.

"Maybe it's fair," he mutters at it, "I hurt you, and she hurt me. Balance."

A knock on the door makes his hand falter.

"Suguru," you bang on the door, feeling your leg squash something under it. "Mochi?" you mutter as you pick up a bag from the floor, and the lock clicks.

He looks terrible, you think, with tired eyes and strands sticking out from his usually perfect hair. You hand him the crumpled bag, trying no to smile, "It was just here," you point to the doorway.

"Hmm?" He takes it from your hands, "Satoru's been leaving those here every day. I've got plenty. You can have it if you like."

The air in the room reeks of smoke and coffee grounds, and he steps away, losing your eyes as he moves clothes from a chair to his bed for you to sit on.

"How are you?" you ask.

"Fine," he responds instinctively. Silence. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure." Silence again. A good time to pick up smoking, you think.

Your gaze lands on the cello peaking from its case in the corner. "A new one?" You puzzle as he puts a cup of coffee in front of you.

"My mother's," Geto says, sitting on the chair across from you.

"It's beautiful," you say, and you watch a sullen look settle in his eyes. "Wrong thing to say?" you give him a half-hearted smile, attempting to lift his mood, "Because in that case, it looks terrible."

"I like it when you say the wrong things," He suddenly says, "They don't feel so wrong when you say them."

You take the cup of coffee in your hands, warming your palms against the glass, "You can say them too sometimes, y'know."

He takes a sip from his coffee, only to find he can't stand the taste anymore, wrinkling his nose, "I hate that thing. I've been contemplating whether to sell it or just throw it out the window."

"And what's the verdict?"

"Play it," he says.

"Then play it."

He gets up, pushing the chair back to the middle of the room as he walks to take the instrument out of its case. You're almost startled by how stiff he looks leaning it between his legs, a hold so tight on the bow his knuckles turn white.

He puts the bow to the strings with a feather-light stroke, and halts.

He looks scared of it.

Is that what stage fright feels like? He thinks as he watches you lean forward against the table, eyes honed on his hands.

"You just need to play it, y'know? Like children do, just wiggle the bow a few times." You say.

Like children do. "It'll be dissonant," Geto utters sternly, releasing his grip on the bow.

"That's how they laugh," your lips curl into a soft smile, "That's what my father used to tell me when he heard the horrible screeches I made on his violin when he first gave it to me, 'Don't worry, that's how they laugh.'"

His chest tightened at the words, and he forced the bow onto the strings, making a loud, off-key tone penetrate the room.

It's the first time you've heard him make a mistake, and it made every nerve in your system tingle. Your head went euphorically dizzy. This is much better.

He almost stopped at your wide-eyed look, but you just laughed, "Oh, please, you call that dissonant?" And you watch him push the bow onto the strings again, brows furrowed at the terrible sounds, but his movements unwavering.

It's fine to play it like this, he thinks, as long as it's accompanied by your laughter.

"Suguru," you utter, and he lifts his gaze from the instrument, "Will you play the Grand Hall tonight?"

He ponders for a moment, "I think I will."

"Then you better answer your phone," you motion towards the buzzing cell phone on the counter, "and take a shower," you laugh.

He looks down on his disheveled clothes, "That bad, huh?" He chuckles.

"Just a little."

You hear the shower water running as you fiddle with your phone, still dazed at what just happened. You press the contact and dial.

"Hey, Dad?" You chirp into the cell phone, "Are you still coming to the Grand Hall opening tonight?"

The new Grand Hall is a sea of white marble floors and golden framed artworks, crowded by black-suited CEOs and their overly lavish trophy wives.

Geto sits on the lone stool in the middle of the stage, watching them all take their seats, still busy exchanging pleasantries with each other while they wait for the show to start. His eyes drift constantly to the stage exit, where you stand with Gojo, smiling softly, mouthing, "Don't worry," at his stiff figure.

His mother's cello is still unfamiliar to the touch, a beast different than the one he owns which he had already spent years taming.

People fill the seats like ants, and the lights dim above his head. The pianist behind him is a weak-looking man, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his thin nose before giving Geto the cue to start.

The first stroke of the bow is a hesitant one across the strings that once earned him a blow to the head, but the second one has more vigor, and his eyes, half-lidded still, find your smiling face again to soothe his nerves. His bow falters; he didn't have time to change the rusty strings; what would Elgar* say?

And you can't help but smile at each terrible pitch echoing around you; each horribly dissonant tone is more beautiful than the next to your ears.

The sounds are low and deep, growling against the marble hall. He almost has it - the feeling - the one that'd let him stop quivering in his seat. His bow jitters. He never knew he could make so many mistakes in a piece that he played hundreds of times, but with your smile at the corner of his eyes, he feels it creep up his fingertips, rushing through his chest - joy.

"My son!" The doors to the concert hall bust open with a bang; it overpowers the soothing sounds of his cello and the melody of the piano, "He's my fucking son. Let me see him!" Suguru's father stumbles drunkenly into the hall, two dark-suited men at his heels.

The hall washes over with whispers, women pressing their carefully manicured hands to their painted mouths in awe while their husbands are already halfway out of their seats with a proud "I'll take care of the bastard, honey" stuck on their lips.

"Fuck off, pig." Suguru's father spews at the guard trying to drag him away, "He owes it all to me, the brat. Play for our guests, Suguru! " He turns to the crowd, "Enjoying the show, money-rolling cunts?"

Suguru stiffens, his eyes two dull, widened orbs staring at the scene as he stops his playing, ignoring the piano player's whispers to just play, kid.

Gojo rushes to the man screaming in the hall, "Mr. Geto, long time no see," he says, one hand gripping him by the edge of his booze-soaked shirt, the other wrapping around the man's neck in an almost affable way, "How about you see your son after the show?" A smile is frozen on his soft lips, his blue eyes staring daggers at the man, "Now be nice, or they'll tase you," he breathes down the man's ear, motioning to the guards whose fingers are already clutching the tasers.

"Fucking bastard," Geto's father mutters at the white-haired man, "Money-rolling cunts," he slurs all the way out of the doors. They close with a soft thud, leaving the hall in a dead silence.

a/n - * - Edward Elgar, Cello Concerto in E minor, Op.85

12 years ago

"You hear that?" Your father stood over you in the rehearsal room of the conservatory, his arms crossed over his chest as he paced back and forth, "That's how they laugh. Every time you make a mistake, they laugh at you, girl."

Your eyes were red as you stopped your playing, "L-Laugh?"

"Instruments make that sound so they can mock you," your father explained, correcting your grip on the bow, "and you have to do everything so they don't do that."

Every day, he'd drive you up to the conservatory and stand over you in that room for hours on end, brows knitted together at each whine the violin screeched out. And when it was finally over, he'd walk you down the long white corridor to the room at the end, where a small, dark-haired boy would play his cello.

"See that, girl?" He'd point through the crack in the door, "Perfection."

Perhaps that was when you started to despise Geto Suguru. Over the years, the feeling only grew, but it hadn't peaked before his smug smile sat next to you in a jazz club, finally uttering the first words he ever directed at you, "Geto Suguru, have we met before?"

And it felt strange because you had - or at least you thought you had, over a decade ago. Not that he'd know that you watched him play almost every day through that time, with the scrutinizing words your father whispered above your head, "Look. Really look," your father held your head steady with his fingers digging into your scalp, "It doesn't laugh at him, see?"

And you did see. And you wished that it laughed at him, too. Why were you the only one supposed to be laughed at?

You didn't mean to at first, really. Something about him just ticked it off, the urge for revenge. How dare he hate his instrument and play it so well, when you loved the violin and it betrayed you with every stroke?

You didn't mind the sex; he was still a handsome man. It made him trust you - and as long as you made him make a mistake - every laugh, every encouraging smile, every word, was worth it.

"Fucking bastard," Geto's father mutters at the white-haired man, "Money-rolling cunts," he slurs all the way out of the doors. They close with a soft thud, leaving the hall in a dead silence.

Suguru looks for them - your eyes, and that smile that seems to perpetually grace your lips - but when his eyes finally land on you, he finds it gone. You mouth something he doesn't quite catch before disappearing from the stage exit. He can't do it; he can't play anymore. His hand freezes against the strings.

You finally made a fool of yourself, Suguru.

You wait outside the Grand Hall doors, body shivering with anticipation when the crowd finally starts to leave the hall.

"Dad!" You shout when you see him, making your way through the people, heels clacking against the marble until you grab your father's arm, "Dad! It was horrible, wasn't it?"

"Hmm? Who'd you come with dear?" Your father inquires.

"Leave it, Dad. He was horrible, right?"

He looks at you a long time before saying, "It's a shame for that boy, the beginning was perfect."

10 years later

When he's conducting, anyone would agree that Suguru Geto is breathtaking. The moment he dropped playing the cello ten years prior, every one of his admirers had almost lost hope - that is, until he picked up the baton. A true genius, they'd say, forgetting his last horrible performance, which graced the headlines for a long time after he ditched it in the middle, and how he disappeared for the next two years after it. Lonley? Gods no, he's a busy man, or perhaps struggling with all his greatness to find a mind akin to his own.

But only the small orchestra that played under him knew that all these words were just flattery - he was cold and unforgiving of any and all mistakes, and he really, truly despised the violinists.

Or he did, until the new violinist ran late to the first rehearsal of the year.

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outmakingmoonshine · 7 months

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I wrote this in the tags on this post by @sydcarmyfan pointing out that Carmy has touched all of Syd’s tattoos and they asked me to make a post about it, it's kinda long so I've put it under a cut.

Like the above post mentions the placement of Carmy's hands on Syd's back in 2x03 puts them directly over the broken wishbone, the three of swords tattoos and the anchovies

If the hand placement is deliberate then it specifically places his hands directly over the tattoos that relate to him/their love story the most. The broken wishbone, he’s fulfilling her wish/dream by making her his partner in The Bear and kinda breaking it by being “shitty”, there's something in there about "wishing on a star" too... and the three of swords which the SydCarmy meta writers have written about much better than I can. (And also the anchovies tattoo but I have no idea what that's related to yet, although Carmy does have a fish tattoo so that's how it relates until I know more lol.) This touch on these two specific tattoos happens in a scene which is arguably the start of him breaking her heart and her wish…it's the first time she sees him after he ditched her at Kasama and after he tried to avoid Claire but caved to her hounding him on the phone so whether Syd's aware of Claire yet or not, the wall has already been torn down and the ball's already in motion. It’s also when he starts to ditch working with her on their joint wish/dream, kinda breaking her "wish" of working on it with him.

It's worth noting that the point of a wishbone is to break it so this might not have a negative connotation and could just relate to him being so focused on getting that wish for her while...on the other hand..literally..he’s breaking her heart while trying.

@sydcarmyfan pointed out when Carmy placed his hand on Syd's back in 2x02 he also touched her other two tattoos, which was during a scene/montage when they were both more comfortable and relaxed around each other, being more open about their personal lives, history, family etc, and those other two tattoos seem more related to Syd’s family life/history. The car with mom on the license plate and the c’est pas grave tattoos. So the themes of the tattoos he touched in each scene also relate to the themes of their dynamic within that scene.

The car is obviously about her mum and maybe something to do with driving to Sheridan Road? Idk yet but my theory on the c’est pas grave tattoo (which translates to “it’s not serious/it doesn’t matter/nevermind”) is it relates to whatever reason Syd feels like she needs to hide or ignore her feelings like they “don’t matter” or they’re “not serious” to anyone else but her…or maybe she doesn’t even allow herself to take them seriously and that’s why she just swallows her disappointment and internalizes and suppresses her feelings all the time.

I don’t think Syd’s ever really been emotionally nurtured because the version we see now of Emmanuel as the devoted father telling stories of her mother lovingly doesn’t really add up. If he was that loving devoted father making her smile and laugh so animatedly while she was growing up why is she so emotionally avoidant now? There’s a weird distance in their relationship like she has a huge wall up when she's around him, even more than around when she's around Carmy or Marcus tbh. He obviously knows her better, he raised her so he can see through her and confront her about more things but she still never really lets him in and he never seems willing to push enough. I get the feeling he wasn’t really there for her as a kid and he learnt to be a decent father too late. I also get a vibe from him like he feels kinda guilty about something / has regrets / kinda feels like he failed her. Idk he seems to walk on eggshells around her imo like he's very careful what he says to her and how he words things with her. He definitely feels the distance between them and it bothers him more than it bothers her. You can tell he tries to connect with her, but she’s always the one who’s resistant.

My theory is the distance is because he became an alcoholic after her mom died because he couldn't cope with losing her. Maybe Syd spent most of her childhood feeling neglected and alone, like no one cared about her and what she wanted or needed so she learnt to suppress her emotions and now she just keeps following that pattern because she doesn’t know any different. By the time Emmanuel got sober it was too late, she'd already learned this toxic way to cope with all the feelings of loneliness and rejection. And she's still so wounded by his neglect that she only gives him a surface level relationship now.

She’s also lowkey disrespectful to him in some ways or she just lacks the respect you would expect her character to have for a father who is clearly trying and we know Syd isn’t a disrespectful person. Definitely not to be disrespecting her only living parent and kinda dismissing him the way she does for no reason. So I think there’s something important we don’t know about their dynamic.

I also think this could be why she cut Carmy off from asking about her dad in 2x02 because he already said something like “at least he was there for you” and I don't think she wanted to explain that maybe he actually wasn’t.

There’s a reason that the main point of Emmanuel's only scene and dialogue inside the restaurant in 2x10 was to reveal that he doesn't drink and I don't think it was just to highlight the contrast between him and Donna because it would've made more sense to have donna show up as a drunken mess outside The Bear if they wanted that contrast so badly but she seemed sober when talking to Pete.

(Here's where I insert my headcanon that Emmanuel & Donna have already met at al-anon meetings and he’s been integral in her recovery so far, probably not even realizing they are future in-laws.)

I think Carmy's gonna find out Syd had a very similar childhood to him but she was actually going through it all alone. While he FELT alone she really WAS alone dealing with an alcoholic parent with no siblings to understand or to just share the emotional and psychological burden with and all he's been doing is dumping pressure on her that she didn’t really ask for...but she wont tell him directly that she crumbles under pressure, she tried to tell him a story to let him know she crumbles under pressure with the Sheridan story in 1x05 and again with the pasta/Ragù story in 2x02 but he consistently keeps leaving her alone to fend for herself with a major workload when the whole reason she came to The Beef was to work WITH him and spend time WITH him. That’s what Syd values, that’s what makes her happy. Quality time and food are her love languages, these things are the way to her heart and this anxious white man is bending over backwards trying to make her happy BY AVOIDING HER TO WORK ON HIMSELF SO HE CAN BE ENOUGH TO MAKE HER HAPPY😭😭 He's trying but he's so clueless and Syd won't give him a clue!

#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #sydcarmy meta

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11queensupreme11 · 17 days

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If this was a competition to see who was winning in the advancement of their relationship with Percy let's just say:

1st place: Anubis

married

sleeps in the same bed

have a palace together

have a kid

Successfully co-parent

Semi-stable relationship (only because one doesn't know their actually in a relationship🤪)

2nd place: Hades

Married

Rule together (sorta I mean their King and Queen of Helheim now so c'est la vie)

Took her first kiss

Has had some HEAVY petting sessions

3rd Place: Poseidon (I just know he would hate that his relationship is ranked lower than Anubis AND Hades but u snooze, u lose; my man)

Closer bond and easier access to Percy and what she can and can't do (cause he's, u know...her dad😭)

Have couple-themed thrones

Has the backing of Proteus and the other seven kingdoms (plus mommy!rhea)

Had some HEAVY petting sessions😏

Will throw hands for his daughter (no words, his hands are rated E for everyone (even Percy but only during certain...situations😏👏🍑))

4th Place: Beelzebub (has been bumped down to 4 since he's been avoiding her lately and the other yans have taken this time to STEP UP their mf game!)

Percy has an unacknowledged growing crush on him that was confirmed by Aphrodite

They have gone on MULTIPLE dates (strawberry picking, trips to the city, Ferris wheel💙, outings to Valhalla, sightseeing via taxi cab(with a little side of assisted homicide for flair 💅🏾) slow dancing, etc.)

Knows about her friends and family

Knows most of her secrets

Shared backstories

Similar suicidal tendencies (we love shared trauma🥺)

Slow burn couple

Compliment each other personalities (very black cat and golden retriever vibes)

BONDAGE

Also very How to Train Your Own Percy coded (rewards via blue food and walks help✅)

5th Place: Loki (lost a lot of points with the recent murder attempt but gained some aura points for saving his girl from being 🍇ed by her uncle so be lucky u made it to 5th)

Been on MULTIPLE dates (dinner in Valhalla, sleepover in Asgard, braiding each other's hair, trip to Scandinavia (even tho it was brief lol), etc.)

Knows most of her more important secrets

Personally crafted a life sized doll in her image (even when she's not around he's thinking about her🥺)

6th Place: Apollo

Been on ONE date

Is an honest and genuine guy

Can't and won't lie to her (we all need a partner like this)

Things she's beautiful no matter what state he sees her in (it's mostly angry or irritated)

7th Place: Cu Chulainn (TBD)

Not much known yet but I predict he will be an ass at first but his shittiness grows on u (like a situationship that was only supposed to last months but lasted years instead 😭)

Little enemies to lovers (they have fun bantering w each other)

I LOVE THE LITTLE SUMMARIES OF EACH SHIP 😭😭😭

especially the beelzebub one!!! let me just add that they used to go on WEEKLY dates together!!!

so the ones i wrote about are just a few of them, there are actually many more that happen off-screen (cuz you know, i gotta focus on the plot) so yeah, since beel used to be her caretaker for months now and they go to "dates" on midgard once a week (unless percy misbehaves during class or scores low on exams lol; the midgard dates are her rewards for being "good" so yeah), they've been on at least more than ten dates

(they're actually really not dates to percy, she just thinks it's two besties hanging out, but to beel??? oh yes they are DEFINITELY dates)

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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skzfairyyydreamz · 10 months

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Gentle Love w/ Bf!Channie❣️

(listening to save you by rum.gold on repeat while reading this is highly recommended for ambience purposes). Masterlists

Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Friends to lovers

pairing: Bestfriend/Bf!Chan x Fem!Reader

a/n: This seasonal depression got ya gurl heavily craving some form of comfort so this one was a bit self indulgent. i’ve never wrote a headcanon before but i really enjoyed making this so i hope you enjoy it too! (please give me your feedback) reblogs are super appreciated. taglist is open so lmk if you would like to be taglisted!! Lastly Thank you sm for being here; sending lots of love and big hugs to everyone who needs it right now. 🫶🏼🫂

Bestfriend!Channie who settled with his unrequited love for you bc there was nobody else who could ever compare to you & nobody else he had eyes for.

Bestfriend!Channie who always had to love you from a distance bc he just didn’t have it in him to confess and potentially ruin something that was so special to him.

Bestfriend!Channie who had to sit back and watch you love shitty men who didn’t deserve you.

Bestfriend!Channie Who watched you cry over men who didn’t even deserve to be in your presence in the slightest.

Bestfriend!Channie who helped you through each heartbreak bc there was never a time that he wasn’t there when you needed him.

Bestfriend!Channie who knew in his heart that there was absolutely nobody that could ever love you better than he, bc he knew you better than anyone else in the world.

Bestfriend!Channie who finally worked up the courage to tell you how madly in love with you he was and always has been (with the help of your mother ofc; she saw the way he looked at you with the whole galaxy in his eyes and had always wanted you two to be together. Mama always knows best!)

Bf!Channie who loves you with every bone in his body and every fiber of his being.

Bf!Channie who just wants to save you. Save you from all your past love traumas and mend your heart.

Bf!Channie who helps you on your healing journey.

Bf!Channie who shows you all the gentle, soft love in the world, bc its what you’ve always deserved.

Bf!Channie who makes it his business to give you the best of everything and stands on that.

Bf!Channie who always puts you first. Before anything and anyone.

Bf!Channie who does his best to learn and indulge you in ALL of your love languages.

Bf!Channie who never fails to treat you like a princess, a queen, a goddess and more.

Bf!Channie who will tie your shoes for you and slap your hand when you try to open doors on your own. “Don’t you ever reach for a doorknob in my presence, thank you very much!” as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head in a playful disbelief.

Bf!Channie who will take off a week of work if you’re sick just to nurse you back to health regardless of your protesting.

Bf!Channie who is always showing you off, rolling out the red carpet no matter who’s around.

Bf!Channie who refuses to let either of you go to sleep upset at each other. bc he just cherishes you and prioritizes the importance of communication in your relationship that much. (he’s honestly such a king)

Bf!Channie who is always calm and gentle with you; attentive to your feelings even mid argument.

Bf!Channie who takes interest in/ learns about all your hobbies and things that you are passionate about bc seeing you happy, makes him even happier.

Bf!Channie who is so fond of your family and siblings. he has great relationships with all your family members and will never miss a single family gathering regardless to his busy schedule and idol life.

Bf!Channie who hates to see you hurting or in pain. With teary eyes he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you “Princess You know i’d take this pain for you in a heartbeat if i could!” whether it be a broken bone, killer period cramps or even something as simple as a paper cut or a headache. His chest is heavy knowing there isn’t much he can do to comfort you and stop you from feeling any physical pain or discomfort. (i’m literally on the verge of sobbing, not me making myself emotional half way through writing this some one please send help 😭)

Bf!Channie who is such an amazing listener. whether you are ranting about a horrible day at work or having a transparent moment about the current state of your mental health. He listens super attentively, giving you his undivided attention. Never breaking eye contact, He’ll hold both your hands in his occasionally leaving gentle reassuring kisses to your knuckles as you sit on your bed cross legged in front of each other. (this is so so so boyfie channie coded nobody talk to me im sobbing 😭)

Bf!Channie who loves to take you on romantic night walks through the city. it has been your thing for years even before you two started dating.

Bf!Channie who always invites you to join him on his late nights at the studio bc he just wants you to be near him. Even tho you are quite literally just there to sit in a reclining chair eating snacks while you rest your legs in this lap. You both are so content and cozy. He claims to work better with you around him and you absolutely adore watching your sexy producer man boyfie in his element. even if you are only staring at the side of his face for hours on end you will never turn down his offers.

Bf!Channie who takes the sidewalk rule super seriously. there will never be a time where he will let you walk on the outside of him, always keeping you safe from any passing cars with his right arm around your shoulder, your waist or holding your hand while you walk together.

Bf!Channie who is super protective and can be slightly possessive over the love of his life. always wanting to know your whereabouts and who you’re with; Sometimes even hiring a bodyguard for you when you are solo traveling for work or going to big modeling events when he isn’t able to attend with you. especially since you’re now well known in the public eye for being the significant other of one of 4th gens greatest! you now need to be protected and taken care of at all times (at least in his mind you do!) But You don’t blame him or ever complain bc you’ve been in pretty dangerous and traumatic situations before and thank god channie has always been there protecting you. He really has always been your knight in shining armor (shining armor being a black beanie and hoodie in his case 😂)

Bf!Channie who loves your natural body just the way it is. Always reassuring you that he loves all your curves and the things that make you, you. Regardless to your insecurities he always has his hands on you some type of way whether he’s playing with your hair, resting his hands on you, absentmindedly massaging your legs while you two watch a movie together or coping a full feel as he walks past you in the kitchen; squeezing a whole hand full of booty cheek 😂 his hands are always on you. It’s so obvious how attracted and madly in love with you he is.

Bf!Channie who loves your goofiness and all the silly ways you show your affection towards him. He loves it when you’re completely yourself. absolutely adoring whenever you’re in a playful mood and you just walk up to him to give him a quick bite on the shoulder and walk away with a smile on your face. he loves it even more when you’re really hyper and you do something unhinged like asking to give him a forehead kiss but instead licking his face and running away from him in a fit of giggles before he can catch you. (which he easily does a few seconds later)

Bf!Channie who loves your pretty brown eyes. easily zoning out sometimes getting lost in your deep eyes mid conversation which always ends up with his ears and cheeks turning a bright red color at you snapping your fingers in front of his face and the sound of your voice bringing him back from a daydream.. “Hello!?? earth to loverboy!? are you with me?? ”

Bf!Channie who loves how soft you are with him. Always touching his hands or softly grabbing one of his pinky fingers when you want to get his attention to show or tell him something. He melts into a puddle seeing how soft your eyes are for him and how your voice is always just barely above a whisper when you speak to him in the warm comfort of your home. you walking up to him while he’s relaxing or doing random things around the house, pushing a few strands of his hair out of his face or softly grabbing his chin and turning his face towards you to simply ask him if he’d like you to make him a quick snack or bring him a cold drink. it unleashes a swarm of butterflies in his tummy and makes his knees buckle every time without fail. (he never understands how something so soft and gentle drives him so crazy, he’s clearly weak in the knees for a soft dom!mommy 🥴)

Bf!Channie who is so enchanted by your comfortable silence. You two have created such a cozy and calming atmosphere in your home. Always finding each other at random areas of the house at any random hour of the day and enjoying each other’s presence without saying a word. Bringing comfort to one another simply by just.. being. You could be catching up on a new kdrama as chan would come and lay his head in your lap for a nap, intertwining your fingers and placing your hand on his chest. And without a word you’d grab the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and put it over him so that he could sleep comfortably. the feeling of his heartbeat underneath the palm of your hand instantly bringing you a unexplainable warm fuzzy feeling. this was just something that always seemed to happen naturally for you two. this part of your relationship was like a tacit agreement. The way you would climb into channies lap and rest your head in the crook of his neck after finishing up a few house chores as he just scrolled on his phone. it was something so soothing that you both thoroughly enjoyed but never spoke on bc you simply just didn’t need to. this atmosphere you created in your home was even felt by others around you. Family and friends always telling you guys how they felt utterly safe and comfortable every time they were at your house. And that was your favorite compliment to receive as a couple. You two were made for one another.. everything just seemed to work. Truly the best of soulmates.

Taglist: ??? @hanniemylovelyquokka @goblinracha <;3

buy me a coffee?

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hwasshvur · 2 months

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I got you baby ..

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

TW/: Reader having rude parents, crying, fluff and reader yelling and a shitty oneshot !

You missed Hongjoong dearly and your parents were not making it better. "I don't understand how you fell in love with a 'singer' Y/N you could've dated a doctor or CEO." It was constant nagging about who YOU dated. Hongjoong was the sweetest you ever met, He brought your mom flowers every time they visited, He even sent your mom flowers for her birthday and mother's day. You only came back "Home" for you parent's anniversary. If it wasn't for that you wouldn't be there you would've been in comfy clothes cuddled up to your boyfriend sound asleep. As of right now you were in heel and a dress catching out on distant cousins boring life while your parents were dancing and having fun. Your phone vibrated you unlocked the messages to see the contact was hongjoong.

Joong <3 - hey baby how are you feeling?

You - hey .. just tired and ready to go home and be with you.

Joong <3 - you come home tonight baby just try to hang in there a little longer.

You - I can try.

You felt an urge of relief and all the tension in your shoulders were released after getting a message from the only person in the world who makes you feel comfortable. "Y/N! What are you'd doing don't be rude and all up in your phone when your cousins are trying to talk to you!" Your father says waving his arms and down. "Sorry?" You said rolling your eyes. man you could wait until tonight.

As the night ended and everyone was leaving your parents house, you rushed to put some comfy clothes on and take your makeup off to get ready to get on the plane to see your loving boyfriend. "You're ready to leave already?" Your mother scoffed. "Yeah?" You replied dryly putting your bags near the front door. "Pathetic." Your dad spat throwing away another paper plate. You rolled your eyes. "You know what's pathetic is you two trying to run my life. I'm 23 years old with my own life, job and boyfriend. I am not your redo. It shouldn't bother you who I date, if I'm happy that's all that matters." You yelled at them. rubbing your temples sighing. "It was a wonderful stay with you two." You announced as you grabbed in your bags and walked out the door. Your parents stood there in shock as you walked out and shut the door behind you. As you arrived to the airport, you got a bunch of messages from family members calling you 'rude' 'disrespectful' 'ungrateful' 'bitch' 'asshole' and more. You turned off your phone while you were on the plane until you arrived home that's when you saw him. Your loving boyfriend hongjoong standing in the bedroom fixing his hair in the mirror. "Joong" You said breathless hugging him tightly. "Hey babydoll..I missed you." You're so relieved you started tearing up once your started to remember what happened before you left to go to the airport. "Hey.. Baby what's wrong talk to me." You explained everything from start to finish. "Hey hey it's okay." Hongjoong said to you as he lead you to the bed and laid down with you as he kissed your forehead.

"I got you baby"

Nasias notes: I wrote this at 5:36 am.. so sorry if it sucks!

#hwasshvur #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #kpopidol #hongjoong #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x reader

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seungsuki · 4 months

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my you - he remembers you over a song (gn! reader)

warning: sae being down bad

note: i was listening to jungkook and decided to write lol. also i sneaked in rin from this fic i wrote

itoshi sae, japan's boy genius, wandered the vibrant streets of madrid. spain became his second home. he was often told how he would sometimes smell like the spanish spices whenever he visited back japan. the warm sun shone the cobblestone he stepped on as he made his way around the little bustling market. he had nothing better to do so visiting the market helps take his mind off things

the prodigy let his eyes wander around the bright lights and his ears tuned into a familiar tune. why did it sound so… home? snapping out of his thoughts, he looked at his corner left to see a man with a guitar. the street performer was strumming his guitar, singing a melody that tugged sae’s hopeless heart. my you. a song that dearly connected him to his lover

sae didn’t realise when he fell into his own train of thoughts. the memory lane looked so clear to him and he didn’t hesitate to enjoy the times when life was simpler. he recalled the younger versions of him and you. there you were, sitting on his family’s balcony, wrapped around a big sweater and a guitar in your hand. little rin was sitting not to far with his pile of mangas and his girlfriend peeking over his shoulders to see the pages

“sae! you’re back early!”, you cheered waving at the boy who dropped his duffle bag to sit beside you

“yeah”, he replied

“i were just chilling here with my guitar and these two”, you motioned at the duo who seemed absorbed in his own world

“you really do like them”, sae noted

“they reminds me of my own sibling”, you reminisced

“he’s still not well?”, sae asked, referring to your younger brother

“he’s hanging on”

a silent gap came along. you didn’t want to talk about your sick brother or else you’d start tearing up. sae visited him as often as he could to keep the younger boy happy. you were relieved to know that rin took a liking for your younger brother and often asked you to let him go with you. you strummed your guitar to the tune that you listened to by heart. it was your comfort song.

“네 번의 계절 또다시”

sae looked over to you in confusion. you were speaking korean? he knew you were a master in languages but he never got around to ask you about it

“더 짙어지게 또다시”

rin hummed along with it. he too was familiar with this song. his girlfriend was an avid fan of jungkook so he was forced to listen to it. he looked over to his lover and she couldn’t help but giggle before reminding him of her favourite song, euphoria

“내가 미소를 짓는 이유도”

your honey voice made the song even more special. sure he didn’t understand but he presumes the words mean something deep considering your teary eyes. it was almost like the world stopped just for him to listen to you

“이 노랠 부를 수 있는 것도”

you stopped. you couldn’t continue. sae locked his eyes with you to read your emotions but you seemed to be lost in your thoughts

the older itoshi was brought back to reality after realising he was staring at the street performer for too long. the performer didn’t dare to make eye contact with the player and continue singing away his heart. maybe the face made might have scared him?

sae couldn’t care. his heart was hurting. it was hurting so badly, he could imagine himself crying. he’s homesick. he misses everyone and it hurts. he wants to smell his mothers cooking, see his father read the newspaper, apologise to rin for being a jerk but most importantly, he wants to see you in person.

no amount of facetime can make him feel better. he craves for your physical touches and kisses. sae never imagined himself being so down for you. you may have fallen first but he fell harder. listening to his heart, his hands slowly reach to his phone as he loads the japan airline website

maybe he can tolerate going back to that shitty country he had to call home but he knew where his actual home was. he begins imagining you standing at the airport with open arms for him. he falls weak into your soft hug without bothering to entertain the paparazzi. he just wants you

it seems faith was finally looking good for the pro player as he sees your name flashing on his phone screen. he quickly threw in a few coins to the street performer’s guitar bag, to which the latter tilted his hat in appreciation

“hey, are you busy?”

oh, that voice that made him melt on the spot. he felt his heart easen as he lightly coughed before answering you

“no, i'm just walking around. you?”, he asks

“i just drove rin to his training camp. what was it called, blue lock?”, you tried remembering

“blue lock? never heard of it”, sae sighed

“you sound down… everything okay, prodigy?”, you teased

“shut up- i’m coming home”, sae cut himself off and got to the point

“no way!! that’s great! is it because you miss me so much huh?”, he swears he could see you smirking over the voice call

“my passport expired so i had to come back”, sae groaned at your antics

“i gotta go but i have something to say”, you said

“네 곁이기에 감사해”

huh? he pulled away his phone from his ear to see that you cut the call right after saying that he knew what you said. he already recognised that word. it was so familiar to him now. a ghost smile threatened to break on his face

“i’m thankful to be by your side too.. [name]”

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skunkfairy · 1 month

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Gaslit about covid? Me too. [RANT]

as you all can tell by my page im so new, but for context, im trying to find COVID-19 safe/conscious groups online. i started with Instagram and ive moved to here.

something thats on my mind recently is how i have been severely gaslit to just think covid isnt a thing we should worry for and that im a conspiracy theorist about covid just because i still use mitigation in my daily life and i give a shit about disabled/immunocompromised/chronically ill people in my community and in my life. i genuinely am so scared for whats happening and what will happen to our collective health.

like i had like a breakdown after all my roommates stopped masking last fall and it lead to me being triggered and disassociating for almost a whole year because i felt unsafe with people i previously felt safe with (feeling/being unsafe in my home is a major trigger for me). i was lost touch with reality, i have never felt so disconnected from my friends, mind, and body. it was so bad. And it took a lot of energy, effort, and practice to communicate my needs and boundaries with them only for them to be like "Cool you sound like you're living in fear and im not changing". in the end i decided to move to a different apartment because i coulndt deal with all of them being like that.

the past 4-5 years have made me feel a lot of things and i wrote a poem about the grief ive felt specifically around the pandemic and how it has drastically altered my late teenage and young adult years. maybe ill put it here one day lmao.

a silver lining in this is that all my way of life as i knew it is gone and dead. and that makes more room for me to find people who care for and value our lives at a basic fundamental level and furthermore are willing to act daily to show our love and care for one another. this new life makes more room for me to really question my consumerism [god forbid we stop eating indoors at restaurants and risk getting a deadly virus for shitty food] . it makes me question how i interact with the world with a COVID-safe/mindful lens. and most importantly put disability justice at the forefront of my activism.

I have grieved how life was and i have come out the other side accepting and wanting to do everything in my power to protect my community in the ongoing pandemic. i understand my responsibility and i have begun to see how disability justice connects all of our collective oppression and how disability justice/rights/activism is a key part to our collective liberation. i have seen how covid conscious or safe people [idk what to label it ive been going back and forth bc i think a lot of people have different definitions of these labels im sorry] are so kind, so caring, so compassionate, so giving, and so loving in a way that i dont see or truly feel in other activists/advocates groups. I personally feel the safest, most loved, and understood by my friends, family, and peers who are covid safe and practice community care.

much love to all of them it has made me love them in beautiful new ways. xx im so grateful to have them in my life. if u made it this far ur real asf. if u want share whatever covid related rants id like to read them or if you have thoughts on what i wrote let me know 🥺.

rn i just feel like im shouting into the tumblr void and its been cathartic.

#still coviding #mask up #covid isn't over #covidsafehotties #covid conscious #rant post #sorry for the rant #venting #disability justice #activism #black women #doll divine #doll design

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amhrosina · 2 years

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Honey Come Home (Frank Castle x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

A/N: I think I wrote this super self indulgent piece because I was definitely wishing I had someone to come defend/save me when I was in a similar situation with a family member of mine. For all of my friends who are survivors of abuse, I love you, I'm proud of you, and Frank Castle would defend you with his life if he could!!!! (Also a huge thank you to @wheredidiputmyfish for beta reading :))) )

Summary: It's been years since Frank's heard from you, but the second you call and ask him for help, he hurries to defend you from your abusive and toxic boyfriend.

(Warnings: SUPER TRIGGER WARNING FOR DESCRIPTIONS OF ABUSE!!!!!, it's not directly spelled out but its alluded to and the aftermath is heavily discussed, canon typical frank stuff, descriptions of violence, frank goes all punisher on your shitty boyfriend, some PTSD, ex-best friends to lovers, references to frank and reader's past, angsty as hell, short lovey-dovey smut at the end, happy ending)

Frank woke with a start at the sound of his ringtone chiming from the front pocket of his backpack, tucked away and mostly forgotten about between the rare phone calls from Matt and Madani. It was so late in the evening that most people would consider it early in the morning. Whether it was late or early, it was certainly not a great time to be calling someone. Frank thought about pointing this out to whoever was waiting for him to pick up his phone, but his annoyance quickly faded as he read the name flashing across the screen.

A crack, deep down in his soul, ached as he read your name. It had been years since he’d spoken to you, and even longer since he’d seen you. The last time he’d spoken to you, he’d said some things he regretted, things that haunted him to this day, things that he’d never forgive himself for saying to you of all people.

There was a deep well of history between the two of you, and though Frank had been decent enough at pretending it didn’t exist, the memories pushed to the forefront of his mind, playing like a montage in an old movie. Stolen glances between chemistry equations in high school, the subtle press of Frank’s hand against your back when he’d walk you home from campus in college, the touches that lasted just a little too long to be considered friendly when he was on leave. You were his, and he was yours, though that wasn’t entirely true, either. The history he shared with you was a compilation of ‘almosts’ that were usually too painful to think about for longer than five seconds.

And now you were calling him. After three years of silence, you were calling him at this ungodly hour, and he was struggling to gain function in his brain, lungs, chest, fingers, entire being. If he didn’t answer soon, it would likely go to the voicemail that Frank had yet to set up even though it had been literal years since he bought the phone. The idea of potentially missing the sound of your voice after so long without it knocked a semblance of sense into him.

He clicked the screen and raised it to his ear, praying that this wasn’t someone’s idea of a cruel joke. The sound of your subdued, ragged breaths carried through the speaker and hit him directly in the chest. For a moment, Frank said nothing, afraid he would break whatever spell had convinced you to call him after so long. Then, because the thought of not hearing your voice was so unbearable, he murmured your name into the phone.

“Frank?”

You had whispered it, but it echoed loudly in Frank’s head. It wasn’t the voice of the confident, radiant person he’d known so many years before. His chest tightened, and he gripped the phone a little tighter as he murmured your name again.

“I didn’t think you’d answer.” You revealed, still whispering, but a little relieved.

“I’ll always answer if it’s you.” He blurted out, immediately cringing at his inability to filter his thoughts before they exited his mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Frank, I need your hel-.”

You were cut off by a crashing sound that made you yelp into the phone. Frank listened intently to the sound of your cries as someone pounded against a door nearby. Fear, anger, and unabashed love filled his chest until he couldn’t stand still any longer. He pressed the phone inbetween his cheek and shoulder, pulling on whatever articles of clothing were within reach.

“Frankie.” You pleaded, your voice so broken and cracked that Frank could barely breathe at the sound of it.

“I’m coming.” He murmured, pulling his boots on with fervor. “I’m coming, baby. Can you send me your location, sweetheart? Where are you?”

A buzz rattled against his cheek, and he swore when he read the address you’d sent. This whole time, for the years that he’d spent alone, miserable, and missing you, you were living less than twenty minutes away. A male shout in the background of your muffled cries fueled his anger even further.

“Who’s trying to hurt you, baby?” He was already exiting out the back of his building, running toward the storage facility that doubled as his garage.

“He’s my,” you paused, sniffling, “He was my boyfriend. He’s not anymore.”

“Do you have a weapon? Anything to protect yourself until I get there?” He clenched his jaw at the thought of you being hurt.

“I locked myself in the bathroom.” You whimpered as another sound crashed through the bathroom. “Please hurry.” You begged.

Frank’s jaw was so tightly clenched that he was surprised he hadn’t broken his teeth.

“I’m on my way, baby. I’ll be there soon. I promise.”

“He’s dangerous, Frank.” You warned, and Frank’s chest ached with the realization that you were worried about him when you were the one in danger.

“He’s not as dangerous as me.” Frank replied, clenching his fists.

Frank clambered into his truck and backed into the abandoned street. The navigation said he’d arrive in twenty-one minutes. Frank made it in ten.

“I’m around the corner, sweetheart. I’m almost there.” Frank was pushing ninety in his truck. “What’s he doing now?”

“He’s-” You started, and abruptly stopped.

“He’s what, baby?” Frank pushed the gas pedal all the way down.

A sudden crash sounded, and Frank held his breath. Then, you began screaming, and Frank saw red. He was out of the truck and hauling ass up the sidewalk to the old, ramshackle house faster than anyone should be physically able to move. The sound of your screams echoed through the phone, but the closer he got to the front door, the more he could hear it bellowing outside of the house.

He didn’t hesitate to kick the door down, instantly spying your hunched form as your dickhead ex-boyfriend tried to tug you out of the bathroom. Both turned to look at Frank as he took in his surroundings.

Your face, your beautiful and radiant and glowing face, was littered with cuts and bruises. The right side of your jaw was swollen and tinged in dark blue and black. A cut that swept across your top and bottom lip bled profusely onto the tile beneath you.

“What the fuck, man?”

Frank would kill him. Frank would tear him apart. He would–

“Frankie.” Your sigh of relief was melded with a guttural sob.

The very-soon-to-be-dead man swung around, eyeing you.

“This is who you called, you stupid bitch?” He rolled his eyes and squeezed the hand that was wrapped around your arm. A whimper left your lips, and it took everything in Frank not to murder the man right then and there. But he would not let you see that – the violence that he was capable of – the violence that tainted the blood on his hands, dooming him to a life without remorse.

“Take your fucking hands off her.” Frank demanded, stepping forward until he was towering over the man. The man eyed him warily but didn’t let go. Frank almost laughed at his idiocy. “You’re not gonna want to know what’s gonna happen if you don’t listen to me.”

The man dropped your arm, and you sagged to the ground, inching across the floor until you were behind Frank’s broad frame. Frank didn’t let his eyes stray from his target as he knelt, pressing the keys to his truck into your palm.

“Go.” He whispered. “I’ll be done in a sec.”

“But Frank, I-”

“Go.”

You crawled to your feet, limping toward the front door. Frank stayed perfectly still, imagining every awful thing he was going to do to the man that hurt you, until the sound of the truck door shutting indicated that you were safely away from the violence that haunted this house.

Frank was on the guy in half a breath, pushing him so hard into the wall that the drywall cracked under the pressure. He pressed his palm up against the guy’s jaw, slamming his head into the wall again.

“What? Now that you’re up against a real man, you don’t want to fight?” Frank sneered, tightening his hold on the man’s jaws. “Only a coward hits women.”

Frank’s fist connected with his face, spraying blood across the tile beneath them. The guy crumpled to the floor, and Frank followed, hitting him again and again and again, until the man was unrecognizable. The man wheezed, barely breathing, but Frank wasn’t done.

He slid the knife from his back pocket and plunged it into the man’s stomach, knowing immediately that he would never regret this blood being on his hands. He leaned in and whispered a promise that he would keep until the day he died.

“If by some miracle you survive this, you better hope to God I don’t find you. You think this is bad? It could be so much worse. You never deserved her.”

Frank pulled the blade from the guy’s stomach and wiped the blood on the man’s sleeve. Finally satisfied with his work, he made his way back toward the truck that held the most important thing he’d ever loved inside.

The drive back to Frank’s place was calmer, now that the immediate threat had been eradicated. You hadn’t said much of anything, instead curling into yourself, pressing your face into your palms and quietly crying. Frank didn’t know what to do, unsure of how to act around you after so long. It’d been so easy to be around you before – like breathing, he sometimes thought – but now, after everything you’d both been through, he struggled to find solid footing.

“Are you taking me home?” you asked, lifting your puffy eyes to meet his across the truck cabin.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded once. “To my place. Is that okay?” He added after a moment.

“Yeah.” You looked at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. “I’m sorry if I-”

“Don’t apologize for a damn thing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You met Frank’s gaze. He was resolute in his statement, daring you to defy him. For a moment, the soft look in your eyes as you looked at him was enough to strip him to his roots. He felt nothing but an insurmountable love to have you back in his life again, even if it was under horrifying circumstances, even if it was only for tonight. He would accept any crumbs you offered of yourself and he’d cherish them forever.

“What do I do now?” The question was barely audible, almost as if you were asking yourself more than you were asking him. The softness of your tone sent an ache through Frank’s tight chest.

“Stay tonight. Shower, eat, rest. We’ll figure out what happens next tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded but didn’t vocalize a response. When Frank looked over at you, he realized it was because you had begun crying again. The man hadn’t suffered enough, Frank thought. No amount of suffering would make up for the beautiful, broken girl crying in his truck right now.

Frank rested his head in his hands and listened. He listened to the sound of you moving around the bathroom, the sound of the shower starting, and the sound of you hissing as the water pelted the cuts and bruises littering your body. His jaw ached from clenching it so much tonight. He stood, looked around for something to keep his hands busy, adjusted the curtains by the window, and sat again.

The unfamiliar territory between the two of you was unnerving. He didn’t know what to say or how to act around you anymore. When you’d climbed down from the passenger seat earlier, he’d been so afraid to startle you that all he could do was hover his hands around you just in case you slipped or needed his help. He hadn’t felt your touch since he’d pressed the truck keys into your palm back at the house. It felt like reaching for something that was just out of range, and he felt hollow when he thought about it for too long. Hence, the nervous pacing.

When the shower water shut off, Frank’s stomach jolted. He couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous. It was you for Christ's sake. At one point, you’d been his best friend, and at every other point, you’d been the woman he had been in love with since the dawn of time. But still, the nerves were an unsettling wave of butterflies in his stomach.

You cracked the door open and heat from the shower washed over Frank like a tidal wave. Or maybe it was the fact that you were dressed from head to toe in his clothes. It didn’t make you his, but Frank loved the sight of it, all the same.

“Did you find everything?” Frank asked, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, except that he loved you, and that would not be vocalized right now.

“Yeah, Frankie.” A small smile crossed your face when you met his gaze. He saw through your mask. You could not hide from him. “Thank you for...everything. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

Frank scoffed. “Of course, I did. I would do anything for you. You know that.”

“I didn’t.” you started, tugging at your sleeves, “Know that, I mean. When I called earlier tonight, I didn’t know what would happen. If you would come or not. After...everything that went down, you know?”

Frank knew what you meant, though he hadn’t wanted to revisit that memory tonight.

“Listen,” he started, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said to you. I was jealous and hurt, but that’s not an excuse.”

“It’s fine, Frank.” You waved it away, like it was nothing.

“No, really. I’m sor-”

“I forgave you as soon as-”

“Would you just let me apologize? Please?”

You smiled, a real genuine smile, and it sent those butterflies in Frank’s stomach into a flurry. It was the first time he’d seen you smile in so long. He couldn’t help himself from grinning along with you.

“Sorry.” You murmured, grin widening.

“That’s my line.” Frank retorted.

“Sorry, again.” You snorted, and the laughter that bubbled out of you sounded like a thirty-piece orchestra in Frank’s ears. He could get drunk off your laughter, relishing in the warmth it brought him.

When he looked at you again, a pained expression played on your face.

“What is it?” he asked, softening his voice into a gentle murmur.

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed.” You shrugged.

Frank clenched his jaw at the thought of your ex-boyfriend. He eyed the black and blue bruises that marked your skin.

“Was tonight the first time he hit you?”

Your gaze locked with his, and he couldn’t stop himself from inching closer to you. He lightly wrapped his hands around yours, and the brush of your skin against his lit a spark so deep within him that his knees nearly buckled. You hadn’t responded to his question, and he couldn’t figure out if that was for your sake or his.

“No one,” he hardened his features for a moment, a gentle reminder of who he was and what he would do to the people that hurt you, “will ever hurt you again. You hear me? I don’t care who it is. They touch you, they die.”

An unbending will burned in his gaze, and you slowly nodded your head. Finally, your gaze lowered to where your hands were intertwined, noticing the broken skin over his knuckles.

“Did you kill him?” You asked, voice so soft Frank had to strain his neck to hear you.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He replied, tugging his hands away from yours. Your delicate, intrinsic softness would not be subjected to his violent exploits. You tugged his hands back toward you, eyeing him with a harsh glare.

“Don’t pull away.” You pleaded. “Just this once.”

Frank warily placed his hands back into yours. The stark difference between his calloused, bruised, and ugly hands and your soft, innocent ones could’ve been a baroque painting. The thought jolted through him before he could stop it from forming. He did not want to taint your innocence with his blood-soaked hands.

“Stop that.” You chastised, eyeing him knowingly. You had always been so great at reading what he was thinking. “You are capable of more than just violence, Frank Castle. And you saved my life tonight. You deserve everything you’ve ever wished for.”

Frank lifted his gaze at your last sentence, unable to stop his eyes from wandering toward the person he’d always wished for but was too chicken to do anything about.

“What’s that look mean?” You asked, knowingly.

This was dangerous territory. You were towing a line that you and Frank had circled around since you’d met each other. Would tonight be another ‘almost’ to add to his endless cycle of memories with you? This was dangerous territory, but Frank didn't care anymore.

“You know what it means.” He murmured, swallowing thickly. “What it’s always meant.”

You didn’t reply for a moment, watching his expression morph from despair to something different, something heavier.

“Yeah.” You finally said, inching your body closer to his. You were so close now that your chests were touching, and your lips were mere inches apart. “I know.”

“Yeah?” He asked. He was so close now that he could smell the faint scent of his body wash on your skin.

“Yeah.” Your chin dipped in a nod, and Frank was there to meet it.

His lips captured yours in a kiss that melted away every bad thing that had ever happened between the two of you. You moaned into the kiss, allowing his tongue to brush over yours and into your mouth. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you fully against him.

It might’ve been ten minutes or two hours – you didn’t know or care – but the kiss deepened, and suddenly you were pulling Frank’s shirt up his torso and over his head. He gently led you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed and you flopped down, pulling him down with you.

Your lips remained connected as he undressed you, pulling every article of clothing from your body at an agonizing pace. When he finally pulled away to unbutton his jeans, the sight of yellowing bruises across your stomach paused his movements.

“Not the first time, then?” He lightly brushed his fingers over the old bruises. The sight of them made him sick.

“No.” You replied, voice soft. “Not the first time.”

Frank sighed deeply, reminding himself that you were no longer in danger. He had saved you, and no one would ever touch you again.

“Why’d you call me tonight?” He asked. It was a nagging question that had been bouncing around in his head since his phone had first rung so many hours before. There was probably a better time to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. If he’d been hitting you for this long, why’d it take you so long to call him for help?

You looked up at him with such immense sadness that his chest reflectively tightened in response.

“Because I missed you.” Your voice cracked when you said it. “And because I love you. And because I knew you’d keep me safe, even if you were still mad at me.”

Frank looked down at you, unflinching in his gaze, and nodded. He was afraid if he spoke, he might let out the guttural sob that had formed deep in his stomach. He surged forward, pressing his lips to yours again.

It was a hurried flurry of movement – the kiss had quickly developed into something more – and soon, Frank was pushing himself in, and in, and in to your core. You were warm and wet, and Frank was fighting for his life as you stretched around his hard cock. When he finally began thrusting deep inside of you, the only coherent thought that he could muster were the three words he had been so terrified to say to you all these years.

“I love you.” He said as he thrusted into you. “I’ll always protect you. I love you so much.”

You widened your legs, allowing him to thrust even deeper into you. He chanted your name like a mantra under his breath as he continued to drive himself into you. The look on your face was so incredibly intense that he had to shut his eyes for a moment and block out the feeling of your wet cunt clenching around his cock. A soft hand pressed against his cheek startled his eyes open.

“You’re mine. And I’m yours.” You murmured, and it undid you both. Frank could barely hold himself above you, arms wobbling as he came so deep inside you that he was sure no one had ever coated your walls so thoroughly. You clenched around him, and it was dizzying. He’d never felt so full after giving all of himself away to someone.

He collapsed next to you, cradling your head in his hands as you both returned to Earth. The sun crept across the room as the rest of New York woke for the day, unaware that Frank Castle’s entire world had just shifted in his tiny apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. He gazed at your fluttering eyelids, close to sleep now that the events of the night had caught up to you. He didn’t mind. You were here, and he was holding you in his arms, and you were his, and he was yours, and he didn’t mind it one bit.

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