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dreamingofbucky · 11 months

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IS IT TOO LATE?

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!F!Reader (one shot)

summary: He casted you back to your universe. But now he's back and you don't know why. you thought he hated you for the longest time. But that's furthest from the truth.

tags/content warnings: very much angst. heart strings will be pulled at. consensual smut. p in v. love confessions. soft!miguel. fangs are used for pleasure. begging. size kink. praise, like tons of it. mig and reader healing themselves together.

Word Count: 4.2k (whoops)

author’s note: not beta read. mild midnight miguel thots. more angst though with a very happy ending. idk i was in my feelings lol

You could sense him close to you. You always did, even despite your spider senses.

It was like he’s infected himself into you even years later, unable to get him out of your system.

You were in your kitchen, putting away some dishes when you got the feeling of him being near. It was like a prickle at your neck that grew and grew until every hair on your body rose. You whipped your head around the kitchen and narrowed your eyes to find him. You couldn’t though, he was always good at hiding himself.

“Miguel?” Your voice drifted throughout your apartment. It fell flat though and a sigh wringed out of your throat once you realized he wasn’t there anymore.

But then your spine stiffened to its own accord and you whipped your head this time toward the hallway. You grabbed the dish towel to dry your hands before you made your way. You weren’t on guard, but you kept the towel on your shoulder just in case. Your spider strength would probably work just fine, but you didn’t know what he’d want.

“Miguel? I know you’re here, somewhere,” you called out again with more tenacity in your voice.

There was a creak in the living room and you increased your pace until you were at the entrance, flicking on the light that flooded the room. He wasn’t hiding. He was in the corner, staring at a photo on top of your fireplace.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, fingers reaching for the towel on your shoulder.

His broad shoulders slumped for a moment before he finally turned. He was in his blue and red suit, the one you knew very well. He looked better than the last time you saw him. His face though, was contorted in an expression you couldn’t read.

“I–uh, I’m not sure why I came,” he finally mumbles.

You take a step forward and tread lightly. It’s been four years, so you really didn’t know why he came. This was his decision anyway, to leave you and keep you at a distance.

“It’s been years,” you remind him. He finally turns completely and his brown eyes gleam red a little and then fade back to the rich color you once loved.

The man you once swore you loved forever, until he didn’t. Your heart tugged at the memories of what you and Miguel had. Attempting to push those thoughts away to keep yourself from spiraling like before, you clear your throat.

He finally replies. “I had to see you.”

No reason. Nothing else. Just those five words.

You take another step forward and he does too.

“You can’t just come here without an explanation,” you pushed. Your irritation was starting to increase and your patience was starting to thin for your ex.

Miguel is quiet as he stays grounded. But your senses heightened when he lifted his hand and turned his wrist toward you. Before you could react in time, a bright orangish red web shot out of his wrist and latched onto your chest. You grunt as he pulls you into him, closing the distance. You grab the string of the web and pull it off your shirt, but it's stuck.

“Miguel,” you bite. A smile curls at his lips before a talon comes out of his pointer finger and he snips the web.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

“You’re here, because?” You press again. Your heart was hammering against your chest and you were hoping he’d tell you what he needed you for.

“Spider Society misses you.”

Oh. You weren’t expecting that.

“I’m sure they do,” you quip.

It wasn’t your choice to leave them. To go back to your universe and live out your days. It was Miguel who pushed you to this point.

You even got engaged two years ago to who you thought you could live the rest of your days with. And then things took a turn. Things didn’t work out. He felt like you were stunted by him in this universe. Although you still did your best to be the Spider-Woman your universe needed, it wasn’t enough.

It was like the action of Miguel casting you out back to your universe made you lose your spark. Made you less of who you were meant to be.

You hate him for it. Well, you did the first year before you started to make a life for yourself here. It didn’t work out, obviously.

The thing was, you never really understood why Miguel did what he did. It was so quick, so sudden, casting you out. You thought you were doing well in Spider Society. You made friends, you aced missions. So what did you do wrong? You even loved him to your best ability.

Was it because you couldn’t put universes first before anyone else in your life? Miguel was so bent up on the idea that sacrifices had to be made when it came to being Spider-Man. Guess that included you.

You were a sacrifice he had to make for a reason you still didn’t know.

“Just wanted to check in, see how you were,” he says in an almost whisper. He drops his gaze to your lips and you gulp. No, you couldn’t feel like this for him. Not anymore.

You lift your hand and press your palm to his chest. He looks at it before his brows furrow. His hand then reaches over and caresses yours. His fingers fiddle with your ring finger.

“Your ring, what happened? Where is it?”

You sigh, attempting to turn on your heel and get away from him but his fingers move to your wrist to keep you there. You knew he’d know about you getting engaged. You got your spider senses alerted whenever he was near the first two years you were gone. You knew he was checking up on you frequently. Until he stopped. He didn’t know the engagement was broken off and you lived alone in that small apartment.

“Miguel, let me go.”

He doesn’t budge, so you press your other palm against his chest for leverage but he doesn’t move an inch. Your emotions are getting heightened from it all and you can feel tears start to spring into your eyes. You feel pathetic.

“What happened?” He repeats, his eyes turning soft and curious.

“Nothing happened. You happy?”

“No–” he shakes his head. “Tell me.”

You sigh, not wanting to fight with him. You had years of it when he started becoming too focused on stopping Spider people from disrupting their canon events. Those fights ended up pushing you both to a point that couldn’t be turned back around.

“Miguel, I’m not in the mood. I’ve had a long day. It’s late.”

“Dime qué pasó,” he almost pleads.

Well, if it made him let you go then you had no other choice. You took a deep breath and stared at him. You needed him to know what he did and how it resulted with you no longer having an engagement ring.

“He left me, Miguel. Does that make you happy? He saw how much I couldn’t handle being so far away from my people. From my friends. From you. He saw how it ruined my life being stuck here. I tried so hard to fake it until I was happy, but he saw through it all. He loved me so much that he let me go. Unlike someone who casted me out–”

“I didn’t cast you out because I didn't love you,” he interrupts with a growl. His face leans closer and your core flutters.

Fuck, your body could still react to him like no time has passed.

“We were young,” you argue. “That wasn’t love, the longer I had time apart to contemplate it. We were simply infatuated, but that wasn’t love.”

“It was for me, sabes esto.”

“No, it wasn’t Miguel,” you bite.

Miguel is silent, dropping his hand. You take a step back, a deep breath leaving your lips. His own shoulders move softly with his breathing. Some of the strands of hair at the top of his head fall over his temple and forehead. You want to so desperately lift a hand and brush them back in place. But that's not something you can do anymore.

You take another step back, finding yourself sitting on your couch. You placed your elbows on your knees and took a deep breath. You heard his footsteps follow and he knelt down, placing a finger under your chin and lifted you enough to see him. To look at his eyes that are yearning for you to speak to him.

“Mira, I lied. They didn’t miss you. I did. I stopped checking in on you to give you space. To move on.”

You scoff. “You can see how well that worked out.” You lift your naked ring finger to make a point.

“I needed to see you one last time.”

This brought you to straighten your spine and look at him with widened eyes. “Last time?”

He nods.

“What do you mean, Miguel?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I’m not going to check in on you ever again. You won’t be bothered by me. I’m taking some space from Spider Society as well. They’re better off anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the revelation. He was going to demote himself from the society he created for us? One of the best places you’ve been able to call home for years. You missed it dearly, you couldn’t deny that.

“You can’t just leave them. They need you.”

Miguel’s eyes cast down and this time it’s you bringing a hand under his chin and lifting enough for him to look at you. You scoot a little closer to him where your knees brush. A fire burns in your belly.

“They don’t. I hurt people. I hurt you. I need space and time before I can come back and delegate again. I took things too far.”

“So you’d rather disappear than try to fix things? Did you ever plan to allow me back to Spider Society?”

He shakes his head. “I thought you’d be content here with him. You seemed so happy.”

You laugh. “That wasn’t happy, Miguel. That was coping.”

His thick brows furrow. “No, you were happy.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself? Are you really trying to control the truth? I wasn’t happy. I thought I could play along with this life to deal with everything. I was in survival mode. It was purely a facade. Imagine being introduced to a safe haven and then being stripped of all access to it and its people. That’s what happened to me. I had no choice but to try to make a life for myself here.”

Miguel is quiet for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. His forehead wrinkles as he thinks deeply.

“This would be easier if I hated you.” He finally mutters.

Now you’re the one raising a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Call this an atonement,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that to you, but I’m not sure bringing you back would fix things. What happened can’t be undone.”

“I never asked for you to fix it. I’ve learned how to make this my home. It was a home before I got my Spider abilities and it could be my home after.”

“But you’re not happy. You just said so yourself,” he counters.

You huff out a breath, exhausted at all of this back and forth. Why was he really here? If he wanted to see you one last time he could’ve done that without making himself known. He could’ve creeped in the shadows to do it.

“What do you want?” The words are sharp and roll off your tongue like venom. His hands raise and rest on your knees. He’s still kneeling and he scoots closer. A hand travels up your thigh and you suck in a breath.

“One last time,” he repeats so softly you almost miss it.

“We already had our one last time,” you say quietly. You remember that last time you felt him near you. That was when you truly thought that was the last time you’d feel him in your universe.

“No, bebita,” he responds gruffly. “I need you one last time.”

His words aren’t registering in your brain.

“You made it very clear you didn’t need me.”

“Will you let me finish?” His eyes connect with yours and your heart thumps loudly against your chest.

“Finish then,” you push.

“It’s easier to hate you because then I could move on. I never did, bebita.” The nickname rolls off his tongue in a way that makes your core flutter and you clench your thighs.

“I–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Casting you out was the worst thing I did. I couldn’t take it back, my pride wouldn’t let me. I loved you so much, but I couldn’t say it. It was always on the tip of my tongue. You were it for me, bebita. It crushed me even more to see you making a life for yourself here. Finding a partner to be with, that was the worst of it. It took me months to deal with that one. But I couldn’t risk losing you to the things we did for the universes we saved. Pushing you away was the hardest thing to do, but the safest. If I didn’t have you to sacrifice in life or death situations, then that's what I had to do. I couldn’t lose you in those ways, I just couldn’t.”

His confession brings tears to your eyes and you wrap your hands around his neck. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. You take a deep breath and he does too. Soon, your breathing becomes sync with his.

“You hurt me,” was all you could say.

“I know, bebita, I know. I’m so sorry. I loved you–I love you so much. It felt like the only way I wouldn’t lose you.”

“But you ended up losing me anyway in the process,” you remind him. He nods.

“I lost you anyway. Please forgive me. Or did I come at the wrong time where that’s not possible? Is it too late?”

You contemplate it for a moment. You hurt for so long with his decision, but now you know why. He did it because he loved you so much. It reminded you of your ex-fiance. He broke things off because he loved you and wanted you to find your true happiness. He knew it wasn’t with him as much as he wanted it to be.

Funny how it’s the same concept with Miguel, but not quite. Miguel’s way was harsher and broke you. But he’s here now apologizing and on his knees.

All the feelings of your life with Miguel come back surfacing. The good and the bad. But he was the best thing in your life.

“And what would we do after this? Would you just leave and never see me again? After everything that’s been said?”

He grabs your cheeks and pushes you back a little. His face is pained as he thinks of a response. He leans in, kissing your forehead before kissing your nose and then your cheeks. “I don’t know anymore. Lyla asked me the same thing.”

You smiled softly. “Lyla… I missed her.”

Miguel smiled as well, tears in his eyes. “She misses you everyday. She might be the reason why I came tonight.”

“I’m glad, then,” you say. This brings another smile to his face and your heart warms. Your whole body warms.

“Miguel,” you whisper. He leans in again, pressing his lips to your nose. You inhale his scent for a moment.

“I can’t repair what’s been done.”

“You can’t,” you concede. “But we can take it day by day.”

“Really?” He says with a little happier tone.

You nod. “But you can’t do that again. Don’t push me away. Don’t make me think you hate me. That I was the worst thing in your life.”

A sob pulls through you and tears cascade down your cheeks. Miguel is quick to brush them away with his thumbs. He finally brushes his lips against yours and you stiffen at the movement.

“Can I?” He asks softly.

Instead of answering, you lean in to close the distance. His lips were soft and the memories of kissing him all over filled your senses. Your body still craved him, you just pushed those feelings as down as you could.

He continues to kiss with passion, like a man starved. His tongue presses against your teeth and you part your mouth, allowing him inside. He groans a little at the feeling and a moan escapes your own lips.

“Let me make it up to you, por favor,” he asks, moving his hands to your thighs and running them up until they find your hips. You hitch your breath at the feeling and you nod.

“It won’t make up for all these years, but you can try,” you say with a little spite and a little tease. Something in you wanted him to work for it. You couldn’t just forgive this easily, he had to know how much you hurt all this time.

“I’ll live the rest of my days making it up to you then, bebita,” he kisses you once more before moving his hands from your hips to your backside. He pulls you hard closer to him before you’re straddling your hips. You squeal from the sudden movement and then he rises. He starts to walk as you continue to kiss, as if he mesmerized the layout of your apartment from his check-ins. This brought another flutter to your core and you needed him in more ways than one.

He enters your bedroom and plops you on the bed softly. You shift yourself up to the pillows and he climbs the bed alongside you. Your hands come up to his hair, making their home in his strands as he continues to attack you with kisses. He moves his lips to your neck and you moan loudly, bucking your hips up. He groans from the sounds.

“Bite me,” you plead through breaths.

“Estás seguro?” he asks, lifting his lips from your neck for a brief second. You push his head back down to your bare skin and nod.

“Yes, please, Mig. Bite me like you used to. Fuck me like you used to. Make me whole again,” you plead. You can’t help the tears that come back to your eyes and fall down your cheeks. He doesn’t notice though, which you’re grateful for.

He obliges though, kissing your neck and then you feel something piercing you. His fangs sink into your skin and it feels wet instantly. You moan through it, leaning down to bite his own neck.

“F-fuck,” he moans once his fangs pull out. He lifts his head to look at you and it’s like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. His eyes light up and then turn into a feral thing you were so used to in the past.

Miguel knew how to be gentle with you when he could, but you always noticed the way his eyes would turn red with a primal need to love you until you were thrashing and screaming his name, clenching around him.

You needed him to go that far. You wanted him to.

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper finally.

His eyes search yours before he nods and snakes his hand under your hair and wraps his fingers around the strands until he can pull your neck the other way. He leans in and you feel that pain again as he sinks his fangs into the other side of your neck. Your hips buck up again and you gasp.

“Smell so good, taste so good,” he murmurs. His lips travel lower, kissing your collarbone. He helps you out of your mundane clothes before you’re lying naked in front of him. With a press of his watch on his wrist, his suit pixelates into nothing until he’s there naked over you. You forgot for a moment his suit does that.

“Please, Mig,” you say in deep breaths as you feel his erection pressing against your hip. You reach down blindly, feeling for his cock and then caressing it in up and down motions. He groans through this and curses under his breath, jutting his hips further into your hand.

“Need you,” he pleads.

“You have me,” you assure him.

He lifts himself on his knees which causes your hands to fall from his cock. He then begins to stroke himself and you spread your legs around him. His eyes glance down at your core and your cheeks heat.

“So fucking pretty and wet already for me, bebita. Just like I knew you’d be.”

You just nod as you stay transfixed on him, rubbing his cock before he positioned himself at your entrance. You didn’t care for him to prep you, you needed him now.

“It’s going to hurt, tell me to stop if you–”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off. You made a point by reaching down and grabbing his wrist around his cock and aligning yourself with his tip. You pressed his tip against your fold and you both gasped. You shut your eyes briefly at the wonderful sensation.

He always fucked you so well, that was something you missed. And now he was here, doing just that.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl,” he grunts as he presses himself into you, inch by inch.

The pain soared throughout your body with each inch, but you didn’t care. You finally had him again and your cunt clenched around him. He moaned at the movements, but you couldn’t help yourself.

When he finally pressed into you all the way, you both took deep breaths. He leaned in, pressing his palms into the mattress to support himself. He shifted a little, moving inside you and you whined.

“So big,” you gasped.

“You can take it, bebita,” he cooed. “You always did so good for me, you can do it again. Okay?”

You nod, biting your lip as he moved his hips to slowly pull out of you and then he slammed back in, causing you to shift up on the bed from his strength. He curses under his breath again and you whine at the stretch of him. His girth was bigger than you remembered and you swore he was splitting you in half, but you loved it.

“More, more,” you begged and he obliged. He snapped his hips back and forth into you, earning a cry from your lips at each thrust.

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he groans as his hips start to grow sloppy. He was getting closer to his release and you were too.

Your core tightened and your pussy clenched around his cock in a beautiful way.

“So close,” you mumbled through his thrust.

“Come with me, bebita,” he says before leaning down, sinking his fangs into your neck once more. This makes all your sensations come alive and you can’t hold back anymore. Your legs wrap around his waist, causing him to push deeper into you and hitting the best parts.

“I’m going to–” you screamed before you felt everything explode. You saw stars, your body was shaking, and he was holding onto your tightly. He dropped his head into the crevice of your neck and muttered nonsense as he came right after you. Rope after rope of his cum filled you up and you clenched around him even more, milking his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered as his hips stuttered and he collapsed over you. “Please don’t do that, not gonna last the night.”

You giggled, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist. You both breathed intensely but you were so fucking happy.

“I love you, bebita,” he finally says, lifting himself to look at you. He wipes a strand of hair that was stuck on your forehead. You grab his face and kiss him. He moans deeply and his cock twitches inside you.

You squirm underneath him. “I love you too, Miguel. Always have, always will.”

He kisses you back with more passion. “You mean it?”

You nod and laugh as he tickles your side. You try to squirm away, but it’s hard with his cock still in you. Your pussy flutters around him again and he groans. “Bebita, that will only make me go for another round.”

“I know,” you confess with a smile.

You had years of catching up to do, anyways. You didn’t plan to leave that bed anytime soon.

Miguel smiled and wrapped his arms around you before flipping you both over. His back plopped on the bed and you were straddling him above, your head laying on his chest.

“You don’t have to ever forgive me,” he whispers, stroking your bare back. “But I hope you give me the time to make it up to you.”

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest. He cranes his neck to look down at you.

“It’s not too late,” you finally answer and those words were all he needed to hear.

#miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse #spiderman #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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thesuperiorrobin · 7 months

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𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Florists!Fem!Reader

Word count: 570

Warning: Damian and reader are in their twenties, mentions of flowers and their opposite meanings(hatred,Stupidly, etc) this post was on Pinterest that was taken from tumblr but lost it and now I can’t find OG creator. If you know the OG creator of if this looks familiar please let me know so I can tag them. Mentions of the word skank.

A/n: i never realize how horrible 2000s magazines were until I read some my mom kept😭 Also this is all Bs. I’m sure all of these are not right bc I looked them up.

the flower shop was quiet today, it was nice but boring. When the shop was running slow time I’m the place slows down too. And you hated it. You were stuck making sure the flowers were perfect even if they were and you were just trying to make your shift go faster. But none of that seemed to work.

You somehow find yourself reading old magazines from the two-thousands you found in the back of the shop. Your elbows are rested up against the top of the displaced case, flipping through the reach page as you read every box and bubble carefully.

“What makes a girl a skank? Huh?” Your eyebrows are furrowed as you flip the page “Two thousands magazines are something else”

(and trust me they are).

The sound of the bell ringing makes you perk up, indicating someone entered the store. You close the magazine before you walk around the display case to face the customer who entered. You stand there surprised, eyes coming in context with green ones that you recognize from pictures and the news—also ones you see everyday when you go to sleep and when you wake up in the morning.

Damian Wayne stands in front of you and he doesn’t look happy. You smiled at him, welcoming him in. You bring him in a small short hug before pulling apart. Your lips lock for a short second before pulling away again.

“Hey. It’s a surprise seeing you here today. Do you need something?”

He gives you a nod “Do you have anything—flowers, that are symbolic of hatred? Maybe stupidity?” You were taken aback by the question.

Not that many people come in asking for flowers with bad meaning towards them—normally they come in asking for flowers that mean love.

You cleared your throat. “I believe I do, follow me”

You take him further down the shop. In the back laid different kinds of flowers, separated by name and by color.

“There’s a couple I know by heart that have both good and bad meanings to them” You start off eyeing every flower carefully as you try and remember the bad. You point up at the orange butterfly weeds, and Damian follows your finger “Those are very beautiful ones but no one gets them because they literally mean ‘be warned’. Which is shameful because they always die out here”

“Is that why you have so many back at home?” Damian asked softly, placing a firm hand behind your back.

You hum “or orange lilies maybe? They mean hatred and other rough emotions. There are also carnations, which mean disappointment. You can also get black roses. Those work too. What do you think?” You look up at your lover waiting for a response as he looks over the flowers.

He pulls out his wallet “How about all that you just named?” You give him a grin. Collecting the flowers and putting them together to make a beautiful bouquet.

You ring him up. “Are these for your wife Mr.Wayne?” You tease playfully.

“Nonsense, my wife deserves better flowers that do not mean hatred” he scuffs as he plays along.

“She’s a lucky girl”

“Yes, she is” he smiles down at you lovingly. He hands you a fifty dollar bill for a bouquet that cost thirty-five and seventeen in change. He refuses the extra amount left over.

“Keep it. Use it to bye more butterfly weeds” you sigh.

When Damian made up his mind he’s too stubborn to change it.

“Who are they for anyway?” You asked. Tilting you head as you put the rest of the money away.

“Tim was being idiotic during patrol and landed himself in the hospital”

“Oh”

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne one shot #damian wayne fanfiction

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suashii · 18 days

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— 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝒷𝒶𝒹 ౨ৎ

miya atsumu x reader. 715 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ mentions of injury ﾉ repost!

“is sitting in front of the tv your only plan for the next six weeks?” you ask atsumu as you hand him a plate. the sandwich you made him from lunch is far from gourmet, but he sends you a weak smile in appreciation anyway.

“can’t do much else,” he answers before taking a bite of his food.

“that’s fair.” you plop down on the couch beside him. the cast wrapped around his ankle is keeping his movement pretty limited. “but are you going to spend all your recovery time watching volleyball? seems like it’s just rubbing salt into the wound.”

if someone asked you to describe atsumu in limited words, your first thought would be “career-driven”—so much so that he was willing to ignore the growing pain in his ankle until it was too late to prevent further injury. all it took was one miscalculated landing for him to end up in the hospital and off the court. now that he’s confined to the house, there is a notable difference in his demeanor, the air about him.

“gotta stay sharp,” he mumbles through the food in his mouth, “i can’t play or practice so this is the next best thing.”

you’ve always admired his work ethic, but his unwillingness to relax every once in a while concerns you. even when he’s being forced to take a step back from his job, his mind still finds a way to circle back to work. you never want to see him hurt, out of the game, but you’re glad that he’s finally physically resting.

“i know it sucks, but maybe you really needed this break. even if you didn’t, at the very least, it’s a reminder to be more careful and listen to your body.” you give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “i’m sure it’ll feel like no time before you’re back in action.”

the blonde hums in acknowledgment, though, it’s clear that your words do little to console him. the thought of having him home more often leaves you happy despite the circumstances, but is it really worth it if you’re in the presence of only a shell of the man you fell in love with?

your mind wanders to thoughts of how to cheer atsumu up while you wash the dishes from lunch. by the time you’re finished, you’ve come up with an idea that is a sure way to pull your boyfriend out of his slump.

you return to the living room with a pouch of stationery supplies and take a seat on the floor near atsumu’s propped leg. he glances down at you, curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes as you uncap one of the colorful sharpies.

“what are you doing?” he questions. looks like something other than volleyball has captured his attention.

“what’s it look like? i’m decorating your cast.”

atsumu huffs out a laugh and shakes his head but his gaze stayed glued to your carefully moving hand as it drags the ink across the cast. he bites his cheek to hold back a laugh at your tongue poking out from between your lips. he can’t quite tell what you’re drawing, but he can confidently say that you’re laser-focused on it.

“all done!” you proudly announce, tossing the pen off to the side. simple doodles and phrases like “world’s best boyfriend” and “japan’s #1 setter” are scattered about the cast encasing the lower half of his leg. you might be biased, but it doesn’t look half bad. “what do you think?”

your act is a childish sentiment, but you can’t help but hope the silly gesture is enough to bring the setter some much needed joy.

atsumu smiles—the first genuine smile he’s worn since receiving the news that he wouldn’t be able to play for the rest of the season. while he’d much rather be busy at work than restricted to his couch and bed, he has to admit that being able to spend some time with you is the best of this otherwise unfavorable situation. he figures that you had picked up on the shift in his mood and were attempting to lift his spirits. how could he not love it? “looks great. way better than plain white.”

and you smile, too. because when atsumu is happy, you’re happy.

thanks for giving this a read! consider reblogging if u enjoyed :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff #haikyuu fluff #atsumu drabbles #haikyuu drabbles

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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mintymarabell · 6 months

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Infertile elder yautja

This is very much an impossible scenario but I’m making it happen anyways. Oh you guys I’ve been gone for so long and when I come back I ramble. I’m so sorry!

Mentions of : infertility, pregnancy, childbirth, stillborns, accused cheating, distant partner.

Your mate was infertile, his seed never taking to any other female.

If it did take the baby was always a still born, cold to the touch and grey in color.

He still wanted a mate though, so instead he just opted for a human, one that wouldn’t beg for a baby every year when he for obvious reasons couldn’t give one.

That’s when he met you, little oh you on planet earth wondering around. He obviously took a liking to you, giving you so many treasures and golds that when we does reveal himself to you it isn’t as scream worthy.

Fast forward, you both lived happy lives on yaujta prime; you skipped around enjoying your forever vacation while he just did his usual businesses of supervising hunts, going to meetings, being an elder in general, and coming home to you.

Just because you were human didn’t mean he didn’t love you, he did love you. To him you were like a breath of fresh air, not having to constantly impress you or abide to most yautja traditions.

But most importantly he loved the way your skin felt, late at night when you were fast asleep he’d often find himself with his hand rubbing up and down your back, your skin oh so soft compared to his own rough skin.

Then his happy facade broke because there was one day he noticed something, the off look in your eye, the absent rubbing of your belly. He knew what you wanted, he almost wanted to bite his tongue in half and swallow it because he knew he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted.

So he’d often find himself trying to pull away, creating distance with the excuse of work but it didn’t hold up long as one night as he snuck into the bedroom you sat in bed, tears ran down your cheeks as you looked at him.

Your mate has seen you cry only once but that was before he had fully met you but that was then and this was now, now you were right there in front of him looking at him as if he was caught red handed.

He tried to remain calm as he walked towards your bed side, kneeling down on his knees. Never has he kneeled before, never has he lowered his head either but for you he had and for you he’d do anything.

“My canary, what is the matter?” He spoke with a low voice as if he would startle you into running away, though you didn’t. You had sat there staring at him then you had popped the question; “Are you cheating on me?” Your voice was hoarse, not something he liked to hear even if it was his first time.

“What?” He spoke with wide eyes, “My bird what gives you that assumption? I could never cheat on you, not someone as perfect.” He spoke, though the last part of his sentence was whispered. You had told him you thought he was cheating due to him pulling away and coming in late.

As you spoke he kind of looked off. His hands were fiddling with your small fingers, a habit he has picked up lately. “My love, I know what you want. It is a baby, yes?” He asked as he finally looked at you, your head giving a small nod.

He had sighed, “I’m not sure I can give you one.” “Could we still try?” You spoke quietly, your eyebrows scrunched together. “If that is what you want my dear.” He spoke softly, his hands finally leaving your own as he stood up.

He had wanted to kick himself but how could he say no to your face? So you both will do what people do, waiting a few days; your excitedly walking around talking his ear off about the baby room all while he has this blank look on his face.

When you do end up being pregnant he is astounded but not too much because of it happening before and being a still born in the end. But don’t worry, he will be there through the pregnancy, rubbing your back, cuddling close to you.

He will be there when you have morning sickness or running off in the middle of the night to get you some weird craving.

He was in the kitchen, you were seven months along and had politely demanded chicken piccata. He had no clue how to make the earth dish but never the less was trying to best as he had slaughtered a chicken for it and stole a recipe book from someone.

As he was slicing up the chicken breast he heard you hiss, he immediately dropped the knife as he peaked his head in the living room and rushing to wash the salmonella off his hands. “Are you alright?” He had called which was given no response.

He walked into the room, an apron on that said kiss the chef. You were sitting on the couch, urging him to come here as you practically shoved him towards your stomach.

“Feel.” You spoke as you put his hands on your tummy, he gave you a raised nonexistent eyebrow as he sat there then he felt it, a very strong kick that had you making a slight face. “Isn’t that sweet?” You spoke quietly as if you were recovering.

“Sounds like you’ve been through it love.” He spoke as he rubbed at your stomach before getting up. “Maybe the baby is strong.” You spoke as you had watched him. He had shrugged and walked back to the kitchen.

When you had went into labor it was 4:52am, your mate was asleep on his side facing you with a hand on your stomach. You had rose up from the bed with a strong pain in your stomach, you nudged your mate awake to which he immediately did so. “What’s wrong?” He asked immediately as he also sat up.

You didn’t really have to explain to him what was wrong as you had went to stand your water broke, the water hitting the ground.

Your mate had carried you all the way to the clinic, running the whole way and also carrying the overnight bag. The doctors had taken you into a room that had blue lights to keep you calm. The doctors being complete nerds and had researched everything they could as they practically piled near you giggling internally at the studying opportunity.

As you had laid in the bed, the bed already sat up at an angle you breathed deeply as your mate held your hand, rubbing your knuckles.

An older female yautja had sat between your spread legs, as she popped her head up she told your mate in yautja tongue you needed to push.

After twelve agonizing hours and your mate having a sore hand there were small cries. He almost thought he was hearing things, maybe your screaming had damaged his ear canals?

But no, the doctor lifted up a sweet baby who was moving and very visibly upset. His breath was lost in his throat as he watched the child be handed off to you with congratulations on the new baby girl. The doctors all scribbling notes down and walking out.

The baby was smaller but looked yautja, he almost wanted to believe it wasn’t his but he knew you were loyal. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself as he stood there watching you rest with your eyes closed, his newborn daughter fast asleep on your chest.

He was quiet all the way until you had looked up at him, asking in a tired voice, “do you want to hold her?”

He nodded slowly. He had slowly reached his arms out, letting you place her into them. She was so small, almost comically in his arms.

Though from there on out he made a silent vow to himself as he leaned down and slightly touched heads with her. He vowed to never let anything happen to his beautiful baby girl, even if it would kill him.

#yautja #elder yautja #monster #yautja x reader #monster boyfriend #so cute #yautja boyfriend #old man yautja #yautja stuff #yautja yes

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elodieunderglass · 1 year

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Today’s weirdly specific bugbear: newborn babies in fiction being portrayed with colored eyes. This isn’t the case! Newborn babies have undeveloped eye colors that resolve over infancy, exactly like how a glass of muddy water resolves and clarifies into colors, patterns, and layers.

- people who will grow up to have brown eyes will be born with eyes that can appear brown, black, dark grey, or a sort of muddy navy.

- people who will grow up to have light brown, hazel, green, grey or blue eyes are usually born with the same eye colors as above: black, brown, dark grey or muddy navy (which is a weird bluish cloudy look, like brown with a blue overlay.)

- If you’re two brown-eyed parents whose new baby has a sort of cloudy unfocused blue eye color, don’t worry, they’ll almost certainly be brown-eyed - the melanin is still rearranging itself - and somehow that comes across as this initial bluish brown color.

- if the baby is white it’ll almost certainly go with the classic “muddy navy” to start with. Nobody is born with fantasy eyes, but white babies least of all.

- people whose eyes have distinctive patterns, such as central heterochromia, chips, shards, streaks, rings, etc will not display these while the overall melanin pattern is settling.

- very melanistic human eyes are almost greyish; a portraitist or photographer can explain this better than myself. The lovely clear warm browns that dominate the majority of humanity are still a complex pattern of melanin deposition and reflection, not “default maximised melanin.”

- people who will grow up to have “ice blue” eyes (with very little melanin) can actually be born with “ice blue” eyes that do remain; however, ice blue eyes at birth can also change quite a lot! after all, they’re the ones where a simple melanin rearrangement from week to week will change their whole color and appearance. So “Ice blue” and “indeterminate darkest greyish color” i.e. very little melanin deposition/maximum melanin deposition are two colors that humans can be born with, keep for life and be very happy with; but the average eye color of humanity is brown, so I’m not sure if relevant.

- babies aren’t really born with green or hazel eyes, which require exposure to light, development and ongoing melanin readjustment! You’ll probably see these colors resolve between 3-6 months with the general direction settled at 9 months.

Anyway, I’m sure if you poll a thousand people, you’ll find some of them insisting that they’ve definitely known babies born with Distinctive Family Eyes or Their Father’s Eyes or Violet Eyes or Chosen One Eyes, and when they were born they opened them wide for everyone to admire, but while they’re having fun with that, let’s just be real: newborn babies have muddy eyes of indeterminate color, that are normally shut, and their default state is to Imitate Prawn. Newborn humans look like nothing and nobody. And that’s okay.

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cod-dump · 3 months

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Nikpricegraves thoughts, special delivery!

Nik getting more grey in his hair, and neither Price or Graves wants to bring it up, because they don't know how Nik feels about it. They dom't want to make him feel self-conscious.

So they wait. And Nik finally brings it up, very casually (fronting like hell) musing aloud that he might color the grey so people don't think their evac pilot is too old.

And maaaaybe Price and Graves wanted their responses to be a liiiittle more restrained, a little more level-headed. But they weren't.

Price: You are not TOUCHING that silver--

Graves: Like HELL you're--absolutely not!

Price: Anyone lucky enough to have you picking him up has no right to complain about that!

Graves: And it's sexy as hell anyway!

Price: Exactly, you're fuckin gorgeous.

Nik: ... Thank you?

Nik was a very confident man. He was sure of himself, comfortable in his own skin and almost never doubted himself. But seeing the thin stripes of silver in his hair… he wasn’t too confident on it. The reality of him being old was setting in and he wasn’t very happy about it.

Nik never gave the thought of him getting old much thought considering he didn’t think he would get this far, especially not with his constant flirting with death. He never thought about how he would feel about growing grey, and now that it was here, highlighting his temples? Nik felt his heart squeeze, uncertainty making his chest tight.

Worse part was that neither his husband or boyfriend had mentioned anything about the grey, which just added to his uncertainty about it. He’s caught them whispering about it, both immediately cutting themselves off upon noticing him. He’s caught them staring, again no comments about it. Nik knows they had noticed it, of course they did. They notice everything new or different about him, most of the time even before he’s noticed it.

He didn’t like their silence and was choosing to assume the worst. But he kept quiet, just like how they were choosing to stay quiet. The topic of greying hair wouldn’t come up until one night while they ate dinner. He couldn’t help but stare at their own hair, how he would’ve noticed if John had started to grey (surprising he hadn’t by this point). The silver would’ve been noticeable amongst his dark brown hair, within his beard. It would be undeniably attractive.

Phil greying would been less noticeable considering his golden hair. There would’ve needed to be quite a few grey hairs before it was obvious and even then it would blend nicely with the gold strands. It would add to the American’s charm. Both would carry silver has crowns yet… Nik couldn’t determine that about himself. Couldn’t see himself with it, even as it took residence within his hair.

“I think I need to start investing in hair dye.”

The speed in which Phil turned his head to look at him made Nik fear he would break his neck. John just froze mid bite, eyes looking up to stare at him. Nik kept his usual level of smug confidence about him even though he wasn’t feeling anything remotely similar. Phil swallows his food, taking a deep swig of his water before he glares at him.

“Over my dead body.”

Nik blinked in surprise, his facade cracking.

“Nik, my love, if you do that you’d break my heart,” John added, staring intensely at him.

Nik looked between his partners before he cleared his throat, “Right-“

“Nikky, I’m serious,” Phil said firmly, “That silver is so fucking hot and if you dye it I’ll probably cry.”

“I second that,” John said very seriously.

Nik couldn’t help but laugh at their seriousness. Phil stood and walked behind him fingers going into his hair which of course caused Nik to lean back and practically melt. John stood as well and walked over.

“Should’ve known something was up when you hadn’t said anything. Big, bad Nikolai, insecure over some grey hairs.”

Nik huffs, closing his eyes as Phil continued to play with his hair, “I am not insecure.”

“You just said you wanted to dye it.”

Nik huffs, he could hear Phil’s smirk. He mustered up an unamused frown, which was immediately chased away by a well placed kiss from John. Nik was choosing to be annoyed in order to hide how relieved he felt about their approval. The two would probably pry that confession out of him later when it wouldn’t add onto their smugness over his unusual lack of confidence.

“You might want to prepare for when we return from leave, the boys are definitely going to say something when they notice.”

Nik snorts, “If they have a problem with their transport getting grey then they can cry about it.”

“Cry and complain, with bad jokes on the side.”

By the time they returned from leave, Nik would regain his rock solid confidence. And some jokes of his own because what is an old man without his jokes?

#nikpricegraves my beloved #call of duty #modern warfare #cod nikolai #john price #phillip graves #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #pricegravesnik #nikpricegraves #drabble #he will now be even more insufferable #nik: i’m old i cant be lifting that sorry #nik: i mustve not heard you with being how old i am #nik: im old of course im grumpy #price and graves are going to be sick of him witin a week #(this is a lie they’ll never be sick of him)

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signedmio · 3 months

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Hi Hi Hiii!!

I just came across your blog for the first time and OMG YOUR CONTENT IS SO SILLY I LOVE IT AHENEGSNWVDBEGDEE (the aesthetic is <33)

That 300 thingy was so cute,too bad i missed it 😭😭

Anyways,

May I ask for some platonic! Alastor,Rosie,Zestial,Carmilla,Vox,Adam and Husk (don't be afraid to shorten the list if it's too many 😭 I usually give a lot so you can write those you have more inspiration for) with a child!reader that is stereotypically childish and just very energetic and happy? Like,they love bright colors,plushies,running around,climb on stuff,always are happy but overall is a very nice and polite kid and will behave if kept occupied? Maybe one day the kid isn't all happy like always and the character worried? (Idk you do you,I just want a silly little chaotic kid!reader 😭😭)

I love platonic stuff so yeah :3

Anyways,I hope you can and enjoy writing this!!

I hope you have a really nice day! Don't forget to drink water and have rest!!

Stay proud!

-Nina <3

AWEEE TYSM !! i’m glad you enjoy my content (as well the aesthetic of my blog hehe), dw tho!! i’ll def have more events similar to my 300 celly in the future ~

as of now, i do not write for zestial or carmilla, but other than that i can do the rest ! enjoy !

Adam, Alastor, Husk, and Rosie + Chaotic!Child!Reader

Adam

He literally loves you to pieces bro, it makes him consider kids later on in his afterlife

Wrestling is constant with the the two of you, he’ll let ya beat him up for fun, he’ll swing ya around, anything ya want!!

Although, if you start swearing at a young age, now it’s thinks to him!

If he sees that the chaotic and fun kid he knows just isn’t feeling it today, he’ll plop down next to ya, try to make you laugh or smile, but if he gets no response? Crushed bro.

He’ll just be like “What’s wrong little bro?” with a 🥺 look on his :’)

Alastor

Alastor wasn’t much of a kid person, well.. until he met you.

You were fun to be around - energetic, but also still polite, as well as entertaining

He would have you do some tasks, giving him less work, and it kept you occupied

Although one day, his charming little kiddo wasn’t their normal happy self.

Al would bend to your level, a soft smile on his face, “Young one, you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

Husk

To be honest, kids weren’t really Husk’s thing, teenagers? Sure. But young children, eh…

Well, until he met you, you were polite, but still had a lot of energy and were fun to be around — but also knew when to shush.

He would especially love it when you would say the most out of pocket shit, and just not know, cause you’re just a kid!

But when he sees his little stinker without their usual smile, he’s concerned.

When you come to the bar with your little soft frown, Husk will lean over the counter to face you, whispering a small ‘Keep pushing tiger, ya got this.’

Rosie

Rosie adores children of all ages, she’s a very motherly person, so it’s safe to say when you first stumbled into her emporium, clueless, she was more than delighted to help you!!

Once she got to know you, she was in awe about how a child could be more perfect, you were so grown yet so innocent, it was cute, really.

So when she sees you stumble back to her parlor, looking like you had just cried, her heart broke for you.

She’ll take your hand, and lead you off to your usual talking spot, giving you a cup a tea, “C’mon now, sweetie, what’s got ya in a funk? What can I do?”

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nolita-fairytale · 11 months

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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter two

summary: you decided to meet luca, taking him up on his offer to return the favor, and it gives the both of you the opportunity to get to know each other better.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2777

a/n: for an america's indepedence day, have a hot brit and a love story that takes place in denmark lmao. okay so now we're all caught up with what i wrote for the headcanon and boy do i have some surprises in store for you next. thank you so much for all of the reactions to chapter one and the headcanon. this story has weaseled its way into my heart and has taken over my brain. i'm writing it for me but it's nice to hear others are enjoying it too. anyways, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

“You have to go!” Jesper insists with the kind of conviction of a damn good lawyer.

“I don’t have to anything,” you reply, making sure to emphasize the word ‘have.’

“No, you have to go,” Mathilde chimes in, a little softer, a little kinder than her brother’s earlier encouragement.

After your post-shift meeting, everyone had gone home, save for the three of you – the Mikkelson twins cornering you about Luca’s thank-you-card proposition.

“Well, since you both keep harping on it, why don’t you come with me?” you suggest, in an attempt to shift the focus off of you.

Your eyes scan their faces, trying to get a read on the both of them as Jesper and Mathilde exchange a pointed look, having the kind of non-verbal exchange that only comes from having shared every moment of their lives together.

“What?” you ask, looking back and forth from Mathilde to Jesper again.

“It wasn’t addressed to us,” Mathilde points out with a shrug, a sly look on her face. “It was only addressed to you.”

“Looks like someone has a crush,” Jesper adds with a smirk.

“He doesn’t have a crush!” you protest without hesitation, your heart seizing for a moment.

“A talent crush,” Mathilde reasons, knowing that anything more than a talent-crush would talk you out of going entirely.

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he did?” Jesper continues, much to both you and Mathilde’s chagrin. “I mean, when was the last time you got-, ow!”

Sharply cut off by an elbow to the rib, Jesper glares at his sister before returning his attention to you.

“I’m just saying! He’s sexy. He’s a chef at one of the best restaurants in the world. You could do worse for yourself,” Jesper clarifies, earning another glare from his sister.

He has a point, but you ignore it, because you’re not really sure if you’re ready to go there just yet. You think it over, and after giving it another moment, you open your mouth to speak again.

“Alright, I’ll go,” you sigh in resignation, earning a few celebratory comments and gasps from the twins. “Are you both happy now?”

And that’s how – after at least an hour of stressing out about what to wear to a place like this – you find yourself standing in front of a closed restaurant on a day where almost everything is closed in Denmark. You’d settled on a pair of wide leg denim pants, a square toed boot appropriate for navigating the Copenhagen cobblestone, and a white and black striped sweater, slightly tucked into the front of your jeans that hangs loosely from your frame.

Classic. Put-together enough for a two-starred Michelin restaurant on closed day. Certainly not a date kind of outfit.

Luca proves once again to be punctual as ever as he greets you at the front door, right on time. He wears a blue t-shirt that seems to emphasize his already intense blue eyes with a navy-colored apron layered over top of it.

“You came,” are the first words he says to you, a wide smile spreading across his lips as soon as he sees you.

“Yeah I uh-, thank you. For inviting me,” you stammer, nervously searching for the right words.

“Thank you for coming. Well, c’mon then!” he encourages, nodding towards the inside as he holds the door open for you.

“Did you find the place alright?” Luca asks you, as you follow him.

He leads you into the vaulted basement – the space that makes up the Danish-style, fine dining restaurant that’s been a leader in innovation. You follow Luca through the closed dining room, back into the kitchen, and then into the pastry room as you answer his question, mentioning that it wasn’t too long of a walk and that you found the place just fine.

As soon as you see what he’s been working on, it renders you near-speechless. You can see that he’s been hard at work – on his day off, no less – almost as if he knew you would come.

“Would you like to have a seat?” he offers, gesturing towards the pastry bench.

“Uh.. yeah. That’d be great. I-, um… thank you… again, for inviting me,” you answer, watching as he brings a stool over to it, setting up a little space for you.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. It’s really the least I can do. Think after this we’re uh… what 5 to 1?” he replies casually, in reference to the fact that he’ll only have fed you once in comparison to the amount of times he’s come to the restaurant.

You chuckle, returning with a playful, “Well, I don’t think anyone’s keeping score.”

He sends a crooked smile your way, one that you know you’ll be thinking about for the rest of the week, before exchanging a laugh with you.

“Just think of it as a thank you. For the great meals. For the hospitality,” he continues, as you watch him plate his gelee-focused dish. First the chocolate, then yellow, white, and green. A carefully tweezed wafer on top.

“This is a shiso gelee with a chocolate mint ganache, finished with a thin slice of marzipan, and a caramel cracker. It’s from our current menu,” Luca introduces, walking you through the dish like you walked him through your crispy rice and trumpet mushroom dish.

He pushes the plate-that-looks-more-like-a-pedestal towards you for you to try, his eyes meeting yours. Luca studies you carefully as you pick up the fork he’s set out for you, cutting through the gelee for your first bite. He watches as you scoop up a little of the ganache, making sure to get a bit of the cracker as well.

You’re creating a perfect bite – one with a little bit of everything – just like he’d done with the first dish of yours he had a month or so ago.

As you raise the fork to your lips, taking your first bite, the vibrant flavors hit your tongue with surprise and brilliance that you weren’t expecting. It’s somehow new, innovative, yet nostalgic all at once.

“Oh my god,” you say with a sigh of pure bliss. You savor each and every flavor, taking your time with your first bite before continuing with: “It’s almost like-.”

“A minty snickers bar?” he offers up with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly it!” you cry out with joy.

He smiles proudly, “Yeah, it’s a nice dish.”

“So how long have you been doing this? Cooking…? Or have you done Pastry the whole time?” you ask, digging into the rest of the gelee.

“About fourteen years… give or take. Started when I was a kid… just washing dishes… was a bit of a rebel…. The kitchen gave me a place to land,” he shares with an ease and charm that makes you feel like you could tell him all of your secrets.

“Yeah, no I-, I get that,” you agree, enjoying your second bite of Luca’s shiso dish.

“Gave my mum a little peace of mind. That’s for sure. Don’t think I was an easy kid to raise,” he continues as you listen.

“Didn’t start pastry till about three years ago or so. Went mostly the fine dining route… worked my way up to sous position at a really great place, but wasn’t interested in moving up the ranks in that regard. Decided it was time to try something different.”

You nod with respect for his decision for change.

“Where’d you grow up?” you ask curiously, watching him wipe down the pastry bench with a clean towel as he begins to prepare for a second dish.

“London,” he answers.

“Oh! I uh, lived there for a few years, actually,” you say, sharing a familiar smile with him.

“What about you? Where’d you grow up? And how long have you been cooking for?” he asks, shifting the focus of the conversation to you.

“Boston,” you reply.

He hums in response, “I’ve never been. What was that like?”

“Boston is great. Good weather, great food, interesting people. ‘S actually where I learned how to cook. My mom’s a single parent so… I spent a lot of time at our neighbor’s house… and their restaurant. They still own this Italian restaurant that’s like… been in the family for a hundred or so years and I practically grew up there,” you explain, sharing parts of yourself – of your story – in return.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, an amused look on his face.

“Yeah, we hung out there a lot when we were kids – me and my best friend. Then when I was old enough to work, I marched in one day after school and pitched myself for a job, demanding that I cook and that I’d accept nothing less” you reminisce trying your best to recreate the bold confidence of your fifteen year old self.

Luca chuckles in response, “That’s incredible,”

“I was a rather precocious child,” you add, laughing with a fondness for that previous version of you.

He smiles, “Yeah, I know the feeling well.”

Luca clears his throat, pulling out a clean bowl and beginning to plate something new. He explains that this one is a savory dish, starting with a fermented sourdough cracker as he walks you through the flavor profiles of each component, mentioning that it’s got to be one of his favorites on the menu so far.

“I’m up for sharing if you are,” you suggest, in response to his last comment.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You watch as Luca picks up another fork, digging into the dish with you. There’s an intimacy that comes from sharing a meal with someone – eating off the same plate, enjoying the same sensory experience, quite literally breaking bread – that makes Luca feel less and less like a stranger to you with each bite. You still can’t believe that he’s done this for you – that you’re here – and while you’re not sure why, you lean into a softness, allowing yourself to enjoy it while it’s happening.

“Did you go to culinary school?” you ask him, over your last few shared bites.

“No, what about you?” he replies quickly.

“No, I actually majored in business,” you answer, earning a hum from him.

“Huh…” he sounds, with a raise of both eyebrows in surprise.

“I know…” you groan, with a playful eye roll more so directed at yourself. “My first career was in finance… account management. Then I did the whole investment thing for a while… it was uh… really sexy stuff, I know.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who would’ve been happy doing something like that,” Luca observes, only surprising you a little that he’d be able to pick up on something like that so quickly.

“Oh no. I wasn’t. I was miserable,” you echo in agreement. You take a breath, and a beat, before explaining. “It was more of… a wish fulfillment thing, I think. For my mom. I mean, it wasn’t my dream, by any means. But having stability was important to me, to my mom…. To my partner at the time.”

“And now?”

You wait a beat before answering.

“And now… I’m just… figuring it out as I go.”

Your eyes flicker over the ‘every second counts’ sign that hangs on the wall while Luca busses the table once again, sharing that he’s got one more dish he’d like for you to try. You settle into a quiet rhythm as you sit back and allow him to provide an experience unlike any other you’ve had. You watch him carefully as he moves around the kitchen prepping for his last dish, taking in each and every tattoo visible on his arms.

“Every second counts,” you speak out loud, returning your attention to the sign.

“Yeah,” he nods, turning his attention to where you’re looking. “It’s uh-, something an old head chef of mine used to say. Really stuck with me.”

You nod in agreement as he pulls out a final dessert plate.

“‘S actually what brought me to you,” he continues, in reference to the sign. “An old friend of mine called me for a favor. He’s opening a new restaurant and wanted their patissier to come stage here for a bit.”

Luca begins plating his final dish using a few pastry rings, a clean pair of tweezers, and berries left macerating in a deli container with a laser focus that you’d expect from a pastry chef at a two-starred Michelin restaurant.

“We got into… this whole conversation about inspiration. How to find it. Where to find it. I told him he’s gotta be open… to everything. To things out there. That that’s how you succeed in this industry – how you set yourself apart,” Luca adds, impressing you with his precision of plating while sharing something so personal.

“It reminded me that… it’s been a while since I’ve opened myself up to… well… anything outside of this place.”

“No, yeah, I totally get it. It’s easy to get lost in it – it being the four walls of your restaurant. Running a restaurant is relentless. One minute you put your head down and the next…” you empathize with him.

“It’s three weeks later.”

“Yeah.”

“Which leads me to why I asked you here,” Luca segways, as he finishes his final dish. “I ran into a little bit of writers’ block – or rather, chef’s block, if you will – working on our Summer menu.”

He presents the dish towards you, earning a gasp from you as you take in the stunning creation.

“Knew I needed to get out of here for a beat. Get out of my head. Get some new perspectives.”

“Is this for your new menu?” you ask, your eyes devouring the cake-based dish first.

“Maybe… just something I’ve been working on – something that’s been floating around in my head a while,” he shrugs, watching you carefully as he tries to search your face for any kind of reaction.

You dig your fork into the spongey, tea-soaked, circular layered cake, raising it to your lips and immediately finding pure joy as you taste it.

Yuzu. Earl Grey. The cake is almost like a lady finger – tiramisu-like in the way that it eats – filled with a yuzu curd in between each layer of cake, then finished with what you can only assume is a sort of black sesame dust that he’s sifted over top of the dish.

“Woah,” is all that comes out of your mouth.

“Yeah?” Luca questions, unable to hide the smile that spreads across his lips.

“Yeah uh… Why does this feel so familiar? It’s like… you’re reading my mind with this one,” you ask, your eyes wide savor each note.

“Well, it should. Feel familiar, that is. It’s inspired by you,” Luca explains, treading carefully around the last few words.

“What do you-?” you begin to ask, before the words leave you.

You half expect him to tell you he’s joking, and you can’t tell whether or not it’s a blush running across his high cheekbones that you spot, as he turns his attention elsewhere. He begins moving around the kitchen, eager to begin cleaning up after himself to recover from the sheer vulnerability he feels from sharing this with you.

Was this why he’d invited you here?

“Luca,” you say, your words stopping him as he turns back to you.

“What’s up?” he asks, so casually, as if he hadn’t just called you his muse.

"All of this... you did all of this for me…. Why?" you muster up the courage to ask, the words falling out of your mouth with a weight you don’t expect.

He takes a beat, afraid of coming on too strong, considering you’ve only just met, yet wanting nothing more than to tell you the truth.

Luca sighs, choosing the latter, before laying it all out on the table.

"Your food is inspired and I don’t think I’ve had something this inspired in a long time,” he explains before pausing. “Your passion for Italian cuisine… weaving in the bits and pieces of yourself and approaching it from different culinary perspectives? You inspired me.”

He takes another beat.

“And as chefs, this is what we do. We feed each other."

You’re speechless, but you can feel yourself nodding in agreement as you mumble out the most reverent ‘thank you’ that you can muster. You can feel it – that this is the beginning of, well, you're not quite sure what – but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.

“Luca?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smile.

“Cheers.”

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

Text

reverb • chapter eleven

synopsis: eren and (y/n) finally meet again after weeks apart, only to find themselves engaged in a weekend full of passionate love making. In the midst of their steamy rendezvous, EJ poses a question that not only leaves the shocked (y/n) stunned but himself as well..asking if she’d like to go out with him. Not certain of how things will pan out if they decide to date, (y/n) is hesitant but then recalls a conversation she’d had with her uncle just days prior. What will her answer be? Meanwhile, the aftermath of Armin’s annual party is revealed when he and Niesha’s game of cat and mouse comes to a boiling head. Things only get worse when his affluent, billionaire parents invite him to dinner to discuss an important family matter. The carefree playboy is given news that will force him to make the hardest decision he’ll ever have to face.

word count: 9.5K

content + themes: sexual themes, fluff, romance, mentions of tarot, spirituality and light work, violence, mentions of gang activity and guns, drug mentions, bits of angst, more flashbacks of (y/n)’s past, mentions of abuse, comedy + humor, crack, drama, choking but it turns sexual idk how to describe it, sorry, toxic, TOXIC behaviors I do not condone, angsty at the end

“Whatever choice you make, son. I support and always be proud..I won’t be upset with you no matter what but just make sure that it’s one you can live with.”

📝: thank you guys so much for sticking around and supporting this story! I’m so happy when you guys send thoughtful comments and feedback, asks, etc. it makes my entire day and gives me so much motivation. I know y’all are probably sick of the cliffhangers but trust, there’s a reason! 😭 anyways, I hope you like the story. Reblogs, comments, etc are very appreciated!! Also, I like to make the reader’s backstory as vivid as possible. Although you may not resonate with it personally, it is important to the story itself. So keep that in mind when reading, please.

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“Wh-what?..wait, EJ..what are you saying?”

“..Thought I made myself pretty clear..I want to go on a date with you. Do this right..”

in that moment, time felt as if it were standing completely still..nothing about this entire ordeal felt like reality right now. There was no way that not only had you spent hours entangled in the sheets with EJ the Don, exchanging kisses, sweat and every other bodily fluid possible. There was no way you were in this famous rapper’s house, let alone his bed..and there was certainly no way in hell that he had just asked you out mid-orgasm..certainly you had to be dreaming! But alas, here you were with your bodies melded together as one. Those jade colored eyes beaming down at you with the most serene of energy. In a way, his words brought you comfort..peace. Normally, guys would try and pressure you into situations that you weren’t ready for. Using sex as a clever segway into whatever their true goal was. But that wasn’t the case with him. Truth be told, he didn’t have to lie to get what he wanted..he was honest to a fault and maybe that was one of his biggest flaws. He couldn’t be deceitful and that oftentimes led to him hurting people’s feelings. His little spat with Mikasa was a prime example..had he exercised a bit of restraint, maybe the situation wouldn’t have blown up the way it had. With you, he was hoping to have the opposite effect. If he wanted you gone, you would’ve been ass naked in the back of an Uber before the sun came up. He was the last man who had to lie his way into some pussy so obviously, he was coming from a place of sincerity. Pushing gently at his chest, (Y/N) shifted your head to the side, thinking that if you did not look at him directly, those pangs of butterflies wouldn’t come rushing through your stomach. Instead, you were met with the soft grasp of his fingers underneath your chin. “Or not..” pausing to collapse next to you. Not only for a breather but because he felt as though he had set something wrong. Maybe he was being a little too forward and persistent. Or maybe he was a damn fool and this whole school kid, whirlwind crush was unrequited. But little did he know, you felt the exact same! Hell, maybe even stronger..it had been forever since you’d look at anyone the way you did him. And so what if it had only been two months since you guys knew each other? You’d heard that age old cliche ‘love at first sight’ more than you could count. Even if it wasn’t quite to that stage yet, you knew it was far stronger than just sex. You both had set it in your minds, unbeknownst to the other..that if you fucked one more time and those feelings didn’t remain, then you’d call it quits. But as you suspected..you were head over heels. Even when you finally managed to get some rest after the long night, you were dreaming of him. It was crazy! It honestly brought you back to a conversation you had just a few days prior…

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flashback• five days ago: Wisteria Gardens Apartments • southside

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The warm Florida sun peering down over the coast of Miami Beach, waves crashing subtly against sandy shores as patrons splashed through the cool waters and children built grainy castles. The picturesque view is the ideal representation of the bustling city. But lying within its intricate roadways and landscapes was an entirely different viewpoint. One far less appealing and inviting. Only those familiar with the areas would dare travel there..for them, ironically..it was home. The only place they felt welcomed. The projects. The ghetto..where many of Miami’ elites got their start and oftentimes dubbed their stomping grounds. Including upcoming stars, (Y/N) (L/N) and Niesha Daniels. Residents of Opa Locka’s infamous 8th Street. Where drug dealers and sex workers roamed frequently. Where those who only knew of violence and criminal activity thrived..but for you? It always brought forth a sense of nostalgia. The strange thing was, you weren’t too far removed from the dire situation you grew up in but it felt unreal going from rubbing elbows with rockstars to now driving through your old hood with Dior shades on your eyes. You remember the nights that you and your granny would hear gunshots from down the street; getting word that one of her friends’ grandsons or nephews had been involved in gang activity. Or the more joyful memories of you and Niesha walking to the corner store on Friday nights. Dressed just like the girls who were dubbed ‘hoochies’ back in the day but sporting your sew ins, micros, long acrylics and gold earrings proudly. The smell of fresh fish frying and BBQ plates outside of the gas station while crowds chatted and danced. Dope boys stationed in the parking lot with the doors of their Chevy Impalas swung wide open, blasting Jeezy and Ross as you both walked by. Being cat called by men old enough to be your fathers as they shot dice in front of the store doorway. It was a very different life from the one you both lived now. Hence why you were back..hoping to gain some clarity from the one person you had been dreading to see since returning home. Navigating your new rose gold Mercedes G Wagon into the parking lot of the Wisteria Gardens Apartments, you pulled into an empty space, promptly killing the engine afterwards. On the opposite side of the large complex sat a duplex, tucked off in the corner. Luckily, that was your destination so you wouldn’t be spotted. Neither would your vehicle. Stepping out in high-top brown and pink Dunks, biker shorts showing off your small leg tattoo and a Balenciaga sweatshirt. The 613 balayage flowed down your back and tied into a ponytail..(y/n) tossed the small crossbody over your shoulder and headed up to the front door on the left side, where you left two small knocks. It was then that you were greeted by the sound of serene music and bells playing. You’d push the door once more to realize that it was not only unlocked but slightly ajar. If it told you anything, it was that the man inside was hard at work and awaiting you. “Unc? Uncle Bam..you home?” Silence.

That was until you heard the deep tone of a male answer you back.

“About time you showed up, honey..” turning around, you were greeted with the calming aura and deep set eyes of a tall, darker skinned male with a muscular build and neatly styled dreads. Around his neck hung an Eye of Horus pendant and crystals. It was him..

“Unc!”

“Welcome home, baby girl. It’s been so long.”

akin to that of a little child, you leapt into his arms and beamed with joy! It had been roughly two years since you’d last been to his home. Travel and work had kept you so busy, you never had time. He was the only living family member that you had any sort of contact with from either side. Much like the many estranged ones, your uncle Benny, affectionately known as Bam around the area had grown up into a life of crime and as they always say with trouble, it’s easy to get in and even harder to get out of. He had spent his younger years in and out of prison before landing himself in there for fifteen years after beating the abuser of one of his closest friends nearly to death. He was a good man with a kind soul.

During his incarceration, he delved deep into spirituality. More so tarot and lightwork. An innate gift he knew he had possessed since childhood. He decided that once he got out, he’d walk the straight and narrow from then on out. Now a free man, he spends his days honing his craft here at his home; doing detailed readings, cleanses and spell work. As quiet as it was kept, he was the sole reason you were where you were right now. Shortly after the death of your grandmother, you were left alone. Your mom and her only daughter didn’t even bother to show up to the funeral and once she did show her face, she caused a scene. Only coming around in hopes of claiming some inheritance so she could promptly go shoot it up in a back alley somewhere. Then there was your father, sitting idly in Florida State Prison, serving life after he committed the ultimate sin. Needless to say, you wanted no parts of either of them anyways.

But you needed someone and luckily, your uncle had gotten to a far better place since finishing out his stint. He was living in a very nice duplex home with his long time partner, Kelvin. Who was equally as kind and loving as he was. Without question, he allowed you to stay in the other half without paying a dime for as long as you pleased. The two had come upon some serious money from their old ventures and decided to invest their funds. Restoring old apartment complexes that had been previously overrun by gang members and providing low income housing to the residents. Sometimes even waiving rent payments altogether for those in need. Essentially investing back into the community they called home. He truly was your idol..especially since it was him who introduced you to pole as a means of stress relief and self expression. Soon, that hobby turned into untapped talent that he felt needed to be shared. So one day, you began sharing the videos to your bare Instagram feed, quickly accruing a large following. One thing led to another and now, you were performing on stages larger than life. Without him, there would be no Pole Assassins or (influencer name).

“I know..that’s kinda my fault. I’m sorry..been busy. Thank you for the biscuits by the way. They were so good.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, chile. I know how much you used to love those things. Miss (grandma’s name) used to make them for me all the time. Besides, I know them folks been keeping you on your toesss. But get that money. I ain’t mad at you.”

uttering the sentiment in a rather feminine and expressive tone, waving his hand fan to feign off any smoke. Candles burned from the corners, along with pungent incense. It looked as if he were just in the middle of charging some crystals when you came in. But it was rather perfect timing..as he had predicted, you’d be making your way over. So he was prepared!

“Gone take a seat, honey. I’ll get you some tea.” feeling just as cozy as you did years ago, you’d plop down in one of the plush, throne like chairs and wait for him to join you. Whilst he was pouring up a batch of his famous iced tea, you scoured the various decks of cards and oracles with your eyes. Fascinated by this unknown world, you could only imagine what this visit would entail. “So..tell me how the life of the rich and famous has been treating my dear niece..how’s Beyonce and ‘nem?” sending you into a fit of laughter. He was such a card sometimes, always saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Ooh..now Unc, you know I’m far from that but..we're working on it. It’s been good though..can’t complain..” Just then, a wave of sudden sadness overtook you and you’d recall crying this morning. And almost instantly, he’d pick up on it.

“But?..”

“But what?..”

A question you and he both already knew the fateful answer to. You were severely depressed; a hole you couldn’t seem to come out of. No matter how many accolades, accomplishments and even happy moments you accrued. It all felt meaningless..you still didn’t have the two things you so desperately sought after. And if anyone knew that, it was him.

“You still feel like you haven’t done enough. Or rather..something’s missing.” You knew he’d read you like a book but if you knew that, you’d also know that he was far from done with his investigation. Finally working his way back to the table, he’d hand you the glass and take a seat before you. The two oracle decks you were previously looking over, he’d pick up and shuffle through. He was full and aware of how to help ease your worry and hopefully clear up some of your pressing questions. He had done it so many times before..it had been so long since you’d had one of his signature readings. Uncle Bam’s predictions were almost always spot on so if you could trust someone’s intuition, even when it wasn’t your own, you could trust him. “Don’t worry,, we gon’ help you out. Take a couple breaths for me while I get these shuffled.” Without hesitation, you did so. Inhaling slowly and exhaling all the same with your eyes closed. This was always done to help center yourself before a reading; bringing you closer to the universe and to help you realize what it is you need to hear.

slowly but surely, he’d begin to dish out cards. Akin to that of a black jack dealer, they’d fly onto the table face down and soon after, he’d flip them over. Taking a moment to mull over them, he’d place his finger to his chin and release a deep sigh. The look on his face had you concerned for a moment..as if he were contemplating something serious. Perhaps, you were in worse shape than you thought.

“..there’s something you’ve been feeling conflicted about. Somebody rather. You’re scared..” the words drawing a look of concern and a slight gasp from between your lips. What exactly did he mean?

“These feelings..they’re strong. You feel so deeply for this person and you don’t want to because you’re afraid of getting hurt. Afraid that they won’t feel the same. It’s like you keep telling yourself, ‘it’s too soon..’ You also feel like if you pursue this one thing, then you failed at everything else. I’m seeing..flowers of some kind. Purple. Some flower that meant a lot to you. Maybe you saw something today that brought back intense memories for you. Maybe they even made you cry..”

as he was spouting off his visions, you’d feel a slight lump form in the back of your throat. It was heavy and hard to swallow. Afraid that if you did, you’d burst into tears right then and there. You hadn’t uttered a word to Uncle Bam about your situation and you knew no one else could have either. Not about your granny’s house, about Eren..nothing. Even Niesha, who was a notorious blabbermouth. He more than likely whisked right into your apartment with those biscuits and right out. As far as the flowers, he was spot on. The name of this place? Wisteria Gardens and ironically, it was the same plants that surrounded this complex. Much like the ones that used to grow in your grandma’s yard every year. Beautiful, lavender flowers that hung like bearing fruit. Seeing them again dredged up those memories of playing in the yard and picking them for her vases. It was just his innate sense of intuition. He truly was a master of his craft. Divinity was his true calling! He’d pull back for a moment and wipe his own eyes, reaching over for a burning stick, wrapped in twine and cloth. “Whew! Gon’ make me break the sage out in here..this is heavy, honey!..” breaking a bit of the tension and intense emotions up by making you laugh. “But let’s keep going..” he’d continue surveying the cards and shuffling through. Picking out the ones that resonated with him the most. Fortunately, there was some good in this reading so he’d gravitate towards that.

“..But I see you’ve also been feeling gracious. I’m seeing a lot of gratitude. You’re happy with how far you’ve come. There’s something you’ve had your eye on..maybe a new purse or some type of jewelry. Reward yourself, chile. You’ve earned it.” It was right then that he’d decide to place the cards down and remove his glasses, wiping up the remnants of his tears with a bit of laughter. That’s when he’d reach across the table to grasp your hands.

“(Y/N), sweetheart. You’re a wonderful young woman. Always have been..you got a good head on your shoulders. For as long as I could remember, you never gave your grandma trouble. You were smart, even when things were hard for you, you did everything you were supposed to and I’m so proud of you. It ain’t been easy for you and hell, you could’ve ended up just like me, your mama and your daddy but you didn’t..you’ve come such a long way..” It was then that the words began to spill out as did your tears because it had been so long since you’d heard someone tell you that they were proud of you.

“Thank you, Unc. I’ve been trying..I really have.”

But alas, that wasn’t all he had to say. There was one more tidbit of advice he had to give. Looking you dead in your eyes, he’d hold your hands.

“I know, baby. That’s why I’m telling you if you don't listen to anything else and I don’t need these cards to say it, it’s this..go live your life. You’ve been working since you were seventeen. Ain’t stopped since. Your granny would be so proud of you so go live. If this person is truly making you as happy as I can tell they are, go for it. Go find your peace, you’ve earned it.” and with that, you knew from that moment, what had to be done….

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So with this man now lying next to you, eyes averted to the covers because he was a little embarrassed, you’d hastily reach over and cup his face into another kiss before rolling over on top of him. “Stop looking like that.” immediately, he’d begin to flush red and try to form a sentence but you rendered him impossible with your tongue. Brushing your fingers through his hair and straddling him. Just a moment ago, you seemed completely uninterested and now, you were trying to go at it again. What changed?

“Of course I’d love to go out with you, EJ. Nothing would make me happier.” and you had just made him the happiest he had been in a while! Grabbing your waist, he’d break into an adorable cackle, just feeling so relieved that you hadn’t rejected him. “Thank goodness..” which brought you to a soft giggle in return. Which soon transformed into you full blown laughing. For the first time in a long time, you’d have a heartfelt laugh..

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing..I was just thinking about something.”

Flipping back over onto your side and running your finger down the perimeter of his chest, you’d place a gentle kiss along his cheek before coiling those smaller arms around his torso.

“So what exactly did the brilliant EJ have in mind for a first date?” causing the rapper to gulp in response because out of all his areas of expertise, romance wasn’t his strong suit. The fact that he had actually managed to bag your fine ass in the first place was an achievement in and of itself! Now, he was left with the task of ensuring that he kept you around..cradling his arm around you, he’d look down with a soft grin and place a kiss to your forehead. Trying his hardest to lay on the charm.

“Well, I was thinking maybe a nice dinner, a little walk on the beach..” but as his words trailed off, something told you that wasn't exactly his style. He seemed far too laid back for the luxurious, pompous date nights..but he was trying to be as chivalrous as possible. After all, it wouldn’t be the slightest bit polite to take a woman he had spent all night going raw in for burgers and fries on an official first date! Even so, you wanted him to be comfortable as well. Something you’d both enjoy. Not only that, if you wanted to do this right and not just be two people sleeping together without the slightest clue about the other..then it was important to just let go of the awkward jitters and ask outright what your interests were. No need in being shy after all that had happened. No need in being afraid..this was a safe space.

“Unless..there’s something else you wanted to do.” which prompted you to start giggling yet again. And this time, his little cheeks flustered red and he’d stare yet again, feeling embarrassed. Nobody had tripped EJ the Don up quite like you. Here he was stumbling over himself like a bumbling idiot and all of that confidence he had used to seduce you was flying out the window. Even so, you thought it was just the cutest thing ever. “Not at all. That actually sounds really nice but..I wanna know what it is you like to do. Not just what you think will impress me. In fact…” stopping amid your rant to run a finger down the center of his chest. “I wanna get to know the man behind all of that music. The real you..I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love me some EJ but..Eren? He seems a lot cooler and I can’t wait to meet him.” And for the first time in a long time, his heart would begin to flutter..beating out of his chest because no woman had ever asked him such a thing. Granted, he was putting them out before they could get too close but deep down, he knew they only wanted one thing and that was to use his namesake for a come up. They didn’t care about who he was outside of the chains, money and fame. He was a meal ticket and nothing more. And here you were, wanting to see him for who he truly was. To hell with waiting or being too soon, he had to make you his before somebody else came and snatched you up!

“We’re a little past favorite colors and TV shows, don’t you think?”

“No better time than the present, sweetheart. Maybe we can talk about it..after we get a shower.”

Which didn’t sound like too bad of an idea right now. The only question was what you were going to wear, seeing as how you arrived in nothing more than a bikini and had been wearing nothing but his sheets and body fluids since. But he’d figure something out. For now, you two of you could continue your ‘bonding’ under the warm waters of a shower head.

“Guess you’re right. Speaking of..what do you like for breakfast? I can have my assistant go get–”

“I was actually thinking I’d cook a little something. If you don’t mind. The restaurants on this side of town can’t make breakfast worth a damn. They crack an egg on the plate, smear some sauce around and charge a hundred dollars for it. No thanks..hope you like grits.”

that was all he needed to hear to be confident that he had made the right decision..you were everything he had been looking for in a woman!..grinning from ear to ear, Eren would roll to his side and hop up, gently tugging you up afterwards.

“Or do you northerners not know anything about that?”

“Give me some credit now. I’ve been living among you country bumpkins long enough to know about grits. And other things too.”

It felt good to know that neither of you had to put on a facade around one another. And with that, the witty banter and jokes ensued. Poking fun at one another like old friends.

“Oh, is that so? Like what?” questioning as the two of you walked towards the bathroom. It’s then that he’d lift up your arm and twirl you around to examine your backside, even leaving a light slap to watch it ripple. “I know that it didn't come from a doctor. That’s gotta be greens and cornbread. Got to be.” Shaking his head in pure awe at how thick you were. The one thing he loved about living in the south were the women..the girls who were homegrown and country fed. Long before he was surrounded by BBL bodies, he was blessed with the fortune of seeing the ladies that didn’t need a knife. The ones that had the kind of ass that would make somebody do a double take and clutch their chest. But even so, he’d send you into a fit of laughter, playfully slapping his chest.

“Get away from me. Play too damn much.”

“What?! I didn’t lie..matter of fact, lemme get a closer look.”

Playfully chasing you into the shower where the second bout of your morning would surely ensue. There wasn’t a single doubt that you two would have no problem adjusting into a relationship.

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But unfortunately, the same couldn’t have been said for you guys’ best friends…the people both of you adored more than anything and the ones who had been seeing one another long before (y/n) and Eren even decided to hook up. Armin and Niesha weren’t exactly seeing eye to eye at the moment, which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Seeing as how both of them truly only got along when they were fucking like rabid animals. Otherwise, it was a toxic game of cat and mouse. A test to see who could make the other jealous first. Posted up with this girl and hugging that dude. Childish antics if you’d ever seen any. Nonetheless, it worked for the chaotic pair. That was until last Friday at that yacht party, when it all came to a very explosive head.

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flashback: part two - miami port

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“So you gone sit and play in my face like that?! You gone lie and tell me you wasn’t with the bitch? Armin, who do you think I am?”

“And if I was..what exactly are you going to do about it? But since you asked, Niesha. I’ll tell you exactly who you are..an idiot. I mean, no offense, baby but you have to be out of your fucking mind to think that we were anything more than this. What? You thought because I brought you a couple purses, some jewelry that me and you would be together? Sweetheart, you are nothing more than some stress relief. Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ll admit, the pussy was good..amazing even but I don’t plan on settling any time soon. Especially not with someone like you.”

words that stung like bees, ones that should have been cutting deep and sending her into hysterics..if it were anyone else! But it was just as (Y/N) had said:

“Haven’t met a dude she hadn’t left crying yet.”

and just as she had predicted, Armin was up next! Rather than bursting into tearful sobs and cries, he was met with cackles and hearty laughs. A tattooed hand and long acrylics covered her mouth as her head flew back. Eventually doubling over in laughter.

“What the fuck is so funny?” His nerves obviously rattled by how unbothered she was. He knew that Niesha was crazy and hell, that was half the excitement but damn, any other woman would have at least slapped and said she hated him. Here she was cackling like shit was sweet..just what was this girl’s problem?!

“You done? Like I said, Armin..who do you think I am? You can save them lil’ weak ass insults for a bitch with no self esteem. I said it before and I’ll say it again..’you not going nowhere. And neither am I..” standing ten toes down in her sentiment, even folding her legs and pretending to swipe over her long nails. Completely unfazed by anything he’d said before. However, Armin was a little stirred in his spirit. Always getting riled up when he was with Niesha. That was the effect she’d had on him since the first night they met. Heated arguments turned to fiery, passionate sex that was always better than the last. But tonight, he’d decided he had enough and was calling it quits for good. He had to..otherwise, he was going to lose his own damn mind!

“Oh..you thought I was mad about that lil’ brokedown girl you had in your Insta story. If you’re gone try to make me jealous, at least get a bitch with all her teeth. Have some class.” and it was then that he’d retort back, trying to defend himself. He had been pacing the floor of the master bedroom suite in the ship’s cabin, trying not to lose his cool but this girl was really testing his patience. She had the nerve to cheat when he had spent all of that money on her?! The nerve. What made her so special from all the rest of the girls that fell in love with him?

“Says the one fucking half of The Miami Heat. Don’t try to check me for some shit when you’re doing the same thing. I saw you with him, Niesha.”

“That’s right. While you were getting neck from ol’ gummy bear, I was getting my shit cracked. I’m not your bitch so what are you mad for? This free game.” And little was he aware of the can of worms that he had popped open.

“You know what your problem is? You’re entitled. You try to compensate with all these lil’ hoes because you’re really a loser, baby. You think they’ll actually fuck with you if you ain’t have the bread you did? C’mon now. Flexing mommy and daddy’s money ‘cause you would’ve never made it otherwise. Went and got you a chain, some tattoos and started showing your ass. But the real Armin? Ain’t nothing but a square ass ‘lil nigga looking for approval because his parents never gave it to him. You are so used to everybody kissing your ass because you throw a lil’ change in their face. But I’m not one of them. Ion care about you or your money. That bag? I already had two. Your lil’ necklace? I gave that shit away. We wouldn’t be together..you right..community dick is good for one thing and that’s never being seen in public with it. Matter of fact, I think Connie and Ony are here tonight. Might go see what their fine asses are hitting for. I need a real man.”

Suddenly, she’d stand to her feet and begin making the trek towards the door. As if nothing had happened but Armin was not about to let that happen. “Shit, if my sister hadn’t got to him first, maybe I would’ve fucked EJ too. Heard that dick was hitting—” suddenly, any bit of restraint and level headedness he may have had..went straight out of the window. Before she could walk out, Armin would grab her arm and force her against the wall. “Watch your fucking, Niesha.” Causing her to start cackling yet again. It was as if nothing phased this woman. His words may have meant nothing but hers hurt like a bitch! Insulting him, playing on his insecurities and then proudly admitting that she’d fuck his best friends?! She’d gone too far! He had gotten so worked up, he’d hadn’t even realized that his hand was latched around her throat. Immediately freezing because he’d never in his life hurt a woman and if she brought him to that point, then she had to go but before he could take it away..the look in Niesha’s eyes told a different story..one that thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of his hands around her neck and even signified it by biting her lip; sucking her teeth in a lecherous manner. This toxicity truly got her excited!

“Mmm…now I like that shit.” Getting visibly aroused at the vice grip he had on her. Even prompting him to squeeze tighter because it’d get her wetter. All Armin could do was laugh because once again, she had worn him down and pulled him right back into her trap.

“You’re a crazy bitch, you know that?..or maybe I’m the crazy one for fucking with you..”

Just then, he’d feel his thumb between her plump lips, being suckled on and her deep set, dark, siren like eyes laser focused on him and his biggest weakness..that sweet little voice that she always drew him in with.

“Maybe..but..” and before she could complete the sentence, he’d have her up against the dresser, legs spread and her thong pushed to the side. “You’re right, I’m not going anywhere. And you’re sure as hell not. This pussy belongs to me, act like you remember.” This time, tugging her by her hair with the same force; proof that he was done playing games with her. He was going to show her what a real man was alright! “Now put that fucking phone down..” That slight grimace in his voice sent to her spine and her sensitive spot. She loved seeing him like this. Hence why she got his ass in an uproar in the first place. She wanted to get him as angry as possible to get him to take his frustration out on her. “Mm..whatever you say...”

Because in the end, she always got her way. And Armin? He’d finally met his match!

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

Hence why, at the moment, he was headed into the Nobu, one of Miami’s premier eateries. Notorious for feeding some of the city’s most elite. Tonight, they’d be hosting the Artlerts..the leaders of a multi billion dollar conglomerate, earning their fortune in oil and technology..stemming back from the early nineteen hundreds. Needless to say, they were descendants of old money and Armin, was a direct beneficiary and byproduct of such wealth and he certainly took advantage of it. However, his parents had contacted him earlier in the week to inform him that they’d be flying into town and that there was important business that they needed to discuss with him. What exactly they had to discuss was a mystery..however, all would soon be revealed. Dressed in one of his several designer ensembles; an all black Armani suit..turtleneck tucked into his slacks with a matching belt buckle. Covering the plethora of tattoos that littered his body. Silver rings adorning his fingers and a matching necklace. Coordinated and fitting just right..the potent aroma of Tom Ford cologne radiating from his body..he truly looked like a million bucks. But unfortunately, his mood didn’t exactly match his current physical shape. Being with family should have been a monumental occasion. Marked with laughs, good times and love. And for the bright eyed, young producer..it was in his earlier years. As the only child to wealthy entrepreneurs and presumably, the heir to a massive fortune, they poured every ounce of adoration, care and their limitless resources into ensuring that Armin had the best upbringing possible. Private schools, tutors, a fully funded college education, and the best things that life had to offer. Which paid off..Armin excelled in every aspect of his life. Top tier grades; which earned him a steady four point six average until he graduated college with a degree in marine biology. He played baseball, basketball and rugby, an aficionado in all three and was even his university’s point guard up until junior year. Needless to say, he was his parents’ pride and joy. But it seemed as of late, that satisfaction seemed to have dissipated a bit. The Artlerts had high expectations for their child. Naturally, they supported anything that he wanted to explore and backed him one hundred percent..however, they weren’t betting on any of those ventures including making music. Less known, in the hip-hop industry. Granted, they had no qualms about it. If that’s what made him happy and he put his entire focus into it, then it was all that they could ask of their son.

That just wasn’t the case for Armin though. As successful and bright as he was, he was equally as reckless and rambunctious. Drinking, partying and laying up with various girls. Although he kept his parents out of the loop, it didn’t take long before word of his antics made it back to them via their inside sources who kept tabs on him and it was safe to say that they were not happy.

Hence why he was so nervous to meet with them tonight..the shame and embarrassment that was beginning to set in. He knew that his family would either scold him until they were red in the face or just give him a lecture of pure disappointment. Either way, he wasn’t much in the way of hearing it. Regardless, he’d traipse into the lofty establishment, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit as the hostess greeted him. Having quite the reputation and prestige, she informed him that his party was waiting and saw him to his table immediately. Glass chandeliers hung from the ceilings and cerulean lighting illuminated the dimmed dining area. Tables and booths lined with silky white cloths and perfectly folded napkins, seated next to polished silverware. Wine glasses filled with crystalline water and patrons, unmistakable members of the upper echelons chatted among their peers about finances, private trips and shopping sprees. It all felt so suffocating!

“Armin, darling! So glad you made it..”

Suddenly, a middle aged woman with honey blonde tufts, styled into loose curls, deep blue eyes and a pink satin gown with fur doused across her shoulders arose from her seat to drape her arms around him. The exorbitant pearls hanging from her neck and the Elizabeth Taylor perfume surrounded Armin like a warm embrace.

“Mom! It’s so good to see you.” grinning from ear to ear. No matter how old he grew or the amount of time that passed, he’d forever be his mom’s baby. Or as she could so affectionately dub him, her “pumpkin pie.” Because he was so sweet as a child. Seated next to her, was a man with a lighter variation of the hair color and features, with the exception of stubble and slightly thicker brows. His voice rang out with a stronger vibrato as he greeted his child. “Good to see you, son.” “Dad..good to see you too..” Reaching over to extend his arms for a hug. The tension had somewhat subsided from Armin’s body..seeing his folks again. At the end of the day, he was their baby regardless of what he did. “Please, have a seat.”

however, the news they came to deliver was going to do little to make him feel settled once revealed. Pulling his chair out, Armin would do as his mom instructed, taking a swig of water afterwards. “So..how’ve you been, Armin?” His mother made the first inquisition. Out of genuine concern and to break the proverbial ice. It always was easier for him to open up around her. He’d go on to tell them that he had been doing fine and that he was set to go on tour soon with his boys. They were working on some big projects and he was doing fine. Completely omitting the fact that his promiscuous, womanizing ways had caught up to him recently. Granted, he wasn’t going to let Niesha or her nonsense take him off of his true course but he couldn’t continue on playing these games..it was fun but it was also taxing. Even so, he couldn’t stay away from her. That’s how addictive it was. His mom seemed to be pleased by the update..her son in good health and spirits was all that she could ask for. Even if she didn’t exactly understand Armin’s career choice or even agree with it at times, it made her smile knowing that her son was happy..seeing him beam with excitement as he talked about working with these amazing artists and the upcoming festival his label was putting together. He also mentioned getting to work with the Pole Assassins and how they were bringing something new and innovative to the industry. His mother would grin and giggle, listening and even asking pertinent questions, ones that he was happy to answer. It took his mind away from all the other things and possibilities that could have been coming with this conversation. “Oh sweetie..I’m so proud of you. It sounds like you’re having a wonderful time.” She’d hoist her glass with a cheery expression and take a sip to commemorate his success. That’s when he’d glance over to his father, who shared a similar expression, faintly grinning and nodding.

“I have to agree. It’s good to see you doing something you love, son. Very proud of you.” His father would nurse his champagne once more before setting his glass back to the crisp tablecloth. Regardless of how he felt, his parents had never put this immense pressure on him or made him feel inadequate for his choices. Many of his peers who had also come from esteemed backgrounds were constantly under the scrutiny of their guardians. They were working in prestigious, lucrative fields, making endless amounts of wealth and doing great things. And still didn’t have their family’s respect. Armin was truly fortunate. Even so, it didn’t stop them from worrying. It didn’t stop them from being afraid that one day, the entertaining lifestyle would catch up with him. They weren’t blind or stupid..not by a long shot. They knew their son partook in all of the things that his and his friends lyrics’ entailed. “So..are you seeing anyone? Is there a lucky girl in your life?” His dad, who had always teased him, knew how flustered he became, mainly because despite his playboy appearance now..his son was the most adorable nerd in his former life! “Ah-well..you know. I’m just kinda..keeping my options open.” Part of him was ashamed and another half was nervous. Ashamed that he couldn’t present his folks with a suitable young lady. That he hadn’t brought a date to any of their meetings..he was aware that they wanted him to get married, start a family but he just wasn’t ready to commit to that yet. He wanted to have fun, mess around and more so..have his fill! He didn’t want just one lady. It wasn’t his style..on the other hand, he was nervous..nervous because he could no longer deny the feelings he had for that insane woman. Regardless of how batshit crazy Niesha drove him, she’d had her claws sunk into his skin deep and he didn’t want anyone else but her.

Even at his party, after fighting with her and everything, he made love to her as if he were hoping to make her stay and although she was just saying the most evil things..she told him she loved him. Crying it into his ear as she held him close. He’d been with a couple girls here and there but all he could think about was where she was..was she thinking of him too? He was nervous because if he could no longer fight his urges, would he be able to bring her home? Would they accept her?…would they still be proud of their baby boy? She came from an entirely different world than him. One he loved being a part of. She was wild, rambunctious and unfortunately, couldn’t flip a switch the way he did. Maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with her ass! She lived in her truth twenty four seven. There was no faking with her..and ironically, he admired that. And despite what she said, she actually gave a damn about him..unlike the others. She was honest, she made him care about himself and didn’t allow him to stay in bad places too long. It was crazy..

“Well I’m sure the right girl will come along soon..” “..yeah, unless you just have no game.” His father uttered with a sly look, making Armin scoff and laugh as he took another sip. “You wish, old man. I have many problems but that’s not one.” He always enjoyed when he and his dad would banter back and forth. It reminded Armin that he was human and not this billionaire machine, who only focused on amassing profit. “Alright, this old dog could teach you some tricks. All you have to do is ask.” The three would laugh, joke and have a wonderful time. “Oh please, don’t let him fool you. He was a scared wreck when he asked me on our first date. His friends had to deliver his love letter during class because he was so nervous. Adorable, really.” “It was called delegating tasks. I just knew you’d say yes.” "You're so full of it.."

He was truly enjoying this time and feeling back to himself. He felt as if he could truly be honest and open with them. More so than when he was younger..they weren’t inherently strict but they kept him on a tight leash so that he didn’t wind up like some of his other classmates; taking Adderall and Xans during ski trips or family gatherings. He was the one and only heir to the Artlert Industries fortune. Hence why once their meals were brought out, they’d pose another question..

“Hope you don’t mind, we ordered for you since we had no idea when you’d arrive. Your favorite.” And they were spot on. Linguine with spinach and lobster. “Not at all..thank you.” As he took the first bite of his dish, that’s when Mr. Artlert would look directly up at his son..

“Armin..do you like making music? Is this something you enjoy?..”

The question came as a bit of a shock, honestly. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about that in depth. Armin first began delving into music as an adolescent..he sang in the church choir as a young kid and was gifted his first instrument when he was twelve years old. It was the core link that bonded him and EJ together so for him, it was essentially something that changed his life. He honestly had never thought about doing anything else..

“Of course..I wouldn’t if I didn’t. Why do you ask?” but it was more than just genuine curiosity and sudden interest in his son’s career that had the Artlert matriarch inquiring. There was an entirely different reason other than quality time that had prompted this dinner as well. Truth was, the Artlerts had been keeping a rather worrisome secret from their son and was contemplating when would be the appropriate time to divulge. Now was as good as any..might as well rip the bandage off and come clean. Clearing his throat, Mr. Artlert would take a swig of his wine before proceeding.

“Armin..your mom and I..we..”

At that moment, his stomach began to sink to its lowest pit and he’d begin to form a hard lump in his throat. What exactly did they have to tell him? Why were they stalling?!..Just then, his cerulean eyes began to dilate twice their size and even well up a bit. Were they getting a divorce? Did something happen to the company? He wished that they’d say something! But he’d wait no further because his mom would grasp a nearby handkerchief and press it to her face to conceal her inevitable tears. “Mom..what’s wrong? Please!..tell me.” his parents were his entire world and he couldn’t imagine anything causing them grief. But soon, he’d join in on the heavy feelings when his dad confessed something that he wasn’t expecting.

“Son..I went to the doctor last week and he informed me that they found something. A tumor..” the words seemed to have frozen time in its very tracks and shook the young producer to his core. He couldn’t believe it. “A-a tumor? Wait..are you?--” no! He couldn’t even say it! He couldn’t even fathom such a horrendous thought. Clutching his glass, Armin’s hands began to tremble and his breathing was labored. How could they keep such a secret?! How could they not tell him sooner?..the thought of something happening to the man that he so desperately admired and looked up to was terrifying.. he was scared to pry any further. Almost becoming childlike but just as he had done during his upbringing, Armin’s father would ease his mind.

“Fortunately..they did catch it in time so before it becomes too far malignant but the next couple months on my treatment will be crucial. I’m doing everything I can to ensure that I won’t become ill. I’ve hired the best team of doctors and I’m currently on sabbatical from the company. My board of advisors have already made proper arrangements as well. I’ve taken all precautions.”

It was a relief, truly. Although he wasn’t out of the woods yet, he still had a fighting chance and that was more than enough for Armin. However, it wasn’t the only reason for his disclosure. He had an ultimatum of sorts for his son.

“Armin..you are the one and sole heir to the family business. Once I’m no longer around, you will be the one to step in. How you choose to proceed is your choice entirely–” “Don’t talk like that..don’t talk like you’ve already given up.”

He couldn’t stand it and although he assured him things would be fine, he couldn’t believe that until he had an official clean bill of health and stopped speaking as if he knew something Armin didn’t. But this was a pivotal moment..one where Armin would have to, for once in his life..make a hard decision. One that would require sacrifice..

"I'm going to fight as hard as I can, you have my word. I won't let something like this get me. But I have to know that you'll work just as hard to ensure your future. You've always been a bright young man and I trust that you'll continue to do what's best for you.."

it didn't take a rocket scientist to get what exactly he was implying. How far could music truly take him? Was it sustainable?...he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure how to process any of this but what he did know was that this wasn't going to be an easy road and he had a lot to contemplate from here on out.

"I'd be lying if I said that I am a fan of what you do. Can’t stand it. The music..the partying, all of it is not what I envisioned for you. Sometimes makes your mother and I feel as though we failed." Quite brutal but he could only speak from his heart. Tough love was sometimes necessary, even at the expense of his feelings. But there was one thing that he wanted his son to know above all else:

" That said..I love you, son. We both do..“Whatever choice you make, I support and always be proud..I won’t be upset with you no matter what but just make sure that it’s one you can live with.”

and something told him that his time to decide was running out..

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

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yournowheregirl · 11 months

Text

part 1 [part 2 - coming soon]

Robin is panicking.

She’s standing in the middle of Lovelace Lingerie and she’s panicking.

There are two reasons why she has always avoided this place like the plague. The first and obvious one being the whole ‘I'm gay and if I stare at this model wearing nothing but a lace bodysuit for a second too long, everyone is going to know exactly how gay I am’ bit. The second reason is just a plain habit. She bought her first bra at the department store, she knows what brand she likes, she knows her size and she knows that she doesn’t want all the frills and the bows and the lace. Just a plain black or white bra (maybe blue if she’s feeling fancy), nothing more, nothing less.

That is until Vickie said something when she stayed over the other day.

“Why are all your bras so boring, Robin?”

Robin never thought her bras were boring. Sure, they were plain and nothing like the colorful lace bras Vickie likes to wear, but they were just there to serve one purpose - to hold her boobs in place while she goes about her day. Plus, before Vickie, she was the only one looking at her bra and she was doing just fine, thank you very much.

But Vickie’s words got stuck in her head, as they often do, which made Robin decide to take matters into her own hands and buy something that’ll make Vickie happy. A final hail Mary to make up for all the arguments they’ve been having these last few weeks.

Though she’s beginning to regret her decision as the sheer amount of choice start to overwhelm her. There’s just so much lace. So many straps. So many colorful bows and flower designs. So many things that say they’re bras, but look more like a flimsy piece of fabric tied together with two strings of floss.

In her state of outright panic, Robin rushes through the store and grabs one of each pair of lingerie that she thinks Vickie will like. She doesn’t even bother to look at the sizing - honestly, what good is a size anyway when this bra is just a bunch of straps and two hearts cut out of red fabric - she just grabs them all and heads straight to the fitting rooms.

As it turns out, she should’ve been looking at the label because nothing seems to fit or suit her. The fabric of the lilac one is scratchy and the green one is just plain ugly. The black one makes her boobs look saggy, while the yellow one is too tight and make her boobs spill out. And don’t even get her started on the neon pink one - that one isn’t even a bra, it’s a torture device.

Oh God, she’s never gonna make it out of this alive. She’s gonna die, right here in this pink and red monstrosity of a fitting room, choked to death by satin straps, and, and- are those walls closing in on her or is she just imagining things?

A knock on the door of the fitting room snaps Robin out of her downwards spiral but her mouth still runs faster than the brain when she calls out, “Who is it?”

“Uh, it’s... it’s Nancy? I work here?” A woman responds from the other side of the door. “You were taking a long time and I was wondering if you were okay, if you needed any help.”

Help. Yes, that’s exactly what she needs. Someone who knows their way around all these lace-y things, who knows what she needs to buy to keep Vickie happy and get out of here as fast as she can.

“Yes.” Robin croaks out. “Yes, please. I definitely needs some help.”

Robin immediately regrets her decision when an actual angel steps into the dressing room rather than an employee. And Robin’s not over-exaggerating, the warm light of the hallway does make it seem like there’s a halo around her brown curls, but it’s Nancy’s smile that makes Robin grow weak in the knees. It might be a customer service smile that she knows all too well, but Nancy makes it look genuinely sweet.

Focus, Robin. She tells herself. You’re here for your girlfriend don’t get distracted by Nancy’s blue eyes or rosy pink lips or-

“Wow.” Nancy breathes, looking around the mess that Robin made of the fitting room.

“I’m sorry! I just got overwhelmed and I just grabbed everything and then I just panicked and then- then this happened.” Robin rambles apologetically.

“Don’t worry. I’ve seen worse.” Nancy smiles politely. “How can I help?”

“Is this sexy?” Robin blurts out and Jesus Christ, can the ground open up and swallow her whole right now? Why would she say something like that?

But Nancy doesn’t seem all that bothered with her question. She just blinks and cocks her head to the side, examining Robin with precision in her eyes.

“It is from our Super Sexy line, so it’s literally designed to be sexy.” Nancy says. “But the most important question is, do you feel sexy in it?”

Robin turns around and takes a good look at herself in the mirror. The color of the bra is nice and the flower and butterflies that are stitched into the fabric are pretty, but she still feels the need to wrap her arms around her body and shield it from prying eyes. It looks like something Vickie would like, it’s similar to what she owns and wears, but Robin feels that it’s just not her.

“Not really.” Robin says softly. “I’m not... all of this. I don’t wear all this complicated lace-y, girly junk and- oh shit, I’m totally insulting your job right in front of you.”

Nancy chuckles and shakes her head. “Oh believe me, you’re fine. We have a lot of things that are a bit... out there, so to say. But if you tell me what it is you’re looking for, I can see if we have something you feel more comfortable in?”

There’s something in Nancy’s eyes that Robin can’t put her finger on, but all she knows is that she’s suddenly telling Nancy everything. From her bra shopping at the department store to Vickie (Robin’s just in time to call Vickie her partner instead of girlfriend) telling her the bras she wears are boring and how she’s here in the hopes of finding something that will make her partner happy.

Nancy listens and nods along to the story, asking her questions about her preferences for colors and styles and even though Robin has know clue what she wants or what she’s talking about, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind. She just smiles and explains things into further detail with no further judgement and that somehow puts Robin’s mind at ease.

Maybe things will be alright after all

“I think I have just the thing for you.” Nancy says. “What’s your size?”

“Uh, I- I think it’s this one?” Robin grabs at the price tag on her back, but she has to twist her way like a contortionist to be able to see it. Nancy’s at her side at a split second, looking back and forth between the price tag and Robin’s cleavage.

“I don’t think this is the right fit. Do you mind if I measure you?” She asks, grabbing the yellow tape measurer from where it was hanging around her neck, a stark contrast to the black dress she’s wearing.

And yeah, Robin does mind, actually. If the satin straps aren’t the ones that are gonna kill her, a pretty girl touching her boobs just might do the trick. Still, Robin finds herself nodding and lifting her arms above her head so Nancy can easily measure her.

The tape measure is surprisingly cold when it hits her skin and instead of focusing on Nancy and her lovely petite hands, Robin starts reciting conjugations of French verbs in her head. It does little to distract her, mostly because Nancy is standing so close that Robin can swell the sweet flowery perfume she has on. Nancy’s touches are light and of course, totally professional, but Robin still feels a goosebumps spreading across her skin when Nancy’s fingertips ghost over her skin.

Christ, get a grip Buckley.

“Be right back.” Nancy smiles as soon as she’s done and disappears out of the fitting room, grabbing the bras that Robin threw on the floor earlier on her way out.

Robin leans against the wall and sighs deeply once she knows Nancy’s out of earshot. She really hopes that Nancy wasn’t able to feel the way her heart sped up just now, but the flimsy fabric of the bra she’s wearing probably did shit at hiding that. Her hand reaches up to check and yup, Nancy was definitely able to feel that.

Oh God, why can’t she just be normal for once? She has a girlfriend for crying out loud! Vickie’s the whole damn reason she’s in this pink boudoir hell-hole in the first place! She just has to keep her eyes on the prize and not let Nancy derail her from the process.

Which is easier said than done when Nancy reappears with a new bra in hand. This one is black and looks plain at first, but Robin is quick to notice the mesh detailing and cut-outs, as well as the silver decorative thread in the straps. It’s simple, yet still more exciting than any of the bras Robin currently has in her closet.

“Just let me know when you tried it on, okay?” Nancy says and with another sweet smile, she disappears again.

Robin shimmies out of the blush pink monstrosity she still had on and puts the black bra on instead. She can feel the difference almost immediately - the fabric is soft and doesn’t itch, the mesh detailing isn’t overtly sexy but just suggestive enough and it must be made of magic because her boobs have never looked this good.

Giddy with excitement, she knocks on the door and lets Nancy back inside.

“And?”

“You’re a bra wizard!” Robin beams, gesturing to herself. “Seriously, look at this! I’ve never looked this good!”

“Just doing my job.” Nancy chuckles, a faint pink blush appearing on her cheeks as she looks Robin up and down. “Uh, how’s the fit? Nothing too tight or anything?”

“Fits like a glove.”

“Good.” Nancy says. Her eyes dart between Robin’s face and her cleavage again, her gaze lingering for a beat too long, before promptly looking away, almost as if she’d been burnt. “Uh, if you decide to buy it, come find me in the store and I’ll ring it up for you, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Robin replies softly.

Nancy nods and quickly walks out of the fitting room, shutting the door behind her with a loud bang.

As Robin puts her clothes back on again, she can’t help but wonder what all of that was about. She knows she’s not the best with social cues but even she can recognize that there was something going on there.

Could it be-

No, no, Nancy is just a good saleswoman and Robin is just a customer in her eyes. Nothing more.

Still, Robin can’t help but feel guilty when she feels her heart skip a beat at the mere thought of not just being a customer to Nancy. With a loud sigh, she zips her jacket back up, grabs her bra and heads back into the store.

She manages to find a pair of black panties that match the bra and armed with both of those in hand, she’s able to find Nancy on the other side of the store. Nancy immediately smiles when Robin waves at her and it does nothing to slow down Robin’s already rapid heartbeat.

“Were you able to find everything?”

“Yeah, got something to match as well.” Robin nods, awkwardly holding up the pair of satin black panties.

“Oh, I know from experience that those are very comfortable. Good choice.” Nancy says, and yeah Robin’s not going to stop thinking about that one, isn’t she?

She follows Nancy to the register and her mind is still a bit hazy as she pays and watches Nancy neatly wrap her new items. She even spritzes some sugary sweet perfume onto the bag before she hands it to Robin with a bright smile. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much for your help, honestly.” Robin says. “I mean, you saw what a mess I made back there, I was so overwhelmed and you- well, you saved me, actually.”

“I was happy to help, really.” Nancy replies. She pauses for a moment, a frown appearing on her face as if she’s thinking about what to say next. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I really hope you’re also buying and wearing this set for yourself, not just your partner. You should wear something that makes you feel good, not just because your partner wants it. ” Nancy says firmly. “And frankly, your partner is an idiot if they think you’re boring without a fancy-looking garment. Trust me, you don’t need all the extra frills and ruffles.”

That... That sounds suspiciously like a compliment, maybe even a flirty compliment and Robin’s brain does not know how to deal with that right now. Not after her meltdown from earlier, not after feeling Nancy’s kind eyes and cold hands on her, not while Nancy still has that twinkle in her eyes that makes Robin go just a little insane.

“Th- thank you.” Robin stammers. She grabs the bag a bit tighter, as if that’ll help her get back to reality. It’s still pretty hard though because Nancy looks even prettier in the daylight and- “I gotta gay. Go! I mean- I gotta go. Bye!”

“Have a nice day!” Nancy calls out after her, but Robin’s blood is pumping so loudly in her ears that it mostly gets drowned out.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is happening to her?

A firm hand on her shoulder shakes her from her thoughts and Robin turns around with a loud yelp.

“Jesus, it’s just me.” Steve says defensively. “Did you buy the whole store or something? You were in there for a while.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. I’m good.” Robin nods a little too obviously, making Steve frown at her. Dammit, why can he always see right through her? But that doesn’t stop her from lying through her teeth. “I’m fine, Steve. Really. I promise.”

Steve hums, still unimpressed. “Alright. If you say so. Glad you got everything you need to woo her right off her feet.”

“Wha- what? Woo who?” Robin panics. How did Steve already know about that weird thing between her and Nancy? Did he have supersonic hearing or something? X-ray eyes? (which, gross, don’t use those eyes in a lingerie store, Steven)

“Ha, you sound like an owl.” Steve snorts. “But I’m talking wooing Vickie, idiot. That’s why you went in there, right?”

Right. Vickie.

brought to you by: me going bra shopping earlier today. also sorry to the vickie stans, i’m sure she’s lovely but she’s not gonna be lovely in this series. stay tuned for part 2! (kudos if you can spot an iconic line from glee that i just had to add in for funsies)

#ronance #ronance fic #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things ficlet #stranger things #ronance ficlet #am i turning into a ronance blog? maybe #but the girls deserve some love too!!#okay going to bed now bye bye

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