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lovebugism · 10 months

Note

can i request something with a reader who’s just really into steve’s scoops ahoy uniform?

hi, my love! thanks so much for your request!! what better way to celebrate july 4th (aka stranger things 3 day) than by commemorating steve harrington in his scoops ahoy uniform? tw for smut mdni!! (2.1k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

When Steve told you he got a job slinging ice cream at the mall downtown, you didn’t think much of it.

In fact, you spent the better part of that conversation comforting him. It was an existential crisis of sorts, wherein he’d spun himself into a panic about not going to college, not being successful, and not providing for you in the way that partners are supposed to.

You figured it was a bruise to the ego more than anything — especially with his asshole father constantly looming over his shoulder. A steady reminder of what he could’ve been in ways more daunting than just one.

But then he showed you the Scoops Ahoy mandated uniform, held it in his hands with all the boyish reluctance of a child. According to him, the bright blue sailor’s outfit was the most dehumanizing thing of it all. It even came with its own stupid hat.

You were so turned on by the idea of him wearing it, you forgot you were supposed to be consoling him. You quickly forgot why the job was ever a bad idea in the first place. Steve, albeit a bit confused by your sudden giddiness, was more excited to go into work the following Monday when he knew you were visiting him the first chance you got.

You’re practically skipping when you walk into Scoops, skirt swishing around your thighs. It was later in the morning, which meant business was relatively slow. There’s an older couple sharing a sundae at one of the booths, but other than that, you’re the only customer in the store.

Steve stands at the register with a smile on his face he doesn’t know is there. He’s been a real grouch all morning, but he’s forgotten why at the sight of you.

You beam at him, propping your elbows on the counter and putting your chin in your hands. “Do the line,” you gush.

His chest inflates with a deep breath in, then deflates with a sharp exhale. You don’t even notice that it’s a sigh of annoyance at first, too focused on the scarlet tie around his shoulders and the tufts of chest hair peeking out from the top of it.

“Ahoy, sweetheart,” he greets, still grinning despite his lack of enthusiasm. He tilts his head to his shoulder and recites his line: “‘Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me today? I’ll be your captain’— How was that?”

“Even better in uniform,” you marvel in a lilt. Then you squint at him. “I better be the only customer you’re using that sweetheart line on, though, Harrington.”

Steve scoffs like the thought of saying it to anyone else is appalling. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in the world I’ve ever called sweetheart, sweetheart.”

“Good. I plan on it staying that way.”

The boy smiles to himself.

He likes when you get all possessive. Maybe because he spent the majority of his past relationships having to be the jealous one — always worried about never being good enough, being left. He likes how confident he is in the fact that you only have eyes for him. Even if he is wearing a stupid sailor’s uniform.

“What do you what, huh?” the boy asks as he pulls out his metal scoop from the apron tied around his hips. “Choco-mint with chocolate sprinkles?”

He’s already spooning the green ice cream onto a cone for you before you say a word. You like that you never have to tell him what you want, that he knows you like the back of his hand already.

“Ooh. He looks good in a sailor’s outfit, and he’s attentive?” you singsong lowly. “I think you might be a keeper, Steve Harrington.”

The boy rolls his eyes as he turns away from you. He walks to the opposite wall, where several containers of variously colored sprinkles sit in a large tub. When he bends over to smother your cone in the chocolate kind, the white hem of his shorts climbs up his thighs. You almost forget to breathe.

Steve turns around to catch you staring. You don’t even blink.

“Stop ogling at me,” he laughs with pink cheeks. “It’s getting weird, babe.”

Your brows pinch. “Why is it weird to look at my boyfriend?”

“Because your boyfriend looks like an idiot. Like, this should not be turning you on, sweetheart.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Stevie,” you shrug with a whimsical sigh.

He meets your smirk with a half-hearted scowl and passes you the ice cream cone. When your tongue darts out to taste it, his brain malfunctions for a moment. “Seriously, babe,” he scoffs when his senses return to him. “What about any of this is attractive to you?”

Your head tilts as you scan his muscular form, looking far more boyish than usual in his flamboyant uniform. “Well, for starters, those ankle socks are strangely sexy—”

Steve snorts at the offbeat start to your list.

“—And your thighs look delectable in those shorts. Your arms do, too. You’ve been working out so much, they barely fit in those sleeves,” you compliment. The corner of your mouth quirks into a half-smile as your eyes flit up to his hair. “Also, something about the hat and ascot combo is really doing it for me.”

Robin comes out of the break room then. The door swishes back and forth. “You could’ve just said everything and be done with it,” she grouses as she clumsily sits her white cap on her head.

She looks about as grumpy as Steve, like something about the linoleum tile and fluorescent lighting is sucking the lives out of the two of them.

“Don’t worry. You look hot too, Buckley,” you promise with a smirk.

Her head tilts sweetly to the side as she musters a grin of her own. “Thank you.”

You turn back to Steve with an expectant gaze. “When do you go on break again?”

He twists his wrist to check his watch as you take another lick of your ice cream cone.

Robin answers for him. “Now, preferably.”

“What?” the boy asks with furrowed brows. “I still have, like, fifteen minutes left.”

“Just go fuck and get it over with,” she groans, ocean-blue eyes wide and pleading. “I can practically smell the sexual tension radiating off both of you.”

Steve wants to argue, but you only smile. You nod your head towards the exit. “C’mon, sailor.”

He has no choice but to follow behind you. He’s been doing it for years now, and you haven’t disappointed him once. You lead him by his hand through the bustling mall, chucking your half-eaten cone into the bin when you reach the entrance.

Steve isn’t surprised when you wind up at his car in the employee parking section. He swirls with a boyish excitement, anyway.

Everything feels so new with you.

Even the things he’s done a thousand times.

Including, but not limited to, fucking you in the backseat of his car.

You’re on him the second you shut the door behind you. Your skirt bunches at your hips as you straddle his thighs, kissing him with the intent to swallow him whole.

Steve’s hands are limp at his sides in shock. It leaves you doing most of the work yourself, pulling down his blue shorts and gray underwear in one fell swoop. You tuck the hem of them beneath his heavy balls and half-hard cock.

His head falls back against the seat when you start fisting him completely stiff.

You twist your wrist in the way you know he likes — squeezing him towards the top before falling to the stem of his cock again. Your thumb swipes over his bulbous head to collect the pearly pre-come beading there.

If you had enough room in the backseat of his Beamer, you might’ve forgone the sex entirely and just taken him into your mouth right then.

Steve’s rosy mouth falls agape to billow pretty little moans for you. You tug on the red tie around his neck to get his attention again. His glazed-over, honey eyes flutter open to find your smirking face.

“Can I take a ride on your ocean of flavor, Stevie?” you tease with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“It’s ‘set sail,’ but yeah— shit,” he swears when your thumb grazes his leaking tip again. “Of course, you can, sweetheart…”

With his consent, you grip the bottom of his cock, pushing your panties to the side to line him with your pulsating entrance. He might’ve asked if you wanted a little preparation first, but when his silky head grazes your satin walls, he knows you’re more than wet.

Your pussy’s already drooling all over him, and he isn’t even inside you yet.

The both of you exhale low moans when you finally slip him within you. Your walls are warm and wet — the softest velvet imaginable, and perfectly snug around his achingly hard cock. You keep your fingers wrapped around the tie on his chest, using it for leverage as you grind your hips back and forth over his thighs.

Steve goes pussy drunk almost instantly, babbling like crazy at the feeling of your cunt sucking him further and further inside of you.

“Oh, my fucking god, baby,” he moans, the words sounding stiff as they spill from his tightening throat. “You feel so good. So tight, too— Shit. Pussy’s drooling all over me, sweetheart.”

He can’t see you from this angle — can’t see the way your dripping cunt takes him so well or the way your ass glides perfectly over his heavy balls. But he can picture it, can feel your slick drenching his pubic hair and happy trail.

He so desperately wishes it were possible to fuck you with his cock and have you ride his face at the same time. His mouth waters at the thought of tasting you.

But this is good for now.

This is perfect.

With the energy he’s got left from his drifting senses, he grips the plush of your ass. He spreads your flesh apart, and the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin makes you clench around him. He almost loses it, then — when the smacking of your thighs and the wet squelch of your drenched pussy fills the small car, going slowly cloudy with your entwining heavy breaths.

“You’re so hot, Stevie,” you manage through labored pants. Your heavy-lidded gaze threatens to close, but you don’t want to stop looking at the boy below you. You want to commit all his features to memory — his pink kiss-bitten mouth, reddened cheeks, and honeyed eyes. You want the image of his fucked-out features to stain your mind forever.

“God, babe,” he sighs breathlessly, a moan mixed with a soft laugh. “I still don’t— I really don’t get it, sweetheart.”

“Are you seriously complaining?” you smirk as you glide your hips over his thighs again.

Your swollen clit catches the polyester of the bottom of his shirt. You swear your eyes cross as your mouth opens in a low keen.

When your pussy clenches at the ethereal feeling, his cock jerk within your tightening velvet. Both of you are nearing your orgasms full throttle now. You can almost taste the sweet vanilla of your climax.

“No. Fuck no, I’m not complaining,” he assures with a shake of his head. “You’re just really fucking confusing and really fucking hot... Fuck—”

His head falls back again, exposing the golden tendons of his neck. You’d bite at them if you could stop looking at him. You smile even though he’s not looking at you — even though your thighs are burning and your knee is digging into the seat belt latch. “I can’t wait to fuck you when you get off.”

“Yeah?” he hums, eyes still halfway closed.

“Yeah,” you repeat with a nod, still rocking against his lap while his cock rubs relentlessly at the deepest parts of you. Your clit catches his shirt with every pass of your hips, sending a white-hot feeling of nearly unbearable pleasure shooting up your spine. “So I can get a real good look at you while you fuck me in this uniform.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his jaw clenches. He tries not to come at the sound of your voice and how the words spill like honey from your mouth.

Despite the less-than-ideal location — at the edges of a mostly empty lot — he doesn’t want this to be over quite yet. He wants to feel you gush on his cock over and over and over again. He’s afraid he won’t be able to focus on work until you do.

If he knew that slinging ice cream for three dollars an hour in a stupid sailor’s outfit would drive you this crazy, he would’ve dropped out of school and put in an application forever ago.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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sykostyles · 2 months

Text

let you love me 1.0

wc: 3.3k summary: in which y/n is a 26 year old bakery owner and she can't quite get this whole "love" thing right; settling on finding solace in being alone. One day, Jackson Cole: an egotistical, but oh so charismatic professional quarterback comes along and swears he can change her mind.. and for a while he does. nearly two years of breaking down her walls.. but they seem to argue about one thing a lot. y/n's "negativity". she swears she's not trying ro be a pessimist.. it just works out better for her if she keeps her expectations low. But what happens when she meets a handsome stranger, who wants nothing more than to see her smile? Will she push everything away again or will she finally accept the love she deserves? or ; tldr sunshine!harry x grumpy! afab reader part two, three, extra

a/n: firstly, I need to thank @freedomfireflies for being so kind, and accepting, and encouraging.. and so many other wonderful adjectives.. but seriously, thank you for giving me the courage to just take the plunge and write the damn thing. anddd for being my beta reader!! getting mother fireflies' stamp of approval has to mean its worthy for everyone else to see.. right? welcome to my first story! please do tell if you enjoyed! (there will be more to this, I'm working on it now <3)

cw: this story contains suggestive and explicit language, minor descriptions of violence, and verbal abuse. please do not continue if these topics upset you!

You knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. You weren’t sure why you thought this time would be any different. Because he was somebody? Because he had a title? Or was it because he showed a genuine interest in you? Was it because he made the effort unlike most of your previous partners? You weren’t sure. The only thing you were sure of? This time, it hurt. A lot.

You curse yourself as you walk hastily back to get back to your car at the far end of the parking lot. Jackson had a lot of nerve asking you to bring him his practice bag all the way from your apartment, to then basically dump you in the stadium corridor. As you’re rounding the final corner to finally escape the thickening air in the stadium, you’re completely lost in your thoughts, thinking back to the conversation you had just left behind..

“Hey, baby, thanks for bringing that. Coach was about to have my ass again.” Jackson breathes out as he sees you round the corner near the locker rooms. He takes the bag from your grasp, and places his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you into his front. Your hands instinctively reach for the nape of his neck; nimble fingers tangle in his wet hair at the base.

“Oh, but of course! Who would I be to not close up my shop early, again. Run all the way home to get your bag, again. Run all the way here just to step in and save the day for my big, strong man? Again.” You giggle, leaning up for a kiss.

That’s how it’s always been. Y/N is as sarcastic and as teasing as they come. She explains it as “playful bullying” and swears she doesn’t mean anything by it. She has genuine feelings in there somewhere, but she thinks nobody but her needs to know that. She just chooses to portray her affection in rather questionable ways.. In speaking terms, if she’s not being “mean” to you, she doesn’t like you. But she’s tried so hard to get better at it. She swears.

“Do you really have to do that now?” Jackson asks, tilting his head out of the way, dodging your kiss. You look up at him with shocked eyes.

“Do what? Save your ass? As you so graciously put it.” You say, rolling your eyes, attempting to kiss your boyfriend for a second time.

“No, Y/N, that.” He says, trying to pull from your grasp, rejecting you yet again.

“Jackson, I’m not following. Use your words.” you say, turning his head to force him to keep eye contact.

He wasn’t running from this when you spent forty minutes of your evening bringing him his bag for the umpteenth time in your relationship. Not to mention the possible business you're missing out on by closing early. Again.

“Oh my god, you’re still doing it! You’re talking to me like I’m stupid.” he says, stepping back again, attempting to free himself from your hold.

You stand there, stunned.

“He really is like all the others..” flashes in your mind.

“In what world is me teasing you about bringing you your practice bag, again, insinuating that you’re stupid?” You ask, reaching up to cup his face. “Forgetful? Maybe.” Your thumb making its way across the apple of his cheek

“See, you can't even make one single statement without attacking my character, even when you’re trying to explain yourself.”

“I’m not trying to explain myself, Jackson, I’m trying to understand what you’re talking about. And I’m not attacking your character, Jacky, I’m just teasing you. You know that.”

“You’re always like this. I can’t deal with this right now.” He says, grabbing your wrist, pulling your touch from his face.

“Can’t deal with what? Jackson, I haven’t done anything. Are you having a bad day or something? You were fine this morn– ” You start to say, tugging your wrist from his grasp.

“Just– Go home. I can’t deal with you right now, okay? I have a practice to get to.” He says, turning to walk into the locker room, but is stopped dead in his tracks..

“Jackson Wyatt Cole, you are not just going to walk away from this right now! You can’t just spout this nonsense and then turn into a child when asked to explain yourself. Now, either explain yourself or find someone else to bring you your bag the next time you forget it.” You seethe.

His head ticks to the side before he slowly turns to face you. Seeing the face you’d grown to love over the last nearly two years shouldn’t scare you, but in this moment you did not recognize him.

“You have got to be the definition of ungrateful.” Oh, he wants to do this now?

“For the greater part of two years I have given you everything and you still think you can talk to me like that?” Jackson starts to raise his voice, noticing the growing audience in the locker room hallway, and the curious gazes from all directions. Please don’t do this now..

“You’re always so mean to me. You know that?” I swear I don’t mean to be..

“You make me question every choice I make.” I’m just an overthinker, I don’t mean anything by it..

“Even the other girlfriends and wives ask how I deal with your attitude." Okay, ouch.

“You don’t think before you speak, it makes you look so rude.” That one’s true.. I’m trying, I promise..

“You’re so unbelievably condescending when someone tries to make friends with you.” I’m sorry.. I swear I don't mean anything by it..

“You think you’re right in every instance, including now. You could have just given me my bag, gotten a kiss and been on your way. But no, you’re here, holding me up, by being a right bitch. So, maybe I should find someone else, because all I can see right now is someone I’m not sure I want to waste my time and effort on anymore.” Okay.. wow. Um. Alright.. Lay it all out in front of your teammates, why don’t you?

You just let him sit there and berate you. Like a child.

That was it. He’d broken through that exterior. That rock solid exterior that you’d spend years building up. It all came tumbling down with just a few words from someone you thought you loved; someone you thought finally loved you. This is what it always came down to when you argued; your inability to see how great things were around you, always settling on the negative sides of things. Always responding with snarky comments, never meeting anyone elses enthusiasm, etc. Normally, you’d be able to hold your own and fight back, but he was using your insecurities and anxieties against you, with an audience nonetheless! How did harmless teasing turn into this?

“I’m.. s-sorry, Jacky.” You finally choked out, tears threatening to spill over. You wanted to stand here and keep arguing. “I’m not any of those things!” You want to yell. But deep down, you know that you are. Not by your own choice though. Through years of failed relationships and tainted family ties, you had become this person. You became this angry, pessimistic, shell of a girl who really only wanted to love, and to be loved, but you had no idea how to really do either of those things.

You never intended to turn out this way; it just happened.

And it just makes it easier in situations like this..

Right?

“Go home, Y/N. We’ll talk later.’ Jackson sighs, leaving you in the corridor.

Rounding that corner in the parking lot, you don’t even spare a glance and end up walking right into the broad chest of a man. Hands reach up and grasp your shoulders, keeping you from toppling over. Your hands shoot up, grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

“Woah there, love. I gotcha.” you hear.

Looking up, you’re met with the loveliest emerald eyes you’d ever seen. A smile, that should be illegal to be that bright.. And the jawline? Don’t even get me started! But, with your current state, you couldn’t have cared less in that moment what he looked like.

You slowly straightened up, dropping your grasp on his jacket.

“Sorry.” you stated, your eyes looking anywhere but his face. “You can let go now.”

“My apologies, Love.” The man says, letting his hold on your shoulders go. He studies you for a moment, glancing over the features of your face. Taking in your flushed cheeks, teary and swollen eyes, and your all but quivering bottom lip.

You roll your eyes at his use of the moniker again.

“Don’t call me that.” You mutter, glancing around, noticing the band of guys trailing behind this stranger.

He chuckles, “Well, what should I call you? M’ Harry, by the way.” He asks, reaching inside his jacket, he grabs a tissue and holds it out towards you.

“Does it matter?” You bite out, ignoring his gesture. “I’m kind of in a hurry, here. So if you don’t mind.” You say, starting to walk around him. “This is exactly what Jackson was talking about.” you think to yourself.

But you deter none, and continue your journey to your car. Once inside, the tears just flow.

Jackson was supposed to be different. He’s the one who sought you out after all.

He met you when he was picking up a cake his dad ordered for his mothers birthday.

He was smitten ever since.

Made all the efforts to make you feel special. Stopped in your bakery every single day to bring you coffee from your favorite shop down the street. Flowers were delivered constantly; especially since you mentioned that yellow tulips were your favorite.

“I don’t really date anymore.” You admitted when he’d asked you to let him take you out for the thousandth time.

“Too many bad experiences?” He questions.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You frowned, thinking back on a few of them.

Eventually, he slowly started to break down your walls and swore he’d change your mind. Even went so far as to listen to your worries and promised to face them with you..

But here he was, using them against you; just like everyone else did.

What you didn’t know, the moment you were out of sight, the man that you had left standing there turned to his assistant on his right,

“Ryan, was that the woman arguing with Cole?”

“Indeed, sir. Would you like her banned from stadium grounds for speaking to you like that?” Ryan asks, pulling his phone from his jacket.

“On the contrary, Ryan.” I intend to put a smile back on her face. “Please, get me her information.”

“Right away, Mr. Styles.”

Getting back to your apartment was a task in and of itself, considering it's hard to see when you’re bawling your eyes out. Walking in, you’re immediately met with the dread of Jackson eventually coming home.

You shed yourself of your jacket, and set your keys down on the counter. Glancing around the kitchen, you stop your gaze on the vase of flowers that was delivered to you just two mornings ago. Approaching the counter, you pick up the card stuck to the front of the vase.

“Saw these and thought of you. Hope they brighten your day a little. Have a great day, my love. -Jackson”

What had happened in the last two days?

What had happened since this morning?

You sat there immediately picking apart every interaction you’ve had with him over the time span.. You thought everything was fine. He usually loved your playful banter. He never complained before about your snide tongue when it came to him. He claimed it was one of his favorite things about you..

What changed since this morning?

“Okay, tough guy, I get it, you’re the boss.” You chuckle, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Although you don’t make it very far before you’re tugged right back down, being caged in by the man above you, sending you into a fit of giggles

“Oh, princess, I don't think you do.” Jackson says, sliding his hand up your side before settling on the side of your neck.

“Princess? Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to be a prince?”

“Does that bother you?” He questions.

“Well, considering you’re more of a frog than a prince, I don’t think it’s very accurate”

“What did you just call me?” He asks, wrapping his fingers lightly around the front of your throat. A sly smile forms on his face at the feeling of your breath hitching beneath his fingertips.

“A frog. Do you want me to spell it for you, baby?” You quip, smirking as you feel him increase the pressure on the sides of your throat.

“You’re going to forget how to spell your own name by the time I'm done with you, brat.”

“Mm, is that a threat or a promise, tough guy?” You challenge, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair.

“I’ll let you decide, princess.” He says, claiming your lips in a searing kiss.

Normally he could go back and forth with you without a thought. Did he not find it playful anymore? Was he repulsed by you now? Did he really want to find someone else?

He was fine this morning!

You were driving yourself crazy. You weren’t sure you wanted to fight anymore. Not just fight with him, but fight for him. You sat back and thought more about what exactly he’d said to you. “Even the other wives and girlfriends ask how I deal with your attitude.”

So were you the topic of conversation a lot? Was your inability to act like the other (mostly) fake girlfriends and wives a problem?

Were you really that big of a problem?

You knew you could be a handful, but you never thought it would be like this.

Luckily for you, your bakery still has an apartment unit upstairs. Your old bed was currently calling your name, so, you made a drastic decision at that moment and you were going to stick to it.

You were going to remove yourself from the situation before it could get turned into anything else. It was time to run. Not that you were going to run far, just away from whatever this was turning into, no matter how much it hurt in this moment

Eventually, you stood and walked to your shared bedroom. You grabbed your carry-on suitcase, which was always packed for the times you were given no notice about accompanying Jackson to an away game, and you retreated back into the living room.

You grabbed a notebook and a pen from Jackson’s office, and had a seat at the kitchen island. Just as you were about to start writing what you were thinking, the front door swung open and in walked Jackson.

“H-hey.” you squeaked out, dropping your pen on the counter.

“Mm, hey.” he responds, dropping his bag on the counter next to you. He walks towards the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and walking back to be across from you at the island.

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding his chin towards the open notebook in front of you, seeing “Jackson,” written at the top. “You writing me an apology letter?”

You scoffed, “I’m sorry?”

“Well that’s a start. Keep going.” He grins.

“I’m not, that’s no-“ you start, but his anger bubbles over and he’s already interrupting you, waving his hand in the air to silence you.

“You’re going to sit there and tell me that you’re not going to apologize to me? For causing a scene in front of my teammates? In front of Coach? The owner? The other girlfriends?”

“Is that what this is about? What other people think of me? You’re always bringing up what the other girlfriends think.” Tears begin welling in the corners of your eyes, once again.

It is true that you’re nothing like the other girlfriends and wives of the players. Most of them are that cookie cutter, instagram influencer type. Meanwhile, your instagram is full of cakes, and cookies, and other endless pastries. The ones you spend 70% of your life perfecting to sell in your bakery. So what you tend you keep to yourself? It’s better than hanging around the Brittany’s and the Madison’s (no hate, ya'lls names just got a bad rep) all the time and hearing gossip about people you don’t know, or care about. You keep it curtly polite in public and mind your business in private. What’s so wrong with that?

“Some of them think you’re rude.”

“Some of them need to get a sense of humor.” You mumble, fidgeting in your seat.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You have no idea how irritating you are. It’s like you constantly have to have the last word.” He all but yells, pointer finger in your face. “And don’t get me started on the constant need for reassurance. You have no idea how exhausting that is. You’re just so.. negat-“

“That’s enough. You’re actually insane.” You interrupted, standing to leave.

He was just trying to dig the knife in at this point. The thoughts of the argument in the stadium corridor long gone.

Jackson notices your carry-on settled by your feet. “What’re you doing with that?” he asks, standing from his seat.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you say, grabbing the handle “You said yourself you thought finding someone else was a good idea, so i’m doing the hard part for you. Now you can go get one of those other professional girlfriends that you seem to want so bad.”

With every word you said, he slowly got closer to you, each word irritating him further. Once he reaches you, his hands grip your shoulders, spinning you to face him.

“I don’t know where you seem to get off,” he starts, grasping your chin in a firm hold, “but this attitude of yours stops today. Do I make myself clear? I’ve given you everything. The least you could do is act a little grateful.” He states, dropping his hold on your chin. He maneuvers himself around you, grabbing the handle of your carry-on, but you don’t let go.

“I’m through being talked to this way.” You say, yanking your carry-on towards you. “You knew how I was from the beginning. If you didn’t like the way I was, you shouldn’t have pursued me.”

“You don’t have anywhere to go. You’re too.. rough to be loved by anyone else. I’m the best thing you’ve got.” He says pulling the suitcase back towards him. “I’ll just have to shape you into the person you should be.”

You’re just having a full on tug of war game at this point. “Do you even hear yourself? The person I should be? What is that supposed to mean?”

“More.. obedient. You constantly embarrass me with your attitude in front of people. Important people, might I add.”

“Jackson, you really are insane. You think that just because you’re some big shot quarterback that you have any right to treat me this way?”

“Treat you what way? The same way you treat me?” He sneers, moving closer to tower over you.

“If you think me teasing you about forgetting your fucking practice bag all the time is the same as using my genuine fears and anxieties against me then you really are insane. Keep the suitcase then.” You say, letting go as he’s pulling it again.

You’d find a way to replace everything you’d be leaving behind.

“If you walk out that door, you’re done; we’re done.” Jackson says as he’s hot on your trail.

“Is that a promise?” You ask before slamming the door behind you.

You were startled by the sound of shattering glass. Knowing Jackson, he’d just sent the vase of flowers that adorned the counter straight into the door as you slammed it shut.

Assuming this, only solidified your decision further.

You were done.

With relationships.

For good.

Right?

a/n 2.0: thank you for reading this far! I honestly can't believe all of these words came from the thing inside my skull! I swear that thing is broken more often than not.. but seriously! thank you for reading! please go give my dear @freedomfireflies some love from me as well <3

please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed!

#mdni & dividers both by @/cafekitsune #harry styles #harry imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader

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izvmimi · 1 year

Text

cw: crack, fluff, insecure bakugou. izuku and shoto have unnamed female partners.

“Are you good?”

Izuku doesn’t hear him the first time, and Katsuki makes a grunt of frustration before raising his voice again to repeat the question.

“What the hell is going on with you, Deku?”

Izuku startles slightly at the question as he zips his duffel bag closed then turns to his friend/coworker. His left arm is still bent with his hand rubbing his flank, just as he has periodically for the past hour.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you acting like you have the spine of an eighty-year-old?” Katsuki inquires, closing his own locker. Izuku gives him a look of confusion initially, then his eyebrows raise as he connects the dots.

“Oh, yeah my back hurts a bit. The couch we have isn’t that comfortable.”

“Couch?”

Shoto looks up, still hunched over tying his shoelaces, also curious. Izuku notices his sudden interest and laughs, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, uh... ___ had a dream that I was cheating and-”

Bakugou grimaces and cuts in. “So you slept on the couch?”

Izuku’s embarrassed laughter worsens. “Well it’s easier to just do that than to explain to her that she doesn’t have premonition...”

Katsuki sighs and rolls his eyes, not intending to inquire further about his friend’s girlfriend’s insane behavior, but Shoto suddenly snorts as he stands up. Surprised, the other two glance at him.

“And why are you laughing?” Katsuki is the first to ask.

Shoto slings his far-too-expensive gym bag over his shoulder, smiling.

“Because for once I actually get this sentiment.”

Katsuki raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean you get it?”

As Shoto leads the way out of the agency locker room, Shoto explains that the last time he slept on the couch had a similar tone -

“Apparently there’s a wrong way to answer ‘would you love me if i were a worm’?”

Izuku frowns.

“Yeah, you should have dodged that..”

“I mean, she did curl up next to me afterwards to sleep so it was okay... eventually... after a lot of tears.”

Shoto and Izuku laugh while Katsuki follows along, suddenly realizing he’s the only one who might be left out of the experience of having an insane partner. The elevator down to the garage opens, and the three step out with Katsuki still lost in thought.

“Wait, they both act like this?” he asks.

Izuku and Shoto exchange a look then shrug.

“I guess love makes you a little ridiculous,” Izuku offers. Shoto grins in agreement and suddenly Katsuki has the sudden feeling that he’s losing.

---

When Katsuki shows up to your apartment an hour, you can practically feel the tension in the air, emanating from the deep frown on his face.

You raise an eyebrow at him as he makes eye contact with you, wondering what the problem is this time. It’s not that he’s never been prickly coming home, but usually he softens when you greet him; this time however, you welcome him home and he gives you a less than enthusiastic response before dropping off his keys on the counter and running to the bathroom.

You give him 2 minutes to do his business and flush, then when he comes out decide to deal with his pouting gently.

“What’s the problem, baby?” There’s a tiny bit of playfulness in the way you reach for his cheeks and pat them, and he leans into your touch, even if he’s grumpy. Placing his hands on yours, he asks, completely seriously,

“Don’t you have something silly to ask me?”

Your hands drop from his face slowly and you tilt your head to the side, slow-blinking.

“What?”

He takes your hands and replaces them back on his cheeks, an action that almost brings you to laughter but you opt instead to remain serious.

“Don’t you wanna ask me if I’d marry you in every lifetime or something?”

You watch him stunned then laugh.

“What is this about?”

He pouts.

“Do you even get jealous over me?”

The two of you watch each other in silence as you take this in, and then you burst into laughter for real, unable to hold it in.

“Katsuki-” you start between giggles, “- what’s this about?”

“You’re not crazy enough about me,” he finally admits, then his hands lower for his arms to wrap around your waist, pressing you flush to him.

You give him a sly look.

“So you’re giving me permission to be crazy?” you ask. A finger is pressed to his chest and you draw circles on it. As you look up at him furtively, your teeth now biting your lower lip in mischief, he wonders if he’s making a mistake.

And yet he takes your fingers in his hands and kisses them.

“Yes.”

You giggle and pull back, putting your hands on your hips.

“Have you considered that you might be the crazy one?” you tease.

And that goes over fine at the moment when he hugs you and kisses you and decides to move on to dinner, but it’s an idea that suddenly plagues him in the middle of the night.

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it...

He turns over to you in bed and nudges you. Your eyes creak open and he looks positively distressed, as he asks:

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #thoughts: bakugou #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes

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gay-dorito-dust · 11 months

Note

Could you do Hobie Brown x Male!Reader that’s a spider person with glasses? And Hobie has never seen him without glasses so they squabble over it for a bit until Hobie ultimately wins. Only to be absolutely ENAMORED once seeing him. Also they’re boyfriends! :D

‘For the last time no, you know as well as the next guy that I can’t see shit without my glasses.’ You told your boyfriend for what felt like the fifth time that day because for whatever reasoning he had, Hobie had been asking to see you without your glasses on for a while now, you didn’t understand why that was nor why it’d matter how you looked without your glasses. It defiantly didn’t make matters any better when you would confront him about it, only for Hobie to surf his shoulders followed with an ‘is it illegal to not see my pretty partner’s face?’ To which you responded with, ‘but you see my face all the time regardless of whether or not I’m wearing my glasses. So why now the sudden intrigue?’

‘It’ll only be for a quick sec pretty boy, it’s not like I’m asking you to throw them away for good.’ Hobie tried to convince you as he leaned himself against the doorway of your bedroom, arms folded over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles, even within his own home Hobie always managed to look effortlessly cool. You couldn’t help but scoff, ‘yeah right, coming from the person who makes an constant effort in keeping my glasses case clamped shut with his webs.’ You crossed your arms over your chest as you stared Hobie down. ‘Then when I asked for his help, all he tells me is to ‘wait for the webbing to dissolve.’

‘Sounds like my kind of guy. You should introduce us sometime.’ Hobie said with a coy smile and you couldn’t help but smile, deciding to play along, as you walked up to him until you were more then face to face, ‘I’m pretty sure he’d only prove to be a bigger pain in my ass with his constant pestering for me to take my glasses off.’ You finished as you innocently toyed with the pins on his vest, making no attempt in looking at him directly in the eye; feeling all warm and giddy in your chest when Hobie’s hand fell past your line of sight before dipping under your chin, pushing it up ever so gently so that you were looking into his deep brown eyes that sparkled with adoration.

‘Maybe the reason as to why he keeps pretending I’d because he wants to admire your pretty eyes up close without having to do so through your lenses.’ He says softly as his hands them began to trail to either side of your glasses, ready to take them off, ‘but he wanted to ask for your permission first because he never wants to put you in positions where you don’t get a say in things,’ you internally melted at how sweet and compassionate your boyfriend was in regards of making sure you were alright with what he was planning on doing, despite the fact that he didn’t need to because you trust him wholeheartedly, but the fact that Hobie still went out of his way to ensure your comfortability over anything else made your love for your boyfriend grow over a million times more.

‘So may I remove your glasses pretty boy?’ He asked.

‘You don’t have to ask because for you, my answer will always be yes.’ You told him as you watched him gingerly remove your glasses before sweetly putting them away within his vest pocket. ‘There you are.’ Hobie whispered as his hands claimed their place on your cheeks, thumbs gently stroking where the nose pads of your glasses resided before dragging them just under your eyes, ‘my pretty, pretty boy…’ he trailed off as he got lost in the forever that he always saw in your eyes but never to this magnitude, it almost took Hobie’s breath away. ‘God you’re so pretty that the word has lost all meaning because it doesn’t quite describe you, not anymore.’

‘Then what word would you use instead.’ You inquired, loving the obvious effect you had over your boyfriend as he continued to look deeply into your eyes as though searching for your soul through them; The moment felt intimate as you both found yourselves swimming within the infinite depths of each others eyes as the pitter patter of rain could be heard in the distance, providing an somber but calming ambience between the two of you. ‘Ethereal, beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, I could call you anything and everything but but none of them would ever come close to truly describing how you look to me right now.’

It was moments like these where you wish you could hide away your face when you felt the heat build up within your cheeks, but with how Hobie was holding your face, it was almost as though he knew you were going to become flustered by him at some point and wanted a front row seat to it all. ‘Since when did Hobie Brown become all poetic.’ You asked, trying to come across as casually as you could possibly be but you knew Hobie was keenly observant -especially when it came to you and your tell tell signs- as a smirk grew across his face and a chuckle ripped from his throat. ‘Ever since the moment you got me hooked onto those eyes of yours.’ He tells you as he presses his forehead against yours and whispered against your lips, ‘ for you, my pretty boy with the prettiest eyes, had my stolen heart within the palm of your hand.’

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l44serbeam · 1 year

Text

— PASS TIME ࣪𖤐 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings — swearing, insecurity, anxiety, blood, guns, smut, heavy make out, fingering (r!recieving), nipple play, softdom!ellie, hair pulling, hickeys, degradation (y/n calls ellie pathetic in a joking way)

Stuck in a abandoned pharmacy closet during a storm while on a patrol, Ellie seems to have some interesting ideas on what to do while you wait it out. these ideas lead you to believe that maybe she doesn’t hate you as much as you thought she did.

not proofread

There was one thing y/n had in agreement with Ellie Williams and that was that the two of them did not get along.

Whether it was being paired together on patrol and disagreeing on working methods or bickering over meals, the two just couldn’t seem to live in harmony.

It wasn’t because they were polar opposites or anything. On the contrary, the two were quite alike. Both carried an aura of intimidation and were known to be very good fighters. In reality, they had no real reason to have this dispute.

So when Maria partnered the two up for a two day long run to an abandoned town many miles out, not even an hour went by before they were both banging at her door.

“Its for the best. You two are my strongest forces and it’s a far place…” Maria began, looking away from them as she folded the blankets on her couch. “We’re running low on medical supplies and i don’t have enough people to spare to send a whole team. Plus, it’ll do you guys good to be out there with one another. Get to know each other maybe. End what ever stupid rivalry y’all seem to have going on.”

The two groaned and protested but Maria made it clear her pairing was final, no questions to be asked about it anymore.

“This isn’t some simple patrol y/n. No fucking around. Follow my lead, we don’t separate, and we don’t detour.” Ellie instructs sharply as the two rode down the forest, freshly leaving Jackson and preparing for the mission ahead.

“You talk to me like im not the one who was literally raised out here. If anything you should be following my lead.” y/n responded.

Ellie rolled her eyes and scoffed. “That doesn’t make you better. Just means more people were around to save your ass.”

“Then why am I here?”

“To make my life miserable apparently.”

Y/n sighed as her tongue poked the inside of her cheek. She seemed to almost be trying to contain herself, a desperate look of wanted to punch the girl on the horse next to her lingered on her face.

“Literally the only reason im on this run with you Ellie is because i am just as capable as you. So please, shut the fuck up and leave me be.” She retorted sourly, looking the opposite way from Ellie and into the trees. She didn’t want to deal with this now. The hollow, harmful words that they threw at each other.

Ellie turned her head the slightest, catching a glimpse pf her, almost slightly stunned at her response.

The two always argued, that was known, but it was never like that. The harshness and seriousness of her last words surprised Ellie, not being the usual sassy clap back she gave that Ellie could actually respond to. This time, y/n looked distant and out of it but Ellie decided to respect her wishes, looking back ahead and letting silence remain between the two.

The people that surrounded them always tried to recall why the two fueded, but no one ever could. It seemed like from the very first time they interacted, they just didn’t like each other. But, their “first” interaction according to those people wasnt truly their first interaction.

Y/n was brought into Jackson three years ago, scared and alone. Covered in blood and looking with eyes that seemed to shoot daggers at everyone. A team of people had come across her, running from three runners in a torn down office building. Once settled, she had been given a house next to Joels, being one of the smaller ones considering she was just one person.

For the first few days, y/n didn’t leave her house, taking advantage of the fact she hadn’t been assigned with a job yet and avoiding interaction with the public. The majority of the town still hadn’t even seen her since she first came in, rumors beginning to spread about who she was. Some said she had a face covered in scared skin, others said she was tiny and frail but her hands were stained a deep red with blood.

Ellie being the way she was, desperately wanted to know who she really was. She wanted to see this girl and figure out whether the monstrosities people whispered about her.

Y/n was awoken one morning by three heavy knocks on her door. She seriously considered ignoring them, groaning into her pillow as she stood up.

Could be important. She told herself. When she swung the door open, the girl that stood before her was unfamiliar. Unlike most people, she looked closer to her own age, being 17 at the time. The wide smile on her face faltered and her eyes widened when her eyes met with y/ns. Her hands flew up to the hairs sticking out of her bun and tried to smooth them back as much as possible.

“Um… Hello?” Y/n quipped, breaking the girl from whatever trance she was stuck in, her cheeks reddening and eyes rushing the the ground.

“Oh- Uh- Hi! Im Ellie. Your neighbor.” She began, pointing at her own home in the distance. Y/n nodded and gave her an acknowledging smirk.

“Im y/n,” She introduced, leaning against the door with her hand still on the handle. “Is there anything i can help you with?” She asked when Ellie returned to silence again.

“N-No not eaxctly. In all honesty i came by out of curiosity. Wanted to see if you were really like some murderous crazy person.” She laughed slightly, a strange pitting feeling in her stomach.

Y/ns eyebrows knitted together and her demeanor changed as she shifted on her legs.

“Why? Because im from the outside? So seems like since Im not from some fuck ass FEDRA base or some community im automatically a wild animal that kills people for fun?” She begins, clearly offended by Ellies comment.

Ellies eyes opened worriedly. “No no no. I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that thats what people have been sort of saying about you since no ones really seen you. Kinda cant blame them-”

“For titling me as some savage just because I was born outside their little bubble?”

“Im just saying you haven’t really given them much to work on. And its not like your the sweetest either.” She said, mumbling the last bit.

Y/n scoffed, stepping back into the house but leaving the door open, her hand still on the door knob. “You come to my house, call me a murderous crazy person, then try to justify it?”

“I wasn’t calling you that. I- I just meant i get why youve stayed home but you really havent gone out and last time people saw you was when you first came in and-“ Ellie hissed and raised her eyebrows, suggesting severity, “that wasn’t exactly the kindest sight.” She finished rambling, realizing it didn’t help in the slightest when her eyes fell on y/n.

“Ok you know what, fuck you.” y/n said, slamming the door shut and leaving Ellie wide eyed and red.

How could i have fucked that up so badly. Ellie asked herself frozen in guilt and embarrassment.

After that, Ellie couldn’t bare being around her and not feeling that turmoiling feeling in her gut. She automatically counteracted it with harsh comments and rudeness. Even when a few days later, y/n attempted to apologize, Ellie dismissing her with a rude comment and sparking another fight that solidified their dislike.

But after a year or two and one drunken evening where their bickering turned into borderline foreplay, the dynamic changed. The majority of times, their stabs at each other seemed to be laced with an igniting feeling and fiery looks at each other. People close to them had seemed to start noticing this shift, whether it was the devilish smirks on Ellies face or the way y/n seemed to gravitate closer and closer to her.

So now, when y/n had barely even looked Ellie in the eye and dryly responded to every comment thrown at her by the girl as the walked down the foreign towns roads, the map in Ellies hand and a knife in y/ns, Ellie couldnt help but feel a growing sense of concern.

Did someone do something to her? She wondered, anger stacking up at this imaginary person just at the thought of it

“The pharmacy should be up ahead. Joel gave me a side note to check back room closest and storage rooms. Most should be locked so they’ll probably have shit inside.” Ellie began, scanning her surroundings.

“If the rooms are locked how are we getting in?” Y/n asked.

“Lucky for us, i have a lock pick and 6 hours worth of learning from Tommy.” She says with a smirk. Y/n simply nods and keeps walking with precaution.

“Whats up with you?” Ellie finally voices, her tome coming out harsher than she’d meant it to.

“Nothing. I thought we weren’t fucking around so thats what im doing. Not fucking around.” She shot back. Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes.

“God you’re dramatic.” She mumbled under her breath.

Y/n scoffed a sarcastic laugh, suggesting her comment to be absurd, but she didn’t respond.

Suddenly, thunder boomed from the gray clouds above, the scent of rain invading their senses with the gust of wind that hit them.

“Shit.” Ellie hissed beneath her breath. “We should get to the pharmacy soon. Seems like it gonna be a bad one.” She finished, referencing to the harsh wind that rocked the trees and over grown vines around them, the sky darkening above them.

“We should pick up the pace.” Y/n suggested as she began jogging and Ellie trailed behind her.

As the two felt patters of rain fall on their shoulders, the jog became a run as the wind picked up.

“There!” Ellie yelled, pointing ahead of them to their left. As the two approached, they saw the busted out windows, the glass covering the ground around it.

They jumped through the glassless windows and unto the store. The two breathed heavily when they reached somewhat safety.

The pharmacy looked completely ran through, shelves thrown all over the ground and trash everywhere.

“He was right! Come back here Ellie.” Y/n yelled against the sound of the wind whistling. By this point, the weather had reached full storm level and the strength of the wind tunneled throughout the exposed pharmacy.

With the aggressive push of the wind on Ellies back, she ran to y/n.

“Fuck i don’t know how well i can do this while a fucking tornado is going on.” She yelled at y/n as she crouched before the door knob.

“Ill block you.” Y/n said as she stood behind Ellie, bringing her arms to lean on the door on each side of Ellie above her, y/n head near Ellies neck and the gusts of wind pushing y/ns front into Ellies back. How the fuck is this supposed to help me focus.

Ellie inserted the lock pick into the slot and began twisting and turning it, different clicks falling into place and the knob rattling.

Y/n couldn’t lie, but her apathetic mood almost slipped with Ellies proximity. As Ellies arms moved to undo the lock, her back muscles flexed against y/ns chest, the wind blowing her into Ellies neck, the scent of pinewood soap and the metallic sent of blood from the infected they’d taken down earlier.

“I got it!” Ellie beamed, shooting up to pull the door. The resistance of the wind made it particularly difficult to open, y/n grabbing onto the door through the little crack Ellie opened and helped her.

When it opened just enough, the two rushed in as Ellie gripped the door, letting it slam closed when they were in. The room was pitch black, the two utterly unaware of their surroundings.

Ellie fiddled with the knob and tried to open the door, her theory being proved when the door didn’t budge at her push.

“Guess were camping in here tonight.” She said as y/n clicked on the flash light. The two looked around and saw quite a few things they could bring back. Bulk packages of ibuprofen and other medications.

“Fuck yeah.” Ellie said, inspecting the items and making sure they weren’t broken open or contaminated.

y/n set down her bag and removed her sleeping bag from it, laying it on the ground.

“Think the horses will be ok?” Ellie asked, attempting to start conversation.

“Yeah they should be. I tied down the garage door pretty well.” She responded, grabbing amo and supplies out of the bag to clean and reload her gun.

Ellie sat down on the ground in the small spot that wasn’t covered by y/ns sleeping bag, her lip in between her teeth and eyes nervous, like she was resisting saying something.

Y/ns eyes flickered up from the gun to Ellies face. “What?” She asked.

“Why are you acting weird?” Ellie finally asked. “You’ve been super fucking offputish and like not talking.”

Y/n sighed and shook her head in almost disbelief. “I haven’t been acting weird Ellie. Were on a mission and im focusing on it like you said.” She repeated, making Ellie bite her cheek at the rising feeling of guilt . “And why do you even fucking care. You dont want me to be here and i dont want to be here. We dont have to pretend.”

“What do you mean i dont want you to be here?” Ellie asked accusatively.

“You’ve made it pretty obvious Ellie! Like for the past three years maybe!” Y/n said, putting down the gun and investing herself into the interaction.

“Why would you say that? I never said i dont want you here. Never.” Ellie retorted, putting a punctuating finger in the air.

“You practically do every day! You pick apart everything i do and make sure to insult me on it. I mean Jesus i cant breath around you without you telling me im doing something wrong!” Y/n began yelling, rising to her feet and towering above Ellie, her eyes going up all of y/ns body as they fell on her face.

Fuck. y/n thought. Her eyes. Her big, round, bright eyes looked up at her, her eyebrows knitted together and tongue cupping her teeth.

“You say that like you don’t do the same thing y/n! Dont act like im just some bully, this situation goes both ways!” She said, also coming up to her feet to match y/n.

“I do it because im not gonna let you just insult me and act like nothing happened! Im not going to let that slide Ellie so of course i argue back but thats because you start it!” Y/n said, punctuating her ‘you’ by aggressively poking Ellies chest, her wrist immediately being caught by the girls strong hand.

They’re eyes met one another, anger coating them. But, beneath, there was something else. Something almost animalistic.

“Stop fucking yelling at me.” Ellie said, her words bitter but tone almost pleading.

The closeness between the two finally seemed to settle in their minds. Y/n’s wrist still in Ellies hand, their fronts pressed together. Y/n could feel Ellies warm breath against her skin, igniting goosebumps all along her spine.

There was no way Ellie didn’t feel it too, she thought. There was no way that Ellie would let herself be in this position if she wasn’t feeling the same carnal compulsion as her. She wouldn’t be looking at her with the eyes she was.

“Make me.” y/n said, her actions turning to become beyond her own control.

A devilish smirk painted Ellies lips for mere seconds before she slammed herself into y/ns lips, the force so strong y/n back hit the wall behind her.

Their bodies flowed together violently, pushing each others hips back and forth against one another. The kiss was fueled with regressed anger and burning passion, tongues not waiting a second to collide.

Y/ns hands found themselves to grab onto the girls hair, nails scratching at her scalp as she hissed into y/ns mouth.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?” Ellie groaned into her mouth.

“You’re telling me?” Y/n responded, Ellies taking advantage and letting her lips trail down y/ns neck, latching onto her pulse point the second she felt ut and biting down, a breath of air harshly leaving y/ns lips as she felt Ellies thigh press against the place she wanted her most.

The lack of friction from layers of clothing made y/n whine as she tried to find some kind of it, grinding against Ellies leg as she made an attack on y/ns neck, leaving red marks in her trail that were sure to become purple within a few hours.

“Desperate aren’t ya?” Ellie litted.

“Fuck you.”

Ellie laughed, her teeth pressed cold against y/ns jaw. “Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?”

y/n rolled her eyes and pulled Ellies head back into a heated kiss, one Ellie cheekily smiled into. Her warm hands found themselves under y/ns shirt going up, dragging up y/ns shirt with it.

“This ok?” Ellie asked, y/ns frantic nods being her signal to fully separate and remove the shirt over y/ns head.

She looked down at y/n in awe, her tongue peaking out from between her lips and her cheeks reddening. “Fuck. i’ve been wanting this for so long.”

“Oh really?” Y/n responded as she brought her arma up to rest of Ellies shoulder, her own hands on y/ns hips, holding the two of their pelvises pressed together.

“Yeah, really. From the time you opened your door front door and yelled at me.” Y/n laughed at that.

“God you’re so pathetic.” She laughed as Ellies arms wrapped around her upper body and unclipped y/ns bra, slowly pulling the straps down her arms.

“Watch yourself. Just cause im gonna fuck you does it mean im gonna be nice.” Ellie said into her ear, shots of electricity flying down y/ns back.

Before y/n could say anything in return, her head flew back against the wall as she felt Ellies lips wrap around her nipple and her hands knead the other. Her tongue worked against it and she rolled her thigh up and down, an extended groan leaving y/ns lips.

She switched positions, paying attention to the other nipple and reciprocating her same movements,

Y/ns hand knotted itself in Ellies auburn hair as her lips seared her chest.

Ellies lips kissed up her breast, her neck and her jaw and fell into y/ns mouth, her hand crawling down and being met with the barrier of y/ns jeans.

“Can i get these off of you baby?” She asked into y/n’s mouth, her words rushed and desperate.

Y/ns hands came to the button of her pants and undid them, lowering them slightly and undoing the zipper. Ellies didn’t wait a second before dipping into the pants, the pads of her fingers pressing into y/n’s aching clit.

Y/n let out a lengthy moan as Ellie drew tight circles, her slick pooling in her panties. She mewled desperately, her hips grinding against Ellies hand.

“Shit- Please Ellie. More.” Y/n groaned, her head falling into the crook between Ellies shoulder and neck.

Ellie smiled smugly, pressing kisses into her exposed shoulders as she pushed aside y/ns underwear. “Whatever you want, pretty.” Ellie said, her middle finger running through her wetness, separating her folds and making a mess of her.

Ellie cursed under her breath at the feeling of y/n clenching around nothing, practically begging for her fingers.

Appeasing her wishes, Ellie sunk two fingers into her slowly, hooking her fingers to bottom out into the sweet spot that caused y/n to moan out into Ellies neck.

Gently, Ellie pulled put her fingers and pushed them back in, her palm hitting y/ns clit in the movement. She Ellie repeated her movements over and over, her free hand coming down from y/n’s waist and to the back of one of her thighs, lifting it from the ground and up to Ellies waist, giving her better access to hit y/n as deep as possible.

Y/n’s moans and pants made the hairs on Ellies neck stand. She couldn’t believe this. She thought shed utterly blown her chances from the second y/n first raised her voice at her, standing on her porch. Now, she was knuckle deep in her and cradling her body against the wall.

“Fuck Ellie don’t stop. Im close-” Y/n groaned.

Impossibly, Ellies fingers started to slam into her faster, the vibrations shooting straight to y/n’s clit and the tips of her finger repeatedly plunged against the spot that made y/n moan out in pleasure. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Y/n legs began to shake, Ellie keeping her pressed against the wall and holding her up with her leg and hand. Ellie could feel y/n’s insides spasming around her fingers, her orgasm close and brimming.

“C’mon baby. I know you’re there.” She mumbled into her ear.

Y/n’s eyes squeezed tightly and her mouth flew open silently, her hand flying to Ellies wrist as a way of stabilization as her orgasm flushed over her like a tsunami. Wetness rolled down Ellies fingers, Y/n’s pants and underwear made a complete mess.

Once y/n’s breathing settled, Ellie removed her fingers from her and brought them to her own lips.

“Fuck. You taste good.” She whispered, kissing up her neck and into her lips.

She settles y/n’s leg down but still held onto her waist, her knees bucking the second she put weight on them, making them both laugh.

“I should change into the other pants.” y/n quipped, separating from the kiss.

“Yeah you should..” Ellie said almost dismissively as she pulled y/n down to lay on the sleeping bag, flipping over and placing herself on top.

“Whenever im done with you i mean.”

a/n: heyy babes! my bad i said i was gna post this last night but i got a little too high and fell asleep at like 5pm and forgot to post it 😭😭 also i got carried away with added backstory and setting so i hope you enjoy my beauts. Also wanted to giv a big thank u for the positive feed back on Tired of You!! part two is gna be out on sunday for any of you guys reading this that are waiting for that too!!

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ ꜱᴏꜰɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ #the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #the last of us smut #the last of us part 2 #abby anderson #joel miller #dine tlou #tlou #lgbtq #ellie tlou

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missglaskin · 5 months

Note

This happened to me before, when I bring my partner over to stay the night, my parent would give us separated room so...

In a alternative universe where reader married to Cregan, whenever they visited King's Landing the yan!hotd (parents) would not allow Cregan sleep in reader's bedchamber.

Who do you think would do this? (most to least)

There’s a reason why Cregan laments going to King’s landing, I mean not only is the weather and the customs so different, but that he has to deal with the pettiness of your family every single time. One might think to let his wife go to king’s landing by herself, which is one the roads are dangerous and two, Cregan doesn’t trust they will return you to him (trust me, he had to summon himself after the many excuses). Unfortunately to him that pettiness also extends to his nightly time. Cregan, unlike some westeros’ husbands, loved sleeping in the same bed, holding you close.

Alicent and Otto will claim that you must sleep in separate bedrooms. They won’t even offer you both a choice, informing you that your room is still where it is before informing Cregan of the room they made ready for him. Rhaenyra will even do the same, hell there’s a chance she’ll hold onto your arm as she guides you away from your husband so you can both keep up. Rhaenys hints to Corlys that it’s best for you and Cregan to sleep separately, after all she and Laena want to spend some time with you together.

One does not need to know Aegon and Aemond do everything in their power to ensure you're not even in the same space as Cregan. Alicent is also petty enough to send Criston inside your room to protect you while you sleep to ensure that Cregan does not sneak his way to you. Rhaenyra may also do the same thing with Harwin, it’s funny enough to imagine both Criston and Harwin being stationed in the same place.

Daemon is surprisingly one of the few that does not bother himself, he knows you and Cregan have already consummated the marriage, and separating you won’t do anything. But he'll be a pain in the arse during the following day, keeping you all to himself. Viserys is perhaps the only one who’s not trying to separate you both, at this point he just gave up.

#yandere concept #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #cregan stark x reader #alicent hightower x reader #rhaenys targaryen x reader

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indifferent-depravity · 9 months

Text

Stress Relief

Minors DNI 18+

cw: unnegotiated choking (do your research and talk to your partner first folks!), semi-public sex, angry Carmen

gif made by me

A/N: don't forget requests for everything are open so if you'd like to see anything from me feel free to drop it in my ask box :)

buy me a coffee!

help me escape abuse

my Etsy shop

~~~

“What the fuck is going on?”

Somehow your voice cuts through Carmy’s near-frantic screaming, bringing the whole kitchen to a standstill. Even Carmy shuts up, looking over at you, chest heaving. You cross your arms, glaring at him. “Carmy, office.” You say firmly, voice raising again when he doesn’t move, “Now, Chef!” He unfreezes and stalks towards you, the veins in his neck becoming visible as you gesture towards the office.

You follow him in and slam the door shut, taking a deep breath as you wait for the noises of the kitchen to start back up before you whirl around to glare at him. “What the fuck is your problem, Carm? Do you want them to walk out?” He keeps his eyes trained on the ground, his hands curling and uncurling into fists. You huff and step into his line of sight, bending to force him to look at you, “Answer me, Carmen! Do you want them to wa-“

You’re cut off as he wraps a hand around your throat, backing you up against the desk. Carmen leans his face close to yours, anger contorting his features as his grip tightens around your throat, just enough to make your breaths come out in gasps. “I wouldn’t yell if they weren’t fucking idiots. It’s like they do it on fucking purpose,” he says, a cold, harsh tone lacing his words as he forces your head back.

He bites along your jaw, soothing the sting with his tongue and you whine, your anger melting as your cunt starts to throb. His free hand slides up the inside of your thigh, rubbing you through your pants. “Take these off,” he orders sharply and you bite your lip, hands falling to the button of your pants, fumbling for a second in the small space between your bodies.

The second your pants fall to the floor, Carmen pushes his hand between your thighs again, groaning as his fingers glide through your wet folds. “Figures. Such a little whore for me, huh? Little pussy getting wet from my hand around your throat.” You moan weakly, eyes rolling back as he sinks his fingers into your core. The stretch sends shocks of pleasure up your spine, a tightness growing in your stomach with each pump of his fingers.

Carmen pushes a third finger inside of you and curls them, a smirk growing on his face as you shudder under him. He grinds his palm against your clit as his fingers speed up, a wet filthy noise filling the small office as he forces you over the edge with another curl of his fingers. Tears burn your eyes and you writhe under him, a fire burning through your veins as he fingers you through your orgasm.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, staring you down as he sucks your wetness off them. He releases your throat long enough to spin you around, pulling your hips back against the hard ridge of his cock. His hand finds your throat again as he frees his cock from its confines, sliding the head through your folds. “Is this what you wanted when you came out and yelled at me, little slut? Needed my cock in you so bad you’d disrupt service for it?”

You whine, shaking your head even as your hips push back against him. Carmen lets out a mocking laugh, teasing your entrance with the tip, “No? Is that why you're pushing your ass out like that? Because you don’t want me to fuck you?” Tears fill your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks as he pulls you back against his cock, slowly filling you inch by torturous inch.

His hand tightens around your throat and he sinks his teeth into the place where your neck meets your shoulder, pulling his cock out until only the tip remains before slamming his hips forward, filling you in one smooth thrust. You cry out, hands hitting the wall as he starts up a punishing rhythm, your knees weakening with each glide of his cock.

“Tha-at’s it, sweet girl, y’like that don’t you?” He growls in your ear, running his free hand down your body. You hiccup out a cry, nodding the best you could with his hand around your throat, a fuzzy feeling filling your head as you fly towards another orgasm. You crumple the flyers tacked to the wall as the dam breaks inside of you with a shudder, tears finally falling down your cheeks as your head falls back against his shoulder.

Carmen hums, loosening his grip on your throat as he nips and sucks marks along your jaw and neck. His fingers find your clit, pressing quick, tight circles against it as he fucks into you roughly. Your knees buckle as you’re pushed into a third orgasm before you can recover from your second. He wraps his arm around your waist, easily keeping you upright without stopping his movements.

He moans into your ear, thrusts becoming frantic as he chases his own pleasure. His chest heaves against your back, low moans falling from his lips as he nears his end. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he pushes his cock as deep as he can, filling you with his seed with a grunt. Carmen slumps over you, keeping you pinned against him as he catches his breath. Heavy breathing fills the small office, only broken by the clatter of pans coming from the kitchen, bringing you back to the present. He pulls out with a sigh, turning you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. He kneels in front of you, helping you ease your pants up your shaky legs. You clumsily maneuver to the desk chair, gripping Carmen’s hand tightly as your legs threaten to give out.

He tucks himself away and leans down for a quick peck to your lips, “Thanks, baby.” He’s gone before you could answer with the gentle click of the door shutting. You snort, shaking your head at his antics as you hear him back in the kitchen again, calmer than he had been all service.

Once you regain control of your legs again, you go back to the front to help Richie with orders, giving him a smile in greeting. He lets out a low whistle, not caring to hide the way he stared at you. Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion, “Can I… help you?”

He laughs, abandoning the sandwich he was wrapping to poke at one of the marks on your neck, “No, I just figured out why Carmy came out of the office in a better mood, that’s all.” Your hands fly up to your throat, a deep blush staining your face as you hurry to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, you groan at the sight of the dark marks littering your neck, bruises showcasing a set of teeth already setting on your shoulders and neck. The kicker is, and this is what made you yell Carmy’s name, a clear outline of his hand wrapping around your throat.

You duck your head into the kitchen on your way back to the counter, a scowl growing on your face when you spot Carmen innocently working, nothing to show for the way he just fucked the life out of you. “Carmy, I’m going to kill you!” He looks up long enough to give you a cheeky smirk, winking at you before turning to the stove with his back to you.

You’re grumbling as you return to the counter, tugging on your collar as if you would be able to hide the marks with it. Richie sidles up beside you, “So, how long has Carmy been a choker? Because me and Mikey, we figured him as a vanilla type.” You groan, thumping your head against the counter, lifting a hand to flip him off. He laughs and pats you on the back, “Y’know maybe we should make some scarves with our logo so next ti-'' You cut him off by jabbing your elbow towards his stomach and he jumps out of the way with a laugh. “C’mon sweetheart, I’m being helpful!”

You lift your head to level him with a glare and he starts laughing harder, pulling another groan from your lips as you drop your head back down onto the counter, “Shut the fuck up, Richie!”

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear smut #carmen the bear #carmy the bear #the bear fx #the bear #writing #smut

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naturecalls111 · 16 days

Text

CYOA: Zoro's Guide To Romance [ZOSAN]

PART 1

I wanted to try out a Choose Your Own Adventure fic, as some of my favourite fics have followed this sort of format, and it helps me write with lower-stakes in this short, Tumblr post format :) I will create a master post for this once I have enough parts to collate.

The simple premise is that Zoro attempts to be more romantic with Sanji – whatever that means, by whatever means.

~~~

Zoro’s still trying to get used to it.

It’s hard not to react so violently, at first. Touches and verbiage that are inclined to be antagonistic. Mean. And with Sanji, that sort of instinct comes naturally. Shout, so he can shout back; bite, so he can bite back, and so forth. They’re used to that. It’s what suits them. The only thing they’ve really ever known to expect from each other.

But at some point – and Zoro has no clue when this point came and permeated so seamlessly through the iron walls the both of them had put up – the shouts fizzled into low, private groans, and the biting became intentional – literal – and now they’re here. Zoro taking a nap on the deck, and Sanji waking him up by tapping at his thigh with the sharp toe of his shoe instead of blatantly kicking at him as if he were a—forget it, no comparison needed. Instead of kicking at him as if he were Zoro as he is, in the flesh.

Sanji’s nonchalant. Hands in his pockets and voice in a low mutter when he speaks.

“Come help me put the groceries away.”

“I already did,” Zoro clears his throat, blinking away his bleary vision and focusing them on Sanji. “Did it this morning, remember?”

“I meant arranging them into the pantry,” Sanji says with little inflection, and almost as an afterthought, “And the cupboards. It’s busy work, so come on. Don’t be lazy.”

Zoro’s eyebrows furrow, confused. Sanji had always been vocal about Zoro doing the opposite: staying away from the kitchen, not spreading his germs on the consumables, preventing his ‘unwashed reek’ from overwhelming the room. The usuals. Eye-roll worthy insults that Zoro isn’t even instigated by anymore.

“Why? I don’t know where shit goes. It’s your kitchen.”

It’s almost impressive how quickly Sanji’s expression morphs into something impatient, the cigarette in his mouth bobbing up and down as he grinds his jaw and narrows his eyes, reproaching.

“Whatever,” he huffs, and drops his cigarette before clicking his tongue, turning away. “Don’t help, then.”

No, wait, come back—ah, well. Sanji’s already too far to reach, so Zoro resigns to closing his eyes again, arms crossed in the perfect nap position and prepared to fall into a comfortable sleep once more. And when he wakes up, Sanji will have likely already prepared second lunch, or first dinner. Zoro smiles at the thought. His favourite things, food, booze, and Sanji, all in one place.

And if Sanji’s up for it, after eating he might even be able to sneak in his other favourite thing. Fighting. And then oral sex. In no particular order.

“You know, Zoro,” Robin’s voice chimes softly, and Zoro cracks an eye open in her direction. She’s tanning on the sunlounger, completely at ease. “Sanji’s romanticism isn’t always so performative.”

Whatever that means. As if Zoro doesn’t know who he’s dating.

“Yeah, I know, thanks.” He closes his eyes and shuffles, letting the conversation rest.

“Are you sure?”

Zoro’s head whips towards Robin. “What? Yeah, ‘course I know,” he says. “We’re together. Obviously, I know. Who do you think bears the brunt of every time he goes gaga over some random girl? Over you and Nami.”

“Going gaga and anticipating sentiment from a partner are two separate things,” Robin says. There’s something implicit in her tone, despite her physical indifference. It puts Zoro on the defensive; none of this is Robin’s business, really. Him and Sanji are fine the way they are.

“Right,” Zoro snorts, hoping he comes across offhanded. “Guess you can go and tell him that, then.”

There’s a moment of silence, peaceful silence that Zoro can finally close his eyes to, before Robin decides to speak again.

“I think he already knows.”

Pfft. Yeah.

Whatever.

~~~

(Happy to consider things in tags/replies if it seems people (or me, lol) take a liking to the suggestion!)

#one piece #cyoa #cyoa: zgtr #zosan #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro

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2knightt · 1 month

Note

CANT HOLD IT IN ANY LONGER!!! i’m utterly obsessed with the curtis brothers.

idk if u do this, but if u can, the curtis brothers with a reader who’s super down bad for them? they make it so clear, too. constantly doing everything for them, making food, buying snacks, just utterly everything. compliments, holding their hand religiously … yk.

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ you know i’m a fool for you. ⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! you think the curtis brothers are the only men on the planet.

tags/warnings: swearing(on my end/once during dialogue.) reader being slightly overprotective or insane, mentions of reader getting hit on, mentions of reader leaving lip stick stains, me not knowing what to write for darry.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i’m using ny other accounts layout bc i can’t be bothered rn. also i’m here to feed y’all i’ve noticed the outsiders x reader tag is lowkey dry asl.

Ponyboy Curtis:

WOAH HE CAN’T HANDLE ALLAT😭

like actually. he is TWEAKING AT ALL TIMES! when you first like started complimenting him, showering him in kisses, giggling n’ shit—he thought it was a one time thing.

ponyboy just thought he’d have to thug that shit out once a week or something. he was, in-fact, pleasantly surprised when you continued to do it.

“you’re so-mwah-cute! i wish-mwah-i could-mwah-hold you forever!”

“y/n…😣”

he’s so flustered omfg like actually he’s beet red LMFAOOO. if you were to put your fingers to his forehead it’d be so hot. like ponyboy’s avoiding eye contact, his lips are tightened, etc.

if he were to stay the night at your place—you make him all types of food. like, food he’d never heard of. or food he’d dream about after eating bologna for a week,

“for me? …really?”

“mhm! c’mon, don’t let it get cold now.”

ponyboy is DIGGING RIGHT THE FUCK IN. okay he is SCARFING THAT DOWN. after he’d be a little embarrassed of how quickly he ate but like you just took it as a good thing.

thinks you’re the best cook ever tbh. gordan ramsey has nothing on you type levels.

going on a walk with him to go grocery shopping for the curtis house with your hands intertwined and letting ponyboy ramble about this annoying substitute he had!!! IT’S REAL!!! ALL OF IT!!!

“n’ then he tried to tell me my answer was wrong when i studied last night—I EVEN ASKED MY FRIENDS. so, i know it was right. i just think mr. johnson had a personal vendetta against me.”

“smh…i could do slash his tires if you’d like♡!”

“what”

“nothing.”

AWHHH PONYBOY FOLLOWING YOU AROUND THE STORE LIKE A LOST PUPPY BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO BUY LMFAO

he’d like holding your sleeve or the hem of your shirt as you walk around, looking more awkward above all else.

uwahh showering ponyboy in compliments late at night when it’s just the two of you, twirling his hair as you hold him closer!!!

“you’re hair is so pretty. it’s so soft…i dunno why you put grease in it. if i was you—i’d never let anyone touch it.”

“i don’t. i only let you.”

“…REALLY??🥰🥰😚😚”

ur friends are soooo sick of you talking about ponyboy LMFAOOOO like actually. every time you go, ‘omfg did i tell you guys, he-‘ they know to just let you mindlessly ramble.

“and then ponyboy read to me ‘til i fell asleep! he’s so sweet—i dunno how he’s real!”

“i dunno how you’re so whipped.”

“he must be the funniest motherfucker on the planet if y/n’s this obsessed.”

Sodapop Curtis

OHHH Y’ALL ARE AT A CONSTANT WAR TO SEE WHO’S GONNA BEAT THE OTHER AT BEING THE BETTER PARTNER LMFAOOO

HE’S usually the whipped one in the relationship…he felt both extremely lucky and threatened when you started attacking him with kisses…

“you’re so handsome. i’m just the luckiest person on earth—ain’t i?”

“…yeah…🤨”

“why’d you say it like that?😞”

“cause I’M the luckiest person on the earth…I’M supposed to be tellin’ you this…”

but as time goes on—he does take the loss and accepts you’re better at him. for now. it’s only a matter of seconds until sodapop thinks of something insane to show his love for you.

anyways! IMAGINE COOKING WITH HIM OHHHH NY GODDDDD /?:&$:&: he just mainly stands there and looks pretty as he asks what you’re doing but SHHH. HE’S MORAL SUPPORT.

“…what?”

“i’m chopping onions for the flavour, honey.”

“you don’t like onions, though?”

“i don’t like the crunch rather than the flavou—YOU REMEMBERED I DON’T LIKE ONIONS??☹️☹️”

“of course i would!”

gladly holds ur hand 24/7. i’m not kidding. you two are like super magnets. HEHEHE IMAGINE HIM DRIVING WITH ONE HAND ON THE WHEEL AND HIS OTHER HAND HOLDING YOURS!!/!2!

you do take him grocery shopping. only sometimes, though. he only buys junk food rather than actual food.

“can i get these? please?”

“you already have two bags of chips in the cart, soda.”

“okay..😣”

“SIGH…get them.”

“HURRAY!”

knows you can’t say no to him and that’s like the only time he uses it to his advantage.

soc’s do hit on you under the premise of ‘showing you how a real man is supposed to spoil a lady like you.’ HOWEVER, you look at them like they’re aliens.

“hey, baby. what’re you doin’ around here?”

“…EW.”

“???”

they’re shocked above all else as they see you turn away from them and quickly walk away without looking back. AND WOOO SODA IS SO PROUD.

Darry Curtis

the gang acts like you two are constantly fighting whenever you start to look at darry with that sparkle in your eyes.

“guys, PLEASE! YOU’RE BREAKING UP THE FAMILY! STOP ARGUING!”

“what the hell are you on about, soda?”

“you’re scaring pony!” “don’t bring me into this.”

“mind you’re own business, soda.”

AJDIEHJR DARRY HAVING A HAND AROUND YOUR WAIST AS YOU MUTTER SWEET NOTHINGS BETWEEN KISSINGS>>>

you two are a POWER COUPLE IN THE GROCERY STORE! EVEN IF YOU REFUSE TO LET HIM PAY AND HE GETS POUTTY! EVEN IF HE DOESN’T TAKE COMPLIMENTS WELL!

“y/n, please. these are for my house.”

“so?? my wallet was out first.”

“that doesn’t mean anything. baby, i’m telling you, i’m paying.”

“too late, i already handed the cashier the money.”

you cook and clean for the curtis’ to take something off of darry’s back out of the kindness in your heart and totally not because you want him to pay more attention to you!! NEVER!!

but you do enjoy the fact that darry has more time to sit down and pay attention to you! and darry really likes the extra time he has!!

“you didn’t have to.”

“yes i did! you’ve been so stressed out, it’s the least i could do for you.”

“you’re such a treat, y’know.”

“mh. only f’you.”

you FORCE him to hold your hand. sometimes he forgets that he’s supposed to hold your hand in public so do NOT BE AFRAID TO GRAB IT YOURSELF.

but once you do, darry is the last person to let go. maybe to wrap an arm around your hip—BUT THAT’S IT.

teehee leaving lipstick stains on his white t-shirt accidentally🫶🫶!! it’s all so real to me!! sure, darry’s a little annoyed but it’s okay! he can never be mad at you!

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis blurb #ponyboy curtis imagine #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop curtis blurb #sodapop curtis imagine #darry curtis x reader #darry curtis blurb #darry curtis imagine

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

Note

Can you do Rook, Malleus and Lillia trying to give period pain relief the old fashioned way

Period Pain Relief~The Old-Fashioned Way | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

They realize that pain is a natural predecessor of the period. Now Twisted Wonderland is not devoid of painkillers and magic meant to sooth your laboring body. But would you know that? No. And the ones dangerously tipping on the edge of their sanity would much rather ease the pain themselves. The old fashioned way:

Lilia Vanrouge

“C’mon love. Let’s do it my way! I’ll make it better I promise.”

While he may not have had a lot of sexual partners he’s already seen so much

Lived for so long

He’s bound to know the perfect spot to rub and the perfect pace to have you reeling

Blood is no obstacle

He’s a former general!

Though your blood is the only kind he’s interested in he doesn’t mind it or eating through it

He’s sure it will help those pesky cramps of yours

No pain killers needed

Or at the very least distract from it

“Is this better my love? To fill your pain with the pleasure I give you? Want to see if it works all throughout the week?”

“L-il-ah~stop talking!”

“Oh yeah! I agree! It’s a great idea! All week let’s not stop!”

He’s focusing on your pain right now and getting rid of it

Whether your together or not soothing you is his goal

And that’s almost enough to get him off on his own

He doesn’t even think about the true and core cause of your period

“Hm a baby…that would be nice. To be a papa again….what would you say about that Mama?”

“Forget it Lilia! This is a one time thing.”

“Sure sure until next month! And the rest of your life.”

Malleus Draconia

“Soothing your pain is a necessity but the root of the problem still remains!”

“I..don’t follow.”

“Your body burdens you because of your empty womb. Naturally the best way to resolve it is to fill it.”

He doesn’t believe in simply plugging the leak he prefers to drain the lake

Aiming to impregnate you once he gets a hold of your cycle’s schedule

Obliterating Your pain aside he’s binding you with him forever

No mirror or pesky pest that takes your attention away can take his place as your child’s father as his wife

The period is a sugarcoated excuse to do it

He’ll take your refusal and delegation as human-fear

Are you worried he won’t fit

That you won’t be prepared

About the future

No worries he’s Malleus Draconia

Your Tsunotarou

He’ll prep you properly, he’ll fund everything, he’ll even put a ring on your finger to make it official

In the end he’s here for you him

“M-Malle~hmm we can’t…it won’t~ah~”

“Shhh hush my child of man! Hng~our child is the true solution to keeping you beside me forever.”

He doesn’t quit care that it will return after the pregnancy but if your smart you’ll know his exact solution

“Then I guess we’ll just have another.”

“What?! I can’t handle that! I can barely handle one!”

“Fear not my treasure! My magic will soothe your pain.”

“You have magic that can do that…?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you use it before!?”

“I wanted a child with you and the period that plagues you would have ceased. This is what you would call a ‘win win situation.’”

Rook Hunt

“Oh mon Dieu! Please my ma beauté ultime! Ma délicatesse magnifique, let me bring you comfort!”

If you relent or are in so much pain you can’t explicitly refuse him he’s giving his aide

Blood is nothing to him

That’s not true

Its everything to him

he delights in the carnal satisfaction he has when his mouth is drenched in it

Like the predator he aspires to be he stalked you, warded off interested parties, and has finally pounced

Free to indulge in your flavor

The forbidden that only comes once a month

“Mmm parfaite!”

“Rook~Don’t talk just~eek”

“Ah I understand! Smeck~ <3 Forgive my neglect.”

Hours upon hours

He’ll happily stay between your legs

Sending a second of a glare before he lets up

You’ll regret interrupting his feast

Studying your biology to know you inside and out

He realizes he could stop your period for 9 months

He plays with the idea

But ultimately decides he has more work to do

Your cage isn’t quite ready yet

“Rook I’m tired and I’m not in pain so can we stop?”

“Non non! This hunter’s got a ways to go before I tire my amour!”

“But I want to sleep!”

“Go ahead! When you awake I’ll be right here with you!”

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thedrarrylibrarian · 4 months

Text

Christmas 2023

One of my favorite holiday traditions it to give a book on Christmas Eve. So hopefully in time for you to cozy up before bed, here is my Christmas Eve gift to you - a rec list!

Just the Two of Us by torino10154 (200 words, rated T)

"I can't believe this is our first Christmas, just the two of us," Harry said as he placed the star on top of the Christmas tree.

Christmas Brunch by @drarrily-we-row-along (583 words, rated G)

Draco wanted to host brunch for his parents on the first Christmas in their shared flat. Harry thought that seemed like a great idea.

But the week leading up to it has been a nightmare, Draco is stressed and Harry's losing his mind. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all.

For Everything a Season by @shealynn88 (1,342 words, rated T)

"Our children are a joy, Harry, but I’m glad it’s just you and me.”

Harry goes soft. “Why’s that?”

“Well, many reasons. But right now, you’re under the mistletoe, and I prefer to take my time, and the children would make an awful racket if they were here to see.”

Draco Malfoy and the Cursed Sweater by @slytherco (1,804 words, rated T)

After falling victim to Harry's stupid prank, Draco finds an unexpected partner in crime.

Underneath the Tree (You'll Find a Piece of Me) by @squintclover (4,435 words, rated M)

Harry and Draco find themselves in a holiday home amongst friends at Christmas. The Secret Santa Hermione has planned is sure to go perfectly. Surely...

Even Children Get Older by @lou-isfake (4,500 words, rated M)

It started with don't wake the baby.

Snow on the Beach by tinaakitten (4,915 words, rated T)

Over multiple Christmas Eves, Harry and Draco find their way back to each other.

Featuring cute Harry Potter obsessed toddler Scorpius.

Deliberate Denial by edaniels0221 (7,244 words, rated G)

Professor Harry Potter can't help but to deny his children's ridiculous notion that he has a crush on the gorgeous new Hogwarts Healer, but as he comes to find out, one can only be in denial about liking Draco bloody Malfoy for so long.

Löyly by @citrusses (10,323 words, rated E)

Somewhere between the steam of a sauna and the icy waters of the Gulf of Finland, Harry heals from a broken engagement and a failed career. Draco Malfoy helps.

25 Additional Scenes for Ain't That the Garden of Eden by @romaine2424 (12,139 words, rated G)

The additional scenes cover missing moments in December, Harry's election, and Inauguration.

Because Cats by @icmezzo (14,589 words, rated T)

Harry has a cat, and Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, and Harry doesn’t. Then Harry has a cat again, but Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, but Harry—OMG HOW WILL IT END.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w (21,941 words, rated E)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Be sure to check out @skeptiquewrites wonderful Happy Hour Rec for this fic!

All I Want for Christmas by CaityCatt (36,509 words rated M)

Harry feels like a bit of a grinch at Christmas, but his true love has a plan to change all that.

The Coldest of Days by Anonymous (54,683 words, rated E)

At thirty-one, Harry Potter finally has it all: four incredible children, a naughty Niffler named Penny, and a brilliant boyfriend who has managed to fill the hole in his heart.

But because Harry is Harry, chaos is bound to follow. On a cold December morning, Draco wakes up with no memory of the war, his children, or his life with Harry.

That, and he’s insisting that he’s been thrown fifteen years into the future.

The Art of Thank You Notes by fictionclaw (82,286 words, rated E)

A few years after the war, Harry receives a ministry notice that Draco Malfoy’s house arrest will soon be lifted and that the wand he has kept may be sent to the ministry. He doesn’t think much of it when he sends the wand directly to Malfoy Manor with a note.

But one letter swiftly follows another and Malfoy sneaks his way into Harry's every day life without either of them minding.

Or; Harry and Draco find reasons to write letters to each other and Black heirlooms and family histories are uncovered while they figure out why that is. Lunch dates, careful friendship, confusing feelings and Draco's art included.

I hope that wherever you are, you know you have a place by my fire and a place in my heart. Merry Christmas Eve to those who celebrate, and the Happiest of Holiday wishes to all!

168 notes · View notes

nolita-fairytale · 7 months

Text

don't you worry, there's still time | chef luca x fem!reader, feat. marcus brooks

summary: after losing his mother, marcus searches for joy and stillness in copenhagen. you and luca, who are more than happy to host, decide to take a big next step in your relationship. a oneshot from the world of 'burn your life down.'

warnings: fluff, light angst, grief, death, light smut, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, off-canon connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 5.8k

listen to: the playlist

a/n: wow, i missed this world! who is ready for the reveal of chef's restaurant name?! while i don't think i have the bandwidth to write another full series (nor a linear story to tell) i'm thinking of creating a second part to 'burn your life down' where we just get to drop in and see what they're up to. thoughts??

chef luca masterlist | full masterlist

After a tumultuous holiday season, it doesn’t take long for Sydney to realize that her friend is in need of a little help. A reprieve, she so kindly explained to both Marcus and Carmy when she’d proposed the idea.

It was Sydney this time, who called Luca, knowing that she and Carmy would have to find something to do with Marcus. It wasn’t fair – that he’d lost his mom just before Thanksgiving – and they both agreed that Marcus needed to get out of dodge. Quick to act, Carmy set up a few stages in NYC for a week or so, which, while seemed to inspire Marcus, seemed to only plunge him further into a slump come Christmas. “I don’t know. I think we gotta send him on some kinda… eat, pray, love trip. The guy can only sulk on my couch for so long before I consider jumping out of the window,” Sydney says, her attempt to lighten the mood with humor still genuine. “It’s getting sad, Carm. Like… real fuckin’ sad.”

“You’re right. Uh… what about Copenhagen?” Carmy pitches with a shrug, because he knows what all consuming grief feels like.

“Again?” she asks, uncertain of whether it’s the best choice that they could make.

“Yeah,” Carmy shrugs in response. “Think he got a lot of it last time. Could be good for him to go back to somewhere familiar… work with Luca again. You don’t think it’s a-?”

“No I do! I just-,” Sydney hesitates, though she knows her business partner makes a good point. “Familiarity will be good for him. To be around people he can trust.”

“You want me to uh-,” Carmy begins to offer, figuring he’ll make the call.

“Probably best if I explain the situation. Just ‘cause, you know, I know more of what’s going on… just send me his info and I’ll call later,” Sydney interjects.

Carmy agrees with a curt nod before adding in:

“Uh… okay yeah. Yeah.”

You get plenty of time to prepare for Marcus’ visit, performing all kinds of fancy footwork to arrange a proper visit – a week’s worth of time spent staging and living in Copenhagen. When Luca finds out that the prolific houseboat, a chef retreat of sorts that’s always been an option for lodging, is booked for the week and a half that Marcus plans on visiting, you offer up your place without hesitation.

The arrangement goes as follows: while Marcus stays at yours at no cost, you’ll stay with Luca for the duration of the time.

This is how you find yourself at the massive Ikea on Dybbølsbro on a Saturday morning with Luca, in search of a set of fresh bed linens intended for guests.

“I really should host more. And Astrid said she and Lina were planning a trip out here so… why not kill two birds with one stone?” you’d reasoned to your boyfriend, making a strong case for why you and Luca should make this little shopping trip.

“What do you think of the blue?” Luca asks you, as you run your hand over a set of the display sheets, checking for softness.

“Don’t know if the blue is what I’m going for. I was thinking of something warmer. Maybe a yellow or… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been into that trendy rust color as of late,” you reply with a shrug, moving onto the warmer colors.

Luca chuckles and with a small shake of his head, he clarifies his previous questions with:

“No, I meant for me.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him curiously, his comment pulling all of your focus as you search his face for answers. “You just got new bedding.”

And expensive ones too.

But as your eyes follow his gaze, you realize that he’s not talking about sheets, focused on the XL Twin-sized duvets just above where the sheets messily fall along the shelf.

“I was thinking…” Luca trails off, checking in with you before he continues, with “... maybe it’s time I get two duvets… you know… for us.” He takes a beat, and a step towards you, and you know you’ll never stand a chance against his boyish charm as one side of his mouth turns up into a smile.

You’re no stranger to the Scandinavian duvet method – two twin duvets for one king sized bed – but it sounds like Luca’s suggestion is about way more than buying an extra duvet on this trip.

“I want you to feel at home… at my place."

“I do,” you reply, almost instantly, a warmth spreading through your belly as you take a step towards him.

“But I mean really… feel like it’s your home. Because it is. It could be. You know… if you want it to be,” Luca continues, this time with more insistence, a look of hopefulness in his deep blue eyes.

“Are you… are you asking me to move in with you?” you manage to get out, your heart skipping a beat.

“Why not? We could use this week to try it out,” he suggests so casually that you practically have to do a double take. “See how it goes while Marcus stays at your place?”

“Yeah I-... that sounds like a good plan, yeah,” you stammer out, the grin on your face undeniable as you nod enthusiastically in the middle of a goddamn furniture store.

“Besides,” Luca says, clearing his throat as his tone changes to one that’s much more playful. “You’re an absolute blanket hog and a repeat offender at that.” Luca winks your way as you roll your eyes with a laugh in response. “This could prevent some of our silly little quarrels, don’t you think, love?”

“Uh huh,” you sound, your face skeptical as you look his way again. “Preventative measures. Sure, babe.”

Luca chuckles before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, right then and there, in the Ikea bed linen section, the place you’ll now forever think of as the place your boyfriend asked you to move in with him.

Connection

When Marcus arrives in Copenhagen, you’ve arranged your home with the most comfort in mind, having already packed a week’s worth of things and left for Luca’s. You can only imagine what he must be going through, deciding that something like that – losing your mother – though inevitable, is your goddamn worst nightmare.

“Marcus,

Enjoy your stay and please reach out if you need anything. I can’t wait to meet you!”

…is the note that you leave him, along with a few morning pastries you picked up from your favorite baggeri across the street, and your number scribbled down at the bottom of the notepad.

As Marcus arrives, his eyes drawn immediately to your note and gift, Marcus smiles to himself, noticing that you left a very nice looking bottle of wine on the counter as well. He’s moved by your generosity, considering you’ve never met, and the fact that you’re willing to take so much care, extend this much kindness to a stranger, causes a wave of softness to wash over him.

Maybe, just maybe, he can find softness again – the last few months riddled with pain, grief, and numbness to get through the days.

While he came here to work, encouraged by his friends that a change of scenery may do his broken heart some good, it’s the first time Marcus has had a chance to be still. His feelings of grief sit heavier here and it catches him off guard, uncertain that he’s quite ready to sit with them yet. He pushes aside the thought, focusing on exploring your home and unpacking his bags. Marcus knows how to stay busy – he’s become an expert at it by now – reminding himself that he’s got work at 5 am sharp tomorrow.

“A little too much, chef. Take it down by about 15 grams,” Luca directs, his voice even and sure as he inspects the balls of dough that Marcus currently shapes.

“Yes, chef,” Marcus nods in understanding, plopping the ball of dough back on the scale to adjust the measurement.

The two of them work like this for the rest of the morning, Luca treading carefully while keeping things professional, while Marcus buries himself in the work – something that feels good, safe, right.

He’s missed this. While Marcus has one chef he works with directly at the restaurant, he’s the expert – the head patissier. He misses being surrounded by excellence, getting to be a student of someone who is just as driven, if not more, and inspired. It’s good, quiet, calm, yet there’s a focus and intensity in Luca’s kitchen that feels like a breath of fresh air.

His stage trip to New York has been more of a mess than beneficial. Maybe it had been the chaos of the city, or the chaos of the chefs he was working with. Maybe it was the fact that Marcus, though hungry for a distraction, hadn’t quite been ready to walk directly into the line of fire yet.

As Marcus’ practiced hands move with the dough, there’s a newfound confidence in the way that he works that's not lost on Luca. Luca watches his friend carefully, pride swelling in his chest as his mentee makes the adjustment with ease and diligence.

“Can I join you?” Luca asks, gesturing towards Marcus' workstation.

“‘Course, chef,” Marcus replies, his response short yet reverent.

As Luca joins him, finding a space to the right of Marcus, he busies his hands with rolling each perfectly measured ball of dough into mini boules, ready to proof. The two of them work quietly, side by side, the air between them heavy with words unsaid. He can feel it – the weight that lays so heavily on Marcus' heart – but Luca doesn’t want to bring it up, uninterested in forcing the conversation. Especially about something so painful, something he knows that Marcus has barely begun working through.

“Thanks, again. For uh… you know… letting me come work,” Marcus begins, momentarily checking in with Luca to gauge a reaction.

“‘Course,” Luca replies, his answer instantaneous. “You’re welcome here any time, mate.”

“Yeah?” Marcus asks, stealing a glance in Luca’s direction.

“Yeah,” Luca responds with a certain nod.

“And uh… shit. I can’t thank your girlfriend enough for letting me crash at her place,” Marcus adds, as he works through his discomfort and overwhelm from the wave of feelings that begin to bubble up in his chest.

“You can thank her yourself on Saturday,” Luca brings up, excited over the fact that Marcus will not only be meeting his girlfriend, but staging at her restaurant too. “She’s really looking forward to meeting you.”

Marcus nods slowly, his hands the only steady thing about him as he continues to focus on his work.

“I just mean-, well, she didn’t have to-. ‘S not like either of you owed it to me or anything and I-. You guys just really came through…” Marcus trails off, wanting to make his gratitude clear. It means more to him that he can articulate so instead he settles for, “So thank you. Again.”

Luca shrugs with an aplomb about him as he returns with, “We got you, mate.” He pauses before continuing, fully aware that Marcus isn’t quite comfortable with the feelings that have presented themself in this moment. “And the way I see it, I wouldn’t have met her if it weren’t for you – for our conversation the last time you were here – so we really do owe you for it.”

This time Luca makes an effort to check in with Marcus, gauging his emotional capacity as he concludes with:

“But that’s not what any of this is about: debts, who owes who what. We were both more than happy to host you. That’s what mates are for.”

It’s not till the end of the next shift that it hits him, and Marcus finds himself sitting outside of the restaurant on a bench across the street. He’s not sure whether it’s the jet lag or the exhaustion of the 5 am start time in another time zone, but it hits him all at once, like a ton of bricks. Suddenly consumed with the feelings that he’s been trying his best to avoid, all he can do is pause, completely caught off guard by the strength of them.

Quietly, Luca joins him, having spotted him on his way home, rerouting himself in Marcus’ direction instead.

All he can think of are the words you’ve asked him, and he you, time and time again – the ones that cut right to the core of you each and every time – that show you how much he cares.

“How’s your heart?” Luca asks Marcus, after a few minutes of sitting on the bench together in silence.

And how is his heart?

He’s not sure how to answer, considering it’s been a while since he’s really had a chance to check in, the crippling reality of this great loss is too much to bear alone.

His heart is broken, shattered into an infinite amount of pieces.

He, and his heart will never be the same again and he doesn’t know where or how he’ll ever put it back together.

His heart is… lost, in desperate need of finding a soft place to land.

Marcus takes a while to answer, racking his brain for any semblance of a cohesive answer.

He waits. And then he waits.

Until finally, he can answer.

“I uh… don’t know. But I’m hoping this trip will help me figure that out.”

Creativity

“do you remember the 21st night of september? love was changin' the minds of pretenders while chasin' the clouds away.” (earth, wind, and fire.)

Everything about the way you run your kitchen feels different than what he’s used to.

It’s sure as hell different from his last stage trip to New York, Marcus thinks to himself.

With Carmy and Syd, working with them, there’s a buzz of chaos that runs underneath even the most organized and efficient service. It’s something integral to what they have, gives an edge to The Bear that seems to make it hum in all the right ways. Even with Luca, who comes from fine dining and Michelin-starred restaurants, there’s a quiet and determined focus – an intensity to his work – even without the undercurrent of chaos.

But this. But you.

Your kitchen somehow teeters the line of organized chaos and reckless play so well that Marcus understands why this works – why it’s efficient.

Still, he watches as you and your staff dance – no, literally dance – around each other to the highly recognizable Earth, Wind, and Fire tune. Mathilde sings along while chopping chives for the brothy mushroom grain bowl, while, mid-phrase, manages to yell out a short command to a line cook in Danish. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus catches Jesper working the dining room, while you finish plating two more dishes, ready to be walked out.

It’s as if you find focus in the center of all the noise, somewhere between the electric energy between you, Mathilde, and your staff, and the feel-good vibes and homeyness of the restaurant that you’ve created.

You had been more than welcoming when Marcus had walked through the doors of your restaurant, Kokuore, mere hours ago. You’d given him the tour, shown him which station he’d be working this evening, then warmly introduced him to your entire team before family meal started. Marcus can’t stop moving, too afraid to be still in fear of falling apart in the presence of how comforting you’ve been.

And this? Your kitchen. It’s all joy, connection, and artistry.

It’s not hard for him to see why Luca fell in love with you.

“Marcus, feel free to take a break,” he hears you say, as you nod towards the dining room through the open kitchen.

As Marcus follows your gesture, he notices that Luca’s arrived, remembering something about a standing Saturday date.

“You sure, chef?” Marcus asks, looking to you for approval.

“Positive,” you nod, reassuringly.

Marcus nods in return to confirm, before taking his apron off and making his way over to the dining room where Luca is exchanging a few words with Jesper.

“Wassup, chef,” he greets his mentor.

“You know, you can call me Luca,” Luca reminds him with a crooked smile. “At least when we’re off the clock.”

Marcus chuckles, “Uh… yeah alright. That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

Luca chuckles in return, before Jesper shows them to his table, mentioning something about Americans being so afraid of fluidity.

“She’s brilliant isn’t she?” Luca asks, in reference to you as his eyes catch yours from across the room.

“Nah for real. Like… mad scientist vibes,” Marcus concurs with a smile. “She can throw down for sure.” He pauses as they sit down at Luca’s table. “So you come every Saturday night, huh?”

“When I can, yeah, which is… most Saturdays,” Luca replies honestly, before beginning to list why he’s kept up this routine. “But it’s nice. Keeps me inspired. I get to see my girl, walk her home at night which makes me feel better.” Luca leans back in his chair this time, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I never mind helping close down at the end of the night.”

Marcus hums in response before one of the waitstaff comes to their table, with a glass of wine in hand, on the house. They chat for a little longer before Marcus returns to the kitchen, his excitement for what you’re doing here filling him to the brim.

As dinner service comes to an end, Marcus can’t help but notice the chemistry and how unique it is as you all work together in perfect harmony. There’s a warmth to it, something different, and he begins to understand why the name of the restaurant comes from the word, heart.

Luca is quick to get up from his table, quickly finishing his glass of wine as he offers to help close down. The music volume goes from underscoring the buzz of a busy night of service, to the main attraction, as a motown throwbacks playlist begins to blare from the speakers. You all work quickly and efficiently, eager to close down, get home, and begin your weekends, but it’s when an old Otis Redding track that Luca decides to put a pause on the progress.

“Dance with me, my love,” he says, offering his hand out to you as a huge gesture that earns a few looks and giggles from some of your staff.

“Luca,” you begin to protest, looking around.

“You can take three minutes,” he offers, exchanging a look with you this time.

You nod, taking his hand as you agree with, “Okay.”

And as Luca wraps you up in his arms, engaging you in a slow dance to Otis Redding’s “That’s How Strong my Love is,” you chuckle, relaxing into him.

“Oh, get a room, you two!” Jesper calls out after you, teasingly.

“She pretends – always puts up a fight – as if they don’t do this every single week,” Mathilde adds, as an explanation to Marcus.

“Every week?” Marcus asks, a little surprised by both you and Luca’s willingness to pause and revel in a moment with each other, instead of just pushing through.

“Yeah. Romantics, they are,” Jesper chimes in.

Marcus smiles to himself. It’s a reminder of slowness – something he hasn’t let himself experience in a long time – and for just a moment, he lets himself settle into the feeling.

You don’t even mind that you woke up an hour before your alarm the moment you feel Luca’s arms wrapped around you, and his lips against your soft skin. The low rumble of his voice resonates across your shoulders, sending chills down your spine as you arch into his hands, his arms wrapped around you.

“I know we’re only a few days in… of our little trial,” Luca begins, the bass of his voice reverberating through your shoulder blade.

“Our living together trial?” you clarify with your ask, letting out a gasp as he nibbles on your shoulder gently.

“Yeah. Just wonderin’ where your mind’s at,” Luca murmurs, his eager hands beginning to explore underneath the oversized shirt you put on before bed last night.

“Well… I really like this,” you reply, the sound that comes out of your mouth somewhere between a giggle and a moan.

“Hmmmm?” Luca sounds, innocently.

“This… Waking up to you thing.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Luca’s name escapes your lips as his fingers gently begin to play with your nipples, his erection hard against your back as you begin to grind your hips back against.

“And the access to round the clock sex is really a bonus,” you sigh, blissfully.

“Oh yeah?” he asks you again, a large tatted hand slipping between your legs.

“Yeah… I’d even be… interested in leaning into that part… right now,” you hiss in reply to his touch. “Considering you’re distracting me with sex.”

“Hmmmmm. ‘S not just it, love. Have I told you how grateful I am for what you’ve done for Marcus?” Luca asks, his mouth back on your neck. He presses your body against him, your back to his chest as he rocks his hips against yours.

“Luca!” you protest, unable to focus on the conversation.

“It’s your kindness. Your heart… I’m in awe of it,” he continues to praise you as the two of you begin to set a rhythm between your bodies.

It’s all heat, and soft sighs of pleasure, and foreplay.

“Well, I know a little something about what he’s going through,” you answer breathlessly. You begin to impatiently push the hem of your shirt higher so that you can give Luca more access to your body.

“That’s why I love you,” Luca murmurs into your skin, his hands all over you, his focus unbroken and your mind beginning to go blank. His hands are tearing your shirt over your head as he continues to praise you. “Your heart, the way you share it.”

“You helped me get there, baby,” you gasp, turning your head so that you can kiss your boyfriend.

Instead of answering, Luca nods knowingly, before crashing his lips into yours. His mouth on yours feels like heaven, and you can’t believe that you ever fought your feelings for him.

“Ah fuck it. Let’s do it. Let’s move in together,” you surrender to him, lost in the moment.

“Yeah?” Luca pauses, pulling away, as if almost can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yeah. I mean it, baby,” you nod, catching his gaze, certain in the way you answer. “I wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Me too, my love,” Luca grins, before pressing his lips to yours again. “Now will you please let me fuck you, darling?”

��Fuck yes.”

Luca spends the next hour showing you just how grateful he is for you, while you in return, spend the next hour showing him just how sure you are about this decision.

And you are sure. If mornings like this are a constant for the rest of your life, you think you’ll die a happy woman.

You’ve found a home in him, and he, you. He’s the person you want to come home to at the end of the day. He’s the man that puts a smile on your face every single time he gets on his soapbox about how Beyonce is the performer of your lifetimes, and he is unequivocally the best, most unexpected thing in your life.

Luca Davies, in almost a year of knowing him, and eight months of getting to love him, has somehow become your favorite person.

By the time you and Luca are both showered and decent-for-company, you’ve begun your mise en place for brunch, completely content with the fact that you’re running a little behind schedule (and in all fairness, the sex was worth it – it’s always worth it). The smell of bacon sizzling away on your carbon steel fry pan fills the entire apartment, and you’re glad that Luca opened a window earlier. It’s not exactly window weather yet, but the air ventilation is a must when it comes to smoked meats.

While you play catch up with your brunch plan, Luca’s busy welcoming Marcus in, pouring him a cup of coffee using the extensive ten-step pour over he’s been fixated on ever since he purchased it, while they chat here and there about what else he’s explored in Denmark.

“Been too busy working, to be honest but… I don’t know. I might wander around today… see what kind of stuff I can get into,” Marcus answers frankly with a shrug.

“Ah, mate. We just had a walk at the Frederiksberg Gardens. Definitely something I’d recommend checking out,” Luca suggests, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he mentions it.

Luca continues moving through his list of recommendations, Marcus chiming in with places and things he did the last time he was here, excited to spend a few days exploring the city instead of just working.

“Wanderin’ around. I dunno. There’s something about it. ‘S good for the spirit, you know?” Luca concludes.

“Yeah,” Marcus nods in agreement, before turning his attention over to the French toast you’re working on. “Okay, I see you. What is that? Mascarpone?”

“Yeah, good eye. It’s just something new I’m working on: a mascarpone stuffed french toast. We’re actually talking about extending our hours… maybe doing weekend brunch,” you answer thoroughly, as you dip the stuffed pieces of bread into their egg batter, pre-cook.

“For real? That’s sick,” Marcus compliments, watching you carefully. “I mean… shit. You could have a whole brunch spot.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your cutting board.

“A Brunch spot,” Marcus repeats, simply, the excitement in his eyes at the new idea, evident. “Yeah, you know. Luca could do the morning pastries. You work your magic on the rest of the menu.”

“That’s a novel idea! What do you think, my love?” Luca asks, intrigue in his voice as he searches your face for a reaction.

“I-,” you begin, looking from Luca to Marcus, then back to Luca again. “I… never thought about it like that.” You take a beat, eyeing Luca carefully. “We’ve never talked about going into business together.”

Marcus shrugs, before picking up his coffee mug, “Yo, it’s just a thought. I think you two would be unstoppable together.”

“Unstoppable, eh?” Luca asks, his eyes locked with yours.

You only hum in response, raising a quirked eyebrow in Luca’s direction before adding:

“It’s certainly one hell of an idea, Marcus.”

Kokuore

Monday afternoon, you find yourself at your restaurant with Marcus Brooks, on a day off.

“I might need a little extra help with something tomorrow. We’re closed tomorrow, but I want to get ahead on this special I’m working on. Could use the help of a pastry chef. What do you say?” you’d proposed to him, over one more espresso before he left.

To Luca’s dismay, (“ you silly Americans just can’t enjoy a day of doing nothing,” he’d teased the two of you) Marcus had given you an unwavering yes, reassuring you that he was down to learn everything he possibly could from you, especially while he was here.

And it’s true. You do need the help. But should he want someone to talk to – someone who gets it, even just a little bit – you want to offer him the space and the opportunity to do so.

“As a patissier, do you get tasked with pasta? At The Bear?” you ask Marcus, as you pleat a dumpling in hand with a speed that only comes with practice.

“Nah,” Marcus sounds, his focus on the dumpling he’s pleating too. His concentration on getting the pleats right is reverent and unbroken, even as he answers your question. “Our head chef, Carmy, he uh… he comes from an Italian American family so when we’ve done a stuffed pasta… he usually takes the lead on that.”

You nod in understanding, placing the dumpling you’ve just finished down on the full-sized sheet pan. The two of you sit across from each other, having pushed a few dining tables together as a makeshift workstation.

“Think Luca’ll take over this kinda stuff when you guys open a restaurant together?” Marcus asks, lightheartedly pushing his agenda from yesterday.

You laugh in response, your hands working quickly on yet another dumpling.

“For someone with no skin in the game, you’re really insistent on this idea,” you tease him in return.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it,” Marcus pushes right back, his tone still light.

“I…” you sigh, trailing off as you pause your work for a moment. “You know, we just said we’d move in together. That and a restaurant? Feels fast.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Like… a few hours before you came over for brunch,” you elaborate, earning a whistle from Marcus. The two of you exchange a look, and a laugh, as you pick up another dumpling wrapper that you and Marcus rolled out together earlier.

“It’s a good idea though,” you add, stealing a glance his way so that he knows that you’re serious.

“Well, when you two inevitably do open a restaurant… I want ten percent,” Marcus jokes, earning another laugh from you.

“Deal,” you agree with him.

You and Marcus work like this, exchanging a few words, the conversation light, underscored by a softer acoustic soundtrack from one of your Spotify radio stations.

“So how’d you learn to cook like this?” Marcus asks you curiously.

“Uh…” you hesitate, treading carefully as you realize this conversation could open a can of worms.

“I don’t know how much Luca’s told you about me… but I was married… before him,” you begin, cautiously. “And… well, I learned a lot of this… a lot of traditional Japanese cooking from my mother-in-law.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. These are her dumplings actually – her recipe. She passed away last Fall and… well, it was important to me to celebrate her – to celebrate her life – by creating a few dishes for her,” you continue, and it’s as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room. “We’re bringing this one back as a special this month but um… yeah. I’m… still very much grieving and… it helps me remember her. Cooking her food helps me feel close to her, you know?”

“Yeah,” Marcus sighs, his heart heavy as he exhales.

He waits a beat.

And then another, having paused his work as he watches you pleat, head down, with expert hands.

The silence between you and Marcus is full, heavy, connected by shared experience. You wait for Marcus to say something, and when he doesn’t, you decide to continue.

“This restaurant… has so much of my heart in it: it’s got my love for Italian food from growing up in my best friend’s family’s restaurant, and it’s got my love for her – for Aiko – and everything she taught me,” you begin to explain. “And lately… it’s got a fresh perspective… inspired by the love I have with Luca, I think. Well, I know. Inspired by him… how this place brought us together.”

“The name itself is… totally made up, but means a lot to me. The Japanese word for heart is, kokoro, and the Italian word for heart is, cuore. Somehow an homage to my past… and was… Prophetic in so many ways too.”

As Marcus listens, Luca’s previous question lingers in his head:

How’s your heart?

At the time he didn’t know how to answer, and after five days in Copenhagen – after five days of doing what he loves in a place that he loves – his heart is somehow so full, yet so broken all at once. He’s filled with deep sorrow and with the spark of creativity all at the same time, and he’s just not sure how to hold all of this feeling inside of him.

Marcus waits a beat, opens his mouth, then lets the words fall out.

“It’s evident. In your food,” is all he manages to say. “It’s got soul. It’s got heart. I-, it’s inspiring. That’s for sure.”

“I made a dish. For Michael,” Marcus adds, his eyes on the dumpling he works on, but the guard on his heart beginning to fall away. “He was uh… well, he was the old owner of the restaurant, called The Beef back then. Carmy took over after he died. Felt right to honor him and his life, you know? When we reopened as The Bear.”

“Food is… it’s our art, you know?” you agree. “Sometimes it’s the only way I know how to express myself and… sometimes it’s just the thing that makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

A beat.

“Maybe one day I can make one for my mom,” Marcus says, his voice stuck in his throat as he admits, “I don’t know if I’m ready yet. But I think… I think I’d like to eventually.”

“Of course,” you reassure him gently. “You don’t have to be ready now. You don’t have to be ready ever. But when you are, your art will always be there.”

“Thanks,” Marcus nods solemnly.

You get up this time, realizing the sheet pan is full, and ready to be placed on the baker’s rack. As you return to the table with a new empty sheet pan, lined with parchment paper, Marcus finally asks you, his eyes soft, the heartbreak in them present.

“How’d you get through? You know. Losing her? Your mother-in-law?”

You return to your chair with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll let you know when I do,” you answer, letting up a soft chuckle. “It helps to have good people and… from what Luca’s told me, you do. But… I had to let ‘em in, let ‘em help me. Let ‘em love me. And in all honesty, most days I’m still just… taking it day by day.”

“Yeah, I-. I do. I got some really good people. Back home,” Marcus drags out slowly.

“Then that’s all that matters. Your people and your heart. The rest… you just-,” you start.

“Take day by day?” Marcus interjects, pausing to catch your eyes.

You and Marcus exchange a knowing look, the recognition of each others’ pain is met with empathy.

“Yeah. I think that's all we can do.”

By the end of your work session with Marcus, you’re ready to head home so that you can spend the rest of the day with Luca.

“What’re you gonna do with the rest of your day?” you ask Marcus, curiously.

With a sigh, and then a shrug, and a heart that feels just a little lighter, he answers with:

“Think I might wander around a bit. Someone once told me it’s good for the spirit.”

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

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