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d1xonss · 2 months

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heyyy went thru all your masterlist (reader one) and fell inlove with your fics i was wondering if you can write something like grumpy!daryl x sunshine!reader ykwim? like they complete eachother (::

Sunshine

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 10

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 2.1k

AN ~ Ahhh thank you so much for reading, it truly means so much! I’m always down to write this type of stuff, I think it’s so cute:)) I appreciate the request and hope you enjoy! ps- I thought this was a super cute thing to post for Valentine's Day💋

It was quiet, peaceful inside your home as you busied yourself around the space. It was a nice hot summer day, and you felt quite accomplished with the amount of things you had gotten done in just the span of a few hours. You tended to your garden full of colorful flowers, made a trip to the pantry to pick up a few things you were running low on, cleaned and tidied up the house, the list really went on and on. But the truth was you loved doing things like this, it almost tricked you into believing that life outside the gates was normal again. Even though you knew it wasn’t, it was still nice to pretend from time to time.

Currently, you busied yourself with making some of your famous homemade brownies, something you found you hadn’t made in quite some time. With everything going on lately, it was hard to find the time to do the things you loved most, which was in fact, to bake. But now that everything had died down for the most part, you quickly hopped back onto the opportunity. Whether it was cake, cookies, or some kind of bread, you always found life to be a little bit better with something sweet.

But you weren’t just making these brownies for yourself, in fact, whenever you whipped something up it was never just for you. It was also for your husband Daryl whom you adored more than anything else in this world, the man constantly making you happier with each passing day. And he loved you just as much if not more, and he especially loved being your taste tester whenever you tried out a new recipe. The first time you had called him that, he just scoffed and shook his head as if what you said was something stupid. But you could see that small smirk he had on his face afterwards, silently telling you that he actually loved the little job you assigned, though he would never admit it out loud.

You hummed to yourself quietly as you began to mix the dry and wet ingredients together, swaying your hips a little to the soft song playing in the background. Recently you had found a record player on a run and you were over the moon excited to use it, missing music from the world before. And although you hadn’t found the best records in the world to listen to, you thought almost anything was better than the quiet. The most you had found were a few country albums which weren't in your top favorite genres for sure, but you had to admit it was growing on you the smallest bit. With the way you danced along, it was hard to deny.

Your head then suddenly snapped up when you heard the sound of the front door opening, a smile being brought to your face as you already knew who it was. He was a little loud upon entering your shared house, dropping his crossbow on the table with a loud smack, huffing and puffing as he entered the living room without a word. Your smile dropped a little, usually he would call out to you to announce that he was home, but clearly today was not one of those days. He was in a mood, and you knew you would have to cheer him up.

Although Daryl was perfect to you in every way, he was a pretty grumpy man from time to time when things didn’t work out or go the way he planned. The littlest things could completely ruin his demeanor for the rest of the day at times. He would hold onto it, rant about it constantly while it was on his mind, even though most of the time it was something that he couldn’t change. But you assumed that’s what frustrated him the most. And this was no different, hearing him sigh heavily in the other room as he plopped down on the sofa.

But the best thing about you, was that at the end of the day, you always found a way to make him feel better.

You discarded the mixing spoon that was in your hand, moving out of the kitchen and towards the living room in an attempt to see what was bothering him. But once you caught sight of him whilst lingering in the doorway of the space, you sighed quietly upon seeing how he held his face in his hands, slumped over the side of the couch. You could tell he was irritated and that something had happened today while he was out, but it was nothing that you couldn’t fix. And you figured the brownies would help too.

So you finally pushed yourself forward to enter the room, softly sitting down next to him as you raised your hand up to squeeze his shoulder lightly. “Hi sweetie.” you greeted softly.

But he didn’t respond. He didn’t even raise his head up to look you in the eye. The most he did was grunt, and even you didn’t know in that moment if it was directed towards you or not.

You eyed him for a moment before speaking again, “How was your day?” you asked gently while rubbing his shoulder up and down now.

Still nothing. Damn he was a tough one to crack today. But you knew he couldn’t resist you for very long, even if today was the worst day of his life, he always came around for you. Always.

Upon not getting a verbal response, you leaned further into him and began to trail a few quick kisses on the side of his head, to which he scoffed and scooted away from. “Come on woman, m’ not in the mood.” he grumbled as he finally looked up from the floor.

“He speaks.” you said as you raised your hands up in victory, your actions causing him to scoff with a roll of his eyes. Acting as if you were the dramatic one here. “What happened?” you asked with a tilted head.

He blew out a breath of air, “Nothin.”

“Mhm…” you trailed off sarcastically with a nod, “Nothing…”

He was silent for a long moment, nearly minutes passing by, before he blew another harsh breath out as he leaned back against the couch. “We lost all those damn supplies on that run we took today, walkers just came outta nowhere and we didn’t have time to stick around. Negan’s getting on my fuckin nerves all the damn time, spittin out the same bullshit I’ve heard a hundred fuckin times before. And my bike broke down on the way back, don’t even know if I can fix it.”

If someone was looking at this from an outside perspective, seeing the amount he just unleashed while you sat there with a small smile on your face, their jaw would probably be on the floor. How you hardly reacted at all, how he was so harsh with the way he spoke, you were sure it would look questionable to anyone who didn’t truly know the two of you, or your dynamic. But the truth was, you had heard this similar song and dance about a hundred different times before, knowing he just needed to get everything off his chest and blow off some steam. And you knew after saying it all out loud, along with a little comfort, he would see that everything would be alright in the end.

Your lip stuck out in a pout as you looked at him, “Oh, my poor baby.” you said dramatically as you pulled him back into you, placing your lips on his cheek to kiss him there multiple times as he let out a heavy and annoyed sigh.

“Stop.” he protested, yet made no attempts to pull away from your affection. In fact, you swore you almost felt him lean in further.

You giggled against his skin as you pulled away far enough to look him in the eye, “I’m sorry you had a rough day.” you spoke seriously now as you stroked the side of his face, “But it’ll be okay…everything will work itself out.”

He scoffed quietly at your words, “Ya always say that.”

“And I’m always right.” you said as you leaned in to place another kiss on his cheek, “Remember when you came back from a hunt that one time with nothing, and you were all grumpy about it? What happened the next day?”

He glanced over to you for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh, “Found three deers…” he grumbled.

“Right.” you said as you moved to give his arm a soft squeeze, “You worry way too much over this kind of stuff, just breathe. Relax. It’s all going to be fine.”

His expression softened drastically after you talked to him, kind and gentle as always, wordlessly leaning into you and wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you tight. You laughed lightly as you hugged him back, stroking the back of his hair soothingly as you felt him exhale deeply. Taking a breath like you advised.

“M’ sorry.” he muttered suddenly after a few moments of silence.

Your brows furrowed a little in confusion, “For what, honey?”

“For dumpin this shit on ya all the time…” he clarified as he squeezed you tighter, “Ya don’t deserve that…hearin me bitch-”

“Hey.” you cut him off as you pulled away, taking his face in your hands, “That’s what I’m here for, to listen. I’m honored to be the one you go to when you need to rant about something, and I’m even more honored that I’m the one who gets to make you feel better. That’s certainly not something to be sorry for, okay?”

His lip turned up in a small smile as he took your hands from his face, kissing your palm lightly as he looked at you with soft eyes, “I don’t deserve ya.”

You shushed him instantly with a shake of your head, “Yes you do.” you assured, before your mind trailed off a little in realization which caused a small smile to form on your face, “But…I do think I have something else that’ll make you feel better. Maybe even better than I can.”

He scoffed with a growing smile, “Well, I highly doubt that…but go on…” he said as his interest clearly piqued.

“Well…I just so happen to have some brownie batter in the kitchen with your name on it.” you said as you raised your eyebrows.

His eyes widened the smallest bit in clear excitement before glancing out the doorway, clearly itching to rush into the kitchen now, “Ya haven’t even baked em yet..?”

You shook your head with a smile, “Nope…I’ll even let you lick the spoon.” you said, knowing that was his favorite part.

His smile only grew then as there seemed to be a sparkle in his eye, like a kid in a giant candy store. The two of you then ventured back toward the kitchen where the music was still playing softly, getting the batter ready to be put into the pan to bake. But of course, he took the spoon from you almost instantly when you were done using it, licking the entire thing completely clean as if he couldn’t get enough. Though he felt he had to tease you just a little bit, taking a small dollop from the utensil on his finger before bringing it to the tip of your nose with a “boop.”

You knew then and there that his mind was far from the events earlier that day, now enjoying his time he had with you as he looked at you as if you were a bright ball of sunshine after a rainy day. The sunshine that he desperately needed in his life.

But then the time came. The oven had beeped and you had pulled the brownies out of the oven to cool before cutting them, topping it off with some powdered sugar before your taste tester gave his honest feedback. He took a corner piece, which were his favorite, and took a large bite of the chocolate goodness while you looked at him in anticipation.

“Well..?”

He said nothing, his eyes rolled back and a groan left his lips as he savored the sweetness on his tongue, and that was the only answer you needed. You smiled brightly as you clapped to yourself, his signs of approval proving that you were only getting better with the hobby you loved to do.

“Dunno how ya do it,” he commented before shoving the rest of the brownie in his mouth, “They just get better and better.” he said with his mouth full.

You smiled proudly as you began to grab a piece for yourself, “Well it’s a good thing I have my taste tester to give me all the feedback I need.”

Normally he would roll his eyes at the continuous nickname you bestowed upon him, but not today. He only smiled with a nod, bringing you in to leave a dramatic kiss on your cheek, pulling away with a loud “muah.”

“I’ll always be here ta taste whatever ya want sunshine.” he promised.

And you believed him completely.

~ Thanks for reading!

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magewritesstories · 1 month

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[ ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ] ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ

summary; jujutsu kaisen characters and music tw; none note; just a lil drabble as i work on some longer fics words; 479 jujutsu kaisen masterlist // main masterlist

Thinking about Satoru Gojo who drags you away from the kitchen counter whilst you're making dinner just to put on one of the cheesiest romance songs known to mankind and put one hand on your waist and intertwines the other with his, waltzing through your living room (Megumi complains you've permanently ruined The Night We Met for him.)

Thinking about Yuji Itadori who suggests watching one of your favourite musicals for your weekly movie night, even though technically you picked the movie last time too, and basically squishes you two together in a blanket burrito that never lasts long because of course he has to dance and shout sing The Room Where It Happens at the top of his lungs.

Thinking about Nobara Kugisaki who lends you one of her earbuds and plays a chill playlist whilst letting you rest your head on her shoulder as the two of you sit on the train back home after a long and hard day of shopping, not even making a remark as you basically turn into deadweight leaning against her when you fall asleep halfway the trip.

Thinking about Megumi Fushiguro who makes and sends you playlists whenever you're reading one of his book recommendations and is totally nonchalant about it but you notice the slight red on the tips of his ears when he asks if you liked the playlist and book next time you see him.

Thinking about Maki Zenin who just stares at you with a confused expression as you tell her you've made her a work-out playlist and claims that she doesn't listen to music when working out (or at all) much but somehow the songs make it to a pretty high ranking on her Spotify wrapped anyway.

Thinking about Yuuta Okkotsu who just sits in front of you at your favourite coffee shop, smiling and nodding along as he lets you rant on about music, from the different genres to the meaning behind the lyrics of your favourite songs—he just sits there happily and listens.

Thinking about Toge Inumaki who lets you use his—very expensive—headset to increase the first-time listening experience of your artist's latest album, and sits there patiently as he watches you go through so many emotions and make faces he didn't even know you were capable of making.

Thinking about Kento Nanami who doesn't really listen to music that much but installed Spotify on his phone anyway for the sole reason of making a playlist that consists of your favourite songs so that he can play them during long drives.

Thinking about Suguru Geto who has a small radio-shaped speaker with its own permanent spot on the breakfast counter that you got from Mimiko and Nanako as a present, there's almost always soft lo-fi tunes coming from it but especially when you're lazing on the sofa together running your fingers through his hair.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #yuji itadori x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #toge inumaki x reader #suguru geto x reader #maki zenin x reader #nobara kugisaki x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x reader headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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berryhobii · 10 months

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Reconnect (myg x reader)

Pairing: Idol!Min Yoongi x black!wedding designer!female! Reader

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, mentions of secret relationship, mentions of a wedding(but not Yoongi and the reader’s), reader and Yoongi are engaged, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), unprotected sex(please speak to your partners before engaging in this), vaginal sex, squirting, creampies, riding, doggy style, mating press/missionary, oral(f receiving), soft dom Yoongi(he’s super soft and vocal but also goes kind of rough😊), rough sex, multiple orgasms(f and m receiving), brief aftercare and mentions of amazing aftercare, reader has goddess locs(color and length not specified), reader also has that Wendy’s Strawberry Lemonade kitty, reader also also has nipple piercings, reader got a fat ass because who doesn’t appreciate a nice booty?

A/N: Hi! This is my second time uploading something. I’ve had this story in my drafts for a while. I had been writing it using she/her pronouns so I’ve been spending the past few days to change those to you/yours. If I missed any, I’m sorry but please let me know so I can make the story more cohesive. Reader is black but their skin color isn’t really described but I believe I referred to their nipples being dark so that’s it. My next post with either be a GreekMythology!Jimin or a Gamer!Jungkook. The Jimin story is actually really long so I think I’ll turn it into a small series but I’ll post the 1st chapter sometime next week. Thanks again for reading! Criticism is greatly accepted and I hope my black and melanated girlies feel good reading this! Have a good day.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I said we’d have dinner but we have to do some last minute recording.”

You tried not to sound disappointed when you replied. “That’s okay. I understand.” And you truly did. You knew how important his job was and that it would be a priority of his.

You just wished that it didn’t take so much of his time. You understood that his music was his life and that it was his dream career. All of his hard work had led up to being able to do what he does now; to make music and inspire the millions of fans that listened. You were so proud of him. Seeing him live his dream filled you with a different kind of pride and emotion. He was happy and that’s all you ever wanted for him.

Still, you missed him. You two had barely spent any time together the past month while he’s been preparing for their new album. He’d come home long after you’d fallen asleep and he’d sleep into the afternoon, just to rise and immediately get ready to go again. You couldn’t even have breakfast together like you used to. You could barely even start a conversation before he was cutting you off with a kiss and rushing out of the door.

While you had your own career of designing wedding dresses, you still had so much free time on your hands. You had already designed your newest collection and it was currently in production to be created. You’ve even made multiple visits to a few stores and they were running amazingly. There was only so long you could bury yourself in work before your heart began yearning for Yoongi’s companionship.

“I promise when this is finished, we’ll go on a trip. Just you and me.”

That made you smile. You and Yoongi have traveled a lot together over the years; Bora Bora, Italy, The Maldives—and each experience had been just as memorable and romantic as the last. He proposed to you in Italy at the Orange Gardens. It was such a magical moment. Just thinking about it made you want to cry. The entire trip was just absolutely perfect; from taking a gondola ride on the gorgeous waters to the 5 Star hotel they stayed in for 3 days and 2 nights, all the way to the candlelit dinner where he got down on one knee. You remember it fondly.

While the promise of a trip together didn’t fix your loneliness now, it gave you something to look forward to.

You couldn’t fight the smile in your voice. “Okay.” Your eyes went over to the stove where dinner was cooking. You had just finished searing some steaks that were finishing up in the oven. There was no point of putting them away for him to eat later. They wouldn’t be as flavorful or tender.

“Hey, is it okay if I bring you some dinner? I know you haven’t eaten yet.” Your tone shifted to one of slight teasing but you knew you were right. His pause of silence was proof enough.

“You don’t have to do that, baby.”

“I want to though. I made steak and I’ll feel better knowing you’ve eaten. I won’t stay long or distract you.” Just knowing he had a home cooked meal would make you happy. You would nag him constantly about drinking too much coffee and eating take out. It came from a place of love, however and Yoongi never minded. He loved having someone so attentive to his health when he’d blatantly ignore it. It showed you cared. Also, he secretly loved being babied by you. He’d never admit it out loud or to his friends but you knew. There was nothing better than coming home, a bath prepared for him to soothe his sore muscles, a meal on the table, and cuddling into your soft breasts while your rubbed his back—always being careful with his shoulder.

Your already nurturing nature and tendency to baby Yoongi increased tenfold once he got surgery. You barely let him leave the bed, even following him to the bathroom to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. A little bit stifling but he was so grateful to you. You always took care of him.

“Then that sounds great. I’ll leave my door open for you. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

With a giddy pep in your step, you finished cooking dinner, packaging it nicely in cute Tupperware before putting it in a bag. You had already showered and your clothes were fine but you wondered if you should put on something different. While Yoongi thought you looked good in anything, you still liked to look pretty for him; wearing dresses and heels whenever you went out, keeping your nails and toes done, and making appointments to get waxed every month. Self care was important to you. It not only made you feel good about yourself but it was also something you just liked to do for your husband.

Deciding to change your clothes, you slipped on a t shirt maxi dress that hugged and showed off all of your curves, along with some short open toed shoes to show off your freshly painted white toes. It was simple but still dressy and feminine, just your style.

Checking your hair once more in the mirror and smearing on some lip gloss, you grabbed the bag of food and your keys before exiting your home.

HYBE Studios was a pretty moderate drive from your apartment. The reason for that is to keep crazy fans from ever finding it. Once the company realized other idols were having their homes broken into, there was a decision to move all of the boys about 30 minutes from the company in a luxury gated neighborhood. You had to admit, you missed your old apartment you shared with Yoongi since that was their first place together but you also couldn’t complain about the walk in closet and the jacuzzi bathtub.

You greeted the security guard in front of the car garage, him lifting the block to the garage. After parking close to the company cars that were often used to transport the boys during RunBTS, you exited your car and made your way through the side door to the lobby.

You nodded at the secretary, everyone already knowing who you were and letting you pass with no issue.

Yoongi’s studio was on the 8th floor at the end of the hall. Namjoon’s was just a short distance away as well.

Once you reached his door, you entered the pin code on the keypad. Besides a few staff members and the boys, you were one of the few with the password to his studio. He just preferred silence and no disruptions so the code was only used during emergencies or whenever you or the boys came to visit. There was also a group chat for everyone with his code, adorably named ‘The Plastics’, courtesy of Taehyung. If they ever needed to come to his studio, they’d send a text beforehand so he’d know to expect them.

The beep sounded and you opened the door, smiling at the sight of your husband who was cutely leaned over on his right palm as his eyes scanned the production screen for his music. You didn’t get most of it but you always found it adorable when he’d try to explain. He’d get so invested in telling you how reverb and delay could either make or break a song that he’d never see how endearingly you’d stare at him. And he’d always get surprised when you’d lunge to bite his cheek.

“You are just too adorable! I have to bite you!”

His headphones were around his neck so he turned at the sound of his door opened, a smile immediately rising to his face at the sight of you. He removed his headphones, standing to greet you.

You could barely put the food down before his hands were around you waist, pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, cuddling into his body as you inhaled his cologne and the gentle scent of his favorite body wash.

He pulled away a little to press a few pecks to your forehead. “Hi baby.” His deep, slightly tired voice sent shivers down you spine. It was almost like his regular voice was just his morning voice constantly and out of all of the little things you loved about him, his voice was towards the top of your list—right after his newly grown out hair, his hands, and that little habit of him slurping whenever he’d explain things.

You inhaled a deep breath, basking in the affection. “Hi.”

You two just held each other for a moment, locked in an embrace and not wanting to let go. This was your special kind of intimacy, just not speaking or moving, simply holding one another.

Yoongi considered himself a pretty private person. A little ironic considering he was a world famous idol who’s whole job was being put in the spotlight. However, when it came to his personal relationships, he did his best to keep that as private as possible. Just imagine the uproar when people found out he was engaged. You had been hidden from the public eye for 3 straight years before you got engaged. How? One part extreme luck, the other part moving quietly. Your relationship started off with you meeting for the first time at a staff member’s wedding. You had designed her dress and she was so amazed and in love with how you created her dream dress that she insisted you come to her wedding. Always happy to see people overjoyed with your work and excited to see your design in action, of course you agreed. Coincidentally, you were sat pretty close to the table the boys were at. When you recognized them, you softly smiled and introduced yourself, expressing how you were a fan and how many women said they were using BTS songs as their wedding songs. Yoongi was drawn in instantly, your gentle voice and sparkling eyes as you talked about your clients drew him in. He could tell you were passionate about your career, just like he was.

After exchanging numbers while the bride and groom were cutting the cake, you two mainly texted and called each other in your free time. It took about 4 months for you to go on their first date since Yoongi had to go to America for promotions. He thought you’d lose interest since he traveled and couldn’t take you on a proper date but you never minded. You liked talking to Yoongi and found yourself developing feelings for him. He was trying and effort was one of your biggest green flags for a partner. A little distance wasn’t that big of a deal to you. Of course, you wanted to be able to be close to him and hold his hand and maybe even kiss but you knew what you were signing up for when you started talking.

Once Yoongi went on break, he started dedicating a lot of time to you; dates, inviting you to his place for dinner and wine, and learning more about you. He didn’t think you would get along so well. Talking on the phone was vastly different than being in each other’s physical presence but you had melded together like the pieces of a puzzle. You were so gentle and compassionate, always looking after him and giving him affection he hasn’t gotten in years. You were perfect for him and vice versa.

Your eyes slowly blinked up at him, just taking in his handsome features. You could spot the bags under his eyes, feeling a little sad that he was running himself ragged.

“You look tired. Have you slept since his morning?”

He hummed. “I took a little nap around lunch. The new couch came in.” You turned a little to look at the new addition to his studio. Before, he just had a small leather couch, moreso for decoration than comfort. Once he got a bigger studio, he upgraded his furniture but kept that couch. After some prodding from you, he ordered a new and more comfortable couch—one that could become a pull out bed for those overnights at the studio.

“It looks great.” It was a dark grey color, wide and stretched enough to fully support 2 people if you wanted to spoon on it.

“Yeah. I just didn’t think it would take that long to get it in the door. Namjoon almost knocked over my synthesizer.” He said that with a shake of his head. You giggled, imagining the tall and clumsy man scrambling to pick up the keyboard.

“I can only imagine. I brought food. You should eat it before it gets cold. I should go.” You tried pulling away from him only for him to tighten his grip on your waist. You let out an “oof” as your face met the hard planes of his chest. All that physical therapy and time in the gym had really bulked him up. While you loved his body regardless, you definitely weren’t complaining about the extra muscle. He was filling out this black shirt just fine.

He nuzzled his nose in your neck, inhaling your favorite perfume that you’ve worn since he met your. It was one of his favorite scents. His hands rubbed up and down your back, feeling all over the material of your dress.

“No, stay. Eat with me.”

Yoongi could be very affectionate and straightforward when he wanted to be, normally when you were alone. He’d never show this side in public. Not because he was ashamed of his love for your, far from that. He just preferred to keep their intimate moments private. Maybe a little kiss here and there and some hand holding but moments like this were for you only.

Your manicured fingers went to his nape, scratching at the hair there. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“You’re not.” He pulled back to look you in eyes. “I want you to eat with me. I feel bad we couldn’t have dinner at home.” And he did. He knew his job demanded a lot of his time and attention and even if you understood that, it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about leaving you alone all the time. He knew you could entertain yourself and had your own life outside of him but he still felt bad not being able to spend as much time with you as he wanted. He missed you just as much. While he loved his job, nothing beat coming home to your warmth and affection. To be honest, he was getting a little touch starved.

He led you over to the couch, waiting for your to sit before going to the mini fridge in his studio.

“Do you want juice?” He asked as he pulled out a couple of drinks. He always kept some of your favorites in his mini fridge just in case. You didn’t drink caffeine or really any alcohol, water and juices were your favorites.

You nodded your head, beginning to take out the Tupperware containers. They were still nice and hot. He placed a juice down on the table, along with an energy drink. You frowned at that, leaning forward to pick it up.

“You need to drink water. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those coffee cups on your desk.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed but couldn’t hide his smile. You were too good to him. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve you. Taking the energy drink from you, he went back to the fridge to grab a water instead.

Ignoring the smug smile on your face, he sat next to you, waiting for you to open all of the containers. The smell was delicious, making his stomach growl.

Your handed him some chopsticks and a few napkins before sliding the steak over to him. “Here. Try it.”

You ate in silence, him using his chopsticks to place some pieces of steak and vegetables in your bowl. You smiled, the cute ways Yoongi showed he cared always making your heart warm. Fans knew he was more subtle in showing he cared and that wasn’t any different than him in private. You had to learn that his love language was acts of service but in a more quiet way.

After you finished eating, he helped clean up the containers, giving you some wipes to clean your hands and the table.

He let out of a groan as he sat back down on the couch, belly full and fully ready for a nap. But he knew he had to get back to work and that meant you had to leave.

“Thanks, baby. It was delicious.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, rubbing the soft skin. You hummed, placing your hand on top of his.

“Of course. I’m happy you liked it.” You both rested for a moment before you began moving. “I should go. You have work to do.”

You barely made it to your feet before he was tugging you back down on his lap. A surprised yelp came from your lips at the sudden movement, ass meeting his thighs when you landed. He situated you so that you straddled his hips, his hands immediately going to your ass.

“Baby….” You pouted, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. You were normally the one who initiated physical affection so for Yoongi to do it so roughly surprised you. You weren’t complaining, however. The way his eyes were hooded over and how he looked up at you with that dark endearment made your belly tingle. You knew where this was going.

“Stay.” His left hand pressed your body down so your chest squished against his. “You come here in this dress and my favorite shoes…”

You adjusted yourself to wrap your arms around his neck. “I hardly wear these.”

He shrugged. “I love anything you wear. You look so sexy.” His hand traveled up your dress, moving it up your ass so he could grope full handfuls of the fat. While Yoongi appreciated all parts of your body, your ass was his favorite. Genetics, exercise and a little bit of happy weight had all accumulated into jiggly ass he loved to squeeze and slap. When you met, you were pretty thin but in shape nonetheless. Fans speculated that you gained ‘happy relationship weight’ since Yoongi treats you right. Whatever the reason, he thanks the higher power every day for it.

You could feel the heat beginning to spark between you, along with Yoongi’s growing boner pressing against your panties. Now that you thought about it, it’s been a little while since you’ve been intimate. You and Yoongi have barely had any time for quickies, let alone a full session of sex. And you two could go for hours if you wanted. On the day of your engagement, you barely left the hotel room because you couldn’t keep your hands off him. How could you? He was your fiancé. Mmm, that word just got you hot and bothered.

Your hands ran up his neck and into his hair, scratching at his scalp. The low hum of contentment that came from him spurred you on. You brought your faces closer together, lips hovering before you trapped him in a kiss. He hummed again, lifting his head to kiss you deeper, hands still squeezing at your ass.

Your kiss grew more heady, both of your hands massaging each other and trying to stroke any piece of skin you could. Yoongi began pushing against you to make your roll your hips against him. His cock could probably cut glass from how hard he was. You always got him excited with barely doing anything. To be honest, he started getting hard the moment you entered the room. Just your presence got him feeling almost immediately horny.

And it was the same for you. Your cunt had began getting wet the moment Yoongi turned around in his chair. He just looked so comfortable and effortlessly sexy and the way his muscles strained against that shirt made your imagination run wild.

You pulled away to inhale a deep breath. “Yoongi….please…”

His lazy smirk sent a rush straight to your already wet pussy. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

God he was such a tease but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it.

“I need you.”

That was all he needed before he moved to flip you onto your back. You bounced against the soft couch cushions, barely getting your bearings before he was back on you, pressing his lips to yours.

His large hands traveled up your dress, lifting it over your belly and breasts. He leaned back to get a look, letting out a groan at the absolute beauty under him.

Your chest was heaving from just a little kissing, your goddess locks spread out under you, glossed lips plump and ready for more. You were so gorgeous and he made sure to let you know.

You squirmed under the compliment, feeling giddy and a bit bashful. You always received compliments and the occasional catcall and while you accepted the respectful ones gracefully, none of those ever mattered to you. Yoongi’s praise and compliments put you on cloud 9 and you really believed him.

His hands traveled up your body to your breasts, eyes catching something under your bra. He pulled the annoying piece of fabric down and if he could get any harder, he probably would.

“Fuck. You’re wearing your piercings? Did you come here to try and kill me?” The little diamonds sparkled under the light. He remembers buying the jewelry for your birthday last year. He also remembers sucking the sensitive nipples until you were crying just an hour later.

You giggled, biting your lip. “Of course not.”

His smirk widened. “You little sneak.” His hands went to grope at the soft flesh, a sigh falling from your lips. His thumbs ran lightly over the stiff peaks, pulling more sighs and little squeaks from your lips. Your nipples had gotten so much more sensitive after piercings. Yoongi couldn’t be too rough on them when you first got them, being careful of your healing process. He could barely touch them without you gasping in the slight pain from healing. Of course, he never complained, understanding your pain so he just stopped touching them. He just didn’t think it would test his control so much; seeing you walk around without a shirt sometimes, the already silky and delectable breasts looking more appetizing from the little barbells. Months had passed along with many maintenance appointments before you announced that they could be touched without pain. With the pain gone, your sensitivity skyrocketed and with Yoongi’s skilled tongue beginning their assault, your pleasure had been taken to a new level.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and his mouth open to lick over your nipple. You let out a moan as his tongue swirled all around your piercing. He switched to the next one, giving it the same treatment.

The heat between your legs was becoming too much, your panties beginning to feel uncomfortable from how they were sticking to you.

“Yoongi….” You whined. His eyes lifted to lock on your flustered face, lips parted as puffs of air came through them, your eyes desperate and pleading for anything. Everything.

Reluctantly pulling away from your nipples, he helped you pull the dress from your body, tossing it somewhere in the room. Neither of you cared.

He kissed from your breasts to your tummy until he reached the apex of your thick thighs. You immediately dropped them open, revealing yourself to him. He groaned at your desperation but also at the sight of your soaked underwear. The thong barely covered anything, the baby blue fabric now dark from your arousal. It was practically leaking from you, the bottom of your ass shining. Kissing over the stretch marks that streaked down the inside of your thighs, he whispered words of praise to you.

“Fuck baby. You’re so fucking wet.” He couldn’t help himself, surging forward to suck on your clit through your panties. A shiver racked your body, your hands coming down to bury in his hair. The friction wasn’t as good with your panties still keeping his tongue from making direct contact with your clit but it was something. And it felt so good.

Your hips jerked against his face, trying to get more. His hands dug into the meat of your thighs, holding them open as his tongue licked at your clit.

More moans fell from your lips, pleasure causing your vision to go blurry. You felt so close already and he’s barely done anything. Blame it on you not having a proper orgasm for weeks. Your hands just didn’t feel the same and Yoongi had thrown out all of your vibrators once you two started having sex.

“You won’t need these anymore. All your orgasms should come from me.”

Now you were remembering why he threw them out in the first place. Only he could rip pleasure and orgasms from your body in seconds, playing your body like a piano.

Your hand came down your body, tapping against his forehead. He pulled away slightly, eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. You really only stopped him when you were shaking in overstimulation and he knew you hadn’t even cum yet so why were you stopping him?

When he pulled back, you grabbed onto your panties, pulling them aside to reveal your fat and dripping pussy to him.

How the hell did he get so lucky? Did he save orphans in his past life or something? Not only had he managed to put a ring on a kind, generous, and absolutely amazing person who treated him like a King and opened up the deepest parts of him, he also managed to snag a submissive, slutty, and needy woman who could ride his cock for hours and bend in ways he’s only dreamed of.

There was no way.

Eyes darkening in lust, he dove back in to capture your clit, licking at it more furiously than before. The heat from his mouth made that pressure build in your lower belly, your toes curling from their position in the air. Your loud moans only pushed him further, shoving 2 fingers in your tight heat. Your slick walls gripped his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them.

“Y-Yoongi! I’m gonna-“

He curled his fingers up, pulling away from your clit to lean up close to your face, his breath hitting your cheeks. “You gonna cum? You’re such a good girl.” He pressed some kisses to your open mouth, fingers thrusting in and out of your in a superhuman pace, veins and muscles in his arms shifting and bulging from the exertion.

When your orgasm crashed, you swore all of your senses except touch disappeared. You couldn’t hear and your vision blurred from the tears that had welled in your eyes. But Yoongi didn’t stop.

Your hand flew down to grab at his wrist, back arching as he continued his assault, helping you ride the huge wave.

He pulled his lip between his teeth. You were so sexy.

Once you came down, he slowly pulled his fingers from your, the digits glistening in your release. He sucked them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. He just couldn’t get enough.

Now he wanted more. Standing from the couch, he pulled off his own shirt and pants, taking his briefs with them. His hard cock slapped against his stomach, red at the tip and practically pulsing.

You bit your lip, thighs squeezing together as your pussy throbbed. Fuck you were so wet.

He flopped back on the couch, patting his lap. “Come ride this cock, baby.”

Not needing to be told twice, you crawled over into his lap, taking your bra and ruined panties off on the way.

His hands gripped your ass once you were straddled on his hips. You could feel the heavy weight of his cock pressing on your ass and it filled you with excitement.

Reaching your hand back, you gripped his cock, pumping it a few times. He groaned, head falling back against the couch at your touch.

Delivering a sharp slap to your ass, he growled, “stop teasing.”

His deep and demanding voice sent shivers down your spine. Never one to disobey, you lifted your hips, lining up his cock with your entrance. You rubbed the tip over your opening to gather some of your wetness before you slowly began sinking down on him.

A moan came from both of you as his thick cock began splitting you open. Your walls were squeezing him so tight that he felt like he could cum right there but he refrained. He wasn’t even all the way inside yet.

Your mouth was dropped open as his cock stretched you open, head tossed back and eyes closed as you basked in the feeling. Each ridge and vein was pressing against you in the most delicious way, the slight curve pressing against that spot deep inside of you. You felt like you could cum again just like this.

Once your ass met his thighs, you both let out sighs. Not only from pleasure but from being able to be close like this. This is what you needed; this closeness, this union, this intimacy. Sex was so much more to you than just getting off. It bonded you and brought you closer than ever, love spilling over and intertwining your hearts and souls.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for a sweeter and more sensual kiss.

“I love you…” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you too.”

Your hips began rolling against him, slowly at first to get accumulated to the stretch. He assisted you with one hand on your ass and one on your hip.

Before long, you began raising your hips, falling back down on his lap. The low clapping sounds spurring you on.

Yoongi groaned against your lips. “That’s it, baby. Faster.” With another sharp slap to your ass that made you moan, you bounced faster. Your ass jiggled each time it connected with his thighs and a part of him wished he could see it but the blissed out look on your face was too good to pass up.

Unwrapping your arms from his neck, you leaned back to get that perfect angle, your hands landing on his knees. A squeak fell from you as his tip began bullying your soft spot. Your head fell back, mouth dropped open as that delicious feeling began building in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah! Yoongi! Your cock feels s-so good!” You felt drunk, mind hazy and awareness faded. All you could focus on was the feel of him under you and the way his perfect cock slipped in and out. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, electricity spreading all the way to your fingertips and making your toes curl.

Yoongi couldn’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t even know where to look; your breasts, face, where you were connected? He could see how your arousal was dripping down to wet his pubic hair, a ring of your wetness coating the base of his cock. You were truly was a sight to behold.

That pressure was building faster than you thought. Sliding your hand down your body, your fingers connected with your clit, rubbing the nub in fast circles.

“Yoongi!”

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Your walls clenched and constricted around him, almost suffocating him. His hands rubbed at your nipples, flicking at the piercings. You were seeing stars, the stimulation was too much. His hands roaming you, your own fingers on your clit, and his cock inside of you was all too much.

That pressure…..

“I’m cumming!”

Your hips lifted from his cock, it falling out to slap against his stomach. Your fingers rubbed at your clit until some drips of liquid came out. The motion of your fingers caused the droplets to fly everywhere, some landing on the cushions as well.

Once you were done riding it out, he was flipping you back on the couch, head pressed into the cushions and ass up in the air. He delivered a few slaps to your ass, pulling some moans from your at the sting. Your head was swimming, the sudden movement making you a little dizzy but that dizziness quickly left when Yoongi entered you again.

His cock entered you in one swift motion, hips immediately working to push and pull against you. Your ass clapped back on his hips, the fat jiggling and rippling with every move. His own orgasm was just over the horizon.

“You are so fucking sexy.” Each word was punctuated by a thrust. “You come in here looking this good and then you bounce on my cock until you squirt? Why the fuck have I been spending all my time here when you’re at home?” He was really talking to himself. Only a true idiot would leave a hot piece of ass like this at home all day. And he must really be a true idiot, probably the dumbest man alive. But not anymore.

Your moans were rising in pitch. With this position, you could every inch, every curve, absolutely everything. You could barely breathe, your brain only being able to form utterances of his name and begs of faster and harder.

That feeling in Yoongi began cresting, balls drawing up as his orgasm washed over him. His hands gripped your hips and ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less. He could bruise you up all he wanted.

His orgasm spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, shuddering his whole body. “F-fuck….” He breathed out. That was probably the hardest orgasm he’s ever had in his life.

Your own breath began to even out. You thought that was the end but you were suddenly flipped around back on your back. Both of your legs were hiked up over his right shoulder, thighs pressing into your chest in Yoongi’s absolute favorite position.

“You think I’m done with you?” His smirk was teasing and it caused more arousal to drip from you. He reached his hand down to line himself up before pushing into your heat. A gasp came from your throat at the intrusion, your hands coming to grip at the back of his neck.

His hips set a brutal pace, balls wetly slapping against your ass.

“Oh my god! Y-Yoongi!”

It felt like he was in your throat, every thrust hitting you in all the right spots. Your nails scratched at his neck, the slight sting only pushing him harder. He could feel your walls tightening, a tell tale sign of your orgasm. Your breasts bounced with every push, dark nipples looking incredibly enticing.

“Cum, baby. That’s it.”

Your body seized up as your second orgasm full body absorbed you. Your vision spotted white and your ears were ringing.

But not even your orgasm made him stop or slow down. He pushed faster and harder, the squelching noises getting louder as more and more wetness spilled from you.

It was like your orgasm wouldn’t stop. Wave after wave came over you. Every nerve was lit on fire, your mouth dropped but no sound came out. He had taken every word from you.

When he felt you squirt on his cock again, he shoved his full cock inside. Your toes curled so hard that you could feel them crack, legs shaking but he held them tightly. Your hands smacked against his shoulders as the stimulation became too much. You were so full.

“Yoongi!”

“Take it. Take all that cock, baby.”

You had no choice but you didn’t care. You’d give up every choice if it meant he’d fuck you like this.

He rolled his hips against yours a few more times before his own orgasm washed over him. He groaned into your throat, a full body shudder racking his body.

Lifting his head, he connected your lips in a soft kiss, a complete turn from what just went down. You hummed against his lips, hands roaming his soft skin.

He moved your legs from his shoulders, massaging your slightly sore muscles as you kissed. You both let out small moans as he pulled out of your heat, his cum flowing out of you.

Yoongi helped you clean yourself up, giving you a large elastic to tie up your hair. The sweat would definitely make your roots curl back up but that was a problem for another day. You put your dress back on as Yoongi pulled his shirt and pants back on. Your underwear found themselves tucked into his back pocket. A little silly considering he had endless access to you pussy but you guessed it was some man thing.

When Yoongi went back to his computer, leaning over the chair to click at some things, you visibly deflated, mood dampening. Was he really going back to work? You guessed you did just come to drop off food, the sex was a bonus and you did say you would leave afterwards. You just couldn’t help but feel a little sad and used. Yoongi was the king of aftercare, always running you a bath or giving you cuddles as you two calmed down from lovemaking. It’s not like this one moment would make you think Yoongi didn’t care but you did feel a little defeated.

Gathering your things, you were about to approach the door but Yoongi’s voice stopped you.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t turn to face him, feeling a little embarrassed. “Home. Aren’t you going back to work?”

A snort came from him. “Of course not.”

You gasped when his body pressed against your back, also the feeling of his boner was right on your ass.

“Yoongi….”

“You really think I’m about to work and let you go home so you can wash my cum out of you? I’m fucking you until you can’t walk.”

Maybe you should come to the studio more often.

#bts fic #bts #yoongi studio sex #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts x black reader #jimin smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut #Yoongi imagine

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yournowheregirl · 1 year

Text

one hand, one heart

tw: mention of HIV/aids crisis and the general blatant (sometimes violent) homophobia of the 1980s

steve harrington loves musicals.

it’s something he inherits from his mother, something he always shared with her while growing up and his father is at work. she puts on hello dolly! on vinyl and sing along as she cooks, or my fair lady as she cleans out her closet, or the king and i as she does her morning crossword.

steve doesn’t really get the songs at first, but his mother is patient with him, explaining the stories and characters of every musical and replaying his favorite songs when he asks and soon enough, steve finds himself singing and dancing alongside his mother, knowing each and every word.

one night west side story is on tv and his mother allows him to stay up late since his father is away again. they’re huddled on the couch together, throw blanket in their laps and hot cocoa on the coffee table and steve can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. the costumes, the songs, the dancing, he just can’t look away, it’s all so pretty.

the movie gets a bit scary at times. during the big fight scene, he squeezes his eyes shut and ducks away into the safety of his mother’s arms and when tony dies at the very end, there are tears rolling down his face. his mother tries to tell him that it’s just a story but steve knows one thing for certain now.

it’s dangerous to love someone who’s different.

as steve grows up, his mother seems to have less and less time for him - now suddenly joined at her husband’s hip as he goes away on business trips - and their movie musical moments slowly fade away. but it’s fine, steve is at that age that people no longer find it cute when you know every word to don’t rain on my parade. no, when he tells people that, they look at him funny and whisper something that he can’t quite make out.

so he stops talking about musicals all together.

(he still listens to certain albums when he finds himself coming home in the big, empty harrington house once again. it’s comforting, almost like he’s hugging his mother again, but not quite as warm).

he hides his love for musicals throughout most of high school. doesn’t even try out when the drama department is doing a rendition of bye, bye birdie, no matter how much he actually wants to. laughs and lies when tommy finds the sunday in the park with george album in the living room, saying the housekeeper must’ve misplaced it. acts all tough and aloof when nancy asks him to watch grease together, even though he’s watched it four times already.

with all nightmares he gets during year after year of somehow surviving all that upside down bullshit, steve once again turns to musicals when he can’t sleep. usually it’s just a mixtape he made, consisting of his favorite songs that’ll sing him to sleep like a lullaby. but when the nightmares are particularly bad, he drags his duvet all the way downstairs, settles down on the couch and rewatches the sound of music until his eyes start to burn.

no one knows about it. not even robin, even though steve think she might suspect a thing after he suddenly knew exactly who julie andrews was. and he had planned to keep it that way, until one night when he finds himself on the couch once again but this time, in the company of eddie munson.

never in his life would steve have imagined that eddie munson would be one of his closest friends, but stranger things have happened. like dragging eddie’s lifeless body through the literal gates of hell and watching how he miraculously recovered from his near-fatal injuries.

but it’s more than friendship at this point and steve is well aware of that. others may think of him as oblivious but he knows himself. he recognizes that fluttery feeling in his stomach, he felt it dozens of times before. he notices the way his face heats up when eddie calls him sweetheart and lets his hands linger a second longer than necessary.

he knows damn well that he’s crushing on eddie munson and it scares him half to death.

it’s movie night and they’re on the couch together. eddie is flipping through the channels when steve notices a very familiar scene.

“wait, no. go back.” he says, gesturing towards the tv. eddie looks confused but complies anyway, until the opening scene of west side story appears on screen again.

“you wanna watch this?” eddie snorts.

“yeah. it’s good.”

“...right.”

steve is well aware that eddie is even more confused than before, but at least he doesn’t seem to question steve’s sudden interest in the movie. doesn’t tease him about it either, not when steve’s feet start tapping along to something’s coming all on their own and not even when he softly starts singing along to maria.

it gives steve enough confidence to lean in during gee, officer krupke, barely able to hold in his laughter. “twenty bucks say you pulled shit like this with hopper at least once.”

eddie rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway and steve thinks he’s just made easy money, only for eddie to retaliate during i feel pretty. “twenty bucks say you pull shit like this in the mirror at least once a week.”

“fuck off, man.” steve mutters, bumping their shoulders together in an attempt to hide the pink flush that’s spreading across his cheeks.

“no can do, stevie. that song is practically made for you.” eddie grins.

he doesn’t pull away after that. stays right there, glued to steve’s side for the remainder of the movie, which makes it all the more difficult for steve to focus on whatever’s happening on screen.

it’s a good thing steve knows this movie by heart already because it quickly becomes virtually impossible to focus on anything other than eddie when he notices eddie’s hand moving closer and closer towards him on the couch. and as soon as he feels eddie’s pinky finger curling around his own, steve’s pretty sure his brain goes static at the mere feeling of eddie’s calloused fingers against his skin.

now, it has been said that steve is the bravest one out of all of his friends - always throwing himself in danger headfirst to protect the others - but steve can still feel his heart beating in his throat as he lifts his palm and links his and eddie’s hands together. it shouldn’t be as scary as facing a demogorgon, but it’s still the most courageous thing he’s done in a long time.

with one small, almost insignificant movement, steve can suddenly feel eddie’s eyes on him. feels his gaze burning into his skin, though he doesn’t have enough courage anymore to look back at him. instead, he lets outs a shuddering breath and tries to pay attention to the story again.

and even though holding eddie’s hand seemed scary at first, steve soon comes to the conclusion it’s the best decision he’s made in a logn time because it’s just so fucking nice. their hands fit perfectly together and it gives him something to hold onto. an anchor of some sorts to get through the last few emotional scenes of the movie.

eddie’s hand keeps him grounded, keeps him from bursting into tears when tony dies like he did the first time he watched it with his mom. still, that scene does something to him. hits him right in the gut and he can feel himself stiffen as maria finds tony’s lifeless body on the ground. eddie must notice it too, because he squeezes steve’s hand a little tighter, runs his thumb across steve’s knuckles, helps him stay in the moment.

not much later, the credits appear on the screen and steve knows he no longer has an excuse not to look back at eddie. he takes a deep breath and glances to his left and- yup, grave mistake because eddie’s gaping at him, with his dark doe eyes even bigger than usual.

still, steve can’t look away, even though the silence between them stretches longer than it should be. he should say something. anything. ask if he wants something to drink. if he wants to watch another movie. if he-

“steve?”

“yeah?”

“can i kiss you?”

steve just blinks at him, a response of any kind dying on his tongue. fear creeps up on him - what if he’s dreaming, what if eddie doesn’t mean it, not in the way steve wants him to, what if-

but he was brave before, he can be brave again. he meets eddie’s eyes and nods, trusting his body just enough to take over and say what his words can’t.

as soon as he feels eddie’s lips pressed against his own, steve is hyper-aware of every sensation - the lingering taste of diet coke, the slight stubble on his chin, the loose curl that brushes against his cheek. he almost feels like he’s floating, like the fluttering feeling in his stomach has lifted him up and transported him to a world where it’s just eddie and his lips gliding in synch against his own and it feels so, so good.

okay, screw the hand holding - this is the best decision steve’s ever made.

as eddie moves closer and tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, steve’s hand find its way to eddie’s chest. he lets it linger over eddie’s heart, almost as if he’s trying to make sure that this is really happening. that eddie is here and he’s alive and he’s kissing him.

it’s only their first kiss but steve decides then and there that he doesn’t want another day go by without kissing eddie. doesn’t want another go by without eddie in it, period.

fuck. this is more than just a crush, isn’t it? this is so much more than that. this is almost like love. this is... this is a lot.

and that’s when it hits him. the message that’s been burned into his brain ever since he saw west side story for the first time - that loving someone who is different is dangerous.

not because he plays a fantasy game that no one seems to understand. not because he listens to metal and sold drugs in his spare time. not because he got falsely accused of murder and the whole town looks at him with disdain.

it’s dangerous simply because it’s another guy.

steve’s not stupid. he reads the newspaper, he watches the news, he knows all about the protests and the hate crimes and the thousands of innocent people dying of a disease that no one seems to care enough about to help.

it’s terrifying to love someone when the entire world seems to be against you.

he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he tastes the saltiness of his own tears and feels eddie pulling away from him. eddie’s eyes are filled with worry and that’s somehow enough to break steve, the tears just keep coming and coming with no end in sight.

“hey, hey, look at me.” eddie says softly, his hands gently cupping steve’s face. “did i do something wrong? what’s going on, baby?”

steve shakes his head, unable to form any words just yet. there are just tears and sobs and terrifying thoughts of what would happen to them if one of them- no, he doesn’t even want to think about that, it’ll only make him more upset.

“okay, take your time. i’m here.” eddie mutters. he presses a kiss to steve’s forehead, his hands never once leaving steve’s face.

the tears slowly but surely stop after that and steve somehow manages to regain control of his voice, even though it’s raspy and broken.

“it’s just... i just like you so much and it makes me so fucking scared. because what if...” he swallows the lump in his throat again, gasping for air. “what if we end up like them? what if we end up like tony and maria? it just takes one wrong move and we’re- you could- i can’t lose you, eddie.”

“then we’ll go somewhere safer. we’ll go to chicago, or new york, or, or, literally anywhere you wanna go where you feel safe.” eddie says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. his thumbs wiping away the tears on steve’s cheeks. “it’s like that movie said, y’know. ‘there’s a place for us, somewhere a place for us. peace and quiet and open air waits for us, somewhere.’”

steve’s eyes widen. he blinks once, twice, almost feeling speechless. “you know this musical?”

“i may have seen it before. i was in the drama club after all.” eddie shrugs, but when steve looks at him in disbelief, he sighs and adds: “okay, maybe i rewatched it because i was bored on a saturday once. it’s a good movie.”

“it really is.” steve nods, a small smile playing on his lips.

“we’re gonna be okay, y’know.” eddie assures him. “we survived literal hell, what’s a few bigots in comparison to that?”

steve nods, and as his tears are starting to dry, he’s finally starting to believe that that eddie means it. that he wants him, that he wants them, that he wants a future, together. and that might just be just enough reason for steve to lean back in again and kiss eddie with every ounce of his being, slow and warm and deep until all his worries float away and eddie is the only thing left on his mind.

(and later on, when eddie’s whimpering ‘steve’ over and over and over again, steve fully understands what tony meant when he sang that a name could almost sound like praying)

hi friends! it’s been a damn minute, i’ve been dealing with one hell of a writer’s block but this just appeared outta nowhere so i hope you enjoyed! thanks as always to @legitcookie & @sidekick-hero for their endless support as i went through the five stages of grief every time i attempted to write ilyyy <3

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #this started as a cute silly little headcanon about momma's boy steve #and then i watched west side story again and it just derailed from there #and then i got in my feels about being queer in the 80s #throws this at you and runs away #alice's writing adventures

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cobrakaisb · 1 year

Text

no strings attached

summary: it always starts with not strings attached, but feelings turn into secrets turn into drunk calls turn into full blown confessions

warnings: mentions of a sexual relationship (no actual smut though), alcohol usage, partying, ANGST

word count: 2.05k

it was never supposed to be this way. no strings attached. that’s what mark said the first time you woke up in his bed. it was after a long, and fun, night of partying. one of the hockey team’s big wins before making it to the final four in boston. they beat minnesota maybe, or was it quinnipiac? you couldn’t remember, but you remember mark.

he was always there. maybe you always thought there was something brewing, but for him, it was just a friendship. then they won. and someone was smoking this, and another person was drinking that, and you and mark got caught up in it all. his hands were all over you, fingers digging into your thighs as he pulled you down onto his lap. yours knotting in his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands. whispering, trying to convince the other to leave, chapped lips brushing against your ear. until it finally worked and he had you wrapped in his jacket, leading you back to his dorm.

everyone knew. and ethan, god bless ethan, because he never said a word. the first time it wasn’t a big deal. he woke up to find you and mark tangled together, a mess of limbs and sheets. then it happened a couple days later. and again when the boys lost in the frozen four. and it just kept happening. but nobody knew, except you, mark, and his pesky roommate ethan.

it was never supposed to be like this. yet you found yourself in michigan for the summer, spending a week at mark’s house. his mom smiling and chatting with you at the kitchen counter, skimming through photo albums and telling embarrassing stories. she asked what you were, and you tried to answer, really, but even you didn’t know. friends? lovers? dating? a hook up? there was no real label. everything was convoluted, covered in a haze.

maybe it was the trip at his house that made you reconsider your feelings for him. seeing him interact with his mom, watching as he helped around the house. listening in as he played with his younger cousins, granting their every wish. how he kept his arm around the back of your chair, always. he leant you a hat, or two, offered up sweatshirts for you to wear at night when it was too cold for short sleeves but not cold enough to want to be inside. when he took you to that small little breakfast joint, laughing and teasing as you drove down the street.

as the summer went on, it seemed like more and more strings were getting attached. you met his family, and he met yours. your mom asked about him once he left. your friends kept poking and prodding, saying that he was cute and you should go for it. then sophomore year came and he was getting a house, moving out of the dorms and in with some of the guys.

now you didn’t have to worry about ethan sleeping in the bed directly across from you; there was a wall separating you. there were two floors. it was easy to sneak away unnoticed and unheard. that’s what you told yourself at least.

it was easy. you were fine. there were no strings attached. but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

you don’t remember when the final straw was. maybe it was when he got that five minute major. or was it when he was given a game misconduct? either way, he called you after both, and for the first time throughout this whole shabang, you didn't want to be just a call. as much as you tried to avoid it, your strings were attached. they were so heavily intertwined that it was like a failed friendship bracelet, a knotted, tangled mess of strings. you had to tell him, so you came clean.

“i don’t want you to hate me,” you started, sitting criss-cross applesauce on their porch. “i could never hate you,” mark assured, leaning back on his forearms, he was getting too comfortable. you were getting too comfortable. “i caught feelings, mark,” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper. he was silent for a long time. “who is it?” mark asked.

his question has you reeling. how was it not obvious that it was him? your whole world revolves around him. “what?” you whispered softly, still feeling confused. “who is this guy that’s gonna break this great thing we have? who’s the one getting in between us?” mark snapped. the way he talked about your relationship made you nervous. his strings weren’t attached, that much was obvious.

“his name is mark estapa. he’s a defenseman for the michigan hockey team. know him?” you replied, already getting up from your seat. mark stayed there, mouth wide open. “but we said…” he started to say. “i know what we said! i get it okay! you don’t want this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you, “in the same way that i do.” he was still silent. “believe me, i know. and i also know that i can’t keep doing this. not how it is right now at least,” you trialed off, hoping he would want you too.

“i’m not…i was very clear y/n…fuck i don’t want,” he said, hands playing with the backwards hat on his head. you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding while simultaneously blinking back your tears. “right. i’ll see you around mark,” you answered, turning and leaving before he got the chance to break your heart anymore.

someone must have grabbed the scissors and cut apart the ball of string because there was no way you were coming back from this.

yet somehow, mark didn’t seem to get the message. he kept calling and calling and calling. and when you declined he’d start texting and texting and texting. finally, you just had to block his number. it was too much for you, the bitter taste of rejection and the tears of regret arising whenever his name flashed across your screen. at one point, he tried talking to you, but your friends helped you hide in the bathroom, quickly shutting that down.

so, what started as a casual relationship ended with you, alone and bitter. in all fairness, mark warned you. he was upfront from the beginning, so you really had no one to blame but yourself. he told you that there would be no strings attached, just makeouts and hookups, but of course you couldn’t follow those simple instructions.

then, you made your own code of conduct. one that consisted of ignoring him. it didn’t last long though. nothing regarding mark ever seemed to last long. especially when you were drinking. that’s when it was worse. all the feelings would come up and your usually bubbly persona went down the drain. once you had a solid buzz going, thoughts of mark would infiltrate your brain, reminding you of your lonely status. until saint patrick’s day weekend.

obviously there were darties and parties and everything in between. so it wasn’t a surprise that when michigan won, the partying was only amplified. in your inebriated state, calling mark was the best option. to say congratulations. that was it. that’s what you kept telling yourself as you unblocked his contact and hit the green call button.

you waited and waited and waited. voicemail. but you were persistent, so you kept calling. again and again and again, you dialed his number. foot tapping on the sticky, alcohol covered, floor as you held your phone to your ear. the cool screen sticking to your flushed skin. after ten calls, he kept count not you, he answered.

“y/n?” he asked, hesitancy clearly in his voice. “mark! i saw the game! you won, so i had to…i had to call. you deserved a call,” you mumbled, words escaping your mouth faster than you could comprehend. “oh yeah. thanks,” he answered.

the effort was minimal, you could feel it through the phone. he didn’t want you to call. he didn’t want you then and he still doesn’t want you know. your sobbing before you can hang up, before you can shake yourself and get a grip.

“y/n? why are you crying? what’s wrong baby?” he said. if you weren’t crying, if you weren’t drunk, if you were able to comprehend, your heart would’ve skipped a beat. “i’m drunk. I’m drunk and my first thought is always you. it’s always you mark. and i want you so bad, but you never wanted me. no strings attached,” you explained, taking a long sip from your cup. “y/n…” he started, but you wouldn’t let him. he hurt you enough. “don’t pity me mark. i don’t…i don’t want a guy to be with me out of pity,” you said. you heard him take a breath, but before he could answer, you hung up the phone.

it shouldn’t have surprised you when mark arrived at your dorm the next day. but it did. he stood there, hands in the pockets of his jeans as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “hi. can we talk?” he whispered. you hesitated, feeling nervous. your plans were sweaty and you felt like there was a frog in your throat. all you could muster was a nod as you grabbed your keys and followed him outside. the walk was silent, deadly silent. the kind of silence that exists between two people who don’t know what to say, how to say it, or when to say it. the type of silence that shouldn’t exist between you and mark.

“so you called me last night,” he blurted out. “i did,” you replied, interested in your scuffed up converse. “you did. do you remember what you said?” he asked. you shut your eyes, embarrassment washing over you like a wave at the beach. “if i said i didn’t would we just move past it?” you tried to joke, but mark didn’t laugh.

“no. i would remind you,” he answered, face serious. you stopped walking, turning to face him. “why? why do you do this?” you demanded, poking at his chest. “me! you’re the one that left and then refused to let me speak! you blocked my number and flat out ignored me for weeks. then you call me last night, and tell me that all you do is think about me,” you opened your mouth to interject but he doesn’t let you. “let me finish. god y/n just let me fucking speak because if you let me talk, you’d know that i’ve always loved you. and i still do! even though you ignore me and basically cut me out of your life, i still love you. i want you just as much now as i did last week, and two months ago, and this summer, and even last year.”

you're crying; tears streaming down your face as you listen to him rant. “why didn’t you say it sooner?” you croaked out. mark swallows, looking at you with utmost regret in his eyes, “because we said no strings attached.” you laughed. you were crying but now you’re laughing because how did you two agree to this? why did you agree? you think back to your freshman year and wonder what possessed you to say no strings attached. you wanted them to be attached, every single one. your strings and mark’s strings woven together into a tightly knit friendship bracelet, or maybe a keychain, or anything that involved the two of you being together.

it was silent between the two of you. both of you just standing there, waiting for the other to make a move. finally, mark had the courage to do so. “i think we should let our strings attached . maybe they could get jumbled up in a giant knot, and we wouldn’t be able to untie it, because i,” he paused to take a deep breath, “i don’t think i could live my life without you.”

“mark?” “yeah?” “let me kiss you.” his laugh echoed through the quad. his smile overtook his face, scrunching up his eyes and cheeks. his eyes brightened. his hands reached out for you, pulling you into him. his lips met yours.

your strings were pretty much attached.

#mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa blurb #mark estapa blurbs #umich hockey #cobrakaisb writing

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reidsgirly · 5 months

Text

heavy metal lover.

pairing ! - metal!spencer x popstar!fem!reader

synopsis ! - you’re a popstar, and spencer’s a metalhead. you two make a good match, don’t you?

word count ! - 1.0k

cw ! - spencer likes heavy metal cause why not, prob inaccurate descriptions of being a popstar, def inspired by heavy metal lover by lady gaga

Your brand new album had recently dropped, and it was a major success. Of course, you were grateful for all the recognition you were receiving and even more for your most popular song on that album, Heavy Metal Lover.

The inspiration for the song came from your boyfriend who was more into the rock genre of music, a rough contrast to the pop music you make. You just wanted to make a song about him, not to say you don’t already have multiple about him, but one that was more about your music tastes.

Before your debut, you wondered if your boyfriend would have a problem with the kind of music you made, whether it’d put a strain on your relationship or not. You assumed that having a literal pop star for a girlfriend when all you listened to was rock and heavy metal would be somewhat challenging.

The question was if he’d still love you if you made pop music that attracted everyone in the world. I mean, your song was number one on multiple billboard digital sales charts across the globe. Yet, Spencer showed no signs of being uncomfortable with the amount of publicity he was receiving.

If anything, he enjoyed the publicity, especially the songs you made about him. He loved how you loved him so much that you’d make a song about it, it was honestly endearing.

As of now, you and a group of your friends are finishing up at a downtown bar, putting an end to your drinking and partying to celebrate the release of your album. To top it all off, your song just had to be blasting.

I could be your girl, girl, girl Girl, girl, girl But would you love me If I ruled the world, world, world?

“Girl, your man must be real loyal for staying with you while all these tours and interview shit going on!” your friend yells to you over the sound of your song playing.

“I mean of course! I love my boyfriend, this song is literally about him!” you boast, yelling back to her.

“I need to find a man like that! You got you a rough lil’ man that really loves you? Dare I say i’m fucking jealous!” she once again yells to you.

The thing was, Spencer was rough but in such a loving way. He had such an aggressive exterior, which honestly, wasn’t too far from the man he was. Behind closed doors, he wasn’t the sweetest man you’ve ever known even he if was ragged around the edges. Speaking of, inspired the next few lyrics of your song.

Whip me, slap me, punk funk New York clubbers, bump drunk Bud Lite, liquors, bar slam Move it, this is your jam

Now, in these lyrics, you were just talking about how your boyfriend fucks you. “Whip me, slap me, punk fuck” was you singing about how you expected something rough and adventurous from your lover. Though, that wasn’t exactly true.

You’d never expect Spencer to be aggressive while having sex unless you explicitly asked him to do so. Even then, being unruly with you was never in his ballpark. He was the most gentle and loving man you’d ever been with.

Especially when you two were drinking, he suddenly became 10 times more doting, sweet, and touchy than usual. Whether he’s trying to kiss you, or just have a hand on your body, his normal loving behavior skyrockets.

Now, it was definitely time for you and your girls to go home. You all had a time and enjoyed yourselves and now all you wanted to do was go home to your lovely boyfriend.

You said your farewells to all your girls and finally started to make the trip back home. As your Uber arrives, you start your way to your boyfriend.

Before you can step both feet into your and Spencer’s shared home, you feel arms encircling your waist and pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Hi, baby.” his husky voice greets you. “Had fun tonight?”

“Absolutely,” you respond, pulling back from his embrace and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips “was thinking about you the whole time.” you smile lazily at him.

Kissing your boyfriend is the only thing that matters in this moment. This moment. His lips. His strong body pressed against you and firm hands still on your hips, and you want all of him. You want to feel the beauty of this love with the tips of your fingers and the palms of your hands and every fiber and bone in your being.

No matter how tired to tipsy you could be, you’d always want your boyfriend. You’d always want to feel him, to feel the love he has for you. and for him to feel the love you have for him.

“Bet you were. Let’s get you ready for bed.” he says, pulling you along to the bathroom to get undressed for bed.

Coming home to your boyfriend never fails to make love blossom in your chest for him. Everything about it feels so domestic. Coming home to him to find him anticipating your arrival, as you couldn’t wait to see him either.

As you step into the bathroom, you begin to undress as Spencer gets you pajamas from your bedroom. The moment you step out of your skirt, he comes back with your comfy clothes. After stepping into your pajamas, brush your teeth, then wash your face all whilst your boyfriend has his arms on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

Small moments like these with him make you appreciate the man you have. The man that supports you and your career no matter what you decide to do. The man who streams your music 24/7 despite the fact that he does not enjoy pop music. The man that stays with you during your extreme hangovers when you got too drunk the night before. The man that takes off days of work just because you want to stay in with him. Your dream man.

After everything, you climb into bed with your boyfriend for a not-so-long, yet peaceful night of rest.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

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junnieverse · 8 months

Text

BEST PART ➳ P. JONGSEONG

➙ synopsis: undoubtedly jay was the perfect boyfriend in your eyes and stumbling across an old box of yours, it becomes a trip down memory lane when you read through all the different notes jay wrote for you when you were together.

pairing: jay park x afab!reader (but it's pretty gender neutral imo)

genre: a mixture of angst and fluff, friends to lovers to exes au

word count: 1.0k

request: " jay who gives you a box full of papers that mention all the little things you do that would go unnoticed by most “y/n who cries when she laughs too hard” “y/n who loves the smell of vanilla” and on the last paper it says “y/n, jay’s everything” "

warnings: not proofread

a/n: this was such a cute and sentimental request anon, tysm I loved it, I did change it up a bit with the angst but I still hope you enjoy this too :))

a/n (2) : hi everyone, there's officially a part two [ here ] to anyone interested in seeing jay and (y/n) having their happy ending

"I'll be down with you in a minute, I just have one more box to get!" you yell to your roommate before rushing upstairs to your bedroom.

You had been living overseas for your studies for over 2 years now and you were finally packing to go back home.

It was a bitter sweet moment to say the least. Leaving home and everyone you loved behind was hard but you also made some wonderful friends in this new country and now it was all coming to an end.

Walking into your cleared room, you find the last box which seemed unfamiliar at first until you opened it to see what was inside.

Taking a seat at the edge of your bed, you felt choked up a little.

Inside the box was a neatly folded oversized navy hoodie, a handmade bracelet, a vinyl and another tiny box containing a bunch of notes and letters.

This was your box of memories with your now ex boyfriend Jay Park.

Your relationship with Jay felt like it came straight out of a movie, never a dull moment with each other.

"Jay, why do you love me?" you ask out of the blue as you both sat on the hood of his car watching the sunset.

"There's alot of reasons to love you, I could go on forever listing those." he tells you as you had not noticed he was already admiring you as you watched the scenery.

From that day on, Jay made it his life's mission to give you a reason why he loved you every single day.

This would range from small notes he would leave on your desk to full handwritten letters he would send to you.

'Day 05: I love to see the joy on your face as you wipe away your tears from laughing too hard.'

Jay was an observant boyfriend, he noticed all the little details about you that you hadn't thought he would but he did.

He always reminded you how happy he was whenever he heard you laugh because that was you in your purest state of positivity.

'Day 17: I love how free you become whenever you listen to music.'

You could recall a vivid moment back to when you were both on a date and decided to visit his favourite music shop.

You had been looking for a new vinyl to add to your collection and that's when you came across Daniel Caesar's Freudian album. Jay knew how much you loved his song Best Part with H.E.R from the album and decided to suprise you with the vinyl.

The song soon became a part of your relationship and you would listen to the song together.

'Day 23: I love vanilla scents all because you do too.'

He knew how this simple fragrance always calmed you and that's when he started using vanilla scented perfumes.

He loved whenever you would hug him just a bit longer because you just loved how good he smelt.

Jay would playfully complain about his hoodies always going missing but who could blame you for taking them.

You would wrap yourself in his oversized hoodie on colder nights and the vanilla scent would instantly help you sleep better.

'Day 25: I love the little moments between us.'

It could be the most mundane of things but Jay treasured every moment with you and you did too with him.

You both had a free weekend and decided to make friendship bracelets for each other.

They obviously weren't the best but it didn't matter to you, you were just happy to spend time with your boyfriend.

Despite how badly done the bracelet he made was, you wore it everyday and he proudly showed off yours too.

It didn't matter how it looked to you, it was the bonding experience and memories the bracelet held that mattered.

'Day 32: I love how you aren't afraid to chase after your dreams.'

You had gotten the news that you were awarded the scholarship to your dream college that you had been waiting for.

You were hesitant to leave at first but ofcourse Jay was a supportive boyfriend and he wanted you to go follow after what you've been working so hard towards.

He would never want to 'hold you back'.

Everything in this moment was hitting you and you physically felt your heart breaking.

All of the messages and memories were hard to relive but the hardest part of it all was having to accept that you no longer had Jay with you.

After moving it became hard having to juggle not only a new school but a now long distance relationship.

You both tried to constantly communicate and make things work but it was clear that your relationship was slowly falling apart to the both of you.

Less texts, less phone calls and it all became harder not being physically with each other.

Soon you both mutually agreed to break up.

'Day 41: I love alot of things about you, but everyday I find myself falling for you more and more.'

To simply love and to be in love were two completely different things to Jay and you knew that.

It was never a simple "love you" from him, he always made sure to say "I love you" with the most sincerity and eye contact and he wanted you to feel all those emotions through his words.

Simply loving you was different to how deeply he was in love with you and it was beautiful.

Going through each letter brought you so many emotions.

He wrote you a reason as to why he loved you for 50 days straight...

"Wait, where's day 50?" you ask yourself looking for the note but not finding it anywhere or in the box.

Sighing you look at the hoodie once more as the faint scent of vanilla hit hit your nose and it was just a whiff of nostalgia.

"Hey (Y/n), you okay?" you were pulled out of your thoughts as your roommate stands by your door seemingly concerned.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I'm perfectly fine." you sniffle softly displaying a weak smile as you wiped your tears.

You quickly pack everything into the box before shutting it.

"You dropped something." your roommate says handing you a little note that fell from the vinyl case.

'Day 50: I love you because in every moment of my day, you're the best part. Thank you for being my everything.'

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

cigarettes & coffee (carmy x fem!reader songfic)

summary: carmy can't sleep and neither can you. after moving in together you spend a morning drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. (part of the make my heart surrender verse, but can absolutely be read as a standalone piece).

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smoking, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, but i don't think any others

listen to: cigarettes & coffee - otis redding

a/n: just a lil something to hold the carmy fandom over while i work on some engagemet smut and the prequel to make my heart surrender

"it's early in the morning about a quarter til three, i'm sittin' here talkin' with my baby over cigarettes and coffee."

"Can't sleep?" Carmy hears you say, your soft footsteps filling his ears.

He's curled up next to the windowsill, inside of the reading nook that's tucked perfectly into the apartment's alcove.

"Nah," you shake your head, your footsteps carrying over to your now shared open kitchen.

You notice that he's opened one of the windows and is fumbling around with an unopened pack of cigarettes.

"Sorry did I wake you?" he asks, just a hint of nervousness in the sound of his voice.

"It's okay," you respond, quietly reassuring him.

And it is okay.

But it's also going to be an adjustment.

"darling, I've been so satisfied, honey, since I met you, baby, since I met you."

You start making your morning coffee as you can hear Carmy beginning to fidget with his lighter. Carmy has a marlboro pressed in between his lips as he listens to you. He shifts forward from where he sits so that he can move the needle of your record player back over to the dark-colored vinyl you both were listening to the night before. He half-smiles as he watches the record begin to spin, turning the volume down just a hair from where it was the night before.

The love he has for vintage denim is the same love you have for vintage records, you'd explained to him when you'd first met.

You'd really lucked out yesterday by finding this old copy of Otis Redding's "The Soul Album" at the used bookstore a couple of blocks away. You'd purchased it as a symbol of you and Carmy's new chapter. Every time you wanted to remember this phase of your life, you could pull the vinyl from its sleeve and take a trip down memory lane.

"but it seemed so natural, darling, that you and I are here, just talking over cigarettes and drinking coffee."

Carmy takes a look around at the mess in your -- well, now the both of your -- apartment. Unpacking amidst the move felt like it would never end, and he felt bad about the state of disarray he'd left your apartment in. Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he lights up the end of his marlboro in avoidance.

He inhales the smoke deeply -- a somewhat frustrated and burdened quality to it.

You chuckle to yourself.

Yes. This is who you get to wake up to every morning: the man that you love, your best friend, your lover who sometimes carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"What's on your mind?" you ask softly, setting a timer on your phone for your French press.

Carmy sighs as he exhales the smoke, angling his face in the direction of the open window.

Sure, you'd both agreed he wouldn't smoke in the house but... it would take some getting used to.

"The agnolotti you made me a few weeks ago," he finally answers, his eyes fixed on the sun peaking just underneath the horizon.

Of course he's thinking about a menu.

"For The Bear?" you ask, curiously.

"Maybe. What do you think?" he asks back, turning his head to look at you.

You turn to him, your back pressed against the kitchen counter as you say: “I thought you said you already tried a stuffed pasta."

The corners of his lips curl into the smallest smile as he answers, “Not yours.”

You smile softly, thinking it over.

A few weeks ago, before the madness of the move, you'd been on a creative bender. You'd dreamed up a savory braised leek agnolotti del plin with a lemon beurre monte to brighten up the dish. You and Carmy had been working opposite shifts as of late, and it had worked out perfectly that you'd been able to surprise him with a home cooked meal when he'd gotten off of a particularly challenging shift.

"It could work," you state, a strategy beginning to unfold in your mind.

"We could do a little R&D with it as a special before committing to something that detail oriented. Think it would still work with the flow of things. Not too much extra work for Manny and Angel? Maybe Syd would be up for the challenge...? Or maybe you and I could work on it together."

"I'll throw it out there... talk it over with Sydney," he replies, coming to a temporary pause on the thought.

Carmy continues smoking his cigarette as you busy yourself with the remaining dishes left over in the sink. Since you started moving him in, it'd mostly been takeout or ordering a pizza -- neither of you having the energy to cook between the move and the restaurant.

"and oh, my heart cries out, love at last I've found you, oh, and honey, won't you let me just build my whole life around you?"

As your timer goes off for the coffee, you push pause on dishes and dry yours hands off.

You make up one of your little serving trays with two mugs, filling both cups 3/4 of the way. You add the remaining coffee, still in the French press, and the remaining milk you have in your fridge, to the tray.

Ready for your morning coffee, you turn around, tray in hand, as you take in the image of your handsome boyfriend. He's exhaling the smoke out of the window, his back pressed up against one of the walls of the alcove. The sun is just starting to rise, and you can't help but think he looks like an old hollywood movie star with the way that the sunlight hits his face.

You can't believe you get to wake up to this every single morning now.

"i would love to have another drink of coffee, now, and please, darling, help me smoke this one more cigarette, now, i don't want no cream and sugar, 'cause I've got you now, darling."

Sure, you'd agreed you wouldn't smoke in the house but when he looks this good doing it, you don't have the heart to stop him. You make your way to where he sits in the apartment's little reading nook before setting down the tray of coffee.

He looks to you, noticing the amused look on your face as your eyes flicker over to his cigarette. He looks down for a moment, before looking back to you, his blue eyes catching yours.

"Am I in trouble?" he asks, a small smirk on his lips. You pick up your cup of coffee taking a sip before responding.

You shake your head, "Not this time."

You lean in towards Carmy, and just as he thinks you're going to kiss him, you take the cigarette from him, trading him your coffee cup. He watches you, completely enchanted with you as you curl up on the other side of the seating area. With your back pressed up against the closed window and your feet hanging off of the reading nook seating, you bring the cigarette up to your lips to inhale.

Carmy takes a sip of your coffee as you exhale, facing towards the open window just like he'd done previously.

His chest filled to the brim with warmth, he asks you, "How're you mine?"

You shrug, the corners of your lips curling into a smile you reply, "Guess we both got lucky, huh?"

"it's so early in the morning, and I've got you and you've got me, and we'll have each other, and we don't, and we don't want nothing but joy."

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #make my heart surrender #still into you #carmy #songfic #song recs

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nejibaby · 1 year

Text

precursor

Pairing: Haitani Ran x Reader

Description: Haitani Ran just might be the most overprotective father.

Word count: 0.8k

Once in a while Haitani Ran indulges in his simple pleasures in life — these being (1) sleeping for at least 15 hours, and (2) spending the day with his dear family.

Thus on his rare days off, an unofficial rule in the Haitani household is to not wake him up from his slumber. Simply because a well-rested Ran guarantees a better day.

However, on a certain Friday afternoon, what Ran doesn’t know is that his 18 hours of sleep would be a precursor to one of the most terrible days of his life.

So he smiles, stretches and almost rushes out of bed when he smells the freshly baked cookies you’ve made. And he grins when he hears his precious daughter giggling while you coo at her.

“Aren’t you two having too much fun without me?” Ran says with mirth as he enters the living room.

“Daddy!” Your daughter almost trips trying to reach Ran as quickly as possible.

He picks her up and spins her around as usual. Giggles immediately leave her mouth — an automatic response when she spends time with her father.

You watch with delight at their antics. And when he brings her back down to her chair, a smirk appears on your lips as you say, “Baby, why don’t you tell daddy what happened today?”

Your daughter perks up and begins to animatedly tell her father about all that has transpired in the previous hours at her school. Ran listens attentively and even matches her energy when he responds. She ends her narrative with her widest smile saying, “And when I was about to be picked up, a boy kissed me today!”

Ran splutters in shock. He shoots a glare at your direction when he hears you snicker.

“Wh-what did you say, darling? I don’t think I heard that right,” he asks your daughter.

“A boy kissed me today, daddy!” She giggles in glee, kicking her tiny feet in the air.

The look of horror on Ran’s face is comical and it takes everything in you to stop yourself from laughing. “Is he your boyfriend now, baby?” You tease.

“No! My baby does not have a boyfriend!” Ran answers your question in her stead.

“She’s our baby,” you correct.

“Not if you’re condoning this nonsense,” he mumbles.

“And she can speak for herself. Right, baby?”

“Mmh!" She nods as she munches on a cookie.

Ran pales and becomes rigid for half a minute and then suddenly he's standing up and leaving the room. You and your daughter are left dumbfounded by his actions but before you can even call him out, he's back, bringing a photo album with him.

He flips a couple of pages and points to your daughter's class picture last year. "Show daddy the boy who kissed you,” he says in a sickeningly sweet tone.

You’re left gaping at your husband, trying to wrap your head around his sudden interest with the boy.

“But daddy, he wasn’t my classmate last year. He just transferred a few months ago.”

Ran frowns. “Tell me his name then.”

You squint, finally realizing that he’s interrogating your daughter.

You turn to her, “No, baby. Don’t tell daddy his name.”

“Tell Uncle Rindou then,” Ran amends.

“Uncle Rinnie?” Your daughter repeats excitedly. “Is Uncle Rinnie coming?”

“Yes, baby. He’s on his way here as we speak. You can tell him all about the fuc— I mean, the boy who kissed you.”

You’re about to interject but your daughter responds faster, “I don’t know, daddy.” She crinkles her nose. “Uncle Rinnie still hasn’t given me the lollipop I wanted…”

“I’ll get it for you if you tell him,” Ran bribes her, which evidently works based on how giddy your daughter looks.

“Okay, that’s enough, Ran,” you shoot him a look, although it goes unnoticed as his hopeful eyes are on his daughter. “We need to talk.”

You’re dragging your husband out of the room but that doesn’t stop him from trying to get more information. “If you don’t want to tell Uncle Rindou, at least let Uncle Kakucho know!” He yells just as you both reach the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You raise a brow at him, putting your hands on your hips.

“What were you doing when it happened?”

“I’m just letting kids be kids.”

“Kids aren’t supposed to kiss!”

“And you shouldn’t be involved in Bonten, but I guess we can’t have everything we want,” you argue. “Now stop being a menace.”

“I wasn’t even being a menace! Just, you know… Uhm… curious.”

“Well then, stop.”

Ran huffs and then he pouts.

This fucker, you think. He’s utilizing his charms, knowing full well its effect on you.

“Whatever,” you yield. “Just don’t endanger a child over a silly kiss. Save that for when she gets her heart broken or something.”

Ran grins and salutes, “Okay, boss.”

He watches you walk away from him and try as he might, he can’t prevent the lovesick look he exhibits, knowing that he married the right one.

feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

#haitani ran x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran x you #ran haitani x you #tokyo revengers x you #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tr x reader #tr x you #tokyo revengers #tokrev #haitani ran #ran haitani

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bellaturner · 7 months

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Hi! I am loving the writings at the moment! I was wondering if you could write something where reader is dating Alex and also an interviewer and she has to interview him. So its all flirty and if their relationship isn’t public yet Alex constantly nearly gives it away.

I just kinda had the thought and thought it would be cute and I have no time to write atm and honestly you could probably write it better anyway lmao

Alex sat across the sofa from you, and you attempted to maintain a professional demeanor despite the playful tension in the room.

"So, mister Turner," you began, but before you could continue, he playfully interrupted.

"Oh, you sound so sexy calling me 'mister'," he teased with a mischievous grin.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his antics. "Come on, Alex," you said, raising your hands to your face in mock annoyance. "I'm trying to do my job here," you sighed, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Sorry, babe," he apologize, but moved his hand up your thigh at the same time "I'll behave myself," he promised at the same time he fixed his sunglasses on his face.

"Al, please," you asked, once again, "I'm gonna get fired if you don't cooperate." you were practically begging this time.

"Sure, love," he said, removing his hand from you. "Ask your questions, but i'm gonna fuck you so hard after we get home." he winked at you.

You took a deep breath, attempting to regain your focus. Your boyfriend's flirtatious behavior was undeniably distracting, but you needed to continue the interview professionally. "Ahem," you cleared your throat and made another attempt. "So, Mr. Turner," you said, maintaining direct eye contact, "your band's latest album is titled 'The Car'." You pointed out this fact, well aware of the answer to the upcoming question. "Could you enlighten us on the reason behind that choice?" You asked, attempting to appear genuinely curious, though you suspected you weren't doing a great job of it.

You had been actively involved in the entire album composition process. You'd even assisted Alex, your boyfriend, and the rest of the band in brainstorming some of the song titles. You were aware that certain songs were inspired by your relationship, which added an extra layer of complexity to your professional life.

"Well," Alex began, avoiding direct eye contact with you, "we wanted it to have that perfect 'road trip' sound, you know?" he explained, trying to maintain a casual tone.

"Interesting choice," you responded, a sense of frustration creeping into your voice. You were beginning to feel exasperated with the interview, and you hadn't even reached the halfway point yet.

You decided to press on with the interview, determined to maintain your professionalism despite Alex's distractions. "I see what you mean," you replied, shifting your focus back to the questions. "The album definitely has a vibrant, on-the-road feel to it. Can you tell us more about the creative process behind it?"

Alex leaned back in his seat, appearing more relaxed as he delved into the band's creative journey. He began to share insights into their writing sessions and the stories behind some of the songs. You listened intently, trying to keep the conversation on track.

As the interview continued, you couldn't help but notice the way Alex's foot subtly brushed against your leg under the table. It sent a jolt of excitement through you, but you had to remain composed.

Throughout the interview, Alex managed to toe the line between playful banter and professional discussion. It was both exhilarating and maddening, knowing that he was purposely teasing you while you had to maintain your facade on camera.

As the interview was getting near the end, you couldn't help but exchange a subtle glance with Alex. It was a silent acknowledgment of the playful dance you'd been engaged in throughout the conversation. He smirked ever so slightly, and you knew he was eager to continue this game behind closed doors.

You wrapped up the interview with a final question about the band's upcoming tour, and Alex provided a thoughtful response.

This would be a tough one to edit - the viewers were none the wiser about your romantic involvement - but you were proud of your ability to mostly maintain your professionalism.

Once the cameras stopped rolling, Alex wasted no time. He leaned in closer, his arms trailing your body and his lips dangerously close to your ear. "You were amazing, babe," he whispered huskily, sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanks," you replied, your voice trembling with desire. "Are you taking me home now?" You asked, turning to pack your handbag.

"Oh no, cutie pie, I'm having you bent over the very table you were using to interview me." He said calmed, collected and demanding, getting out of his seat and towering you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hihiiii 💕

Felt like doing this one today, it's been long forgotten on my askbox, sorry, my love.

I hope you enjoy it anyway ❤️ (it was wrote while I has high on sleep meds and not prof read)

Lmk if you'd like to be tagged in my posts s2

As always, love you 💕

~ Bella

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undercoverpena · 9 months

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the day frankie meets you

frankie morales x f!reader | resurrected chances

summary: a chance meeting or event is one that is not planned or expected. set after the events in Colombia, single-dad Frankie meets "Pretty Girl" at one of Benny's fights. kick-starting a second chance at happiness he'd long since abandoned.

wordcount: 3k themes: mentions of past drug use. relationship falling apart (not the one with reader). fluff, falling in love, second chances. dad!frankie (so mentions of a child) and use of nickname pretty girl/PG, but no other use of name or y/n.

an: this is a series that isn't a series. you can follow along with updates, but they won't be uploaded in chronological order, but will all be connected (muhahah).

For a long time, Francisco Morales had felt like he was drowning.

Sinking into mud he can’t pull his boots out of. Drenched in regret he couldn’t shake from his shoulders.

It felt worse when he landed back on home soil—wrapped itself around him as he clapped his hand on the backs of men. The rain hammered down as they all said their goodbyes, soaking their civs to their skin.

It tightened its hold when he stepped through the threshold of his home. People greeted him as he placed the bag down. Her (and her vast smile), family—and the friends he’d made because of her—cheering at his arrival. Them all swarming, patting and wrapping him in affection and words that never quite land.

Frankie would smile until he didn’t have to.

And then the darkness knocked, and the sadness crept over him.

The moon high, the house silent. It all worsened as he thought of the decisions he should have made—the calls he should have shouted earlier. The men, and their faces, the ones he can’t stop seeing when he blinked.

Then his nose vanished the white powder. Just once. Merely to forget.

And then he did it again a few weeks later. When they’d been fighting, and she’d gone to bed alone.

He hadn’t heard her come to fetch him, discovering what he’d been doing off the top of a CD album—her favourite one too.

The pattern of loneliness continued as he lost and he lost, his grip on his life being tugged from his fingers—even as they turned pale from how hard he held on.

Happiness appeared at his door, but he was never in time to answer. Just missing it, forever chasing. The echoes of it banging circled his skull.

Then, he was born. His light, his reason. All wide-eyed, little nose—hair that shifted into curls and a smile that could rival the sun. A beacon, hope, and the warmest of days all wrapped into one tiny bundle of joy.

His little cries never fazed him. He was awake anyway. Frankie all content to bring him close, bask in the scent that was all natural to him, patting his little back and listening as he hiccuped against him.

He should have put his foot down when Pope asked.

Dug the heel of his boots into the ground—doing so—until pain shot up his calf, right into his knee. He didn’t. Instead, he agreed. Nodded—thought of his little one having a room full of stuffed toys and days out with him on his shoulders.

But, then it rained worse in Colombia.

Soaked him to the bone, made a home in the osseous matter, becoming a part of him as it all frayed. But then, it had done so before he left.

She held their little one, glaring at him like he’d burned her: do not do this—an ask that was more a demand. The crumbling edges of what the two of them could have been fraying further, almost unrepairable—the little one babbling, not realising he’d been born into fracture.

If you go…

Frankie never did allow her to finish her sentence, but he knew.

Had felt it in the air of their home.

It all further chipping at the cracks in his heart as he pushed his aviators up his nose, listening to Benny harp on and on about buying cars and trips to Vegas.

No one asked, so he didn’t tell—didn’t share that he wasn’t happy with his lady, that his purpose for doing it was solely on the baby they managed to create in the brief times they didn’t despise one another.

Whatever ruin he’d left their relationship in before he left had worsened by the time he returned. His grief, guilt—and sea of other things—pressed down, almost taking pieces of his height, as well as his confidence.

He was lonely in a different way then.

Standing in an apartment with little to his name—some boxes with Sharpie scratches on, dull walls which needed more than just a lick, and a mattress he’d managed to barter for. The only time he wasn’t lonely was when he picked him up, his reason, his sun, his Luca.

Friday to Sunday every other week, Frankie didn’t think of rain, foliage or Tom. He learnt to make things go silence his mind. He thought of him, focused on him—the little thing he made, loved, adored.

And in between, he worked on his room.

The one that was the largest out of the two, restoring bits and pieces he could find in groups and selling pages, so when he grew up, he didn’t think his dad was the fuck up that he actually was.

If Frankie is out in public past sunset, it's because of Benny.

In the years since the four of them had gotten back, it was Benny who stayed the most in touch.

Will texted, called when he could, his job keeping him on the road, picking up pieces of accents to confuse them all when he returned.

Pope was Pope—both around and not all at once. A text here, a visit there.

It was on Benny’s insistence he’s now in a packed-out room tonight. The air all tinged with fragile masculinity and sweat, as bells rang and people jeered.

He had wanted to ask why he’d begun again, having stopped for a short while when he met her—Ena, his fiancé. But Frankie never got the chance.

Instead, Benny’s arm—hands already wrapped in preparation—came around his shoulders, pulling and turning him in as Frankie fought a grin at another one of the Miller hugs. He doesn’t quite hear him, the crowd choosing the moment to bellow, but as he tuned in as hard as he could, he manages to follow the odd word, and begins to piece bits together from: glad— here—just, wait.

He’d been about to question, clarify, when Ena came into view, and behind her….

You.

Frankie is told your name three times.

Once by Benny, straight into his eardrum.

Second by Ena: clarification added, such as my best friend and to be nice (as if he’s anything but).

Third by you—hand outstretched, sleeves off your jacket rolled up, exposing several bracelets on your wrist that jangle when he shakes it.

Then, you’re suddenly both alone. Benny being all busy, pulling Ena away, practically vibrating with puppy-like energy as she shakes her head and he stares back, grinning.

Seconds build, him taking a sip of his drink, before you clear your throat and say:

“So, do you come often?”

His brow arches almost entirely on its own. His mouth twisting, the edges lifting into a smirk.

Even if Frankie knows what you mean (your question being about the fight—to Benny fighting), it’s hard not to hear it as a line. Something you must also catch onto because your eyes widen, lips curling similarly to his own, and then you whisper: shit.

And he laughs.

Low, throaty—almost like it’s coated in dust from how long it’s been since he has done. In a way, it likely has. It comes from somewhere different from the laughs Luca pulls from him, the ones born from his little movements and toddler oddities.

Before he can even unravel how sad that is, he hears your laugh join the mix—all soft, light and sweet. It makes his ears burn under his hat and curls, your eyes looking around before landing back onto him, making the same heat flood his cheeks.

He waits for it, the tension. Remembering all too well what meeting someone new is like—memories of being introduced to Luca’s mum returning. But, it doesn’t come. The tension never arrives, not slamming into the two of you.

Instead, you talk.

Tell him how your friend invited you to watch her fiancé have his face smashed in—your words, not his—and that you had no other plans so said yes.

To his surprise, he shares too. He tells you how he served with Benny, taking a large sip to fill the silence so you don’t ask him about it.

If you can tell, you don’t mention it. Choosing to begin muttering other things and questions—little things—like who is your money on, what do you do? and his personal favourite, do you think the large man walking out currently knows what the lyrics to his walkout song mean?

With each one, Frankie relaxes and even answers. Interjecting his own, his mouth close to your ear at times, allowing him to capture the scent of your perfume—all jasmine and wisps of vanilla—as you gaze into his eyes as though you’re trying to see into his soul.

He’d let you.

It’s the first solid thought he has when he thinks it, arriving before he realises how dry his throat is, how warm it is under his jacket and shirt—the crowd around them all of a sudden silent, as though they’d been turned down for a moment. Before it all rushes back, overwhelmingly so.

“Do you want another drink?” you ask, pointing to your empty cup—the plastic bending under your thumb and fingers.

He blinks, swallowing. “Think I should be the one buying you one.”

Shrugging, you smile—more playful than anything else. “If you continue to keep me company, I may let you buy me one back.”

It takes Frankie a minute from when you’re out of sight to realise he’s grinning, bringing his own cup to his lips, draining it in one swoop.

You weren’t long, back by his side in under ten minutes.

(Not that he was counting.)

He makes quick work of his phone, stuffing it back into his pocket as he takes the plastic beer from you, fingers lightly brushing yours, pretending he doesn’t feel the flickers of electricity shoot up his hand.

“Guess what?”

Tilting his head for you to continue, he takes a sip of his drink.

“Even if I was given a perfectly good name by my parents, pretty girl is the name the sweaty man—“ your finger pointing to the man licking his lips across at the bar. “—at the bar has given me.”

Frankie grits his jaw—it tightening almost on command.

“I’m flattered, obviously.”

The corners of his lips smirk as you lean a little closer.

“I also kinda told him I’m with you. Which I mean, I am on the one hand, but I implicated it in another way,” you add, staring up at him. “I… I hope that’s okay—he just really gave me—“

Your words fade, fall off into non-existence, because he wraps his hand around your waist. Pulling lightly until your hip nudges his, fanning his fingers out as he watches your eyes fall from his face and your smile seeps into your cheek.

“S’all good, pretty girl,” he says, smirking—watching as your lips curl into one not too dissimilar to his.

Then you’re staring ahead, and Frankie follows suit. Watching from your places as the people around the ring—the ones jumping and raising their arms—begin really shouting, before he feels you wince, flinch and then lean back, his hand tightening on you as one man begins to take punch after punch—

You drag yourself from looking, body almost curling into him, eyes landing on his face.

And it bubbles, the thing he feels he should have said conversations ago. The face from his phone screen sitting behind his eyelids. It burning, clagging in his throat, eroding a hole in his throat—

“I have a kid.”

He had hoped to say it with more tact.

The thought running around his head, whipping, pressing down on him—nipping at him to tell you. As though by not saying it earlier, he’d committed some crime.

Your face blinks, expression smooth—unreadable—before your brows rise slightly, and your face illuminates. “Oh! How old?”

“Three. Almost three—next month.”

You grin. “Do you have pictures?”

He does. More than a few. Something he comments under his breath, and you manage to hear, curling into him even as his hand drops from yours to grab his phone.

It’s easy to tell you about him.

Even if he usually keeps him like a well-guarded secret.

You listen as he explains how he likes to colour, has begun kicking a ball, how he’s obsessed with the colour yellow—which means often, he has fistfuls of flowers from the park—and his name is Luca.

“He has your smile, right?”

It's instant the way he beams, barely a gap between the two of you as he looks to meet your gaze. “Y-yeah...”

Swiping a finger over the screen, you glance at the next photo, finger ready to swipe to the next photo. “What’s his favourite thing to do?”

“Building a fort in the living room, currently.”

“Fairy lights?”

“Of course, I’m not an animal?”

Grinning, you take a sip of your drink. “Just checking. He’s gorgeous, Frankie.”

He has to bite down on his tongue so he doesn’t tell you that you do too.

“I have to ask—“

“We’re not together. His mum and I. Haven’t been for years. Not since... I’m single,” he interrupts.

Then he watches as your lips slowly close before your lips slide into a smirk, eyes dropping to the ground as you take a sip.

Scratching at the curls under the bill of his hat, until he clears his throat. “That… that was what you were gonna ask, right?”

“No,” you say, lifting your gaze back to him. “I was gonna ask when Benny’s fight is—I’ve… I’ve never been to one of these things before.”

“Oh.”

Smirking, you take another sip. “But, good to know I’m not barking up the wrong tree or anything.”

It’s his turn to smirk, then.

“You’re not. At all,” he adds, staring ahead, feeling your eyes on him.

Then he looks at you from the corner of his eye. Spotting you smiling. Lifting your cup to your lips as you try to hide it in foam and beer.

His throat goes dry, impossibly so.

But not because you’ve moved a little closer, elbow brushing his.

Rather because you have the smallest amount of foam on your lip, and he wants nothing more than to lick it from your lips.

Benny wins.

His eye doesn’t look like it, but he has. Ena tries pressing a cup of ice to it, the shade already beginning to purple, as he watches you animatedly tell her all about the man and his walkout song from earlier.

He knows he’s staring—unable to tear his eyes away. Even as Benny takes the cup from his fiancé, letting her talk to you.

Even on the first prod from Benny, Frankie isn’t able to pull his eyes back, only managing to do it on the third when it’s more a pinch than a prod.

“You good?”

“Yeah, man. You?”

Benny smirks, all knowingly. “She’s a nice girl.”

Frankie says nothing, taking a sip.

“Y’deserve nice.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got Luca, though. And y’know how work—”

“Y’deserve nice, Frank,” he repeats.

It’s said more forcibly, all wrapped in more meaning than the first attempt.

His throat goes dry, nodding—dismissing the other buts he had lined up and instead letting it sink in—allows himself a brief moment to consider that he does too.

Before he watches you hug Ena, before throwing a wave at the two of them.

Something extinguishing inside of him, sinking—like a balloon had popped.

Frankie should move. Wants to. Tries too. His feet stuck to the floor as his tongue doubled and his throat tightened. Needing something, a shove or a shout.

He jolts as Benny slaps him on the back.

“Cheers, man.”

“No problem, go get her.”

Connecting his shoulders to others, he tries to part the crowd. Watching, focusing on the top of your head as you make your way through people to the exit—his pulse quickening, palms growing clammy as he unconsciously wipes them on passersby until the cool air hits him, smacks into him.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

He inwardly cringes. So much so that he tries to turn on the spot, head up at the star-speckled sky as he groans internally.

“Pretty girl, huh?”

You’re grinning. All wide and beautiful.

Your fingers playing with the strap of your bag, the other a button on your jacket—a slight tremble, barely noticeable, except he’s been talking to you all night.

“I just thought, if you fancy—y’know—meeting up that doesn’t require watching someone we know getting bruised, text me.”

Your lips slide into a smile, eyes looking down before you dig into your bag, pulling out your phone before unlocking it. It takes mere seconds, adding his number, saving it—handing it back, allowing you the chance to look at what he’d saved himself as.

“The man who owes you a drink, how cute.”

Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he laughs. “Well, I do.”

“I’ll call you.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Tipping his head, he whispers goodnight—something you return, all soft and sweet.

His hand all set to yank open the door, it briefly cracking open, allowing the jeers and bar-sounds to escape into the quiet car park as he feels it—hears it.

Frankie’s hand moves to his pocket, pulling it out—a momentary clench of his heart—until he sees it’s an unknown number. Not a hospital. Just unknown.

“Francisco Mor—”

“It’s me... Pretty girl.”

Doing a 180 on the spot, he spots you—leaning against the back of a small car, one he assumes is your own. Your hand lifting, waving your fingers.

“You said to call if I fancied meeting up, so…”

And he grins again for the billionth time since he met you tonight.

an: i love them, your honor. i love them.

huge thank you to G for just being my sounding board, telling me i can do this and constantly being such a rock. this wouldn't be a thing, it wouldn't be fit to be shared, and i wouldn't have fallen so deep without you. i love you.

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #✨🩷 francisco morales #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #mm: resurrected chances #frankie morales x f!reader

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neon-lights-and-glitter · 3 months

Text

Fight The Feeling Part 15- Vacations & Questions

Summary- Jack surprises you with a trip to the Bahamas after you talk about the engagement ring he had given you from when he wanted to propose.

You were shocked. Jack was going to propose to you. You knew you would have said yes, but you never got to because instead of proposing, he cheated.

After Jack left, you spent the night eating what some might consider too much ice cream, and crying to whatever cheesy rom-com was on TV. Truly giving into what you had wanted to do for most of your pregnancy.

The next day you decided it would be better to talk to Jack sooner rather than later due to his upcoming White Men Can’t Jump promotion.

Jack came over as soon as you called him, both of you sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

“Why did you cheat if you were going to propose?” You asked you had had a similar conversation before, but you wanted to know what changed.

“I mean, it’s the same thing I told you before, I guess I can go into more detail if you want?”

“Yeah, I think I want you to,” You told Jack, you weren’t sure you wanted to know, but you felt that you needed to.

“Alexa found out that I was going to propose to you. Urban later told me that he thinks she was listening in on a conversation I had with him about it. After that, she tried to convince me that you were cheating on me. I know how stupid I was for even entertaining the idea, but remember that one fight we had about the time I invited some friends to stay with us for a couple of days that I had off but you just wanted to relax for the weekend?” Jack asked and you nodded.

“It was after that fight that she really got into my head. I know it’s not an excuse, but she leaned into the rumors you were dating that one model. I knew they weren’t true, but then you were pictured with Urban getting lunch. She had to have known it was Urban, and I should have, but I was stupid and I just assumed it was someone else when she didn’t tell me it was Urban. From there it just progressed into me knowing I was going to lose you, so I just, didn’t stop,” Jack explained and you sighed softly.

“Thank you for being honest with me. I really appreciate it,” You admitted. “Just so you know, if you hadn’t cheated, I would have said yes,” You said and Jack smiled to himself.

“What did you think about the ring? Did I do good picking it out?” Jack asked, both of you laughing softly.

“Yes, it’s really pretty, I’ll be keeping it for sure,”

“So, I was thinking,” Jack said. “I might have booked us a little baby moon to the Bahamas. You’re done with work until after the baby comes, I’m basically done since I’m doing no promo for the album and I just have a few virtual interviews to do for the movie, so I thought it would be good for us to get away for a few days.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised. Jack nodded.

“Yeah, I figured we always used to go there when we were dating, so we should go one more time, just us two before we go as a family.”

“Oh, you’re already planning family vacations?” You teased Jack and he laughed.

“Maybe.”

A couple of days later you and Jack had landed in the Bahamas.

Jack didn’t plan much for this trip, he wanted it to be relaxing, not a trip full of excursions. He had only planned one thing.

The day you landed was spent at the house Jack had rented, a lot of naps, laying out by the pool and you took a relaxing bath. The second day, you and Jack ventured out to the city, doing a little shopping before making your way to the beach for the rest of the day.

The third day was when Jack had made plans. The first half of the day was spent relaxing before you and Jack got ready for a dinner reservation he had made.

Jack had a driver pick you both up from the house and drive you to a restaurant that was on the beach. Jack reserved all of the outside beach seating for the two of you. You and Jack were led to your table, there was a bouquet of flowers lying in your seat, along with candles surrounding your table.

Jack stepped forward to grab the flowers and pull out your chair before you could.

“These are for you,” Jack said, handing you the flowers, you smiled as you took them.

“Thank you,” You said as you kissed Jack on the cheek. You sat down and put the flowers to the side after admiring them. “This feels a lot like a date,” You said teasingly.

“And how would you feel if it was?” Jack asked nervously.

“I’d like that.”

“Good. I was hoping we could kind of start over.”

“Well, I think it’s about eight months too late to start over,” You teased and Jack laughed softly.

“Not even start over, just take things slow, but get back to date nights and things like that.”

“I think we should too,” You smiled as the waiter came over to take your orders, and you waited for him to walk away before speaking again. “You know, when I found out it was you I was fake dating, I thought this was going to be the worst thing ever. I think that if anything, it brought us closer.”

“If I was told a couple of months ago that I would be sitting across from you on a date, I wouldn’t have believed it,” Jack said, both of you laughing.

“Me neither,” You agreed.

The rest of dinner with Jack made you feel like you used to. Of course, you already knew you loved Jack, but you didn’t realize how much you missed the small things, your inside jokes, and, how Jack would laugh at any of your jokes, no matter how stupid they were. You’re relationship finally felt like it was back to how it used to be.

After dinner, it was starting to get late so you and Jack went to the car to get your jackets and you put your flowers in the car. You decided to take a walk on the beach.

You walked hand in hand, making small talk when Jack stopped walking, making you turn to him.

“Is something wrong?” You asked and Jack shook his head.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” He reassured you. “I wasn’t planning on doing this here, and honestly, I didn’t have any plans for this, but it feels right. Our relationship is weird right now, we’re together, but not officially. So, I thought I’d change that. Will you officially be my girlfriend again?” Jack asked and you nodded.

“Of course, I will,” You smiled, and you and Jack kissed, wrapping your arms around each other before continuing your walk on the beach.

While you were in the Bahamas, Jack had planned for the nursery in your apartment to be completed. He knew it was something you were stressed out about and he knew what you wanted it to look like. Jack got some of his friends to put the nursery together.

You and Jack walked into your apartment after you got home from the Bahamas.

“Okay, so, I have a surprise for you,” Jack said as he set your bags down.

“What now?” You teased, Jack laughed and grabbed your hand, leading you to the nursery.

“I got some help on the nursery while we were away,” Jack said as he opened the door, revealing a nursery that was as close as he could get to the pictures you had been sending to him.

“Jack you didn’t,” You said, your eyes tearing up. “Thank you so much,” You looked around. You wanted to keep things fairly neutral since you were renting your apartment and you had been recently thinking of buying a house. You still wanted pops of color in the decor and Jack had pulled it off.

“I might have had a little help from a designer, but I came up with most of it by myself, and then my friends came and put everything together,” Jack admitted. You wrapped your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down for a kiss.

“Thank you so much, I love it.”

“I’m glad you do, and I’m glad I can call you my girlfriend again,” Jack kissed you again.

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