#seeing these kinds of arguments is just. wild to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 8 months

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call my name and i’ll come running ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru can be irritating, at times. but even if you push him away, he’ll always, always be there for you when you need him.

word count; 8.7k (this was supposed to b a short drabble but i was possessed by the devil halfway through)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, reader n toru have a fight, mild swearing (a couple fucks here n there), hurt/comfort, satoru has communication issues but he’s trying his best, depictions of stalking (reader gets followed by a random creep but satoru comes to the rescue dw), uhh implied thoughts of violence? (satoru wants to Maul said dude but doesn’t), literally just me being in love with satoru gojo for 8.7k words straight

a/n; no thoughts head empty only gojo running through the streets like a wild beast looking for u <33 im normal about him yeah.

“you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

satoru smiles. the sentence isn’t one he’s unaccustomed to hearing.

usually, the words are soaked in an undeniable fondness, as they spill from your lips. rich with exasperated love. one that never fails to have the corners of satoru’s lips curling up, a mellow kind of joy blossoming in his chest.

but now, that fondness is nowhere to be found.

you sound thoroughly exasperated, and a little bit fatigued. more than anything else, there’s a vague irritation behind the tilt of your voice, something almost cold. it makes all the difference in the world.

and yet, despite that, a certain someone chooses to pay no heed to the bad omen.

“aw, c’mon. you know you love me, baby.”

satoru is grinning. lighthearted, awfully sweet. there’s a certain smugness to it, though, one he couldn’t wash away even if he was aware of it; you wouldn’t do so even if you could. that smugness is a part of him, one that you’d usually find endearing.

but right now, it only seeks to further your frustration.

it was a stupid fight, truthfully. completely meaningless. satoru had forgotten to pick up after himself for, like, the fourth consecutive time, and so you grew annoyed. not by a lot, but enough that you felt the need to be firm when you reminded him not to make the same mistake over and over again.

but satoru had only grinned, in that self-satisfied fashion of his, and apologized in a way you couldn’t possibly call sincere. then he did what he usually does — promises to work on it. to not do it again. he never follows through, though.

but even that thought wasn’t anywhere near enough to make you truly angry. what really began to irk you was the fact that satoru wasn’t taking you seriously, even in the slightest.

that’s how he always is, when it comes to this kind of thing. and you try to be patient, you do. you try to be understanding. sometimes you even appreciate that he keeps the atmosphere light, but other times, you just can’t help but feel irritated by it.

and the current situation happens to fall into the latter category.

you don’t care if satoru leaves a candy wrapper or two out, every once in a while. of course you don’t. it’s a silly thing to argue about. but would it hurt for him to just listen to you? to try to put himself in your shoes, for once? it’s not about the wrappers, or the undone dishes. it’s about the way he treats you when you complain about it — like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t matter. even if it obviously does, to you.

so, gradually, the topic of your little argument began to shift, into a conversation about satoru. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to talk about the things that bother you in a serious fashion. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to take you seriously.

and he just keeps proving your point, with every word that falls from his lips.

at this point, you’re genuinely beginning to feel a little angry. but satoru doesn’t see that as the warning sign it is — he just thinks it’s cute. he’s just been cooing at you, this whole time, despite your numerous attempts to actually explain how much his behavior affects you sometimes. it feels a bit like talking to a wall. satoru keeps on teasing you, even as you try to be firm about your point, and only brushes you off with empty promises to do better and more unneeded comments about how much he wants to hug you when you pout like that.

and you falter, a little. of course you do. you’re weak to satoru. weak to his words, that sweet voice of his, that pretty grin. but that only makes everything worse, because if you let yourself look even a little bit flustered at his comments, he sees that as his cue to continue.

you don’t even know if he’s doing it on purpose, at this point. is he doing it because he knows it’ll annoy you, or does he genuinely not understand that you’re upset? you’d like to think that there’s no malicious intent behind it, but can’t he see how troubled you are? you don’t get it. you don’t get him, and that frustrates you most of all. satoru can be so goddamn convoluted, sometimes.

so you simply can’t help but feel annoyed. angry, even. how long have you been arguing for, at this point? you’re not sure. but you feel the frustration inside of you grow, as the minutes tick by, into something you know will eventually explode.

a sigh falls from your lips, deep and exasperated. a little bit exhausted. “i’m serious, satoru. you’re not even listening.”

“i am!” he protests, stubbornly. childishly. “you just look so cute when you’re all mad. not my fault you’re so distracting.”

satoru smiles, voice sugar sweet, but all you can do is frown. does he really think it’s cute that you’re upset? the thought makes you somewhat sad. but you can’t show that, can’t let that part of you win — you don’t even want to think about the possibility of you crying, because of this. yeah, no way in hell.

so instead, you channel it into anger. as the blood inside your veins comes to a boiling point, you dig your nails into the skin of your palms, gnawing at your bottom lip and shifting from one foot to another.

”satoru, i’m —” another sigh, sharp and vexed like the blade of a knife. ”i’m trying to have a serious conversation, here. can’t you see that i’m upset?”

satoru takes a moment to look at you, from behind the black glass of his shades.

he can. of course he can see that. you’re frowning, and there’s a crease between your brows, and you keep huffing and sighing every three seconds — you’re obviously, undoubtedly upset. and satoru wants to take you seriously, he does. it’s just that the part of his brain that only ever wants to coddle and tease you keeps persuading him not to.

he’s not lying, either; you do look cute. almost too cute to take seriously, when you’re pouting so sweetly, a little red in the face from all the frustration bubbling inside your chest. you look so small, glaring up at him like an angry puppy.

satoru can’t help but smile. it’d be impossible not to.

and he will listen to you, will take you seriously. he knows you’re angry, knows you’re upset, and he intends to deal with that properly. but he doesn’t need to do it right now.

just a little more teasing, before he has to stop beating around the bush. satoru dreads it, a little bit, dreads having to genuinely be serious, be open and apologetic. it always feels so strange, so discomforting.

all that stuff can wait until later. for now, he just wants to see you blush a little more, huff and puff at his limitless affection, that he knows you love deep down. where’s the harm?

(and therein lies the problem. satoru is observant, and typically good at seeing the line that he shouldn’t cross when it comes to you. but there are times when he slips up, times when he doesn’t realize that his words have begun to sting. times when the line becomes blurry, because he knows some part of you enjoys the way he babies you, and sometimes it blinds him to the part of you that doesn’t.)

satoru is smiling. it’s the same as always — big, bright, glazed over with honey-sweet adoration. smug and teasing. it’s such a satoru-like smile that it makes your breath hitch, sometimes, makes your heart race with wonder. but now all it does is annoy you. everything you love about satoru is annoying you, right now.

in your eyes, that pretty smile of his seems almost taunting. like he’s trying to pick a fight with you, trying to make you even more upset. you don’t want to blow up over something like this, you really really don’t — but for some reason, you feel dangerously close to. it’s not like you at all.

you bore into his eyes with a cold glare, even though you can’t exactly see them with his shades in the way. posture straight and rigid as you try to make yourself look bigger. you must look at least a little bit menacing, like this. right?

“i’m seriously angry with you,” you say, hoping your voice sounds as austere to his ears as it does to yours. “don’t you get that?”

satoru coos, unable to hold the sound back. he doesn’t notice the flicker of hurt in your eyes, only focusing on how the sunset rays frame your figure, kissing your skin with sun-soaked fervor. you look so pretty. and that angry look on your face is too tantalizing not to tease.

“aww,” he croons, inching closer to you. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that you can’t see, unmistakably fond. “is my little baby that upset?”

you blink. his voice sounds even more sugar-sweet now, obviously exaggerated. there’s amusement there, too — like this is just one big joke to him. you think he must be doing it to belittle you, to embarrass you. speaking to you like you’re some kind of grumpy toddler, and not a grown adult trying to have a serious conversation with their partner. your blood boils, boils, boils.

— and so the cup overflows.

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

it’s almost in a hiss that the words fall from your lips, cold and harsh; they leave the confines of your throat before you have a chance to reconsider them, sudden and sickeningly heavy. crude, too. you’d never be so crass with him under normal circumstances.

but you’re overwhelmed, thoroughly and completely, and satoru is being particularly infuriating. you genuinely feel hurt by the way he’s disregarding your feelings, and that realization stings more than anything.

so you can’t help but say the words, louder than you meant to, before turning on your heel swiftly and walking out of the room.

you don’t even have time to register what you’re doing, legs moving on their own before your mind can catch up. brisk and heavy steps carry you to the door, all while you furiously attempt to blink away the tears of frustration that begin to form in your eyes.

it only takes a second for you to grab your jacket — then you’re out.

satoru hears the front door close, echoing off the walls of your apartment. you don’t quite slam it shut, but you close it with more force than usual, and he can’t help but inwardly wince.

a moment passes.

then, he flops down on the couch, lanky arms and legs dangling uncomfortably off the edges. the groan that slips from his lips is muffled by the soft cushion as he burrows his face into it, while replaying your interaction inside his mind.

satoru can’t help but feel uncomfortable, with this conclusion. a little bit irked. a vague something rests inside his chest, something he doesn’t quite want to admit to feeling. it makes him feel a little bit sick.

(”oh, go fuck yourself.”)

he can’t recall you ever raising your voice at him like that. when it comes to him, you’re usually so patient; soft, understanding, gentle. for you to have snapped in such a way — to have stormed out of the apartment in your anger — he must have pushed you pretty far.

satoru sighs.

he really pissed you off, huh?

(he can never quite seem to get this right, can he?)

it was never his intention to make you genuinely mad. he just lost sight of the line, for a second. that’s all.

and maybe he was also trying to avoid the issue, trying to avoid actually arguing with you. because he hates it. he hates it more than anything. satoru would much rather see you smile and blush than act all serious and sad.

he just wanted to make you laugh.

was it insensitive? yeah, probably. he just can’t help but fuck this up, it seems. now he’s gone and made you angry — and as much as the sight would usually thrill him, as cute as you look when you’re irritated, a pit of anxiety settles in his gut. everything just feels wrong.

more than anything, satoru feels restless. because, right now, there’s nothing he can do. he can’t chase after you, even if just to apologize — that’d make you even angrier.

he knows he needs to give you space. you were obviously overwhelmed; some fresh air will do you good.

it irks him, though. satoru wants to fix it. he always wants to fix everything, before it even breaks. and even now, all his mind can do is spin in circles, wondering how he could possibly cheer you up.

he’ll just have to apologize, when you get back. and hope you forgive him. maybe he can get you something sweet to munch on, or a bouquet of flowers. would that make everything okay again?

satoru doesn’t know. so he just scratches his head, and tries his damndest not to think of how defeated you looked before leaving.

your steps are heavy, dragging you forward, leading you somewhere you have no knowledge of. it’s chilly out, and the sun is already setting.

everything in the world feels so wrong. like it’s tilted slightly to the left, like the earth stopped spinning around its axis. like everything suddenly lost its saturation.

you just needed to get away from him, for a while. away from that smug smile, that patronizing tilt of his voice. you couldn’t even stand to be in the same apartment as him. it’s not often you feel that way, not often at all.

and it only increases your growing frustration.

you are beginning to calm down, though — you know you are. the crisp evening air and the pleasant mingle of people soothes your muddled senses, smoothing down the crease of your brow and the ache in your chest.

a heavy discomfort, and a growing guilt. that’s all you can feel, as the anger slowly seeps out of you, turning into vapour with every exhale of your breath.

you hate arguing with satoru. you hate it more than anything. the guilt clawing at your chest barely leaves any room for anger — you almost yelled at him. just the thought of doing that to satoru makes you want to cry.

because you love him, at the end of the day, even when he’s being absolutely insufferable. he’s a sweetheart, your sweet boy, always trying to lighten the mood and make you smile. maybe you should have been a bit more understanding; you know satoru’s bad at this stuff, bad with emotions and vulnerability. and deep down, you know he’d never hurt you, not on purpose.

he probably just didn’t realize that you were genuinely upset. it’s a mistake that anyone could make.

but it just makes you feel so frustrated. like he’s not even looking at you. always hiding behind those shades, never opening up. never letting you see him wear anything but a smile. you want him to take it slow, open up to you at his own pace, but that doesn’t make the wait sting any less.

it’s not like you were asking for a lot. first, you simply asked him to pick up after himself. the way you do, the way anyone does. then, you simply asked him to treat you with respect.

a sudden pang of bitterness runs through your chest. sure, you could’ve handled it all better — but he could have, too.

every step you take hits the pavement with an irritated kind of decision. whatever. whatever. for now, you don’t want to think about it — all you want is to walk around and take in the sights, enjoy the peace and quiet.

so that’s exactly what you do.

before you know it, the sun has set, and the moon has risen — shining down and painting the streets in a mesmerizing blue, ephemeral and tranquil. it’s enough to give you some peace of mind, as you lurk around familiar streets, soaking in all the open space. so different from that suffocating apartment, and the man inside it, with that shit-eating grin and those breathtaking eyes.

(he’s called you, a couple times. you haven’t been gone for long — an hour or so, you think, maybe two. some part of you wanted to answer, just to hear his voice through the phone, but the part of you that’s still awfully irritated shut that down immediately. so, stubbornly, you just let it ring.)

the streets are empty, and the sky is dark. the light of all the lampposts illuminate your way, along with the soft flicker of the moon and stars. an endless galaxy stretches out before your eyes, little pale dots of stardust shining like jewels.

an ever-lasting, never-changing sky, that continues on for infinity. limitless. all the space you could possibly want, and then some.

for a moment, you can only look at the glittering stars in wonder, soaking in the feeling of absolute solitude.

— it doesn’t last, though.

“you alone?”

a sudden voice calls out from behind you. close, discerningly so, enough to make you flinch. you curse yourself for not noticing anything sooner, caught up in looking at the starry sky, in angling your phone to take a picture of it.

hesitantly, you turn your gaze towards the sound — wincing under your breath when you see the man a couple steps away from you. he looks a little crazed, you think, shifting from foot to foot and hunching over.

oh fuck no.

great, just what you needed. that’s just your luck, isn’t it? your brain can only spin in circles, trying to get your body to react, to run. to do literally anything except just stand there like a deer caught in headlights.

in your nervosity, all you manage is a painfully awkward laugh, as you stutter out a halfhearted response.

“oh — no, i’m just waiting for my boyfriend!” you smile, unconvincingly. your face must be soaked in unease. whatever he wants with you, it can’t be anything good.

at least you said that one word clearly — boyfriend. you can only hope it’s enough to scare him away.

but the man only shifts a little more, emitting a gruff kind of hum, not saying anything else. your spine tingles with apprehension. every cell in your body wants you to leave. he seems a little intoxicated, you think, and the thought only stirs the anxious feeling in your chest further.

god. why does this have to happen to you? why now?

thankfully, you’ve got your phone in hand. as your mind scrambles for solutions, your fingers tap at the screen, urgently scrolling through your contacts. in such a frightened state, your acting must be positively awful, but you make a vague attempt. not like you’re getting any oscars for this, either way.

“sorry — he’s calling me now!” you stammer out, taking a step away from the man. he doesn’t make a move to follow you, so you take your chances and press your phone to your ear, feet carrying you forward with haste.

in your fear, you don’t think twice about calling satoru — but you can’t help but internally wince at the decision, as the anxious patter of your own heart resounds in your ears.

how are you supposed to talk to him, exactly? what are you supposed to say? hey, i know i just told you to go fuck yourself, but will you hear me out? i need your help.

and you do. you do need his help. all you want is for him to swoop in, to take you in his arms, your knight in shining armor.

satoru’s said it to you, before — that if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to him. that you can always, always lean on him, without exception.

you know that he likes helping you. likes it when you open up to him, when you put your trust in him. when you aren’t afraid to ask for his help.

so despite everything, you hold your phone to your ear, walking away with brisk steps and praying that he’s not petty enough to ignore your call like you did to his.

back home, satoru is still resting on the couch, tapping his feet and trying to distract himself.

he’s a little anxious. it’s dark out, and you’re not answering any of his calls. when you’re out of sight, like this, he can’t help but feel a little helpless — worried about everything that could happen to you. but it’s not like he can force you to pick up.

you’re probably at a friend’s house, or something. telling them all about what an asshole your boyfriend is. as much as the thought stings, satoru hopes it’s true; it’s all he can comfort himself with. anything is fine as long as you aren’t out walking alone, in the cold, in the dark.

entirely caught up in his spiralling thoughts, satoru almost flinches when the phone rings. laying on the table in front of him, just within arm’s reach. it only takes a second for him to react as his gaze flits to the bright screen, and he sees the contact name, the many heart emojis littering it.

with a start, satoru jumps up. his back straightens out, and his hand flies to grab the phone — he’d feel embarrassed at his own eagerness, but right now he just can’t help it. even under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t let the phone ring more than twice, always giddy to hear your voice whenever possible.

this time, however, he does falter slightly.

he takes a split second to simply stare at the phone in his hand, at the affectionate contact name. what is he supposed to say to you, exactly? how is he supposed to act?

satoru doesn’t know, but as if afraid that you’ll change your mind and stop the call, yourself, he opts to simply answer. he’ll just have to figure out what to say on the fly.

(unfortunately, satoru’s instinctual response to anything is either smugness or playfulness.)

“well, well. look who finally decided to pick up.”

you’re the one who called him, not the other way around — but satoru can’t be bothered with small details like that right now. he only hopes you don’t notice the faint nervosity in his voice, the stiffness as he tries to sound unbothered.

you don’t notice anything at all, mind far too muddled, too clouded by fear. all you can do is take a deep breath, desperately trying to grasp control over your wavering voice.

“— satoru?” you call out, voice meek and frail. the man in question notices it immediately, sitting up a little straighter, but before he can say anything you continue. “i’m sorry, i just — are — are you still at home?”

there’s an anxious tilt to your voice, one that’d be impossible for satoru to miss. your words are a little breathy, spoken in a fast tempo, and he feels a sudden dread crawl up his spine.

something is wrong, his senses alert him.

“yeah,” he hums, trying to hide the turmoil in his own voice. “why? is everything okay?”

the line is quiet, for a second. “it’s just —“ an exhale, as you once again attempt to steer your voice in a less nervous direction. “just… some creepy guy tried to talk to me. i told him i was waiting for my boyfriend and now i’m walking away from him but he’s still following me.” another exhale, as you worriedly sneak a glance over your shoulder. ”i just — i don’t know what to —”

“where are you?”

satoru cuts you off, voice eerily serious. his gaze turned cold the moment he heard creepy guy, legs moving him towards the coat rack by the front door as if on autopilot.

he’s already left the apartment by the time you answer, looking around you meekly.

“i… don’t know,” you sigh. “i’m not far. i walked past that one crêpe stand by the park but then i, like… continued up that street? and now i don’t really know where i’m going.”

you continue, a little exasperated as your gaze flits around the dark street. attempting to recall your steps, a difficult task with how on edge you feel. “i’ll try to look for a sign, or something,” you gulp. “… i’m sorry. i just wanted to get away from him.”

satoru’s voice is comforting, when he speaks, eager to console you. grounding and soft. “hey, it’s okay. i’m heading there now, alright?” he smiles, hoping you’ll hear it in his voice. “i’ll be there before you know it.”

you do hear it, and his words ease a little of the anxiety in your chest, despite your fear. “okay.”

the line grows quiet, again, and your brows furrow in worry. “can — can i keep talking to you?” you ask, uncertain. a little pitiful. ”please?”

“of course,” satoru answers, instantaneous. he’s already making his way towards the crêpe stand with decision in his steps, mentally scanning the area ahead. despite his own anxiety at the situation, he attempts to sound as secure as he can possibly manage, desperate to soothe the worry in your voice.

“try to relax for me, okay? nobody’s gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.”

his words are absolute, as he consoles you. he sounds so sure of himself, so much that you can’t help but believe in his words. so you nod, emitting a weak hum when you remember he can’t see you.

“can you tell me what you see, baby?”

“uhh…” you look around, blindly, trying to find some sort of meaningful hint around you. “there’s like… some toy shop?”

satoru only hums. “can you check your location on your phone?”

you blink.

of course. why on earth didn’t that cross your mind before?

“oh — yeah — fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know why i didn’t —“ you sigh, heavy. “hold on.”

following satoru’s instructions swiftly, your gaze scans over the screen. he waits, patiently, already heading past the park and up ahead. as soon as you succeed in finding the name of the street, you echo it to him.

satoru sighs, a little relieved. “okay,” he hums. “i’m not that far away. i’ll be there soon.” he only hopes his words can soothe your fear, even a little. “is he still following you?”

you glance behind you, and meet the gaze of the stranger. just like you were afraid of, he’s still following you — if anything, he seems to have gotten a little closer. with a jolt, your heartbeat picks up.

“yeah,” you gulp.

satoru’s chest tightens. he emits a low hum. “just hold on. i’ll hurry.”

focusing only on the tilt of satoru’s voice, you try to calm your breathing. you just want to see him. the thought of doing so is the only thing keeping your trembling ribcage intact, at this point.

you swallow a shaky breath.

“thanks, toru.”

a sudden pang of ache sprouts in satoru’s chest, like thorny vines curling around his ribcage. his heart hurts. you sound so scared, so very small.

this is all his fault, he thinks. all of it. he got too careless; none of this would’ve happened if he had only been more considerate. if he had just stopped you from leaving and apologized, or hadn’t upset you in the first place. then he wouldn’t have to hear that scared little voice, wouldn’t have to imagine your body shaking like a leaf in the cold night. so far away from him.

but satoru can’t beat himself up over it, not yet. there’ll be more than enough time for that later. for now, he needs to get to you — that’s the only thing on his mind.

so he lets his feet carry him forward, running towards your location with bated breath. he’s sure you can hear it, through the phone, even though he tries to contain it.

the sound consoles you, if anything. it reminds you that satoru is there, that he’s on his way. that there’s no need to be scared.

but you can’t help but freak out, a little, when you hear the man call out from behind you.

“hey!” he slurs, stumbling towards you with unsteady steps. his voice is loud, angry, and it sends your mind reeling into panic mode.

a flinch overtakes your body, before you stumble forward, walking even faster than before. you’re almost running now, breath hitching as you gulp. satoru hears it all — your panic, the echo of the man. his own tempo picks up.

“baby, calm down, okay?” he consoles you, voice concerned and honey-sweet. “just keep walking. i’m almost there.”

“sorry —“ you squeak out, between flurry breaths. breathing uneven, laboured and anxious. but you try your best to calm down. “‘s just scary.”

it almost feels physical, the way it irks him. satoru wants to pull you close, more than anything, but he can’t. and that just makes the calamity inside his chest grow, clawing at his ribcage as if trying to escape, to go to your side.

(he never, ever wants to hear that kind of fear in your voice again.)

“i know,” he soothes. “you’re doing good, honey. listen — he’s not gonna touch you. i won’t let him. you have nothing to be scared of.”

you nod, even as you exhale a shaky breath. ”i know.”

and you do. you know there’s a truth, to satoru’s words, one that’s never failed you before.

because satoru is your safe space, at the end of the day — he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and sometimes he’s bad with emotions. but he tries, you know he does. and, more than anything else, you know that he’ll always, always be there when you need him. he’ll always be there to protect you.

and a part of you is sure that everything will be okay, as long as he’s around.

(it’s easy to forget how trustworthy satoru really is, how much he cares. how dependable he is. and how serious he can get, when he truly needs to be, despite his childishness. it’s moments like these that remind you of that.)

but it’s still scary, at the end of the day. you can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a little lost in the world. because you and satoru just fought, you just told him to go fuck himself, and yet here he is. running to your side, in the middle of the night, because you’re scared and alone and you need him.

the man continues to shout, behind you, muttering curses you can’t quite make out. you look over your shoulder nervously, steps hurried.

and satoru runs like a man possessed, through the moonlit streets, gaze scanning the area like a wild beast. his most visceral instinct is screaming at him, tugging at his flesh and bones, desperate to protect you. to comfort you. to wash all your worries away.

as he makes a sharp turn, he momentarily stops the movement, halting to look around. he thinks he must look a little crazed, with the moonlight illuminating his eyes, but he couldn’t care less.

especially not when his gaze lands on a certain person, further down the street — small and alone.

your eyes meet his.

with the darkness of the street, it’s hard to make anything out, but the light of the lamppost helps. though even without it, satoru’s sure he’d know it was you, just from the sensation that unfurls in his chest as his gaze lands on your figure.

an audible sigh of immense relief falls from his lips, and his tense shoulders relax, eyes softening just a tad. he hears a similar noise coming from the phone in his grasp, and he assumes that means you recognize him too. not bothering to end the call, he puts it in his pocket, walking over to you with brisk steps.

you stumble towards him, yourself, the worried crease between your brows now smoothed away. the closer he gets, the faster you move, until you can see the blue of his eyes. two pocket-sized moons.

satoru swoops you in for a hug before either of you can say anything.

he cradles you close, awfully close, so close you can hear his heavy breathing against your ear. it tickles your neck, along with his soft hair, and you shiver. his fragrance envelops your senses, a blend between fresh laundry, strawberries and some expensive cologne. your favorite scent in the world.

and suddenly, the world is devoid of danger. nothing can get to you while satoru’s there. all that exists is you, and him, and the soft flicker of the moon.

satoru squeezes you tightly, ensuring himself over and over again that you’re safe. he might be squeezing you a little too tight, but he can’t bring himself to think about that just yet.

finally, that growing calamity inside his chest is satiated. winding down at the feeling of you pressed up against him, the indisputable proof that you’re okay. with you in his arms, satoru feels like everything is alright, again.

the fear inside his chest, so foreign it leaves him shaken to the very core, finally begins to dissipate too. he doesn’t think there’s anything that makes him feel quite as hopeless as the thought of not being there for you when you need him. he never wants to feel that fear again. it’s suffocating. it crushes his lungs.

all he can do is hold you close, his big palm smoothing down your hair, the back of your head, your spine. warm and comforting. keeping you steady against him. he can feel your heartbeat, rapid and anxious, so fast that his heart aches. satoru is eager to soothe you, eager to make it go away.

”i’m here, baby,” he breathes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head. ”you’re safe now.”

the words are spoken softly, right by your ear, and you exhale a shaky breath. you’re bundling up his clothing with your fists, anchoring yourself to him. after a little while, you let go, opting to wrap your arms around his midriff instead. nuzzling into his broad chest, you try to blink away your tears and contain your sniffles.

you nod against him, and satoru kisses the crown of your head.

and, finally, his gaze strays. it falls farther down the street, until it lands on a certain man — shifting from one foot to another. watching you both in silence.

the calamity inside his chest rouses from its slumber, once more.

satoru makes sure to keep his hands on you, still rubbing your back with one steady palm cradling the back of your head. keeping your face hidden in his chest, safe and secure.

then he raises his head, back straight, full height on display as his eyes meet the stranger’s. he can tell they do, even with the distance, the darkness of the street.

and satoru knows he looks menacing. he knows the light of the lamppost illuminates his figure perfectly, framing his tall stature and broad shoulders. and he knows the moonlight caressing his skin illuminates his face, his cold eyes — blue and uncanny, glowing even brighter than the moon. staring daggers into the man’s soul. if looks could kill, there wouldn’t even be any remains left to find.

the man stiffens, visibly, and satoru delights in it. he doesn’t leave, though, and for a second satoru wonders if he’s really intoxicated enough to come closer —

but, sure enough, all he does is stagger a little. then he walks away, grumbling under his breath, hands in his pockets.

and satoru isn’t satisfied, with this conclusion. not in the slightest. he wants to run up to the man, wants to hold him up by the throat, wants to tell him off. because he has the nerve to terrorize someone like that, stalk them with intentions he knows can’t be anything but revolting. the nerve to do that to you, of all the people in the world —

satoru doesn’t know if he’s hated anyone quite as much.

and a part of him wants to make him cower. make him fear for his life, just to make sure he never does anything like this again. leave him with a fear so great it’ll linger for as long as he’s alive.

(and a more animalistic side of satoru, one he doesn’t want to acknowledge, wants to do things that are much, much worse.)

— but you come first. without question, and without exception. he refuses to leave you alone, and refuses to make you look at the man for even a second more.

so he’ll focus on you, entirely.

he can tell you’re still shaken up, heartbeat pulsating against him, little flutters of life prickling his skin. there’s a desperation in the way you hug his waist, like he could disappear at any moment. like he’ll slip away if you don’t keep him close. the sight tugs at satoru’s heartstrings.

his first priority is to soothe you, always and forever. so that’s exactly what he does.

satoru smiles. it’s small, in the wake of the situation, but awfully sincere. fingers reaching down to trace over your jaw, he gently urges you to look at him; when you do so, hesitant, he cups your cheek with his palm.

your teary eyes feel like daggers to his heart, an unmistakable proof of his failure. his failure to protect you, to keep you safe and happy. but at the same time, he’s glad, from the bottom of his heart — that you’d let him see you like this. even after everything.

you look very meek, blinking the tears away as you look into his eyes. they’re bright, and comforting. you wonder if he left the shades at home, if he rushed over here so hurriedly that he didn’t think to bring them with him. you’re happy, in any case — the effect they have on you is undeniable.

you can’t bring yourself to look away, consoled by the flickers of white inside his irises, like fluffy clouds in the blue sky. ever-lasting, never-changing.

satoru tilts his head, smile sweet and understanding. ”that was scary, hm?”

his voice is tender, somehow so mature. like he’s some older, wiser being, comforting a scared child. it’s so soothing, so very grounding.

squeezing your eyes shut, you can only bring yourself to nod, as you nuzzle back into his chest.

”you’re okay now, honey,” satoru coos, smoothing down your back as you sniffle. an immense softness seeps through his whisper. ”i’ll always be here to protect you.”

there’s a truth to the statement, heavy and pious. like an oath, a pledge, something for you to believe in unquestioningly. you allow yourself to soak in the words, knowing them to be true.

you’re safe, now. there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. satoru’s here, and he’s hugging you, pressing kisses against your shoulder.

but you just can’t stop crying.

when you speak up, your voice is weak, barely above a whisper. close to breaking apart at the seams. too tired after everything to resist the guilt inside your veins, you sniffle, and part your lips.

”i’m sorry i yelled at you.”

satoru stills.

then, his gaze softens, considerably. he hears himself coo, softly, palm smoothing down the back of your head.

his sweet angel. apologizing to him, when he’s the one who started this whole mess. when you’re still so shaken up. because he let you leave the house angry, because he made you angry in the first place. because he didn’t see how important the discussion was to you.

(“you’re not even listening.”)

yeah. he wasn’t. he didn’t really want to.

an acute sense of shame. an intense guilt. that’s what he’s been trying to push down, all this time. that’s the unnamed something.

it’s hard for him. to be as sincere as you, as open with his feelings and emotions. as mature. because even in a situation like this, you can swallow your pride and frustration, and apologize. even when you aren’t in the wrong. you’re always the bigger person, always the one to give in first, because he’s too stubborn to do so himself.

next time, satoru pledges, he won’t let you. next time he’ll be the one to swallow his pride.

because, yes, being vulnerable and admitting that he was in the wrong makes him feel a little like he’s being skewered alive — but you’re important to him. he loves you. and he wants you to know how much he trusts you, how special you truly are.

if he can show you that, by being a little sincere, a little serious, then any discomfort he feels in the process is a small price to pay.

satoru’s lips meet the crown of your head, as he encircles your smaller frame, arms reaching around your neck to pull you close. he rests his jaw lightly on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. ”you have nothing to apologize for, baby.”

a pause lingers between the words he’s already said and the ones he yearns to say, but can’t seem to pull out from within his throat. it takes effort, to squeeze them out; but every time he replays your own apology in his mind, it gets a little easier. he squeezes you lightly before opening his mouth, as if to give him strenght.

“i’m sorry.”

you blink.

for once, satoru sounds sincere when he apologizes — almost painfully so. bordering on something you think may be nervosity. you try to look up, to catch a glimpse of his expression, but he keeps you hidden in the crook of his neck.

”i was being immature,” he continues, sighing. you don’t know if you’ve ever heard satoru sound so uncomfortable. ”you know how bad i am with this stuff. but i never want to — you know.”

he makes a gesture with one of his hands, as if that will say the words for him.

“— i didn’t mean to upset you. honestly.�� satoru inhales the cold air, in hopes it’ll make him more honest. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you listen. intently, not missing a word, not a single tilt of his voice. it all sounds so genuine, almost foreign on his tongue. satoru seems to be trying to find the right words, grumbling a little under his breath.

he’s cute, like this. kind of awkward, but that only makes him cuter. you nuzzle closer to him, comforted by his very existence.

”… i’ll work on it,” he whispers, at last. “i’ll listen to you. i promise. i really, really will.”

you think satoru’s voice wavers, just a little, when he says his final piece.

“so please don’t cry.”

this time, satoru doesn’t stop you when you attempt to lift your gaze, loosening his arms around you and raising his head from where it rests on top of yours.

your eyes meet. satoru is smiling, weakly. he tilts his head, looking at you with something you could only ever describe as love.

”okay?”

such a lovely smile. so painfully genuine. his eyes are on full display, shining in the dark of the night, like splotches of moonlight. like someone stole the moon down to earth, and carved out little pieces to put in his irises. an ethereal hue.

he’s so gorgeous. hair just a tad messy, tousled from all the running he did to get here. cheeks a little red from the cold. when he smiles, his eyes crinkle. but he looks almost pained.

(he was so, so worried.)

blinking away the tears clinging to your lashes, you simply stare, entirely mesmerized by the sight. satoru’s thumb goes to wipe at your glassy eyes, smoothing away the drops that threaten to fall. you want to engrave his expression into your memory, so you can never forget it. but it’s just a little too much.

so you hide in his chest, once more. the word that falls from your lips is tiny. “okay.”

satoru smiles, kissing the top of your head with a relieved exhale. bathing in your presence, still reeling from his show of vulnerability. he feels a little like he just cut himself open, let you peek inside his ribcage. the night air stings his skin.

but you’re so warm, hugging him tightly, breathing and heartbeat finally relaxed.

(he doesn’t mind it, not if it’s you — having you look inside his chest. if you asked, he’d let you build a shelter there. right between his fourth and fifth ribs.)

now that the words are out of his throat, they don’t burn at all. satoru feels a little silly, for being so scared to say them out loud. he knows you’d never use them against him.

all you do is snuggle closer, as if silently conveying your forgiveness.

you stand there for just a little while longer, wallowing in the tender atmosphere. finally, satoru makes a move to leave, and you begin to walk back home.

“sure you’re okay now, baby?”

you nod, exhaling a flurry breath. it turns into vapour in the cold of the air, drifting up and dissipating in the expanding starry sky. “yeah. thanks for coming so quickly.”

“of course,” satoru only says, choking back a yawn.

your hands are intertwined, and he’s halfheartedly swinging them back and forth. it soothes your anxiety, and satoru’s protective instincts. you know neither of you will slip away, like this.

you shiver a little, subconsciously inching closer to satoru to protect you from the harsh bite of the midnight breeze. he notices, giving you a glance and a tilt of his head. “you cold?”

“just a little,” you mutter, smiling weakly as you look up at him. ”i’m fine.”

satoru huffs. did you really think he’d be dissuaded by such a weak retort? there’s no way he’s letting you walk around all cold and shivering.

so you come to a standstill, as satoru begins to shrug off his coat. he refuses to let go of your hand for even a second, making the process slower than usual — your heart flutters a little, as his fingers curl around yours, delicately.

when he finally gets it off him, he wastes no time in draping it over your shoulders. it’s big on you, warm and soft, shielding you from the chilly air. satoru can’t help but giggle sheepishly, as he always does at the sight — you look so cute.

“c’mon. let’s go home,” he grins, ruffling your hair teasingly.

satoru doesn’t feel cold, not in the slightest, as he holds your hand tightly. just your presence is enough to warm his bones to the marrow.

the silence between you is comforting and soothing, as you continue to walk. hand in hand, admiring the starry sky. you’re both too tired to speak — but satoru does so, anyway.

“i meant it, y’know.” satoru sounds sleepy, but earnest. ”i really will work on it.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it, yawning softly and stretching his free arm. gaze fixed on the morning star.

“oh.” you pause, squirming a little. sheepish. “thank you. i’m sorry that i — i mean.” a sigh. “i probably overreacted a little.”

satoru shakes his head, waving off your guilt. “nah. you’re right. i never want you to feel like i’m not taking you seriously.”

his gaze meets yours, tentatively. his eyes shine like wedding rings. “you mean a lot to me.”

the sincere words manifest themselves as a heavy pressure to your chest, closing in on your heart as if crushing it. it’s a pleasant sensation, though, overwhelming as it is. you’re a little scared that your knees will buckle if he keeps this up, but even if they do, you wouldn’t want him to stop — satoru’s love is terrifically overwhelming when there’s nothing to hide it, when it’s just love and nothing else.

but you’d never reject it. you’d let it crush you to death with a smile on your face.

all you can do is avert your gaze, afraid that you’ll fall into the blue sea of his eyes if you don’t. heavy thumps of blood resound in your ears as your heart beats, warmth spreading throughout your entire body.

“… you mean a lot to me, too.” you echo, holding his hand just a little tighter. warmth rises to your cheeks. “i just felt really frustrated, i guess. like you were looking down on me. i know you weren’t actually, though.”

satoru chews at the inside of his cheek, almost anxiously. “i know i can be a little much sometimes,” he says, tasting the words on his tongue. “and i appreciate you for putting up with that. i’m sorry i let it go too far. i’ll be more considerate.”

your heart stutters in your chest. you’re not sure what to say — the way he forms his words makes them feel so absolute. and you believe him.

“i’ll be more considerate, too,” you echo, looking down at the pavement. “i shouldn’t have blown up like that.” a pause. you mumble, quietly, a little embarrassed. “i shouldn’t have told you to go fuck yourself.”

satoru breathes out an amused huff, chuckling lightheartedly. his eyes carry a teasing glint when they meet yours. “i probably deserved that. no worries.”

“still,” you pout. satoru giggles.

“we’ll both work on it, then,” he hums, tilting his head to find your gaze. “right?”

you blink. a small smile breaks out across your face. “right.”

satoru swings your hands back and forth, looking awfully happy with himself. you’re proud of him. really.

“oh —“ he says, breaking the sleepy silence once again. “and i’ll stop leaving wrappers around, too.”

this time, you’re the one who huffs out an amused breath. “thank you,” you grin, looking up at him. he thinks the sight is terribly precious.

a yawn leaves your lips, drowsiness sneaking its way into your bloodstream. you’re not sure if it’s due to the dark, or if you’re just a tad exhausted after all the arguing and panicking.

satoru notices, and gets an idea.

“you tired, baby?” he coos, eyes teasing but soft around the edges. “d’you want a piggyback ride?”

when you give him a look, sleepy and kind of exasperated, satoru grins. you huff out an amused breath, just a tad embarrassed, but it only spurs him on.

so he crouches down, one knee meeting the pavement, letting your hand slip from his. you blink, tiredly, at the loss of contact. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s wearing that lovesick, smug little grin of his.

”c’mon. your big, strong boyfriend’ll carry you.”

satoru’s feeling playful, you can tell. that’s usually a bad sign — but you can’t deny that you’re tired. and the prospect of getting carried all the way home is eerily tempting.

your gaze falls on his back, and his broad shoulders. silently, you walk towards him, and wrap your arms around his neck. satoru holds you up by your thighs, and then stands up, jostling you a little; he does so without a hitch, and you’re reminded of how strong he really is. his grip is secure, and you trust him not to drop you, no matter what.

you let out a content sigh, basking in the chill of the midnight air as you nuzzle your cheek against his soft hair. satoru chuckles.

”my sleepy lil’ sweetheart,” he coos, voice a tad raspy. ”lucky thing you’ve got me, huh?”

there’s a softness to his voice, despite the teasing tilt obscuring it. you can only huff out a breath, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and cling to him tighter.

satoru will get you home safe. he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and he can be bad with emotions — but you can always, always trust him on that.

so, with his coat shielding you from the chilly air, and his back warming you up as he carries you back to your apartment, you allow your eyes to flutter shut; enjoying the cozy feeling his presence brings you.

he’ll always be there when you need him.

#NOBODY LOOK AT MEEEEE i was having a gojo moment ok.#i just think hes. the perfect man. a silly goofy princess 98% of the time but when u need him to be there hes so comforting n secure.#i Need him.#also obsessed w the idea of gojo only calling u ’honey’ when hes being particularly sincere like that does smth to me man.#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 4 months

Text

The Way I Loved You

Luke Castellan x demeter!Reader

Summary: "But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain / And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name / So in love that you act insane"

Warnings: angst, possessiveness, jealousy, toxic relationship, fluff ending

Wordcount: 3.3K

Masterlist

A/N A. Yes, it's another Taylor Swift songfic and B. Four fics in five days, I've been cooking

And you were wild and crazy / Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated

Ever since Y/N met Luke Castellan, he drove her insane. When they were kids, 13 and 14 respectively, they hated each other. She hated the way he came in and immediately started bossing the campers around. Despite being so young she was the counselor for the Demeter cabin. Her big sister—her only sibling at the time—had tragically died on her way to camp that summer. But instead of mourning the always kind and radiant daughter of Demeter, they mourned the daughter of Zeus no one had ever met. And seeing the way the new boy seemed to soak up the attention made her hate him.

By the time she was 15 they still hated each other but he was all she had. They had both been at camp so long, and lost so many of their siblings and friends, both could hardly remember life without the other. But they still argued like children. So whenever they had bickered so much that Chiron or Mr. D got tired of it, they’d send them to do a chore together. They spent long hours cleaning the showers, stables, infirmary, doing practically every undesirable chore together that they finally started to talk.

Luke got to know her and understand why she hated him. And she had learned about his life and gained sympathy for him.

Soon enough those talks became makeout sessions. They stopped talking but at least they couldn’t fight if their lips were occupied. It was like they were addicted to each other.

Eventually they slid into dating. When they weren’t talking it was great. But someone would inevitably say or do something that made the other mad.

“Why were you flirting with him?” Luke demanded, slamming the door of the Demeter cabin.

“What are you talking about? I was training him. You know? Doing my job!”

“It wasn’t just training and you know it.”

“Gods you’re so insecure and possessive.”

“You’re the one who begged me to commit to you. Of course I’m gonna worry about my fucking girlfriend.”

“I did not beg you.”

“Yes you did. You’re the insecure one. You just needed to put a label on it and screw everything up.”

“You were supposed to meet me by the lake an hour ago!” Y/N stormed into the room.

“Oh crap. I’m so sorry babe,” he apologized. Trying to kiss her and make it go away.

“You do this all the time. I’m never a priority to you!”

“You’re literally my girlfriend. I don’t know what else you want.”

“I’m only your girlfriend because you didn’t want me to date anyone else!”

“Why are you packing?” Luke asked.

“You know my cousin who goes to Syracuse? She invited me up for the weekend.”

“So what? You can go party with frat guys?”

“No, so I can party with girls,” she tried to lighten the mood.

But Luke wasn’t consoled.“I don’t want you going to some college and getting drunk.”

“Why?”

“Because so many things can happen. You could get drugged and taken advantage of. You could get attacked. What are you gonna do if a cyclops sniffs you out but you’re too drunk to realize?”

“You’re not actually worried about that you just don’t trust me.”

“Of course I trust you. It’s them I don’t trust.”

“It takes two to tango.”

“Again, you could get roofied.”

“Urgh Luke you’re not listening to me!”

They had plenty of arguments. So much so that the Hermes and Demeter campers had a silent agreement to go to each other’s cabins whenever their counselors started arguing.

But toxic relationships can’t go on forever.

It was Y/N’s birthday. She was turning 18. Collectively Camp Half-Blood made a big deal about birthdays considering that each one literally signified a triumph over death. But Luke couldn’t even be bothered to spend the day with her. When she woke up in his bed, he was already up and putting on his training gear. “‘Morning,” she greeted softly. She tried not to seem too excited about her birthday but all she wanted in that moment was for him to say “happy birthday.”

“Hey,” he smiled. “I'm gonna go train with some of the other campers. The new kids have been excited to watch me fight so…” he said smugly, already halfway out the door. “Just uh make the bed when you leave? Thanks.”

She was left disappointed. Like she always was except for when they were together but not talking.

But almost as soon as she stepped outside she was greeted with several wishes for a good birthday. She nearly cried when she got back to her cabin and found her bunk decorated, small gifts left on her bed from her friends and siblings.

By lunch practically the whole camp had wished her a happy birthday and she was feeling a bit better. She was reading a book she got as a gift, sitting alone at the Demeter table while she ate. Laughter invaded the dining pavilion and she watched as Luke entered along with the campers he had been training. He spotted her, coming over to her table but she didn’t even look up at him.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. No response. “Why are you mad?” Still no response. After a few beats of silence he tried to change the subject. “So what are you reading?” She just held the book up so he could read the title. “Ah. Where’d you get that?”

By now the other campers had grabbed their food and were walking past the Demeter table. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” they each wished as they passed by. She smiled up at each of them as they passed. She only spared a glance at Luke to witness the expression on his face.

“Are-are you mad because you think I forgot your birthday? Of course I didn’t forget your birthday, babe. I’m just uh… saving my surprise for after dinner.”

“Sure,” was all she said, flipping the page.

“No, no,” Luke insisted, coming around to the other side of the table. He straddled the bench, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close. As he did so he pressed a kiss against her cheek because she was still focused on her book. “You’re gonna love your gift. I swear.”

Luke spent the rest of the afternoon running around trying to put together a surprise. He got Mr. D to summon a small cake. Fortunately Mr. D was the one person in camp that didn’t know or care that it was Y/N’s birthday so he didn’t ask questions. As for the gift, Luke was lost. Anything in the camp store she’d immediately be able to tell wasn’t something he had thought about and anything he already owned she’d recognize as his.

So he went out to the meadow, picking flowers. She was the daughter of Demeter, of course she liked flowers.

So by the time dinner finished, Luke was pretty proud of what he had pieced together despite his limited resources. After everyone had left the dining pavilion, he brought Y/N to the docks where he proudly displayed his hard work. Except when he handed her the flowers, she looked disappointed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I know you forgot my birthday. That’s fine. Whatever,” she sniffed passive aggressively. “But you gave me probably the most cop out gift you could think of.”

“What do you mean? You love flowers.”

By now the tears were freely flowing from her eyes. “You know I hate cut flowers because they just die. You could have dug a few up, preserved their roots and repotted them.”

“Okay fine, I’ll plant them.”

But she shook her head. “No, it’s too late.”

“Then I’ll get new flowers.”

“No, not about flowers. It’s too late for us.”

His heart sunk. “What?”

“Luke, I think we should break up.”

“Over a damn gift? Y/N, I’m sorry. I know I dropped the ball but the wrong gift isn’t something you break up over.”

“It’s not about the gift!” she cried. “Luke, we don’t know each other. We’re strangers who are together because it’s convenient. The gift just proves you only know the basics. We’ve been together for two years. Known each other for five. You should know I don’t like cut flowers.”

“So we need to reconnect? We can work through this. Please Y/N, don’t do anything rash.”

She just shook her head again. “You’re not getting it. It’s not even just that we don’t know each other. We can’t talk for more than five minutes before fighting. We’re toxic, Luke.”

“But we’re…”

“Just because we’re all each other has doesn’t mean we’re good together.”

“Y/N, don’t do this. Please.” By now even Luke had a few tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Luke. But this is better for both of us.” With that, she walked away from him for the last time.

He can't see the smile I'm faking / And my heart's not breaking / 'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

Getting over Luke was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She spent several days crying to her younger sister, Katie. She tried to help her sister but the younger girl couldn’t relate, making Y/N just feel more alone. But then a new Athena camper joined and things got better.

Chiron had basically assigned Y/N to show Ben the ropes around camp. He felt bad for the poor girl. No one liked watching her or Luke sulk around camp.

“Ben, I’d like you to meet Y/N. She’s one of our most senior campers and counselor of the Demeter cabin.”

She smiled at the new boy. “Hi. Do you know what cabin you’ll be in yet?”

“Yeah, uh Athena. She claimed me when the satyrs found me,” he answered, already finding himself interested. Chiron tried to hide his smirk realizing the boy’s quickly growing feelings.

“Well you’re one of the lucky ones.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Y/N,” Chiron interrupted, “why don’t you show Ben around? Let him know how we do things around here.”

“Uh, sure. C’mon I’ll give you a tour.” As they went around camp, Ben asked her all sorts of things about herself. Favorite color, favorite flower, who her friends were, what they were like, what she liked to eat and more. All the things Luke should have known.

As they kept going through camp, Ben knew he was already falling for her. And not just because Chiron had talked her up so much as they had approached the daughter of Demeter. He thought she was pretty and smart. And she was so kind to him. Plus, everyone around camp seemed to love her.

Ben’s very apparent interest was much to the chagrin of Luke. He had spent the first couple days of his breakup pretending like everything was alright. An act that proved very unpopular with the rest of camp. But the lonely nights got to him and his siblings could hear quiet sobs and sniffles in the night. But almost as soon as he started showing remorse, this new guy showed up and all of a sudden there was a buzz around camp about the new guy who would replace him.

The excited gossip about his ex and the new boy had literally started from day one. He saw them going through the camp tour a few times that day. After all, Camp Half-Blood is big. And Luke just happens to have to go to the same areas his ex does at the same time. But every time he spotted them he couldn’t help but glare at the new Athena cabin member. Every time he sent her a smile or made her laugh, Luke curled his fist impossibly tighter. His fists became almost perpetually white as the blossoming romance grew over time.

As for Y/N, she was finally healing. Not happy, but healing and Ben was helping with that as time went on and they got closer. He was perfect. Sweet, smart, a gentleman. But he wasn’t Luke.

They spent many nights getting to know each other. He knew her birthday, all her favorites, and made an effort with all her friends. Hell he even made an effort with Luke—an effort the Hermes boy did not appreciate—because he knew Luke was still important to Y/N. When he asked her out he did so with a pot of her favorite flowers which he had Argus help him get.

He knocked on the door of the Demeter cabin which was opened by Katie. “Hey Katie,” Ben greeted Y/N’s favorite younger sister. “Is Y/N home?”

“Yeah, she is.” The young girl called for her and soon enough the object of Ben’s affection was at the door.

“Hey Ben. What’s up?” she asked.

“I just wanted to give you this,” he smiled, handing her the beautifully potted flower. “I know I’m no demigod child of the plant goddess but…”

“No it’s great,” she smiled at him. But her heart was sinking. It wasn’t because of the gift, the gift was perfect actually. But if Luke had been the one to give it to her, her heart would be soaring. “Thank you.”

“And I just wanted to ask you if you uh- wanted to have dinner with me tonight?” he nervously asked.

“Oh well I’d love to,” she smiled. “But uh we can’t table hop at dinner. It’s against the rules,” she laughed nervously, hoping that would be enough to dissuade him.

“That’s not a problem. I got permission from Chiron to let us have dinner together. We just have to be out of the dining pavilion before everyone else gets there at 7.”

Dread kept filling her. She was in too deep now. And he had asked Chiron, she couldn’t just shoot him down. “Well then I’ll see you at 6 then?”

The biggest smile broke over his face. “See you then.”

The entire time at dinner, Y/N wanted to cry. This is not what she wanted. Ben was not what she wanted. But she kept forcing a happy face, hoping that if she could convince Ben she liked him too, she could convince herself.

When he brought her out to the meadow and kissed her, she wanted to dig herself into the ground and die. It was a sweet kiss but it just felt wrong… like there was no chemistry or passion between them.

She was so frustrated with herself. As she looked into Ben’s eyes she wondered why she couldn’t just love him back. Here was this incredibly caring guy who was more than willing to give her everything she was asking for but she just didn’t feel anything.

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

For Luke, seeing Y/N with Ben made a weird dread fill his chest. To him it wasn’t fair that she just got to move on when she was the one that broke up with him. She should be begging for him back right now. And he hated to admit it but he’d take her back in a heartbeat right now.

So when he found her crying on the beach late one night, he didn’t know what to think. But she was still all he had so he approached. “Hey,” he tried to catch her attention gently.

She looked up at him, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. “Oh, hey Luke,” she tried to play off her tears. “What are you doing here?”

“Came here to think and then I saw you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” She gave a strained smile that did nothing to hide the puffiness of her eyes or blotchy skin.

It pained Luke to see her like this. Even more so when he knew he was the cause of her tears at one point. “Are you sure?” he asked, sitting next to her but maintaining her space. “We can talk. I promise it’ll just be a friendly conversation.”

She let out the weakest laugh he had ever heard. “I’m fine. You wouldn’t wanna hear about it anyway,” she dismissed even though Luke was the only person she wanted to talk to. He was the only person who could maybe possibly understand. Her siblings were too young and the only other camper their age was Ben.

“Try me,” Luke challenged, scooting the slightest bit closer.

She looked at him for a while before reluctantly speaking. “It’s Ben. I just… he’s such a great guy. He’s nice, and sweet, and such a gentleman but he’s just not…”

“Just not what?” Luke asked a little eagerly. From a distance she had looked blissfully happy and everyone spoke about how well Ben treated her. But hearing that his ex-girlfriend had a problem with the guy she was dating? Luke was a little too eager to hear about that.

“He’s not you!” She finally admitted. She didn’t miss the way Luke seemed to brighten. “He does nice things for me and he’s so sweet and into me but I’m just feeling nothing at all. It’s like there’s no passion between us.”

“Well you were right. We were toxic but we also had a lot of passion,” Luke tried to lighten the mood. “Look, I don’t mean to sweep in on your most vulnerable moment but I’ve been thinking since the breakup and this is the first time you’ve even looked at me so. I know I treated you like shit and was so possessive. I’m ready to actually commit to you and be your boyfriend instead of just slipping into it because we were already making out when we were younger. I want to give you everything the old me couldn’t or wouldn’t because watching you slip through my fingers was the most painful thing I've ever done. Besides, with more effort I think we could make this work because you don’t fight like we did unless you’re in love. People who don’t love each other just let it fade. They don’t fight.”

She looked like she was in severe pain. “Gods, why couldn’t you have said this three months ago?” Her lips were immediately on his. Luke was a little taken aback but kissed her back, glad to have her in his arms once again.

A few moments later they were promising each other eternity with all the passion in the world. “Forever?” he asked through labored breaths, his fingers intertwined with her hair.

“Forever,” she agreed.

The next day Luke was waiting anxiously in the Hermes cabin. Y/N was ending things with Ben but he was still nervous. What if she decided she wanted to stick with the safer option? He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if she went back to him after last night.

His thoughts were only quieted when the door opened and he found her standing there. He stood up anxiously but hesitated, still slightly wary that she’d tell him she changed her mind. But she walked towards him, immediately falling into his arms. “Forever?” he asked.

“Forever,” she agreed.

Relieved, Luke pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Forever,” he confirmed for himself.

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #the lighting thief #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #x reader #Spotify

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ranilla-bean · 6 months

Text

culture tips for writing asian settings: tea varieTEAs

atla's got major Tea Guy representation in iroh but let's be real, even non-tea guys are going to be drinking tea in an asian-inspired setting—you'd be served it instead of water most places. so, what kind of tea are you picking for them?

as an east asian reader, it can take me out of the setting to see the characters drink something like chamomile (from europe/west asia) or... most herbal teas, to be honest. ngl it was weird to see iroh in the show, characterised as a huuuuuuge tea snob, drink stuff like jasmine (it's fine it's just basic, is all! imo!) or like.... a random flower he encounters in the wild.

when we're talking tea, real asian tea, we're talking about the leaf of the camellia sinensis plant. the huge variety we have of tea is actually from the different ways of processing that exact same leaf. popular varieties include:

green: the leaf goes through minimal processing, can have a bright and even leafy/grassy flavour (examples: gunpowder, longjing aka dragon well, matcha, genmaicha)

white: also undergoes minimal processing, with a lighter flavour than even green (examples: silver needle, shou mei)

oolong: the leaf is semi-oxidised, curled, and twisted—can be characterised by a tanniny flavour with a bright aftertaste. my personal favourite! (examples: da hong pao, tieguanyin, dong ding, alishan)

dark (black): note this isn't the same as black tea as we think of it in english. the leaf is fermented to produce an earthy tea with a flavour like petrichor (examples: pu'er)

all the teas listed in the "examples" are fairly credible teas that i think a real tea snob like iroh would drink.

ok, but what about...

"black tea" as we know it in the west—assam and ceylon etc? this variety is actually called "red tea" in chinese. we don't drink it with milk but to be honest, i've just... never really heard of anyone drinking chinese red tea? which is why i've kept it off the list. (there's lapsang souchong, but i associate that with bri'ish people...) anyone who does drink it, let me know! on the other hand something like assam/ceylon, while extremely delicious and also asian, is a product of british colonialism and is consumed with milk. i think if you wanted to massage some of the traditions & have chai-drinking indian-influenced characters, though, that's cool!

do you actually not drink herbal tea? we do... but a lot of it is considered medicinal. we've got stuff like herbal "cooling tea" with ingredients like sour plum, mesona, or crysanthemum; tea that warms you up like ginseng or ginger. the whole concept of hot/cold in chinese medicine though... that deserves another culture post

camellia leaf murdered my family & i have a grudge against it; what else can my blorbos drink? there'a some good, tasty stuff made of wheat, barley, buckwheat, even soybean. wouldn't be egregious for the characters to drink that!

is milk sacriligeous? a real tea snob would think so, but a lot of asians nowadays are chill about milk in tea—usually in western-influenced red tea. hong kong, thailand, india, taiwan, and malaysia (among others) have their own cultures of milk tea, which has even become a democratic rallying point.

what do you think of iroh inventing bubble tea? my main issue with it is it's anachronistic! it was invented in taiwan in the late 20th century, but atla's set in the equivalent of the mid-19th century... you could also make arguments about whether iroh's too snobby about tea to invent it LOL

there's soooo much more i can say about all this so: keep your eyes peeled! i'll talk about medicine & tea ceremony in the near future <3

disclaimer | more tips

#atla #atla culture #atla meta #avatar the last airbender #iroh #asian culture tips #tea #so i'm making this post as not QUITE a certified Tea SnobTM the way iroh is #but i do really love and enjoy many east asian teas #and i start every day off with a cup of strong milk tea (probably reflecting my own cultural heritage tho ;) )#and i do look down on white ppl tisanes. that shit aint good!!

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lesbian-for-arthur-morgan · 9 months

Note

do you have any headcanons for arguing and making up? i’m a slut for angst with comfort 🙈

Making Up After a Fight

Gender Neutral Language!

Genre: slight angst, fluff Featuring: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, and Sean MacGuire Warnings: Dutch is kind of toxic | Not edited

AN: Sorry it took me so long to get these written! I went through some nasty writer's block and decided to play the game a little to help out but all that did was distract me for a week. This is definitely pretty roughly written - I'm also a huge slut for angst with comfort, though, so I hope you like these! <3 ---> Requests are open! Check out guidelines if you have any questions

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

Arthur gets frustrated easily when he feels like he’s not being listened to or understood. It’s not really anyone’s fault, but his emotions can get the better of him and he’ll say something that he doesn’t mean.

“You got bait for brains or are you just being an idiot for fun?” (or something like that)

You know in the back of your head that he doesn’t mean it, and he regrets it the second the syllables bounce off his lips. Your brain can know something but your heart will still hurt all the same.

Usually when Arthur is getting too big for his britches with you, you can shut him down and put him in his place. It’s something he highly respects about you - not putting up with his bullshit when he gets like that. Sometimes, though, your eyes will start to water and you can’t say anything without feeling a lump in your throat constricting your vocal chords.

You have to turn and walk away or else you’ll cry in front of him. That would just make everything worse.

Seeing your form retreating, knowing that you’re running off because you’re hurt rather than angry, made Arthur’s chest grow heavy with guilt. His first instinct is to follow after you and hold you until you’re feeling better.

But since he’s the one who hurt you, he just lets you walk away and he goes to pout since he thinks he deserves to be outcast for a little while.

He’ll give you as much space as he can bear, avoid you for an hour maybe two, but he comes crawling back with those puppy dog eyes and a singular wild flower in his fist.

He’ll go to his cot where you’re sitting with his hat in your lap. You stopped being upset five or ten minutes after the argument. Once you took a few deep breaths you understand, but you also had to understand that Arthur would come back to you after he was done punishing himself.

So you waited.

When you saw him approach with that sheepish expression and slouched posture your heart bled for him. He was a brute and an ass at times, but he meant well.

“’M’sorry, Darlin’,” He’d mumble and get on his knees in front of you. “I didn’t mean it, I never mean it.”

He places the flower in your lap by his hat and gazes up at you. His hair is long and falling in front of his eyes a little, so you brush the strands away from his forehead to get a better look at him.

His blue eyes are a little red and there’s a deep crease in his forehead from an hour or so of constant worrying.

“You can be so mean sometimes, Arthur Morgan,” You scold him lightly and he sighs, nodding.

“I know.”

He spends the rest of the week making it up to you. Truly it doesn’t matter exactly what was said or what the argument was about, when you are truly hurt by his words/actions it kills him. He’ll punish himself for a bit then come back ready to spoil you with words, presents, kisses, and anything else you could possibly ask for.

John Marston:

He’s constantly arguing with you about something. A lot of the time he just picks at you to get a rise out of you - he thinks it’s funny.

Things can get out of hand quickly with him if he grates on a nerve of yours and you bite back though. His first instinct is to give a smartass retort and it just spirals into a full-blown fight from there.

“John Marston you are a pig!”

You storm off and hide in your tent for a while. He’s just standing there dumbfounded. He starts asking himself why he let it get to that point, why did he have to open his big ol’ mouth and antagonize you?

He tries to get you to talk to him, he’ll pace in front of the tent and start calling your name nicely. He won’t ever open the flap though, he doesn’t want to invade your space and risk riling you up anymore.

When you ignore him he’ll eventually get the hint and wander off.

He tries to figure out something to do while he thinks about how to make it up to you. He offers to help Arthur out with any bounty hunts or little jobs, he’ll offer to take Bill or Lenny into town, or he’ll just pick up extra shifts of being on lookout for the camp.

When you finally come out he has to restrain the urge to run to you and scoop you up, demanding that you forgive him so that he can stop pouting.

He does drop whatever it is he’s doing to approach you and makes small talk to test the waters.

“How are you?”

“Fine, John.”

“That’s good… You still mad at me?”

You roll your eyes and try to walk away, but he shoots out and grabs your hand before you can get too far. He doesn’t hold you tightly; his fingers gently encase your own, if you wanted to leave you could easily. But, you falter with your back turned to him and wait for him to speak.

“I’m sorry, really. You know I’m an idiot.” He’s practically whining as he says it, begging for you to look at him.

You turn your head slightly to give him a side glare. At first, the sight makes his heart drop into his feet and he thinks he really screwed up this time, but when a small smirk starts to quirk the corner of your mouth upwards he lets out a low sigh.

“You are cruel,” He chuckles and tightens his grip as he pulls you into his arms and wraps you up in a bear hug.

Your laughs are loud and genuine as he twirls you around, pressing chaste kisses to your cheeks as he does so. Your voices echo throughout the camp once again.

Everyone in camp knows what’s going on with you and John whether you’re fighting or making up, your business is everyone else’s.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

I want to start out by saying Dutch never actually apologizes when you two fight. He’ll buy gifts, say pretty words, whisper sweet nothings, and all the like, but the words “I’m sorry” have never left that man’s lips in his entire life. He will not start now.

Dutch’s obsession with the O’Driscoll’s can cloud his judgment on many things, it makes him blind to reason. Further than that, it makes him hateful and sometimes just plain mean.

He trusts you, he loves you. So, you’re stuck listening to his plans and his grievances with the gang, the law, the O’Driscoll’s, and any other misfortune he has had to endure in his life.

He’ll go on and on, plotting, groaning, whining. One night, after being sat on his cot for hours, you’ve had enough. You beg him to do anything but complain and come up with a half-brained plan to get rich quick.

It hits a nerve and he blows a fuse.

“You don’t understand what’s at stake, do you?” He’s practically yelling. “It’s so easy for you - I spoil you!”

You’re stunned into silence as he shouts at you. You didn’t expect him to blow up.

“Get out of my tent, get out of my sight!” He sends you away. In a daze you stumble out of the tent and into the dark camp.

There’s a few people still up wandering around. Mary-Beth is singing by the fire and Kieran is trying to sing with her, but doesn’t really know the words. Your feet start moving on their own and you take a seat across from the two at the fire.

“What’s going on, gunslinger?” Karen shuffles to a seat beside you and settles down. Mary-Beth’s singing falters for a minute but she continues on, just quieter.

“Dutch is pissed.” You mumble, staring into the flames.

“When is he not? Have a drink,” Karen shoves a bottle of beer into your hand and watches as you take a long swig. She continues, “Have some fun without him for once.”

The night takes a turn from there. You sing and dance and laugh. A few more people join in until it’s gone from moping around the fire to a proper party around it. Javier even brings out the guitar. The noise is enough to draw Dutch from the dark hole in his tent to see what’s going on.

When he sees you, the tears on your cheeks have dried and your face is flushed from the drinks, he can’t help but feel a little guilty. To him, afterall, you were just naive. You didn’t understand what was truly going on in the camp, didn’t understand his plans.

He creeps out of the tent and sneaks up behind you as you’re dancing along to Javier and Mary-Beth. When a pair of arms wraps around your waist, you let out a little squeal.

Dutch spins you around so that you’re facing him, your bodies pressed flush together causing a heat to flare in your stomach.

“My beautiful dancer,” Dutch mumbles and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t fight, don’t ask any questions. You’re just happy that he seems to be sorry for what he did. He’s holding you after all of that, kissing you. He must be sorry, and so are you.

When he pulls back you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes. “I’m sorry, Dutch.” You whisper.

“Hush now,” He starts swaying as he holds you, leading you into a dance.

Your fight is practically forgotten by the end of the night. In the early hours of the morning, everyone is stumbling back to their respective beds. Stomachs are full and heads will be aching come noon, but to you it was all worth it. So long as you and Dutch aren’t fighting anymore.

Javier Escuella:

He hates fighting. I mean not in general, but just with you.

He won’t allow himself to be taken advantage of or walked all over, but if there’s some stupid argument that’s making you mad he will roll over and apologize. Just to keep the peace.

He loves you more than he loves being right, and if it makes you happy to just admit that then so be it.

When y’all do fight, though, it’s over something big. Stupid quarrels are so rare that the first time anyone catches wind that the two of you had a falling out it shocks half the camp to the core.

Javier would only truly get upset with you in a life or death situation. Like when you decided to not tell anyone you were heading into town really quick and met a few O’Driscoll’s in the general store.

When you saw them you recognized them as few that had gotten into a fight with Javier in town a few weeks ago. Javier let them walk away to save face, there was a large group of witnesses that would have pretty much guaranteed him an execution if he had taken their lives.

Your heart skipped a beat as one of them turned to look at you, but they left shortly after you entered the store and you prayed that would be the end of it.

After you finished at the store, though, you walked through the door to find the three men standing in the road before you. Their arms were folded across their chests and their legs spread in a dominant stance.

You clutched the items you bought to your chest and tried walking away from the trio, but one of them called out and made you stop in your tracks.

“You’re one of Dutch’s people ain’t you?” The tallest one said. It wasn’t really a question, he knew who you were.

“And what’s it to you, mister?” You shot back, reaching for the dagger in your belt.

“I’ve got a few questions for you about your boss.” The three of them started moving towards you. They surrounded you and backed you to the wall of the general store. You whipped out your dagger to tell them to back off, but it wouldn’t do much against three of them - you knew that and so did they.

The only reason you had made it out of that situation without even a scratch was because Arthur happened to be riding through town on his way back to camp and noticed the commotion.

He brought you back to camp, and that’s where you saw Javier standing at your cot with this arms crossed and a scowl darkening his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He practically shouts at you.

You didn’t mean to, you held them back as long as you could, but tears start flowing freely down your face in large, hot drops.

Javier’s scowl disappears almost immediately. He didn’t expect you to cry. Maybe yell back or explain yourself, but not cry. He drops his arms and grabs both of your hands in his.

“Are you okay?” His voice is low and laced with worry. Arthur got to him first and told him what happened briefly, so he knew you weren’t physically hurt, but other than that he didn’t know what happened.

“They surrounded me. I was - I was so scared, Javier.” Your throat was thick and it was hard to speak. Javier embraced you, rubbing your back and holding the back of your head as you cried harder into his shoulder.

“You’re safe now,” He assures you and presses soft kisses into your hair.

He spends the next few days feeling guilty for being mad at first.

You tell him you understand his reaction and that you were sorry,but he just says sorry back to you and claims he shouldn’t have been angry when you were scared.

You’re both equally sorry, I guess.

After that, though, Javier refuses to let you go anywhere alone. You don’t have to go with him but you have to have a traveling buddy in case anything like that happens again.

Charles Smith:

Doesn’t fight with anyone, really.

Sure, you can get mad at him and yell and hold a grudge, but he just lets you figure your emotions out from afar if that’s what you need. He gives you space when you need it, attention when you want it, and does anything that he can for you.

He loves you more than anything in the world, so when you’re mad at him it eats away at his insides until you make up. He’s literally the consent king, though, and will wait for you to come to him before he initiates anything.

It feels like he doesn’t care sometimes. It drives you crazy that he doesn’t chase after you and try to make up with you then and there or rectify the situation immediately, which turns into another argument.

“Do you even give a shit what I feel?” You frown at him one morning after a small argument that he just brushed off from the night before. He assumed since you slept with him in his bedroll, that meant you were over it.

“I love you! What are you talking about?” He rubs at the little stubble on his chin in exasperation.

“You never listen you just say ‘okay’ and move on. You don’t learn that way, Charles. You roll over and the same thing will keep happening because you aren’t listening.” You try to explain yourself. Charles nods but you can’t tell if he actually gets what you’re trying to convey since he never acknowledges it more than that.

You sigh and get up.

“I need a minute, come talk to me when you can.” You walk away from him and towards Miss Grimshaw doing the laundry.

Charles just stays where he is and lets out a long deep sigh. He thought it would be better for him to just agree with you, it would make you happy to be agreed with rather than continuing to fight over something so trivial.

He hasn’t been with the group for a super long time, but he’s created a strong bond with Arthur. So, that’s who he goes to to ask for advice on the whole situation.

Charles relays as much as he can back to Arthur and the cowboy just starts to chuckle at the absurdity of the conversation. He’s used to people coming to him for advice (he doesn’t really get why), but the situation with you and Charles came out of nowhere for him. He didn’t realize you two fought ever.

“No relationship is perfect, Charles.” Arthur suggests.

That’s literally no help to him so Charles walks off and tries thinking what to do. He comes up with nothing, though. Which makes him frustrated.

He starts walking towards you. You look up and see his determined face and scrunched brow and excuse yourself to meet him halfway.

“We need to talk.” He says, his words are intense but his gaze is still soft. You aren’t scared of him anyways.

“I think we do.” You reply and follow him to a private area right outside of camp.

The whole time he goes off about how he doesn’t get what you want from him. What you expect him to do or say when you get mad or annoyed.

“I just want to know you care about me and my emotions.”

“Dear, I care about you more than anything in the world. More than life itself, why do you question it?” He’s basically pleading with you to understand him, to finally see that just because he isn’t as forward with every single thought (good or bad) on his mind doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you or your emotions.

It takes little to no time for you to throw your arms around him in an embrace and mumble an apology into his hair.

Even your big fights aren’t really fights.

Sean MacGuire:

Sean does stupid stuff all the time. Literally he does stupid stuff more often than he does anything smart.

Especially when he’s drunk.

One night a small group of some of the gang decided to head into the saloon in town for a drinks for the night. You and Sean were always up for a good time and tagged along - obviously.

It presented opportunity for a little pickpocketing as well (if you didn’t get too drunk and sloppy to do it).

Everything went well for the first hour. Drinks were shared among the group and laughs were bellowing through the air with a contagious warmth. Better yet, no one seemed to be testing the waters and starting a bar fight.

Sean had his arm around you the entire night. He claimed it was to let all the scoundrels at the bar know that you were his and no one should even try to stake a claim to you.

You rolled your eyes but stayed nestled in the spot.

That is, until you were pulled away by your bladder. All the drinks were catching up to you and you slipped from under him to run to the restroom really quick.

When you came back, though, a working woman had taken advantage of your absence to catch Sean’s attention.

In his drunken state, Sean couldn’t even realize that the weight of the woman beside him wasn’t the same as when you were sitting there before. He didn’t say a thing as her arms wrapped around his torso or when she ran her fingers through his longish hair.

Tears fill your eyes almost instantly. You try to blink them away and get a better look at the scene in front of you, but it doesn’t change. It only gets worse as her lips start leaving rougey red stains on his neck.

“Sean!” You shove at his shoulder. When he sees you in front of him, his bleary red eyes turn to the woman beside him. His brain takes a minute to put two and two together, but by the time he has figured the situation out you are pushing through saloon patrons to get out into the night air.

Sean sobers up immediately. He pries himself out of the grasp of the other woman and follows your trail out the door.

He calls your name over and over again until he finally finds you sitting on the street corner crying into your knees.

“Please, Love!” He approaches you and your head whips up at the sound of his voice.

“You stay away from me you dog.” You snap and get up. You’re still pretty drunk as well however and you wobble and nearly fall over at the sudden movement.

Luckily Sean catches you by the arm before you can tumble into the dirt.

“I didn’t know she was there, honest. Thought you was there beside me.” He lifts a hand to your cheek, ready to brush away some of your tears, but you turn your cheek and shrug him off.

“Sure.” You say and try to walk away. He catches your arm again and turns you towards him once more.

“Honest, Love. Why would I pay for sex anyways - I’ve not a penny to me name and you give it to me for free.”

The sentiment was there, but definitely not the right thing to say.

You have to physically restrain yourself from hitting him upside the head at his words.

He sees the struggle on your face as soon as he says it and clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Sean MacGuire you bastard!” You shout at him, but can’t help a weak laugh from erupting from your throat at the end.

“I didn’t mean that, oh lord I didn’t.” The terror in his face only causes you to laugh harder.

The laughter surprises him and even yourself, so much so that the both of you are laughing. Though you don’t really understand why.

“If you ever-“ You say with a mocking glare, “Ever do something like that or say something like that again, I am leaving you Sean MacGuire.”

“I wouldn’t blame you one bit,” He says somberly, still with a small smile.

<><><><>

I didn't write for Sadie because I genuinely could not think of a situation for her or how she would be, my brain died halfway through writing Sean's. I'll just have to write some Sadie focused hc's next time teehee~

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hyprfxtdbstrd · 2 months

Text

I'm seeing everyone pointing out the possible issues with Epic the Musical's deviation from the original story of Circe and Odysseus, and as someone who's studied Ancient Greece/ancient Greek myths a bit, I wanted to say some stuff about it. This will be a bit of a long one, so apologies for my rambling!

Note that I'm not trying to shit on SA survivor's perspectives and (completely valid) arguments. I'm just trying to offer some context surrounding the original myth and how it fits (or rather, doesn't fit) with a modern audience. If I'm wrong with any of this, feel free to call me out! Criticize the shit out of me! I like learning about Greek culture and myths and would 100% love to hear other perspectives on this.

So, a few points about Ancient Greek myths to kind of explain the context around Circe and Odysseus:

Greek myths generally did not have good views/depictions of women. Women were almost always depicted as conniving, selfish, sexually insatiable creatures. To largely summarize the process within actual Greek society, women had three/four stages in their life: child, dangerous/wild virgin (after first menstruation), married woman (whose wildness was tamed by her husband), and then a "real" woman (a mother). There are a few deviations from the "evil" trope, the most prominent of which being Penelope herself—she's basically the ideal Greek wife, staying loyal to her husband for 20 years and all that.

Adultery only applied to women. Husbands cheating on their wives wasn't merely tolerated, but expected. Marital sex wasn't seen as enjoyable, rather something that had to be done for the sake of reproduction and continuing the bloodline/securing inheritance. Men cheated on their wives with various kinds of prostitutes, concubines, mistresses, etc, but sleeping with unmarried women (that weren't specifically prostitutes) or married women was looked down upon. Women didn't have this same standard. They could only sleep with their husbands, hell, their husbands were pretty much the only men they could even interact with (excluding family, obviously).

The original myth has Hermes very plainly lay out how Odysseus' confrontation with Circe will go: Odysseus will eat the moly, draw his sword at her, she'll proposition him, and Hermes directly tells Odysseus to accept. Basically a "sleep with her if you want your men to live" situation. (See this post for more specifics on this).

So, let's apply this to Epic: The Musical. Here's some reasons I think may explain the Circe myth being changed:

The Greek "women being evil" stereotype is... problematic. While I 100% understand that it's important to acknowledge male victims of SA, I don't think the original myth was focusing on Odysseus being a victim—I saw it more of an emphasis on Circe being a sexually selfish woman, as all Greek women were believed to be. Changing Circe to be less conniving and evil deviates from the concerning Greek stereotype.

The SA in the myth is not actually very clearly SA. Yes, with a modern perspective, it absolutely is sexual coercion, but for Greeks, not so much. It made sense to them that sex could be transactional. It's already been established that Epic, while still generally accurate to the original myth, does change things relating to morality/themes in order to better align with modern Western ideas (i.e. OG Odysseus not being as remorseful and merciful, as that was expected of a Greek hero, but Epic Odysseus having more empathy because that's more modernly heroic). If something from the original myth doesn't translate well into modern culture, then it's understandable to want to change or omit it.

In the case that the original Circe myth wasn't SA (I'm not saying one is more right than the other, I'm just covering all the bases), then it wouldn't even constitute as cheating. Like I described earlier, it was perfectly acceptable and expected for men to sleep with women that weren't their wives. Plus, being a goddess, she's already kinda exempt from being blamed if Odysseus slept with her—only women are ever really blamed for sleeping with (or being SAed by) gods, and even then, their husbands sometimes don't even give a shit. But modernly, we would not see it that way. To us, it's not societally acceptable for a married man to sleep with another woman (without his wife's consent, at least). While Ancient Greeks viewed Odysseus as a good (or at least okay) husband, a modern audience wouldn't. Making Odysseus loyal to Penelope and not sleeping with other women (assuming this wasn't SA, but again that's one interpretation) makes him the good, loyal, empathic, modernly heroic man that Epic is clearly aiming for. Repeating my last point: If something from the original myth doesn't translate well into modern culture, then it's understandable to want to change or omit it.

Applying modern perspectives on Ancient Greek society and mythology isn't worth it. Like, we all joke about Ancient Greece being super gay, but they didn't actually like gay men. Homosexuality was literally only acceptable when it was between a young man and a prepubescent boy (it was called pederasty if you want to know more) or between women (they only considered penetrative sex to be 'real' sex so they didn't really care what women did with other women). Y'know the Hades and Persephone story? Like, the original one with the kidnapping? Yeah, that was normal. The myth of Demeter and Persephone is tragic, yes, but it was so normal that wedding ceremonies often included references/recreations of it! Girls got married off ASAP after their first menstruation to men of at least 30 years old. We don't tolerate that shit today (for the most part, at least)! But it was normal in Ancient Greece. Applying modern rules and standards to ancient culture just does not work.

Anyways, I'll shut up now! I'm gonna go keep listening to The Circe Saga lmao

EDIT: there is good criticism in the reblogs of this post that adds more perspective and corrects some of my generalizations/insights!!

#can you tell im a history major #seriously tho im not trying to shit on the opinions of SA survivors talking about this #the greeks were just kinda fucked up #greek mythology #epic the musical #odysseus #the odyssey #circe #circe saga #the circe saga #hermes #epic the circe saga #ancient greece #history

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minisugakoobies · 1 year

Text

Confessions of a Dirty Mind | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Genre: smut, and they were roommates!, porn with the barest of plots, a little fluff Rating: M (18+) Warnings: incredibly thirsty pining, reader’s a bit feral for her roommate, the giggles will be deployed as a weapon, reader drops the d word (daddy) in her dirty thoughts but never says it out loud, accidental texts, body worship (abs, thighs, breasts - everything gets praised), love bites/marking, grinding, chan is thick everywhere, chan throws reader around a little, hints at dom!chan, fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), facefucking, cum eating, reader is kind of an idiot but that's okay!, I wrote this out of a dire need to s this man’s d Word Count: 6.5K Disclaimers: NSFW; obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: The absolute last thing you want is for your roommate to find out just how much you want him. Right?

A/N: Well, as threatened promised, I'm writing for Stray Kids now in addition to BTS! This came out of absolutely nowhere last week. I've just got Bang Chan brainrot 24/7 now, so that's cool. Thanks to @minttangerines @bangtanintotheroom @sugalaritae for their support (and amazing Aussie accents!!) 💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Please let me know what you think! Like if you'd like to see more skz fics from me… that would fuel me to keep writing. If everyone hates this I'm quitting writing and moving to the wild to live with the koalas ✌️

Being roommates with your crush is its own special type of torture. Always being so close to what you want but never being able to touch. To taste. To feel.

You weren’t always this feral. Once upon a time, you were normal. Well-adjusted, even. Then you had to move for your job and needed to find a place to stay fast and your best friend Minho just happened to know someone looking for a roommate.

Honestly, looking back, it was too easy. Should’ve known there’d be a catch. And that catch was your sanity.

Because Minho’s friend Bang Chan turned out to be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

Listen. A lot of people use phrases like that all the time, “the hottest man you’ve ever seen,” some hyperbole they say for ridiculous effect, but you mean it. You have never seen anyone as beautiful as this man, with his chiseled cheekbones, thick lips, and those dimples.

Fuck. Those dimples. Almost as maddening as the washboard abs he’s constantly showing off. You didn’t know a person could be allergic to shirts until you met Chan.

And now you’re suffering. Every. Damn. Day.

It’s not just that he’s the most gorgeous man on the planet. No, that would be hurtful enough, but he’s also kind. Smart. Silly as hell. You’re constantly plagued by his sweet smiles and unbelievably adorable giggles.

The worst part, though, is the way he can flip between sexy and soft instantaneously. Like when the two of you argue over something stupid. All of your arguments are fundamentally stupid. The two of you get on so fucking well, the only things you argue over are opinions on pointless things. Like last night, when you’d joined him for a beer while he watched tv.

“You’re out of your mind,” Chan had declared, twisting sideways on the couch to look at you. “There’s no way a koala could possibly defeat a kangaroo in a cage match!”

“Sure it could.”

“No, it could not!” Chan let loose a flurry of high-pitched giggles. “Have you ever seen a kangaroo? Those things are ripped! One kick or punch, and the koala’s out.” He mimed a powerful punch.

You tipped back the remainder of your beer before pointing the bottle at him. “Yes it could! Think about it - what do koalas do?” When he just blinked, you continued. “They climb! And what do koalas usually have?” Again, a blank stare. “Syphilis! So… think about it! All that little guy has to do is climb up the kangaroo, give him some germs, and boom! Kangaroo goes down.” You grin smugly. “There’s a reason they call syphilis the silent killer.”

Chan fixed you with his signature Look™, the one you think of as “stern dom daddy” - thick eyebrows drawn, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, dark eyes scanning your face - and you felt your knees go weak. Then he blinded you with the full sunshiny force of his smile, eyes closing, dimples popping.

“That is an absolutely insane argument, not to mention completely incorrect. I don’t even know where to start explaining why you’re wrong.” He paused. “No, actually, let’s start with the fact that it’s chlamydia, not syphilis, that koalas get, and go from there.” By the time he’d finished and you’d finally conceded that a kangaroo would probably win, the two of you were nearly in tears from laughing.

His duality is whiplash-inducing. And always leaves you in ruins.

So when your feelings overwhelm you, when you feel like you’re absolutely bursting at the seams with need, you do what you always do. Torture Minho.

Your bff is used to you venting to him about your crippling inability to make a move. On anyone. Ever. Over the years, he’s weathered dozens of crushes that never went anywhere because while you’re definitely a total treasure, you lack the confidence to make any of your (usually horny) dreams come true. He’s come to expect the endless text messages you send.

Except that now, “messages” might not be the right word for them. “Unhinged ravings” might be more accurate.

Ughhhh he’s so damn fine Today he came home from the gym all sweaty and I nearly offered to give him a bath With my tongue. My TONGUE Minho!

Like he’s always done, Minho bears it all in stride with his usual unwavering compassion.

You’re a lunatic

He doesn’t even try to convince you to say something to Chan about your feelings anymore. Now he just waits for you to exhaust yourself and then he changes the subject. Usually by sending photos of his cats.

It’s an odd friendship, but neither of you would trade it for anything.

At the moment, you’re ignoring your pain by lying on your bed, in a tee and sweats, watching a movie on your laptop. You can hear your roommate rummaging around his room. Your apartment features a Jack and Jill bathroom, so it’s easy for you to hear what’s going on next door through the adjoining space.

“Channie, why are you pacing around?” you call out.

Your phone buzzes.

Trying to find my shirt

“Are you seriously texting me from the next room?” Pausing your movie, you trudge through the bathroom. The door to Chan’s room is open so you don’t bother to knock, flopping down on his bed as he digs through his closet. He’s shirtless as usual, blond curls shaking with the force of his rummaging.

“Yeah, sorry, ‘m in a hurry and didn’t want to stop looking,” Chan admits sheepishly, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you. You ignore the fluttering in your stomach and get comfortable, resting your head on your arms.

“You could’ve just said it out loud. I can hear you all over this apartment.” It’s not a big space. Which only amplifies your angst, as it’s hard to escape from your desires when the source of it is just constantly right there. Sprawling out on the tiny couch in the living room. Making himself a midnight snack in the kitchen. Lounging on your bed while you sit at your desk, trying not to stare at his reflection on your screen. “What shirt are you looking for?”

“My tiger tank.”

You know the shirt he’s speaking of - his white tank top with an embroidered tiger’s head on the chest. It’s a favorite of yours, cut low enough on the sides and in the front to show off his biceps and pecs at the same time. The first time you’d seen Chan in it, Minho had accused you of being a vampire because you couldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted to nibble on his collarbones.

“Ah! Found it!” Chan raises the shirt over his head victoriously before yanking it on. He takes a moment to inspect himself in his mirror and you wonder if he truly recognizes just how stunning he is. He catches your eye in the reflection. “What are you up to tonight? Wanna come out with me, ‘Lix, & ‘Bin? We’re gonna get some drinks.”

Sure, you’d love to hang out at the bar with Chan and his friends. They’re always a good time. Except when closing time arrives and once again you’re forced to bear witness to your roommate getting hit on by basically every woman in the bar. Not that you can blame them. But it’s especially awful on the nights when he leaves with someone else. You’d rather not deal with that tonight.

“Nah, I’m just gonna relax. But thanks.”

“Come on,” he wheedles, plopping down on the bed, hard enough to make you bounce a little. “You haven’t been out with us in ages. Is it the guys? Did one of them say something stupid?”

“They always say stupid shit. That’s all they ever say,” you crack, smiling when Chan laughs. “But no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just tired.”

Chan doesn’t say anything, just looks at you for a moment. The silence makes you inexplicably nervous, and you fiddle with his comforter for want of something to do with your hands. But then he just nods. “‘Kay. But if you change your mind, we’ll be down at Back Door.”

“Thanks.”

Chan heads into the bathroom to play with his hair. You slip past him, back into your room, throwing yourself dramatically onto your bed and burying your face in a plush pillow. How much longer can you stand this?

You grab your phone.

I’m losing my mind

You can practically hear the sigh in Minho’s voice as you read his response.

What did Chan do now?

He’s getting ready to go out with Felix and Changbin He looks so fucking good in those tight jeans

Minho doesn’t reply. He knows to just let you get it out of your system before responding.

My mouth is literally watering It’s a Pavlovian response at this point I see denim and I start salivating

A text alert pops up in the middle of your thirsty ranting.

Hey do you mind if I borrow your eyeliner?

“Stop texting me when you’re 10 feet away!” you yell, laughing. Chan pops his head out of the bathroom and flashes you that grin, the one that turns your insides to goo, and you sigh. “Of course you can borrow it, you know you can.”

Thanks

“Chan!”

His giggles float through the door and your thumbs fly.

Seriously If Chan doesn’t let me s his d one of these days I will die I will be the first person to die from ineedtosuckadick-itis

There’s a loud clattering in the bathroom, like someone’s knocked half the contents of the crowded sink counter onto the floor. Your makeup isn't cheap, so you hop up off your bed.

“You okay in there?” The first thing you notice is the pile of smashed cosmetics on the ground. The second thing is the way your roommate is staring at you, eyes wide, sharpened kohl liner still clutched in one hand, phone in the other. “What? What’s wrong?”

Chan doesn’t speak, but raises his phone and kind of waves it limply.

Oh god. You were in the wrong chat. You were in the wrong chat and now Chan knows you want to suck his dick. You’ve been texting for most of your life and this is the moment your brain decides to fuck up?!

As Chan continues to stare, you realize you have two choices: fess up and own it, or play dumb.

It’s no choice.

“What, uhhhhhhh, what’s up?”

Chan gestures to his phone. “You want to suck my dick?” He says the words as if they’re unfamiliar to him, like he’s trying them out for the first time.

Well, shit, how are you supposed to play dumb if he’s just going to call you right out?

“Guess the cat’s out of the horny bag now,” you mutter under your breath.

Chan cocks his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” you cough, looking at your own phone. “I mean, uh, noooo, what? Minho and I were just, um, talking about how I want to, uh, sssssss…” you glance wildly around the cramped room, hissing like a frantic snake as you fail to come up with another word that starts with s, before your eyes land on an empty glass sitting by the sink. “…Share a drink with you? Because I’m… thirsty?”

“You’re thirsty?”

Fucking understatement.

You can’t quite read the expression on Chan’s face as he glances between you and his phone. There’s a flash of dom daddy in there and then it’s gone.

“YN. I know what ‘s his d’ means. Also, you said you had - what did you call it? Ineedtosuckadickitis.” You think Chan’s lips quirk slightly as he reminds you of your textual idiocy, but you’re too busy trying to psychically rip a hole in the floor so you can disappear forever to be certain. “Where do you get your medical info, by the way? I’m starting to worry.”

He’s making light of the situation, which you would appreciate more if you weren’t sure you’re about to die from embarrassment. Your mind is reeling. There’s no way to get out of this. Any second now, he’s gonna realize how you feel. Then he’s gonna let you down. Gently, you hope. Then you’re gonna need to find a new place to live, because there’s no recovering from this.

“Fine.” You take a deep breath. “Yes, I said it.” Unable to look him in the eye, you focus on your phone as you speak. “I was telling Minho how much I want to suck your dick, because I’m a disgusting horny monster who can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go pack up my room now.” Shoulders slumping, you slink away, hoping he won’t follow.

He does. “Wait, what?”

You don’t answer, heading directly for your closet, tugging at your suitcase where it lies on a shelf, and he crowds into your space, arms reaching out to stop you.

“Oi, slow down! What are you doing?”

“I’ll try to be out quickly, so you can find a new roommate right away.” You keep pulling on the suitcase, but it’s futile. He barely has to exert any strength to push it back, so you give up.

“YN.” Chan places his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. It’s probably the closest you’ve ever been, standing face to face like this, and the nearness of him is a little dizzying. “Back up. You don’t have to go anywhere. Just talk to me.” He lightly guides you over to your bed, taking a seat next to you. “Why do you think I’d want you to leave?”

“Because I'm a gross little gremlin who can’t stop objectifying you?” you answer honestly.

Chan’s eyes widen before he bursts into laughter. “You know, you’ve said a lot of bonkers things in the months you’ve been living here, but… how does wanting to suck my dick make you a ‘gross little gremlin?’”

Oh no. You can feel it bubbling up inside you, all the things you’ve felt. All the things you’ve said. Oh, you’re going to tell him, aren’t you?

“It’s not just sucking your dick.” Grabbing your phone, you open your chat with Minho again, and begin to read. “‘I need Chan to destroy me. Fully. Like I’m a piece of wood and he’s a lumberjack. Just split me in half. With his hands or his dick, I’m not picky.’” Your entire body radiates with humiliation. You’re a tiny sun made of molecules of mortification, on the verge of going supernova. “Um. That’s one example. And there’s more. A lot more.”

And then you hand him your phone, looking away as he starts to scroll.

You stare at the wall, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Until the quiet gets to you, and you give in, peering at him, expecting to find him frozen again, or worse, looking sickened by your words.

Instead you find him smiling. And then he starts to giggle.

“‘I’m going feral,” he reads. “‘He’s wearing that beanie again. I- ’” His laughing gets louder as he struggles to finish the thought. “‘I want him to wear me instead.’” He glances up at you, eyes glimmering with way too much amusement. “What does that even mean?!”

You groan, yanking your shirt up to cover your face. “Chan, stop!” He merely laughs harder. How can he be enjoying this? You’ve never known him to be cruel. “I get it, I’m awful, you don’t have to laugh!”

But he keeps chuckling, and then you feel his hands on your hips. Like a bewildered turtle, you poke your head out of your shirt, and he just smiles.

“C’mere.” He keeps tugging at you until you scoot closer, swinging your legs over his lap, and pulls you in for a hug.

It’s better than you ever imagined. His strong arms lock around your waist, keeping you in place as his chest continues to rumble with his apparently endless mirth. Tentatively, you let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, afraid that if you cling too tightly, he’ll let go.

Chan leans back to grin at you. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You’re so fucking confused. “I am?”

“Yeah.” His fingers rub light circles into your lower back. The sensation is somehow both soothing and invigorating, sending sparks directly to the heat already simmering in your gut. “Just adorable.”

You’re not adorable, you’re a dirty little freak whose mind is constantly churning out trash, but if that’s what he wants to believe, you’ll take it.

“You’re not disturbed by all the things I’ve said?”

“Disturbed? Nah. I’m used to the crazy shit you say.” He’s got a point. You do say a lot of crazy shit. Just not usually about him to him. “Besides, d’you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?”

“About your dick??”

Chan tosses his head back, jostling you with his laughter. “No, you maniac, just something in general! Something to tell me that you like me.” When he meets your gaze again, you’re met with that Look™, and this time those sparks head straight for your cunt. “That you want me. Because…”

He trails off, hands gripping your sides, shifting you. Until you feel it. Poking directly into your thigh.

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.” Chan licks his lips. When did his eyes get so dark? “Because I want you too, you absolute fruit loop. Took me a minute to get my bearings, wasn’t expecting you to confess it in a text like that, or with those exact words, but…” He smirks. “I’m good now.”

His thumb traces your jawline before he cups your chin. The gentle touch sends shivers rippling through you. His eyes drop to your lips.

“You good?”

Funnily enough, somehow, you are.

“Yeah. I’m good,” you whisper, tipping forward to close the space between you.

Amazingly, despite the unyielding need to just yeet yourself onto him, you manage to hold back, simply leaning in to the kiss instead. Those plush lips that you’ve raved about feel unbelievable as they caress yours. So soft and tender, like the warmth spreading through you as he tightens his hold. Then he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moan, loud and wanton, unable to control the sound, and he drops his hands to your hips again, gripping insistently.

“C’mere,” he commands again, voice husky as his fingers hook into your sweats. “Come closer.” He exhales heavily. “Please.”

Please? He has no idea how little he needs to beg right now. As if you’re not dying to get as close as you can! In the blink of an eye, you throw your leg over his, straddling him. His hands wrap around you again, like he can’t stand not having them on you for a second. You understand the feeling.

You’re bolder now with your kisses, nipping and licking eagerly. A particularly sharp bite on his pouty lip makes him gasp in surprise, and you press your tongue into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy when he sucks in response. The incessant throbbing of your clit is slightly relieved when Chan’s hips buck upwards, pushing his erection against you more firmly. He swallows your whines, breathes them back out in the form of his own groans.

The need for air eventually overwhelms you after a few minutes, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away from his face.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” you pant, marveling at how red and swollen Chan’s lips are from kissing. The urge to dive back in before you’ve gotten enough oxygen into your system to keep from passing out is strong. “To meet the guys?”

“You really think I’m gonna leave now?” Chan huffs a laugh as he gazes at you from beneath lowered eyelids, looking as dazed as you feel, and you realize, shit, Minho’s right, you are a vampire, and you’re about to eat this man alive. “Fuck no. Besides, what kind of terrible roommate would I be if I left you at death’s door?”

“If you - what?”

More high-pitched giggles fill the room. How can he be so cute while actively grinding his cock against you like this? “Your disease. Remember? Ineedadickitis.”

“I need to suck a dick,” you correct him.

“Oh, do you? Well, go on then.” He cracks up completely, bouncing you with the force of his laughter as you sit there dumbly for half a second before snapping to.

“You’re so stupid, oh my god!” With a howl, you push him away. He goes easily, until he’s lying on his back on your bed, still cackling while he swats away your fake punches. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His fingers lock around your wrists and with a gentle jerk you’re lying on top of him, your arms pinned between you. Before you can try to pretend that he’s wrong, try to mount yet another one of your dumb arguments, despite knowing full well that he's right, he kisses you again.

As soon as he releases your hands, you tangle them in his hair. His hands trace down your back to grab the swell of your ass, crushing you flat against him, chest to chest. He suddenly breaks off the kiss.

“Are you not wearing a bra?”

You shake your head and he groans, sitting up, taking you with him. His fingers curl in the hem of your top, twisting it upwards.

“Shirt off. Now.” His voice drops an octave and you shudder, quickly obeying his order. Then you grip his tank top.

“You too.”

He reaches behind his head to peel the fabric off, tossing it on the floor. Then he lays back, propping himself up on his elbows as you openly gawk at his stomach.

“Fuck.” He’s transfixed by your chest.

“Jesus.” You’re mesmerized. From this close, you can see a faint trail of fine hair that runs down, cutting through the carved lines of his abs, like an arrow pointing to your desired destination. “Unreal.”

“You can touch, if you’d like,” Chan grins up at you, obviously enjoying your reaction.

You roll your eyes but do anyway, dragging your fingertips over his abs. His stomach twitches beneath your touch. Before you can get too far, he wiggles his hips, playfully jostling you out of your concentration.

“Can I touch, too?”

“Jesus, yes, of course!” Grabbing his hands, you place one on each breast. “Touch me already!”

He doesn’t waste any time, rolling your nipples between his fingers, waking the buds. You arch into him, his abs forgotten as he leans forward to take your left breast in his mouth.

“Shit, Channie,” you whimper, combing his hair out of his face so you can watch him suckle away. He hums into you, swirling his tongue over your nipple, around and around, before dragging his tongue across to the other breast.

“You like that, baby?” he asks, covering your chest with kisses.

Baby? Did he really just call you baby? Is this really happening, or did you slip into one of your daydreams again?

Nope, the hard dick rolling into the apex of your thighs as you grind down on him feels pretty real. You can’t help but moan, wondering what he looks like under those tight jeans. Is he as thick as you imagine?

Wait, why are you still trying to imagine anything? He’s literally underneath you right now.

Your hand splays on his torso as you guide him onto his back again. Slowly, you lower yourself over him, and drag your mouth down his neck. Clearly, you’d interrupted his going out routine earlier, because he’s not wearing his normal cologne right now. Instead, the heady scent you inhale as you stick your nose into the hollow of his clavicles is pure Chan, musky and comforting.

“Ah, that tickles!” he hisses.

“Sorry.” You press a heavy kiss to his collarbone. “Is that better?” He nods, right before you sink your teeth in.

“Nnngh!” He lets out a throaty groan as you happily suck a love bite into his delicate skin. God, the noises this man makes! You want to record them and play them on a loop.

You slip further down, dragging your fingernails over one of Chan’s nipples, watching his face for his reaction. A tiny “oh!” escapes him, and you repeat the motion, grinning when his back lifts off the bed. Sensitive. This is going to be fun.

Chan raises his head when you start to kiss his abs, taking the time to lick along the ridges as you go, the salty tang of his sweat lingering on your lips. When your hands play with the skin above his waistband, he clears his throat. “You know, you don’t have to do this, just because of that text.”

“Are you kidding me?” You pause with your fingers on the button of his fly. “You want me to stop now?”

“I just don’t want you to think I expect anything.” Although his voice is a little shaky, like he’s trying to calm himself down, you hear the sincerity in his words. The sweetness. That warmth inside you roars into a flame.

“Channie. I want this. Do you want this?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Thank god,” you sigh, unzipping his fly. He helps you peel off his tight jeans and you make quick work of his silk boxers beneath. Nudging his legs apart, you kneel between them

For a moment just you stare at the sight in front of you. You were right. He’s thick. Maybe a little longer than most of the dicks you’ve been happy to be acquainted with, maybe not, but definitely thicker.

You want to sit on him so bad. But first you want to please him, want to taste him. So much want.

While you’re dicknotized, Chan stuffs your pillows under his head so he can have a better angle. You glance at his face and find him biting his lip, eyes looking a little desperate. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you.

Might as well put him out of his misery. With a lick of your palm, you wrap your hand around him, and pump a few shallow strokes. He grunts at the sudden slickness, abdomen jumping slightly.

“Ah, baby, just like that,” he says, eyes closing when you roll your thumb over the tip a few times. “Shit.”

Your tongue darts out to follow, dipping around the head and back over, before you take it into your mouth. Just the tip, bobbing off, then a little more, then again. Each time you sink lower, he sighs.

“Fuck, that feels so good. Keep going, take it all in.”

Oh god, is he a talker? You’re already impossibly wet. You can’t possibly handle getting any more aroused.

While your mouth is occupied, you lift your leg so you’re straddling one of Chan’s, resting a palm on his big thigh. You have obsessed over his thighs since the day you moved in. You refer to them as “the thunder from down under” in your texts to Minho. And here they are now, so strong and sturdy beneath you. Wild.

Chan hisses when you deepthroat him, brushing your nose against his pelvis. Even though you pride yourself on your dick-sucking skills, you can’t help but choke slightly. More saliva floods into your mouth, and you swallow around him.

“Oh, shit!” His hips rise up a little. You use both hands, one trying to hold him down by his hip while the other strokes in tandem with your mouth. There’s drool everywhere, and the sounds the wetness makes sounds lewd even for porn. “Baby, this mouth of yours! Feels better than I ever imagined.”

Air rushes into your lungs as you pull off, replacing your mouth with your other hand. “You thought about this?” He fantasized about you, too?

“Oh fuck yeah,” he growls. “All the time. Thought those pretty lips would look so good choking on me, and I was right.” He thrusts a little, rocking his dick up into your slippery grip. “Used to dream about fucking it.”

You moan so brokenly, he looks at you in concern.

“Please,” you lick his darkened head almost frantically, “do it.”

Chan studies you for a moment, brows knitting together, before he pushes your head down.

“That’s it, go down for me,” he directs you, and you listen. “Just stay there. Let me do the work now.”

He starts slowly, tilting his pelvis a little, fucking up into your waiting mouth. Then he cants his hips a little faster. His breathing gets heavier the harder he thrusts. Once he finds a steady rhythm, he lays his hand on the back of your head keeping you exactly where he wants you.

You squirm restlessly as Chan fucks your throat. Having your roommate use your mouth as a sex toy is incredibly hot. Finally, you slide your hand into your sweats to give yourself some relief. Your clit is engorged, practically beating like a heart between your fingers. You let out a pleased moan, vibrating down Chan’s cock.

“Do that again, baby.”

You’re not denying this man anything. Again and again, you make him curse as your hums resonate across his sensitive skin. He trembles a little, and it’s intoxicating to think that you might be breaking down this big, strong roommate of yours, reducing him to a quivering mess.

At the very least, it’s something to aim for.

Chan praises you again. “God damn it, that’s good. Gonna make me cum with that pretty mouth.”

You suck and swallow and moan and rub yourself, feeling Chan’s thigh flex beneath you, and it hits you what he said, that you’re about to get Chan off, you, so you reach out, raking your hand up the inside of his thigh until you find his balls, squeezing gently.

“I’m gonna cum, shit, ’m gonna cum,” he moans, words slurring together. “Where, baby?”

You stop touching yourself so you can grip the hand of his that rests on your head. He gets the point, pace not slowing, and with a few more powerful pumps, and some stuttered exhalations, he fills your mouth. You take it all, swallowing noisily and gasping for breath once he pulls out.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He laughs as he says it. Your shoulders shake as you half-laugh, half-wheeze, slumping over on Chan’s thigh.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grins. “And I’m guessing from the sounds you were making, you enjoyed that as well? Just maybe not quite as much as me?”

You shrug. “I got what I wanted.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe, but I bet you’d like more, hmm?” Without waiting for a response, he swiftly flips you onto your back. Just hauls you right over like you’re made of feathers. A rash of ridiculously giddy giggles burst past your lips, but they die away when he crawls up your body, the power of his gaze pinning you in place, and drops hungry lips onto yours.

Immediately, you surge up into him, pressing as close as you can. Both of you are glistening with sweat, his hair sticking to his face and yours as he licks into your mouth, hot and wet. You’re drowning in him. It’s everything you ever wanted. How the fuck can you possibly want more? But you do, and this feeling makes itself known as you start to whimper needily.

Chan’s hand quickly locates your breast, tenderly cupping your flesh. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are? So pretty.”

You preen at his words, humming contentedly. Fuck. Do you have a praise kink, or is it just that Chan’s the one saying these words that is getting you more worked up? You roll your hips, seeking friction, and Chan’s hand slides downward until he reaches where you need him.

“Oh, baby, so wet,” he says, voice hushed, almost reverent. “Just dying to be touched, yeah? Let me help you.”

With sure movements, lithe fingers stroke along your lips, opening you up. Fingertips squeeze your clit, playing with the aching pearl, causing you to squeal, and you could die, having made such a sound, except you’ve clearly already died and gone to heaven.

Even as his hand rubs, his lips never leave yours. You thrash in his grip when he slides a finger inside you, finding your g-spot with surprising quickness and pressing the fuck out of it, and he still chases your mouth, covering your chin in kisses. Your legs kick out as he alternates between fondling your clit and stroking your walls, until he suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out so he can rid you of your sweats.

“You still with me?” he asks, kneeling between your legs, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, sucking in air like a fish. You must be a mess, if your appearance matches how you feel. But you’re also excruciatingly aroused and frustrated, so close to coming that you’re ready to blow.

“Yes. I’m here, I’m good.”

“Good.” The Look™️ is back. He grabs your legs and bends them, pushing your thighs into your torso. “Here. Be a good girl and hold these.”

Yes, daddy. You bite your tongue to keep from screaming the words, and grasp your legs behind your knees, pulling them to the side as much as you can, opening you up wide.

“Yes, Channie.”

He smiles at that, eyes so dark you can almost see yourself. “So good for me. Hold tight, baby.”

He sticks out his tongue, eyebrows cocking as he dives down, tracing your folds lightly before flattening the pink muscle and dragging it heavily upwards. You keen as his hot mouth suctions onto your clit. He rolls your clit around with his tongue before flicking it in a quick motion, over and over.

“Jesus!” You’re a live wire, muscles jolting and twitching. As he continues working over the tiny bundle of nerves, his fingers slip inside you again, two this time, scissoring you apart, making room for his tongue.

You gasp as he plunges inside, tracing your inner walls. He’s so loud, the noises his mouth makes as he sucks and laps, and messy, too, slick dripping from his chin when he lifts his face, making sure you’re watching him. Of fucking course you’re watching him. There’s literally nothing else in the world you’d rather be looking at right now than Bang Chan, the hottest man in the galaxy, devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal.

“Tastes so good,” he rasps, turning his face to press sloppy kisses to your inner thigh. “Think you can hold out a little longer? Let me enjoy, yeah?”

At this point, you’re a fucking tinderbox, one spark and you’ll explode, but sure, why not let the man enjoy himself a little more?

“O-okay,” you stutter weakly. “I’ll… try.” You bite your lip. “But maybe…”

Chan brushes his lips over your slit. With a shaky hand, you let your left leg go so you can reach out, brushing some damp locks off his forehead, and he looks at you.

“Maybe a little slower?” you ask.

He smiles, nodding a little. “Got ya.”

Instead of pulling your hand back, you thread your fingers into his hair, and he hums, burying his face again. Only now, his tongue rolls slowly over your cunt, languidly, each pass taking longer and longer. He still keeps the pressure up, makes sure he’s pushing just as firmly against your sensitive folds, still fucks his tongue into you just as deeply as he was before, but now his movements aren’t so frenzied. They feel purposeful, like he’s intent on savoring the moment.

And you realize you should, too. So you barely blink as you observe everything he does - every kiss, every groan, every time his eyes close. You try to commit it all to memory, so you can relive this moment over and over again. In case this is it.

Chan keeps humming, not so much a melody as just wordless sounds, getting louder when your thighs start to squeeze a little. Your hand grips the roots of his hair, not so much guiding him as hanging on. Until he takes your clit in his mouth again, and you cry out, holding him in place.

“Right there, Channie, please!” Your voice breaks as you beg him not to stop. He doesn’t let up, not even when you release your death grip on your right leg, letting it fall over his shoulder like the other one. You dig your fingers into the blanket beneath you, fisting the material. “Fuck, just like that!”

Your hips rise off the bed as you start to hump his face, grinding harder and harder. Chan slides his fingers back into your already clenching hole and finds your g-spot again. You wail helplessly, mind already going, body not far behind, as your muscles start to contract, everything tightening -

“Fuuuuck!”

With a loud groan, you come all over Chan’s face. He keeps tonguing your clit through your orgasm, but has to use his hands to hold your thighs open so he doesn’t asphyxiate. You tug at his hair, riding out the waves of bliss on his mouth.

When you finally relinquish your grasp on his head, he stops. He slides your legs from his arms, then sits back on his heels to examine his handiwork.

You’re a limp noodle. No bones. No muscles. Couldn’t move if you tried. Your climax completely wiped you out, leaving nothing behind. But you’re a very happy noodle, practically purring as you smile at the ceiling.

Chan, on the other hand. Chan appears to be ready for the next round. A point made obvious by the massive erection he’s again sporting. You blink at him a few times.

“I’m going to need a minute.”

He laughs, draping himself over you, arm slung over your stomach, head on your shoulder. “Nah mate, you’re done.”

A rather petulant whine bubbles up from deep within you. “Nooo, I’m good, I’m good!”

You try to reach for his dick, but he catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. Which is a surprisingly sweet move, but not what you want right now. It’s not that you don’t want to cuddle with him - if he asked, you’d wrap yourself like a blanket around him and snuggle him for hours.

It’s that you’re not ready for this moment to be over.

“Relax,” he laughs. “Plenty of time for that later. Just rest for a bit.”

“Later?" There’s gonna be a later?

Chan kisses your neck lightly. “Yeah, later. Not done with you yet, baby.”

You sigh, bringing a hand up to stroke his back. Okay. Maybe a little nap is fine. If there’s going to be a later.

Fuck, you can’t wait to text Minho.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

I don't feel right tagging my usual tl since that was for my BTS writing, so I'm just gonna tag some moots that I think might like this:

@moni-logues @yoongimingyu @borahae-k @nabiolive @jikooknoona @sowoozoo-7 @eoieopda @here4btsfics @candlewaxandp0lar0ids @ballelino @starlostjimin @augustbutwinter @blueversaillesdreams @hobivore @hobi-gif @seokjinger-ale @hannahbee12719 feel free to tell me if I'm way off base, no pressure to actually read! 💕

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #bang chan imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #fic: coadm #bang chan fanfic

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theflowerrooms · 8 months

Text

To Request • Miguel’s Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Running Red

Miguel O’Hara x spider-person!reader (gender neutral)

Summary; Miguel was a fair leader and a fair lover, never did he blend the two titles, never had he taken his anger from work on you, until now.

wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, arguing, Miguel is a bit aggressive, insults, hurt/comfort, very slight ATSV spoilers

Miguel had three different modes. The silent, brooding kind, seemingly displeased at all moments. That was his default mode, the one most everyone saw, the one most often associated with his name. And then there was his stressed mode, where he would rant, and rant. A loud string of blurred Spanglish that was intelligible to anyone but himself as he paced back and forth anxiously. That wasn’t seen by too many, mostly yourself, Jess and sometimes Peter. Finally, there was the gentle touches that would lead to more, soft smiles and sweet words. Intimate kisses, goosebumps, and whispered ‘I love you’s’. That was reserved for you

This was new, whatever this was. Silent for a while, and then loud venting, eyes glowing scarlet, slight lisping because he was so angry he couldn’t retract his fangs. It wasn’t like you didn’t understand, he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders. But then again, that wasn’t something you could ever fully understand. You’d been by Miguel’s side for nearly all of it, but you’d never been in his place.

“Miguel, baby, please try to calm down-” “No!” He snapped loudly, cutting you off faster than you could process it. That only made it worse. Miguel was a pessimist, and you were a mediator. You’d defended Gwen- and Miles, every chance you could. You didn’t think they were entirely in the wrong.

You reached a hand out to him and he only jerked away from it, that felt like a blow to the chest. He was acting like you were against him, like you were the opposing force and you weren’t, it was stressing you out.

You sighed and chewed your lip. “None of this is Gwen’s fault, you know this.” You pulled your arms closer to body, making yourself seem smaller, but still not backing down from the conversation-turned-argument.

He dragged a palm down his face and turned slightly to look away from you. “I was an idiot. I took a chance on her. I was an idiot for taking a chance on her.” He growled, fingers twitching at his sides.

“You took a chance on all of us- You took a chance on me-” your voice shook slightly and he cut you off quickly. “I wouldn’t have if I’d known you would turn out like this, so stupid.” He spat, voice laced with venom and resentment.

Your arms dropped to your sides and your lip wobbled. You wanted to yell and fight, you wanted to be angry. But you were only sad, hurt, more insecure than you’d ever been in front of Miguel.

The features of his face, aged with stress, softened just slightly, his tense shoulders sloped as he realized what he’d said, how it affected you.

The image of your partner in front of you blurred as your eyes welled with tears. He had yet to say anything else and you weren’t going to stand there and wait, so you turned on your heel. You wouldn’t let him see you cry.

He watched you walk away and you could feel his eyes on your back. Part of you was grateful he didn’t put up a fight against you walking away but a bigger part of you wished he’d apologized immediately, or begged you to stay there with him and explain that he didn’t really think you’re stupid. He watched you walk away instead. Did he really think you were stupid?

✽-

You had no interest in staying in his universe, and your own universe wasn’t quite an option. That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor of Mayday’s nursery in Peter’s world. She squished her little head against yours, wild hair tickling your cheeks which were soft from crying. ‘Baby-love. Cures all types of sad.’ Peter had said. You had to admit he wasn’t all that wrong.

“Do you feel like talkin’ yet? Or…” Peter offered, leaning against the doorframe with two cups of coffee in his hands.

You smiled weakly. “Thank you for letting me borrow your baby.” You squeezed Mayday in a gentle hug. He took it as permission to hand you a coffee and sit on the floor with you, which you were entirely fine with.

It was quiet for a bit. You sipped your coffee and pulled your knees to your chest as Peter’s baby clumsily made her way over to him. He stared at you, his eyes kind and inviting. “Peter we’ve known each other for a good while, worked together a ton. Have you ever thought of me as stupid?” Your voice wavered toward the end of the question.

Peter tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Of course not. Why would you even ask that? It’s been an honour to fight alongside you. You’re so intelligent, you’re a wonderful teammate and a wonderful person. You’re far from stupid. I mean- Obviously. Miguel wouldn’t give you that much responsibility if he thought you were stupid.” He laughed softly, but the mood shifted and his demanour had entirely changed. He must've sense of change in your expression when he said Miguel's name. "Did Miguel say something to make you think that? Did he call you stupid?" He looked mad, and although it rose your anxiety, you knew none of it was directed at you.

“He said he wouldn’t have taken a chance on me if he’d known I turned out this way. ‘So stupid’ he said. I’m not sure if he meant taking a chance on me was stupid or I’m stupid but-”

“Either way.” Peter cut you off, finishing your sentence. He shook his head. “He shouldn’t have said that, Miguel doesn’t think you’re stupid.” He scoffed and you only shrugged. “Don’t let what he said make you think that. He doesn’t think you’re stupid- and even if he does, you aren’t. Understand?” He rose his eyebrows and you nodded with a sympathetic smile. While you loved Peter, and valued his opinion, you weren’t worried about what he thought right now. Miguel’s words were replaying in your head.

‘I wouldn’t have if I’d known you would turn out like this, so stupid.’

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

✽-

You’d spend the night at Peter and MJ’s that night, in their world. Alone in their guest bed rather than wrapped safely in Miguel’s arms like you were used to.

You were mostly over it now, having gone over everything in your head again and again, with each word Miguel said repeating in your mind. You’d mentally given him a million excuses, just desperate to be over it so you could forgive him and then everything would be fine.

Of course you had yet to forgive him, and nothing was fine. You weren’t sure if you could sleep in a bed so cold and lonely.

“Amor?” Miguel’s voice startled you and you scrambled, sitting up in the bed. You hadn’t heard or sensed him anywhere nearby. Did Peter let him in? “Can we talk? Please?” He spoke monotone, straight faced. This was the cold, emotionless Miguel that others were used to seeing. For a moment you worried he was still angry with you, that this front was to hide emotions he was feeling because he was about to break up with you- for being so stupid. Though, would he have addressed you that way if that was the case?

You nodded and chewed your lip. “We can talk.” You wanted to return the straight, monotone voice he'd given you, but you stumbled over your words. You wondered if your eyes were still puffy from crying- and that's when you noticed his were too. He’d clearly been crying. You’d never seen Miguel cry before, you were witnessing entirely new parts of him today.

He sat on the side of the bed and rested a large palm on your shin through the blanket. “I am so- I shouldn’t have- I’m so sorry. I do not think you’re stupid.” He kept eye contact with you. It was important to him that you understood how serious this was to him. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. I’m so grateful to have you by my side- and I- you’re not stupid-”

“Miguel- I’m not mad at you, you have so much on your plate, it’s okay-”

“It is not. I should not have said that to you- I didn’t mean to say it like that. I don’t think you’re stupid, I think I have been stupid, I could have prevented all this and I didn’t.” His voice shook. He was showing you insecurity and vulnerability; two things he’d made you feel already. You appreciated what he was doing for you right now and you understood how hard it was for Miguel to give himself to you like this.

You moved to your knees and took his face in your hands, smoothing your thumb over the worry lines between his eyebrows. “It’s not your job to save the world Miguel. I think it’s incredible that you’ve made it your job, but still it doesn’t have to be. You haven’t done anything wrong, and you haven’t been stupid.” You pouted slightly and let him kiss the pout off of you. One kiss releasing all the tension and stress from you both.

You rested your forehead against his and then two of you stayed like that for a while; breathing each other in, basking in the closeness. “You really don’t think I’m stupid?” You asked, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a smirk.

“No, no, lo siento carino, lo siento- te amo, mucho mucho mucho-” He rambled in a tone similar to baby-talk, peppering kisses all over your face until you were giggling and pushing his big head away.

“Te amo! I love you too!” You laughed, leaning against him. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again.” You still had a soft smile on your face, but you were being serious and he knew.

A kiss to the top of your head “Never.” He replied. You hummed, head against his chest and palm against his lean torso.

“Good. Because if you do, I’ll turn evil and start causing problems by tearing holes in all kinds of universes. And Jess and Peter won’t help you stop me because they think I’m cooler than you.” You joked and he fake laughed.

Gently, with faux annoyance, he pushed you away from him. “Is there anything I can do now to persuade you not to do that in the future?” He inquired, leaning toward you.

“Hold me?”

You weren’t doomed to sleep in the cold, desolate bed all on your own anymore. Gifted with Miguel’s arm thrown over your body and holding you tightly, he pressed his nose lightly into your hair and his heart beating against your back. You hoped Peter wouldn’t mind Miguel having a surprise sleepover.

He didn’t mind at all.

#petalwrites #miguel spiderman #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #Miguel O’Hara angst #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #peter b parker #mayday atsv

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sergle · 6 months

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(re: sssniperwolf and jacksfilms) It's laughable that she escalated it that hard. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure stalking him like that is illegal and it's terrifying regardless, but Jack said in a stream (can't remember which one) that he wasn't about bringing up past controversies of hers or cancelling. And now she shows up outside his house (wtf!!!). Like he was willing to only call her out for stealing and freebooting but she's gone and stalked him and Jack doesn't seem like the type of guy to take that shit. Actual WTF moment from her part. wild

omg long post below bc apparently I have opinions: YES!! THAT'S WHAT'S SO INCREDIBLE ABOUT THIS... Jack has been genuinely diligent about keeping things on-topic in his streams, and hasn't brought up any of her other Stuff, or anything Personal. Despite the fact that she kickstarted the whole thing by making it INCREDIBLY personal and attacking his physical appearance... His goal has been to call out and bring attention to content theft, and he's stuck with it. Dude's also cared about this for years, and she's not the first content thief he's criticized. He just hates the way that freebooting has become so accepted-- to the point where youtube praised her for "coming up with such creative video ideas"? Hey! Ew! Dude wasn't trying to get her cancelled though, there was no smear campaign of her character. He's been rallying to get her to CREDIT the creators that she relies on for all of her content. It would set a precedent for all other "react" channels on the platform for one of the biggest channels on youtube to actually give credit where credit is due. Or, god forbid, get permission first? It's not hard. It's already done the job of making some other people who do "react content" self-analyze whether or not their content is transformative, and to maybe care about crediting the creators they rely on for their genre to work. There is a way to make this kind of video that isn't so slimy. And making fun of her lackluster-at-best reactions is so far from even being a big deal. Bc she literally does just sit there and say nothing. Plus, his goal has a clear End built into it: if she started shouting out the creators she takes content from, and put links directly to their pages in her video descriptions, the job would be done! That's what he's asking her to do. Real bare minimum stuff. It legit would have been easy to steer away from the content theft and to also talk about her history of lying to her audience! her ghosting a dying kid with cancer who was a big fan of hers! the fact that she's been arrested for armed robbery! her history of transphobia! He would also get more clicks that way, which is what she claims is his sole goal- to get more clicks. I'll bring it up though! She's been a terrible person the whole time, and has kept a steady course of manipulating her audience of young children and/or, let's be completely honest, simps- into thinking that she's a Wholesome creator. (And now, into thinking she's an innocent victim.) All of the actual effort put in by her has gone toward optics, not the content she puts out. A carefully constructed online persona, for one, but also literal appearances. Jack totally can't say this, bc she already went off the handle and said the only reason he doesn't like her is bc he Hates To See A Woman Be Successful. But I can! That was a cheap shot for her to use that argument when, for once, it's not applicable! Much the opposite, even! Dudes online wouldn't go to bat for her if she didn't look the way she does. And it weakens any case she'd have against him by making baseless claims like that. She banks hugely on being an attractive woman to get her clicks/following. A massive amount of effort is put into her appearance. The makeup, the lip fillers, putting her hair in little pigtails, the chokers and tube tops, the big non-prescription Nerd Glasses, the thumbnails where she has her mouth open in That Expression?

I don't even have to say anything. But making a weird facial expression and putting your hair in pigtails aren't moral failings. Showing up at someone's real life home (whose address you shouldn't even have access to), filming the front of their house at night, doxxing them to your audience of millions of people? Because you were mad at them online? That is fully scary! Yeah girl I'm pretty sure that Jack can press charges! There is absolutely no way to take the moral highground now that she's literally stalked him, and doxxed his home. She tried to goad him and Erin (Jack's wife) out of the house, also, which creeps me out even more-- because what was she planning to do? The fact that she's been arrested for violent crime before does pop into my mind! lmao! Jack was streaming a game at the time that she was outside his home, and these clips of him, his friends, and Erin reacting in real time to what is genuinely a scary situation have been taken down in case he needs to use them in legal action. Shit is legitimately serious!

#sergle answers #long post #LONGEST POST ON EARTH I'M SO SORRY #saying all this out loud only takes a few minutes but typing it... girl this is a BOOK #clearly I have thoughts on this Online Drama but also this isn't online!#these are people who exist in real life. and compromising a person's safety bc he criticized you for stealing tiktoks #is a real life thing. this isn't confined to online spaces! you can turn off your computer to get away from An Argument #but someone going to your house?? that's absolutely terrifying #and all of this is just because he's been telling her to credit the creators. it could have been resolved so simply.#I hope he takes legal action against her bc he genuinely has grounds to do so.#and I can't imagine how terrified and upset I would be if someone was outside my door. filming my house for their audience.#also the 'what if the roles were reversed' argument is rarely made in good faith... but she's already brought up the topic.#this would be getting even more coverage and the optics would be Even Creepier if a strange man with millions of followers showed up #at the home of a woman- just bc she criticized his videos- filming her home address for all to see and trying to get her to come outside.#It's just as creepy that sssniperwolf did this as it would be coming from ANYONE else #it's been downplayed bc her being a little skinny woman means that A Man shouldn't be threatened by her #which. even if she wasn't going to Do anything. any one of her rabidly loyal online followers MIGHT. she's not the only one who could go to #his house now! anyone could show up.#sergle.txt #Jacksfilms #Sssniperwolf

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gisele0127 · 1 year

Text

Being Kunigami’s girlfriend after the wildcard :(

Warnings: Spoilers!, angst to fluff, grammar mistakes, not proof read, kind of rushed.

2 posts in one day😉☺️

You miss your boy. You miss how rensuke would look at you. You miss all the nicknames he’d call you. You miss how affectionate he used to be. You miss all the the dates he would take you on. You just miss your old boy.

Rensuke misses you too. He hates himself for what he has become. He’s afraid.

Rensuke has gotten buffer, his hair longer and messier. But most importantly his face. He looks so sad, so defeated. His eyes starting to have bags his whole demeanor has changed.

Rensuke remembers when he lost and got kicked out of blue lock. He hates himself. He hates how he let you down, how he let his sisters down, and how he let himself down. He doesn’t know how to face you when he goes back home. He knows you’ll be sad, he knows that he will cry in your arms when he finally sees you. But then the wild card happened. He thought he didn’t have to face you just yet. Maybe he can redeem himself one last time.

You don’t know what happened exactly during the wildcard. But when blue lock got their 2 weeks off so did Rensuke. You didn’t even know he was back until his little sister texted you. “Hey y/n, can you come over please Rensuke is acting super weird” your heart dropped. Why didn’t he text you the second he got out? You got so anxious thinking about it, you were nervous the whole walk to his house. You knocked on the door and Mrs. Kunigami opened it. “Oh y/n I missed you so much. Ren has been acting super weird and looks so…different. Do you know what’s going on?” Your heart drops again. “Uh no I’m sorry. I didn’t even know he was back until you guys texted me”

The walk to his room was nerve wracking. Why were you so nervous? You’re finally seeing your boyfriend after months. You walk in and you’re surprised to see your boyfriend who takes care of his appearance look like total shit. He didn’t notice you come in until you whispered “Ren baby, are you okay?” He looks startled to see you in his room. “What are you doing here I didn’t tell you to come over? What do you want?” You’re surprised by his reaction, because you expected your boyfriend to spring on to you and kiss you. You’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks and this is how it turns out? You turn visibly upset.

“What the fuck Ren? This is how you greet me? What’s wrong with you? I came because my own boyfriend is back and I haven’t seen him In months. I thought you’d be happy to see me. I missed you so much.” Your eyes start to turn glossy, you’re frustrated. He looks at you then scoffs. “Get out. I don’t want to see you right now” Now you’re extra pissed, why does he have an attitude? Ren never has an attitude he’s always so patient. Your anger gets to you and now you’re the one yelling “are you seriously kicking me out?! I want to spend time with you before you have to go back why are you acting so different. Why do you look so different?! You look like total shit and you’re acting like a total fucking douche!” Okay maybe you’re acting a little over dramatic but this better knock some sense into him.

“Get the fuck out. I don’t wanna see you right now, not tomorrow, not ever again. Don’t talk to me again. We’re over.”

Woah. Did he just break up with you? This is the last thing you expected. You turn pale your heart is beating fast. “Wait Ren! No you can’t mean that. Hey just talk to me babe! I’m your girlfriend that’s what you’re supposed to do!” He looks at you and with such disgust he says “ex girlfriend”. That’s when you walk out, into the living room where his family is sitting on the couch. Yup they definitely heard your argument. You can’t see the looks on their faces because you’re tearing up but you walk out.

You get back home, mascara ruined and your dad asks you, “where’ve you been?” You don’t answer him. You don’t want to because what are you supposed to say? You just got broken up with? Hell no it’s embarrassing enough that his family heard yalls argument. You go into your room and scream and cry. The last thing you expected just happened to you.

3 days pass by. Not a single text from Kunigami. To be quite honest, now you’re the one looking like shit. You haven’t gone to school, you can’t show your face anywhere. Your dad is worried but he’s on a work trip right now so he can’t comfort you. “Ask Kunigami to come over, he can always cheer you up.” Right. You still haven’t told your dad.

You hear a knock on the door. You don’t bother getting it, it’s probably just a package arriving. Another knock, harder and faster. By this time you’re annoyed. You go to the door yelling “coming!!” You swing the door open ready to tell someone off but right in front of the entrance to you house is your newly ex boyfriend. Kunigami Rensuke.

You’re flustered, not expecting him. Even more flustered because of what you’re wearing. Spandex and Kunigami’s old shirt. “Uh hey, is there something I can help you with?” You ask awkwardly. “I need to get all my stuff back” he says with no emotion. “Oh sure come in, uh lemme go grab some of your stuff from my room” Kunigami waits patiently on the couch, truth be told you had none of his stuff packed. You wanted to keep all of it.

After about 10 minutes you’re about to finish getting all of his stuff ( he had a lot, it was practically his second home ). Just as you stand up you feel big muscular arms wrap around your waist. You’re startled and mad. Who does he think he is? “Kunigami let me fucking go” you say with so much venom. “What happened to Ren?” He asks. “I’m not going to call you that anymore, we’re not dating remember?” At that he perks up, and lets you go. This time y’all are both facing eachother you get a good look at him and see his puffy eyes. Has he been crying?

You send him off his way and after 5 minutes since he’s been gone you hear another knock on the door. Ugh what does he want? You open the door and before you could say something he comes running in hugging you. “I miss you so much I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry. Please just let me explain myself please.” You know you should’ve said no, but you can’t this is the man you love. The man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

You let him in. You both are sitting on the couch awkwardly. “Uh what did you have to say” Kunigami stands up and sits closer to you, looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting. I’m so sorry. You know I love you right? I’ve loved you ever since I laid eyes on you. I love everything about you. I messed up. I should’ve told you what’s been going on, I should’ve told you everything from the start. Baby, I lost. I got kicked out of blue lock. I’m sorry. I let you down. But they gave me another chance, I could redeem myself. I took it obviously, my dream couldn’t just end there. But baby it was so hard. So fucking hard. I had to train till my body gave out. They wouldn’t let me talk to anyone. I was so lonely and isolated. I struggled for others people entertainment. I’m sorry. There’s so much more I wish I could tell you but that’s not the point. I can’t use that as an excuse for how I treated you. I was a shitty boyfriend. I’m sorry. I regret everything that I said. Every single thing. I was just ashamed of myself. Embarrassed. Baby I should’ve never broken up with you. I’m so scared right now. I just broke up with the girl I want to marry, the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with, the girl who I love most. I’m sorry. Please just take me back.”

He looks back at you because you haven’t said anything. You’re crying. Shit did he say the wrong thing? “Babe?” “Fuck you ren” you stand up and go to your room. So this is it? Kunigami will never forgive himself. Just as he’s about to open the front door, you come running and you jump on his back.

“HEY where are you going??!!” Kunigami looks back, and sees you carrying tissues. Oh. You left to get tissues. He didn’t notice he was crying until you force his face down kissing his tears away. You lean your forehead into his. “We will talk about this in the morning okay? I’m too tired to think” Kunigami is speechless. What? “You’re not mad?” “Im absolutely pissed right now, but I know you’ve been through a lot so I’m letting you go easy just this one time”

He smiles just as he’s about to say something you kiss him. The kiss is passionate and hungry leaving both of you off of breath. “What was that for?” “Just missed my beautiful boy. Come give me cuddles we haven’t cuddled in months”

He smiles thinking about how lucky he got.

#rensuke kunigami fluff #kunigami x y/n #kunigami x reader #kunigami x you #kunigami fluff #bllk kunigami #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock angst #rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami smut #kunigami rensuke #bllk scenarios #bllk fluff #bllk headcanons #bllk x reader

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avatar-anna · 1 year

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would you ever write a curious gaze type of concept ? especially for young dad!h like maybe he’s seen with one of his babies and the fan is observing him from afar

Curious Gazes

Three separate instances where the Styles family is seen out in the wild.

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

The School Teacher

“Thank you so much for meeting with me today, Ms. Y/l/n. Will your husband be joining us today?” Mrs. Keating said.

“No, sorry, he's away for work.”

Y/n smiled at the middle-aged woman as she sat in the seat across from Mrs. Keating's desk. She was Simone’s kindergarten teacher. She hadn’t spoken to Y/n too much outside of the initial parent’s meeting at the beginning of the school year, and she didn't participate much in the school's extracurricular activities, and she often pulled Simone from school. But Simone was excelling doing well and on top of all her schoolwork, so Mrs. Keating didn't see any red flags. Y/n was young, very young, that much was clear, but she tried not to hold it against the girl.

However, Mrs. Keating eventually had to call Y/n in for a meeting after a couple recurring incidences the last few days. It was nothing major, but Mrs. Keating thought it would be wise to get ahead of it before the situation had the potential to escalate.

“That’s okay, dear. We can go ahead and get started.” Simone's mother motioned for Mrs. Keating to continue as she folded one leg over the other in her seat. The teacher eyed Y/n's sneakers curiously before saying, "It has come to my attention that Simone has been going around telling students that her father is a famous musician."

Mrs. Keating had overheard Simone telling her fellow students that her dad was Harry Styles, someone Mrs. Keating only knew because her niece was a big fan. She didn't know much about the celebrity, but she saw a magazine headline or the occasional photograph. There was no way Harry Styles was Simone's father or Y/n's husband.

"Right, um, I'll have a talk with her when I get home," Y/n said, sounding a little surprised.

Mrs. Keating smiled warmly at the girl. "Lovely. I just wanted you to be aware of the situation. Lying is frowned upon at this school."

"She's—My daughter isn't lying," Y/n said. "My husband is a musician. He’s—"

"It's okay if that's the story you want to give to Simone," Mrs. Keating said. Perhaps Y/n didn't know who Simone's father was and she just told her daughter offhandedly that her dad was a celebrity. "But it's started quite a few arguments in the classroom and on the playground."

Y/n mumbled some kind of reply, and Mrs. Keating found herself saying, "Sorry, what was that, dear?"

"I said, I will talk to Simone about being mindful of the things we say and how we say them," Y/n said, clearer this time.

"Wonderful. Have a good day, Y/n."

"It's Mrs.—Nevermind. Have a good day, Mrs. Keating.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

A few weeks after her meeting with Simone's teacher, everything seemed to be fine. She wasn't totally fond of Mrs. Keating's condescension, but there were no more incidences, and Harry and Y/n decided to wait to talk to the school's administration about everything. They wanted as little drama as possible.

And then it was Simone's turn for her class' "All About Me" presentation. She was supposed to make a poster that was, of course, all about her—favorite foods, favorite things to do at home, and of course, her family.

Y/n didn't think much of it, but that was mostly because Harry helped Simone with the project while he was on a brief break from touring. He and Simone had a lot of fun cutting out photographs with curvy patterned scissors, gluing on large bubbly letters that spelled out her name, and writing little paragraphs under each picture. And the glitter. Y/n knew she would be finding pink glitter around the house for years to come after this project.

Harry and Simone showed the finished project to Y/n, and she was thoroughly surprised by her husband's crafting skills. There were pictures of Simone in Holmes Chapel with Anne and Gemma, Simone's stuffed animals having a tea party (real china, because of course Uncle Louis thought Simone needed real china to have a proper tea party), Y/n and Simone at Disneyland with Mickey Mouse ears, and one of the whole family in the hospital when Collette was born. Harry was in a few pictures, obviously, but Y/n didn't think anyone in Simone's classmates would recognize him. It wasn't like there were pictures of him onstage or anything like that.

So she was surprised when a week after the project was turned in, Y/n was once again called into a meeting with her daughter's teacher.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"No husband again?" Mrs. Keating asked Y/n. Really, though, that didn't come as a surprise.

"Actually, he's just running a little late. He should be here in a few minutes."

"Well, I'd just like to speak to you about the project Simone turned in last week," the woman said. "I thought we had squashed this whole 'dad is a rockstar bit' at school, but she had a picture of Harry Styles on her poster."

"Yeah, well—"

"Yes, well," Mrs. Keating interrupted. "You see, it's not right to fill a child's head with delusions about who her father is, and honestly, I feel like a good mother wouldn't let her child get her hopes up in such a way."

It was one thing to let children to believe in Santa Claus, but for a mother to lie to her daughter about the identity of her father, especially such an outlandish lie, it was downright irresponsible in the teacher's book.

Y/n looked shocked, but Mrs. Keating didn't know why. Surely, the girl knew why she was called for another meeting today. The woman expected to have a calm, reasonable discussion about Simone, but Y/n took her by surprise and said, "You—You, know what? I'm not comfortable having this conversation with just you. I think I'd like to speak to the principal as well."

She looked affronted, Mrs. Keating thought, though she didn't know why. Nothing she said to the girl was unreasonable. It was clear Y/n needed some assistance on how she should raise her daughter. She was just trying to help the poor girl.

"Y/n, there's no need to get hostile, dear—"

"Hostile? You haven't seen anything yet. I swear to God—"

"Hey, sorry I'm late—Woah. Everything okay, darling?"

Mrs. Keating's eyes flitted to the door of her classroom, and her eyes widened in shock. That was...that was Harry Styles. In her classroom.

"No, we're leaving," Y/n said, stalking over to Harry and gripping his hand when she reached him.

Harry immediately rested a hand on Y/n's shoulder, his face filled with concern. They mumbled to each other for a few seconds, and all Mrs. Keating could do was flounder at the fact that Harry Styles had a daughter, and she was in her kindergarten class.

"Right," Mrs. Keating heard Harry say. "I think we'll continue this discussion another day."

Harry's voice was thick with emotion. Anger, Mrs. Keating realized. She scrambled to think of something to say that would smooth things over. "Mr. Styles, I'm so sorry about this, I—"

"I think it's my wife you owe an apology to, but as I said, we'll talk about it another day."

The pair left without another word, harry's arm slung around Y/n's shoulders.

The following week, Mrs. Keating was written up and was informed that Simone had transferred to a different school.

The Production Assistant

Amy didn't want to make an ass out of herself and assume anything, but she was pretty sure her boss was in love with her.

Well, Harry technically wasn't her boss, but she was a PA on the set of Don't Worry Darling, and he had a leading role, so he was basically her boss.

If Amy told anyone what she thought, they would all think she was crazy, which was why she didn't say anything. She just got this vibe from Harry. He always went out of his way to say hello to her and ask how she was doing, he gave her a kind smile whenever she passed by him, and he once brought her coffee, even though her job was to bring coffee to him!

She just had this gut feeling like there was this unspoken thing between them, but neither of them acted on it because there were so many prying eyes. It was honestly admirable how professional Harry was about the whole thing.

"Good morning Harry," Amy said as she knocked on his trailer door. "They're almost ready for you on set."

Harry stepped out of his trailer. He was in costume—a crisp suit and hair styled to perfection. He was just so dreamy, Amy thought, and when he smiled at her stomach erupted into butterflies. "Thanks, Amy. Always makin' sure I'm on time."

Amy blushed. "Just doing my job, Harry."

"Call me H. Most people do," he told her.

A nickname? Harry said "most people" called him H, but she knew that was probably him just saving face. He really did like her.

"Good luck!" Amy called to him as he walked onto the set of his 1950s-era home.

Harry gave her a thumbs-up and winked at her over his shoulder, which only solidified Amy's suspicions.

Harry Styles was definitely into her.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Amy was going to make her move today, she had to.

Between all the flirty smiles and jokes and that one time Harry called her "Ames," she couldn't take it anymore. She didn't care if they had to keep their relationship a secret, she just wanted them to address the elephant in the room.

Harry was in his trailer while production filmed a couple scenes that he wasn't in. He usually watched to give his friends moral support, but today he only left when he was called to set.

Amy approached his trailer, a coffee just the way he liked it in her hands. She was so excited, she didn’t hear two voices laughing until she opened the trailer door.

“Shove off, H!”

“Shove off? That’s rude.”

“You’re crushing me, you big baby!”

“That’s exactly what I am. You know how hard it is to get your attention these days? I’ve got a small army between me and you. And it’s just gonna get worse.”

“Well you’re the one who doesn’t know how to pull ou—Oh. Hello.”

Amy was frozen on the steps of Harry’s trailer, unsure of the sight in front of her. Harry was sitting on the sofa, but around his broad shoulders, she could see he was actually sitting on a young woman’s lap. Amy couldn’t see much, just half of a face and hair tied up into a ponytail, but alarm bells immediately rang in her head.

Having noticed his friend stopped talking, Harry craned his neck to look over at Amy. He grinned at her, but made no move to stand up from where he was perched on the young woman’s lap.

“Oh. Hey, Amy! Am I being called onto set? I thought my call time was at seven.”

All Amy could look at was the way the young woman’s hand rested so casually on Harry’s knee, like she didn’t have to think twice about touching him. It was so simple yet affectionate, exactly how Amy imagined being with Harry would be like.

Somehow, she managed to wrench her gaze away. “No. No, uh, I just thought I’d check in because you’re usually, um, usually on set with the rest of us.”

“I know. Sorry about that. I just got a surprise visit from Y/n here, and she’s just desperate for my attention.”

She could be a friend, Amy thought. Friends had friendly banter and were close like that. Amy decided to still hold out hope. All the signs were there that Harry liked her.

Said random girl pinched Harry’s arm, but he swatted her hand away. They giggled with each other and kept pushing each other around like school children, and Amy was suddenly filled with immense jealousy. Who was this girl? Didn’t she have any respect for the fact that someone else was in the trailer?

“Honestly, Amy, you can have him. He’s being a pain in the ass,” the woman, Y/n, said.

Harry immediately pouted at Y/n. “I’ll remember that,” he said, but Y/n merely rolled her eyes at him.

They began bickering again, and Amy took that as her cue to leave. As she walked back to set, Harry’s coffee still in her hands, she didn’t know what to think.

Before long, it was time for Harry to shoot his scenes, and Y/n was nowhere to be found. Harry was as friendly and good natured as ever, he even asked Amy to wish him luck before a first take!

She wanted to watch Harry film his scenes, but she was unfortunately called away to tend to other things. Amy ran around the lot, carrying messages and running things back and forth for whoever saw her walking by. It was exhausting at times, but it was a foot in the door, and that was what mattered.

Between errands, Amy found Harry at the craft services table, and without even thinking about it, she made a beeline for him.

“Hey, H,” she said, trying to sound like she ran into him by chance. “How’s the shoot going?”

“Good, I think. Thank you for asking,” he said, smiling at her. “How are you? Working hard or hardly working?”

Amy blushed and let out a laugh. He was so endearingly dorky, and he always made a point to ask how she was doing. He was just so thoughtful.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said.

“Good. Well, if no one told you today, I really appreciate your hard work. I’m sure this place would be in shambles if it wasn’t for you and everyone else working behind the scenes.”

Amy swore she was going to swoon any second now. Thankfully, she managed to keep it together. “O—Of course. I’m happy to help.”

“Can I trust you?” he asked her, his voice dropping so only Amy could hear him.

Gulping, she asked. “Of course.”

Harry stepped just a little bit closer, and Amy had to hold her breath as she waited for him to say what she’d been fantasizing about for weeks. “Do you mind going to my trailer and checking on Y/n?

Amy felt like the floor had been ripped out from under her feet. “Check? On—On Y/n?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sometimes she doesn’t tell me how she’s really feeling, and I worry something’s bothering her.”

“Uh...Yes! Of—Of course,” she stuttered, willing thoughts back into her head.

Harry squeezed Amy’s shoulder affectionate. “Thank you, really. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He was so endearing. His eyes, which were usually filled with something so warm and boyish and charming, so inherently Harry, but just then something flickered there, something softer.

But not for her, Amy realized. For Y/n.

With a couple more words shared with Harry, Amy set off for his trailer, mulling the last few weeks over in her head.

Could it all have been nothing? Did she really read into their interactions too much? Amy had never been in love before, but she was sure from that conversation with Harry that he was head over heels in love with Y/n. It sucked more than she wanted it to, though perhaps she should’ve known. Of course Harry would be in love with someone. Amy never stood a chance.

Knocking once on the trailer door, she popped her head in. Y/n was laying across the sofa, her arm draped over her eyes. When the door opened, though, she startled.

“Oh. Hey, Amy.”

She sounded kind but tired. “Hi. Harry wanted me to come by and ask if you need anything.”

She smiled, the kind of smile that said Y/n was familiar with this kind of treatment. “H is a bit of a mother hen, but I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Amy asked, stepping into the trailer. “If you need water, a glass of wine, whatever you need, I can get it for you.”

“No wine for me, but a water would be nice, now that I think about it.”

Y/n stood up from the couch, but wobbled a bit. Amy rushed over and rested a hand on the young woman’s elbow. “Should I get Harry? If you’re sick, there’s a medical tent nearby—

“I’m fine, I promise. I know the symptoms by now,” she said. Y/n looked at Amy, almost as if she was assessing her. “I’m pregnant.”

Amy wasn’t sure she could handle much more today. “You’re...”

“Yep.”

“Does Harry...?”

“Know? No, but I think he suspects. He knows me pretty well by now.”

Y/n let Amy help her sit back down on the sofa. “It probably isn’t my place to pry, but you...you don’t sound excited.”

“Oh, I am, I’m just exhausted,” Y/n explained, and the smile on her face made Amy believe that. “It’s just...the pandemic. I’m worried about having the baby in conditions like this, you know?”

Amy didn’t have much to say to that. What could she say? She was twenty, there was no way she could be of any help to Y/n’s current situation.

“Sorry, you barely even know me. I think spending most of my time with children under ten years old makes me miss adult companionship,” she said, then her eyes widened. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

Amy understood the implication. She guessed from how unfazed Y/n seemed to be at being pregnant. She didn’t know how Y/n and Harry managed to keep so many secrets, though his little speech about trusting her earlier now made sense.

“You’re secret’s safe with me,” Amy promised, and meant it. “But I think you should see a doctor anyway.”

“You’re probably right, but I think I just need to sleep for a little. Thank you for checking in. Harry talks about you a lot. He was so nervous about jumping into acting, but you’ve been a friend to him when I couldn’t be here physically, so thank you.”

It was quite literally impossible to harbor any bitterness or ill will towards Y/n. She was so kind and genuine. Exactly the kind of person Harry Styles would have a baby with.

Smiling, Amy said, “Just doing my job.”

The Daycare Worker

The daycare Heather worked at was known to celebrities for its discretion. Everyone who worked there was hired with the most important rule being that they were not allowed to reveal the identities of the patrons or their children. No photos, which was a given at any daycare, no talking about who dropped children off, and definitely no selling stories. The daycare wanted to provide a place for celebrities to drop off their children without worrying about their children's photo appearing in a magazine or on social media.

Heather knew all of this and abided by all the rules. After working there for two years, she'd become desensitized to the people she worked for, and it wasn't like she saw them all that much anyways, it was the children she saw the most.

The only family she couldn't get her head around was Y/n's. As far as Heather knew, Y/n wasn't a celebrity, but she dropped off her kids, a mix of six, a couple days a week. Heather never asked, of course, but she assumed that whoever Y/n had her children with was the famous person. But her kids were cute, and very sweet and well-behaved, which could not be said for all the kids Heather took care of.

The next time Y/n dropped off her kids, Heather was at the check-in desk. She walked in with a baby carrier on her chest, little Natalia tucked in it as she pushed a stroller. Maeve ran ahead while Julian clung to the pair of jeans Y/n was wearing. He was often reluctant to leave his mom's side, but once he was playing with Maeve and the other children, he was happy as a clam.

"Good afternoon!" Heather chirped. "Dropping the four of them off?"

Y/n smiled at Heather, and she thought that while Y/n technically wasn't a celebrity, she was incredibly beautiful. "Good morning. Just the twins and Geneva today."

Heather helped get everyone checked in and let Maeve inside while Y/n got Geneva out of the stroller she was in. Julian made no move to go to the preschool room with his sister, but that was to be expected. Once Geneva and Maeve were settled in their proper rooms, Heather turned her focus on the little boy who was still clinging to his mother's leg.

"Your hair is getting so long, Julian!" she said, bending down to his level.

"I want it to look like Daddy's," he said, big green eyes looking back at her.

Y/n bent down to Julian then too. "Okay, JuJu. Mommy will be back in a little bit. I have to work and run a couple errands and then I'm gonna pick you up and we're gonna go see Daddy at work. How does that sound?"

Heather's ears perked at the mention of Julian's dad, who had yet to pick up from the daycare before, but she quickly focused back on Julian. "That sounds like a lot of fun!"

After a little more coaxing, Julian eventually let go of Y/n and joined Maeve in the daycare with only a little bit of sniffling. Y/n handed over the twins' lunch boxes and some snacks and diapers for GiGi. She left quickly, not wanting Julian to see her and start crying, thanking Heather over her shoulder on her way out.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Another day, another shift at the check-in desk.

Heather was currently manning the front on her own while holding Geneva in her arms. The room where the toddlers played was close to the desk, and sometimes Heather liked to lean over and pick up a baby just because it was always nice to cuddle a cute baby, and GiGi was definitely that.

As she held the toddler in her arms, Heather thought back on Y/n dropping off the kids earlier in the afternoon.

The mom had come in around the same time as she normally did, in the early afternoon once they were out of school, only the twins came in with pink and blue hair.

"Wow," Heather had said. "You guys look so cool! Who did your hair?"

"Daddy!" Maeve said, her cotton candy blue hair bouncing as she skipped over to show Heather her new hair.

"Yep. Dad died their hair. We're not very happy with Daddy right now," Y/n said through a smile.

Heather tried to hide her laugh, though the situation was a little funny. "I'm guessing the hair was a surprise?"

"Yep!" Y/n said, still smiling, probably so she didn't upset her kids. "After I explicitly told him to wait until the summer because they go to a private school, but did he listen? No." Seeming to realize she was ranting to a daycare employee, Y/n shook her head. "Sorry, that was unnecessary, but Dad is picking up today. He's on the approved pick-up list, so everything should be fine."

"Great! Have a good day!" Heather said, a little more excited than she normally was. It wasn't like she spent all of her time wondering who the kids' famous father was, but she also couldn't help but be curious.

A couple hours later, and Heather was holding Geneva while Maeve and Julian played with toy cars and Natalia slept soundly in the nap room. It was getting to be about that time when they went home, and Heather was slowly filling with anticipation.

"Do you want to go play, GiGi?" Heather asked, pinching the toddler's cheek. Geneva shook her head and tightened her little legs around Heather's waist. "Fine by me," she said, switching the toddler to her other arm.

Heather was happy to hold Geneva and play with her at the front of the daycare. She was, for all intents and purposes, a relatively easy baby. She was calm and babbling until she noticed someone come to the front desk. "Dada!"

"Hi, GiGi! Did you have fun today?"

Now, Heather didn't live under a rock, and perhaps it was embarrassing, but she didn't have to turn around to know who had come to pick up Geneva. She gave herself two seconds to get ahold of herself and turn around to face Harry Styles, the person who was quite literally her phone background.

"H—Hi. You must be here to pick up Geneva, Natalia, and the twins," Heather said, grateful that she sounded relatively normal. She had no intentions of freaking Harry out.

Harry's grin was wide as he took Geneva from Heather's arms. "I am. My wife said to be here at four thirty, so here I am."

Wife. Harry Styles had a wife. And children. Not just one baby, but multiple children, and the rest of the world was none the wiser. It was nearly impossible to wrap her head around—she wasn’t even going to think about the fact that Simone was almost ten years old and what that might mean—but she tried her best to save her freak out for after he and his kids left.

"Right. She said you'd be coming. I'll call for them."

Heather tried her best to ignore the way Harry freaking Styles was kissing Geneva's cheeks repeatedly and using a baby voice to talk to her, otherwise she would probably melt into a puddle in front of him, which was definitely against company policy. She called for the twins and collected a sleeping Natalia from the nap room, who fussed a little but eventually settled when she was in her father's arms.

"Daddy!"

Maeve and Julian ran up to Harry excitedly, whose grin only widened as they rushed over to him. "There are my little monkeys! How are you?"

"We colored a picture for you!" Maeve said.

"Yeah, so you can give it to Mommy and she won't be mad at you anymore," Julian added.

Harry laughed and marveled at the picture his kids handed to him, Natalia still sleeping soundly despite the commotion. "I would say don't worry about that, but I think this will do the trick."

In no time, Natalia was strapped into the baby carrier that Harry put on with ease and the twins were in their jackets. Heather thought seeing Harry Styles with a baby strapped to his chest and the twins hanging off his arms was about the cutest thing she would ever see.

With a kind smile, Harry thanked Heather and went over to where Geneva's stroller was so he could get her into it, and though she knew she shouldn't have, she strained her ears to hear what he said to the twins as he left the daycare.

"She's really mad at me?"

"She did that thing where she smiles even though she's not happy," Maeve told him.

"Worse than I thought," he said solemnly, though Heather was sure he was joking. Kind of. "Well, what do you think, monkeys? Flowers? Date night? Spa day?"

"I think just saying you're sorry will work," Julian said, looking at Harry with those big eyes of his, ones that he got from his father, Heather now realized.

Harry looked down at Julian with a start. "You know what, Jules? I think you might be the smartest man I know."

He hefted Julian onto his hip and kissed his cheek until Julian erupted into a fit of giggles. And as she saw Harry's eyes crinkle with joy, she realized that was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

They eventually left, Harry saying something about stopping by the studio before heading home, which the twins cheered about. Once they were gone, Heather let out a huge breath, finally feeling like she could breathe normally again.

She didn't know the whole story. She didn't know how Harry and Y/n met or what it might have been like to keep such a monumental secret from the world. As far as the public knew, Harry had ended a public relationship, when in reality, it seems like he'd been in a private one for a very long time. And a happy one, at that.

For a moment, Heather's fingers itched for her phone so she could call her friend and tell her what happened today, but she couldn't. And she didn't want to, she realized. Not really. Harry's family was happy living in anonymity. Heather wasn't going to ruin that for them, and she realized just how much trust and faith he and Y/n must have put in this facility to have their children come here, and she was glad to be someone that (technically) Harry Styles trusted, and that was pretty fucking cool.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young parent!harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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mosscreektarot · 2 months

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Pick An Image: Who will you MARRY?

All about your FS!

To book a personal reading, DM me or visit my Etsy: https://mosscreekpsychic.etsy.com

Group 1~ Top Left

Group 2~ Top Right

Group 3~ Bottom Left

Group 4~ Bottom Right

Group 1: Liberation: "The Doubts and Fears still come up; you don't believe anymore that they're you."

Your FS sees your "brokenness" and loves the light shining through your cracks. You've been dealt a rough hand in the matters of love, and your FS understands your trauma. Your FS supports you by CHOOSING you. Again and again, no matter what, your FS chooses you. This steadiness and steadfastness to them is love.

Your FS is a bit of a loner, preferring to enjoy the company of few, rather than casting a wide social net. They are an outdoorsy person, frequently camping, hiking, and staying up till morning just to watch the sunrise. Your FS is kind of scatterbrained ("where are my keys!?"), but HIGHLY intelligent. Your FS is the type of person to observe in social settings rather than put themselves in the mix.

Your FS may come from a different country/ethnic background than you, and has deep cultural roots they are proud of. They do things differently than most people and are never phased by the judgement of others.

Group 2: Right Now: "Stay in the present and don't get too far ahead of the Flow. You'll soon trust that nothing more will come than can be handled each moment."

Your FS is one of the most honest people you know. Sometimes their insight into your mind is a little creepy. They are gentle and kind but are unafraid to speak their mind, even if it hurts some feelings or steps on toes. Your FS is the type of person who loves to debate in the comment section and is really fucking good at it. Not to say they are argumentative, but if they see someone saying/doing something blatantly wrong they will not hesitate to put that person in their place when necessary.

Your FS may struggle with their mental health/self care at times and is extremely good at masking their true feelings. To everyone else they are the happiest, bubbliest, most outgoing person. It's not a lie, but there is a duality between their public and private self.

This could be someone you already know who provides you with guidance and support, never letting you guess they are in need of the same. Your FS is their own harshest critic and is constantly working to better themselves. They are a warm and loving person with a pink and blue aura. You may feel like this person could ~never~ be interested in you or is out of your league but your intuition is wrong in that regard!

Group 3:

Change: "When the ego finally sees the utter madness of trying to control everything, you come to a sacred crossroads in your own evolution."

Your FS is a spiritual "go with the flow" type of person. They believe everything happens for a reason, and live very unconventionally. They're the kind of person who communes with trees and spends their free time barefoot in the grass. "Wild and free"~positive vibes, the type of person to look for the best in every situation, no matter how dark or dire. Loves social gatherings and connecting with new people. Your FS may come off as a bit awkward in social settings sometimes, but despite that are well-received and liked.

Your FS is always smiling and wants to bring the sunshine into your life every single day.

Your FS may be a little out of touch with reality and believe they can positively affirm their way out of situations which cannot be changed. They're the kind of person who would get sick and refuse to go to the doctor for a month, even if it's really bad because they think they will magically get better through willpower alone. Your FS will need to find a balance between their spiritual self and mundane reality. They may need you to be the "authority figure" in their life when necessary.

Your FS is disciplined and responsible when it comes to their career and finances. Oddly enough they have a very "serious" career like an accountant or lawyer and make a lot of money. They spend a lot of it on crystals though ;) .

Group 4:

Gratitude: "Fill me with gratitude for all You give! May I be a vehicle for You wherever I go."

Your FS is an introvert who likes to spend their time with their nose in a book at home with their cats. They love to help others and often rush around trying to provide assistance to anyone who asks. They are the kind of person who sees a car on the side of the highway and pulls over to change their tire.

Your FS is pretty quiet and likes to keep their thoughts to themselves. It can be hard to read them or to get them to talk about how they feel. They have their reasons, so please be patient with them. They are a slow and methodical person who always makes lists and ticks off the boxes of what they need to do in life. They live by a routine and aren't one to make rash or reckless decisions.

They often feel left out of their family/friend circle and feel like nobody understands them or that people wouldn't like the "real" them if they said what was actually on their minds. When you come into the picture they let go of a breath they have been holding their entire life. You connect with them in a way they never thought possible and they realize that it's okay to be themselves and that there is such a thing as "true love". They are forever grateful for your presence in their life and show it to you every day by bringing you tea in bed or buying little presents to show you they are always thinking of you.

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daisys-reality · 11 months

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

What's coming next in love matters?

This was a requested reading by one of my followers, I hope you enjoy it. The next pac reading will be reality shifting related again, I promise! If you like to read more pac readings from me, feel free to check out my masterlist! If you want to share your experiences and/or give me feedback and/or share pac ideas, I would be very happy if you send me an ask over tumblr !!! (Also, fyi I don't own any of these beautiful pics, I just edited them!)

pick a picture!

picture one

Hello pile one, you will experience a turning point in your love life. The change may have already started subtly and I heard that they may be apparent in rather random acts but remember all fates are part of an interconnected web of repercussion! You’re asked to embrace the change and to be open to new experiences. It’s a time of death and rebirth so to say. You might experience an unexpected windfall. There is something happening right now you’re not fully aware of … like it’s happening behind the scenes. It’s the end of a life cycle. I see fortune coming in for you guys!!

A big change is already happening and a storm might occur soon as well - some problems or inconveniences may arise, it may cloud your view a bit but know that it is a sign of change and of growth! You’re stepping into a new life cycle and growing into your new form. For example, clashes or arguments may happen because of the new energy you’ll embody with people that are used to your old energy. That’s a natural process for both parties to get used to and to accept the transformation that is happening. You're clearing out the gloom and dust of your old life time and making space for the new you. Of course it’s important to work things through with the end goal of reconciliation in mind, be constructive in the way you’re communicating with the people around you. Just know that the rainfall after a storm or after the end of a war can be pretty pleasant! I see you afterwards feeling like lots of burdens have been taken from you.

Regarding the new energy you’ll embody: I see you full of positive and wild energy with an almost childlike optimism - like you could rule the world and nothing can stop you. You’re happy, I see you smiling brightly. You rebel against your past in a very carefree manner, leaving all the past worries behind. Again, you might make a few enemies on your way but just as many friends who can help you on your journey! If you’ve been someone that avoided conflict or just had people pleasing tendencies - you will grow out of this! And it’s for the best because if you want to embody your truest and most authentic form, there will always be people that don’t like it - mostly because they’re jealous! You’ll be more playful, have peak charisma and be full of enthusiasm especially towards love matters.

Your love life might have been pretty dry for a long time… maybe even non-existent lol. But you’ve worked on yourself and focused on other important matters and now you will experience the rewards for it!!

This will be a time of discovery as well. You will experience different sides of yourself. I don’t necessarily see a super duper long commitment coming in right now, I think you will just experiment a bit - getting to know yourself more like in regards to love and sexual matters (personal preferences and such). If you felt like you're behind on experience in regards to such matters in comparison to your peers, there is no reason to feel bad or ashamed because there is no general ‘right’ time to experience those things, there is only a right time for you in accordance to your personal journey, okay? And the time is coming for you, I can assure you. Just focus on yourself and treat yourself with kindness and respect and stay open towards all the new things that will come into your life. (But don’t forget to treat others with respect as well during your ‘rebellious’ journey.)

You will be shining, attracting lots of different suitors, trying out new things… Funnily enough during your reading I heard ‘casanova’ lmao - so you will turn a bit into casanova (regardless of your gender). And that’s perfectly fine! Speaking of gender, I think you might also experiment a bit with your sexuality, having experiences with the same gender and stuff like that. (This is a possibility - of course not for everyone of you but for some I can see it happening.)

Some quotes I got from my oracle for you: ‘Be the flame, not the moth.’; ‘Always be a free agent - promise fidelity to all.’; ‘It’s not destiny, it’s opportunity.’

An angel number that could hold a message for you: 33

I wish you good luck and lot’s of fun my dear pile one😌✨

picture two

Hello my dear pile two, if you were hoping that I will tell you about the love of your life coming soon, I’ll have to disappoint you. Well, 'soon' is a very vague word but you know what I mean. In the upcoming weeks or months, I see you having to gather strength - your own strength - as well as courage. I feel like in the past you often let yourself get used by the people around you, not just by your lovers, I also feel like by your friends and family as well. You undermined yourself and didn’t treat yourself with the respect you deserve especially in regards to relationships (in all forms) and love matters. And it’s coming to bite your a*s…. just kidding lmao. Nothing bad will happen to you but you can’t avoid it any longer, you need to step out of your comfort zone! - And I see you doing so! So, this is good. To be honest, at first it might feel a bit unpleasant and weird but it’s a process and it takes time.

You know, I will just straightforward tell where you’re heading towards. I got the imagery/metaphor of a strong and assertive warrior who uses his intelligence. Someone who is unafraid of leaping into a battle and employing unconventional techniques to win. Someone who is fierce and rebels but ultimately stays loyal towards themselves. A champion.

I guess you could say you’ll transform into a badass queen or femme fatale but I feel like queen fits more because you’re taking your power back, sitting up straight and putting your crown back on your head (- regardless of your gender, adapt it as you see fit please). Your love life itself will rather be ‘passive’ because you have to focus on yourself and be more pickier. You will turn down anyone who is not on your level. You need to treat yourself with respect and especially others have to treat you with the respect you deserve. No more falling for players!! You’re a queen and you only accept people who are on the level of a king. It doesn’t have to be ‘the one’ right away but even a short term lover should fill all the criteria and if they don’t - bye bye!

I know you are strong. But you have to act on this inner strength. Be careful with becoming rude or too ‘arrogant’ because this sometimes happens if we suffer some kind of inferiority complex. You need to step up your game but in a healthy way. I’m not sure if you will experience some kind of bullying or if you’re the one who bullies but there is some message of ‘bullying’. So, be careful with that…I feel like it’s more about you being the one who does so but It could also be both ways… mhm... Anyways, you’re transforming into this ‘queen’ where you’re embodying strength and maybe even power and there will be people in your environment that are not happy about it, more so envious or jealous. So, either way there is potential for conflict. Don’t trust everyone you interact with too quickly! And don’t share too much from your personal life with others! Some people won’t have your best interest in mind. There is even a possibility of someone sabotaging relationships or partnerships; again, this could go both ways - you doing it or others trying to do it on you.

In your love life you will become someone who can defend themselves and who can fight back if necessary. ‘Don’t mess with me’- vibes. You won’t allow other people to play you anymore. Your inner strength will sky-rocket. You will build trust in yourself and face your ‘inner wild sides’ which you might have kept hidden for a long time. You will focus on your instincts… your raw, maybe even sexual instincts. Because you need to learn how to deal with them correctly and use them efficiently and not just to repress them. They will give you so much more energy and strength - strength you didn’t even know you had! You will be more independent and more able to trust and rely on yourself. You learn how to handle yourself in the correct way and this is great, especially for your future love life because if you don’t know how to handle yourself correctly how should your partner learn how to treat you correctly! With this growth period you will do the first step and show everyone the right way to treat you. On a side note, I feel called out to use another expression than ‘queen/king’ as well... This might be specific confirmation for some. So, in other words, in the upcoming time your love life might be more passive for now but you will focus on yourself and become the ‘trophy wife/husband material’ that you desire to be. I know some people think badly about these expressions but I would say that in our modern times, instead of just having a pretty appearance and being seen as just a nice 'accessory ' I would describe them as people who are physically pretty and very charming AND who have manners, skills and intelligence and know how to use them for their benefit and who are powerful, abundant and successful in public/business but also in their private life and have everything under control or at least appear like they have everything under control. Like the whole package yk. Maybe you guys will physically glow up or upgrade your wardrobe with high quality clothes and accessories. Either way, you will come out of this period shining brightly!

Some quotes I got from my oracle for you: ‘Beauty is power - so use it rather than lose it.’; ‘Age is just a number - irrelevant, unless it’s a vintage wine.’; ‘Everyone is a potential character for a novel.’

An angel number that could have a message for you: 94

I wish you good luck, I’m sending blessings out to you my dear pile two💖

picture three

Hello pile three! I can already tell you that happy times are coming! The first card that I got for you was the happily-ever-after ending card! It’s like you’re reaching a victorious conclusion after a difficult journey. You finally get a positive outcome - the most desired one even ... like a wish fulfillment! You will also get recognition for something which will feel like a triumph for you. You might also attend some parties or events celebrating something. I see you having lots of fun, enjoying yourself … I even want to add ‘for the first time in your life’! I also see pleasurable encounters and intimacy with others.. maybe while dancing with someone? Or while going a little further? lol… Anyways, I see you getting out of your shell more. If you’ve been someone who often shut people out of their life or rejected any potential suitors preferring to be on your own because you found all those love related things ‘cringey’ (I feel mainly because you had issues with intimacy), this will be a bit different in the upcoming time! You've been warned…just kidding. There is nothing to fear because I can see you truly having fun.

In addition, I also see that many opportunities will arise/many doors will open for you! Many interesting potential suitors? Soulmates even? To be honest it doesn’t have to be limited to your love life but there will definitely be a few love related opportunities for you! Again, I have cards hinting at a great wish getting fulfilled and that you have potential for success in these times. You will also discover and develop new talents/skills which might be more important than any material treasure or rather more essential to your life. It is being said that you have the key within yourself to solve any kind of problem or in other words: You yourself are the key.

But you’re being advised to also try to give others the key to your heart! In the upcoming days and weeks, you won’t hide or isolate yourself anymore, you will let other people into your world! And that is good. It’s time to mingle with people. You will be more open to new things, towards other people and in your relationships with others but you should try not to be ‘too’ trusting. Ok that might sound contradicting or even funny to you because I feel like you are not the type to easily trust others and that is totally fine, you have your reasons. You’re not asked to easily give out your trust to others but you should stop pushing people away and not even giving other people the opportunity or chance to gain your trust!

The advice here is just to be careful with ambiguousness in other people’s behavior and words and take notice of any contradictions and inconsistencies between them. Through that you will discover other people’s hidden motives. Always ask yourself: cui bono - who does benefit from it? You will develop a keen eye for this in the upcoming days and weeks. Of course sometimes disappointing things happen but they are a part of love just like the intimate moments of affections that make us happy. Everyone experiences these bad moments but that shouldn’t be the reason to exclude ‘love’ from one’s life completely.

I feel like you might not like to hear this (or hated hearing this while growing up) but you should definitely go out there more! Don’t hide yourself from the world or from the people - especially now! You should also enjoy your life, experience all those beautiful things because you deserve to have moments where you feel your heart beating, where you’re full of excitement, where you’re at peace with yourself and in the presence of someone else. And you should treasure those moments. So, be open towards love matters (potential suitors, love offers and opportunities) but don’t let yourself be fooled by any kind of deception, you’re smarter than that. If you have any plans like getting into a relationship or wooing someone specific, be slick …maybe even a little cunning while making plans and taking action! There is a chance of meeting a soulmate or just like minded people whose company you’ll enjoy greatly! If you’ll face any opponents, beat them at their own game with the same ‘weapons’! I can assure you, you are in control and luck is on your side! Anything you try to do now, will probably be a success. This is your time now. :)

Some quotes I got from my oracle for you: ‘Treasure those seconds when you felt your heart beating.’; ‘Don’t allow any tourists into your own private Paris.’; ‘To love someone and mean it is a rare and valuable thing.’

An angel number that could have a message for you: 102 ( or 10 and 2 separately )

Great times are ahead for you, I’m sending my blessings out to you pile three. 🔥

#pac #pac reading #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a picture #love reading #free tarot reading #tarot reading #loa #law of assumption #manifestation #love pick a card #spritituality #love tarot #love pac

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