#every once in a while i like pink 🩷 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ningvory · 8 months ago

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omg! congrats on 2k sweetheart🩷🩷🩷 i’ve been a silent reader since february and decided to get outta the comfort zone and req🤭 so ive been thinking about nonidol gp minjeongie with a tit fixation?? like just imagine it’s late at night n ur both in the bed nd ur half sleep n suddenly she’s pouncin’ on u, telling u that she can make u cum with only sum tit suckin🤭🤭🤭

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 679 words • 2k event

a/n: anon can i kiss you? your mind is so MMMF this is so minjeong you can’t tell me minjeongie doesn’t love tit suckin!!

CW: non idol au, soft dom winter, tit suckin, sort of cumming untouched, uhh not proofread

it was 11:52 pm when the episode you and your girlfriend, minjeong were watching finally went off. you were cuddled up next to her, eyes becoming more and more droopy as the ending credits began rolling.

you two do this every friday night and you can usually stay awake but your shift at work today was just so undeniably long that your body was craving sleep.

you were almost fully in dreamland, eyes closing before your back was swiftly pinned to the mattress, immediately startling you and forcing your eyes to open in panic, only to hear minjeong’s raspy voice calming you down.

“s‘okay baby, ‘jus me.” she cups your face before kissing your soft lips gently, making you sigh into her mouth, turning this into a make-out session.

your tongues dace with eachother, fighting for dominance until minjeong’s quickly overpowered yours. you normally would’ve put up more of a fight but in your tired state of mind, you let her win. she immediately put her hand on your neck softly squeezing it, pulling a soft moan from you that went straight to her cock.

she pulled away from you, a string of spit connecting you to before it snapped. you let out a whine from the lost of contact, looking up at the older trying to bring her lips back to yours before she softly swats your hands away and brings her hands to your clothes tits.

“gonna have you moaning and cumin’ from just playing with your tits,” she whispers to you, helping you take off your pink tank top.

your tits jiggle at the contact and your nipples harden under the cool air of your shared bedroom. her hands began to squeeze and fondle with your warm tits. you squirm and whine under her soft touch; her colder hands felt too good as she continued to play with them. she laid down on top of your limp body, finally latching her mouth onto your soft tits.

while her mouth was busy sucking and swirling around your left nipple, her hands softly flick and pinch the other. occasionally biting your tit to bring more stimulation to you.

she’s got you whining and moaning under her quickly, your legs rub against eachother, the wetness of your cunt starts to get unbearable. your right hand is tangled in her brown locs while your left hand tugs on the bedsheet tightly. you arch your back and push her head even more closer to your tit, nonverbally telling her to suck harder.

“fuck! so good!” you cry out, feeling her now suck on your right tit and fondle with the left. you felt so good but so empty, your legs once again rub against eachother, desperate for friction to give your needy drooling pussy some attention. your drooling cunt clenching down on nothing, “p-please jeongie—‘wan your cock!” you beg her but she simply ignores you, attention more focused on your plush tits. you should’ve known your pleads would be ignored. your girlfriend is obsessed with your tits and won’t pass up any opportunity to have them in her mouth.

your body began shaking, feeling that long awaited high approach your body, your noises became louder and whiner. minjeong knew your body like the back of her hand and began sucking harder and squeezing your nipple, sending electric down to your needy pussy.

“jeongie!! c-cummi—” your body finished your sentence for you, your body forms a perfect arch and your eyes roll to the back of your head, seeing stars while a loud whiny moan rips from your chest. minjeong let’s out a groan from your cute noises before swirling her tongue around your spit covered tit, making your body twitch under her.

you come down from you high heavily breathing. before you could calm yourself she’s pulling down your sleep shorts and your cum filled panties, chuckling at how much you came.

she comes back up to your face, kissing your face before bringing her lips to your right ear.

“pretty baby, it’s time for me to fuck your pretty pussy, right?”

#♡.winter #♡.aespa #g!p #aespa smut #aespa x fem reader #kpop smut #wlw smut #aespa winter smut #winter x fem reader #winter smut

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mtcloudsworld · 2 months ago

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𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | +18, mdni, fem!reader, vigilante!reader (I thought of her as a witch, revealing Jason's deepest darkest desires while putting a little twist of her own...if that makes sense lol idk), Jason Todd, cowgirl, pet names: baby, edited but in case of any errors, ignore it, ty. Enjoy lovebugs! 🦠🩷

Call it lust, call it a driven quench of thirst, ecstacy, fucking, lust but secretly and begrudgingly, you had him wrapped around your finger.

Y'all were breathless and lightheaded but somehow weren't done. He can't lie he loved fucking the living shit out of you. It made him feel alive. Having your nails embedded in his skin, marks along his back and lipstick stains left on his collar and neck. Sounds of your raunchy mouth sends his mind to a frenzy.

His tongue slithers past your swollen lips to collide against your own. The kiss deepens and turns feverish with a mixture of loathe and lust. Mean, large calloused hands kneaded at the fat of your ass as he presses you completely against him. Your moans were nothing of the sort, they kept him in a trance.

Bewitching and taunting to the point he loses control, he finds himself cursing at his own vulnerability. Hating that he was allowing you to say things that were out of the ordinary, casting a spell of addiction and hunger over him seemed bizarre to hear but it was true. You had him hooked, driven to craving your touch-- craving every sense of you till it drove him mad.

"Does it feel good baby?" You're voice was as delicate as a feather, it was light with an erotic twist. You gave him a deep whine of your hips, rolling deliciously slow so he could feel every inch of you puckering around him. "Am I making you feel better?" It was so hard to tune you out when your whimpering moans echoed within his office. "I am, aren't I?" A giggle, "I can see it all in your eyes that you like it just as much as I do. No need in hiding it. You can tell me, I promise I won't tell a soul." You coo'd sweetly.

He feels your fingers run through his hair, comforting and persuading, they curl at the strands, giving a strain at the root of his scalp. As you tug at his hair, he grunts, thrusting his hips to meet you halfway. Pressing his pink mushroom tip into your soft cervix, he acknowledges the way you gasp, whimpering to the blissful rapture of his deep strokes. Eyes half lidded, you notice the swirl of his blue irises turn dark. The feeling of your pussy lips puckering and clenching around his throbbing dick, makes a deep guttural moan emit out of him. "s-shit!"

"Mhmm, there you go, baby," she chimes with a smirk. Pressing his forehead against yours, you hear those pathetic little whimpers and groans from his lips. Planting kisses at the corner of his lips, he locks eyes with you watching how your face twisted in delight. As he crumbles in your care, he feels himself getting closer and closer towards the edge. Gradually gaining the confidence to glance up your anatomy to your fucked out face, he watches how you begin to bounce relentlessly on his dick. "Holy fuck!-- Ugggh, yes, just like that, yes baby, yes!" Listening to the repetitive smacking of skin and squelching of your pussy juices beginning to pool and soak around his thighs and stain the black leather chair.

"Oh my god...oh my god...im cumming, I'm cumming, baby, I'm cumming!" With your arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails digging into the depths of his flesh, his hands held you right by the waist. Aiding and guiding you to keep going, equally you both leave marks behind once the intense orgasm washes away.

While you continuously feel him puncturing and abusing the inside of your gummy walls-- riding out the high, it leaves you breathless and crashing out on his chest, listening to the beautiful sound of his beating heart.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

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im-so-normal-iswear · 3 months ago

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Omg I luv your writing 🩷🩷🩷🖤🖤🖤🩷🖤🖤🩷🖤🩷 Could you please write a Yandere team up of Sonic and Amy where they’re both yan for reader. Maybe they didn’t realize at first but then after they found out they were both yan for reader they decided to team up together, tho probably after a lot of back and forth bc I can see them both being reluctant to share but since they both love reader they decided it’s best to share in order to protect them better. Srry for yappin lol 🩷🖤

A/n: idk what to put here

Yandere Sonic/Amy x Reader

The moment they realized they were both obsessed with you, the tension was palpable

Sonic had been watching you for months, racing to your side whenever you were around, even when you weren't. He always thought it was normal, just him being protective, just him making sure you were safe. But the way his heart pounded whenever you smiled? The way his brain short-circuited when you laughed at one of his jokes? The way he felt actual rage when someone got too close to you? Yeah... He should've realized it sooner.

Amy, on the other hand, had always been passionate about her feelings. She didn't just love you, she adored you, worshiped the very ground you walked on. Every interaction you had was a treasure, a moment she replayed over and over in her mind. Every glance, every word, it all meant something. And if someone even thought about getting between you and her? Well, they wouldn't be around for long.

Neither of them had expected to find out about each other's.... Affections for you.

At first, it was a disaster.

"You like them too?!"

Amy's voice had been shrill, disbelief laced in every word as she clutched her hammer tight.

Sonic had his arms crossed, brows furrowed. "Yeah? And? You're not exactly subtle, Ames. You think I haven't noticed the way you stalk them?"

Amy scoffed, flipping her hair. "Please! Like you're any better. You hover around them like some sort of- of blue mosquito!"

Sonic smirked, acting as if he wasn't the tiniest bit irritated. "Better than being a pink menace with a giant mallet."

The argument lasted hours. Insults, glares, threats, neither wanted to back down. They didn't want to share you. You were theirs.

But in the end, as much as they hated to admit it, they had one thing in common: they needed you.

And if they had to wirk together... So be it...

At first, it was awkward.

They kept stepping on each other's toes, trying to one-up each other for your attention. Sonic would whisk you away for a day of adventure, making sure you only had eyes for him. Then Amy would swoop in, showering you with gifts and affection, reminding you how sweet and thoughtful she was.

They'd sabotage each other constantly. Sonic would "accidentally" ruin Amy's plans with you, while Amy would guilt-trip you into spending more time with her instead of Sonic.

It was exhausting.

For both them and you.

One night, they finally admitted it wasn't working.

"Look, Ames, this back and forth? It's just stressing them out." Sonic groaned, rubbing his temples.

Amy, surprisingly, sighed in agreement. "I know. I just... I don’t want to lose them, Sonic."

There was a pause.

For once, they were honest with each other.

Frankly, bithe of them were tired of this, and they both knew that if they kept fighting, they'd lose you, maybe not to someone else, but you'd grow tired of their constant tug-of-war. They couldn't risk that.

So, reluctantly, they agreed.

They'd share.

Not because they wanted to. But because it was the only way to keep you theirs.

After that, things got better, or at least the best it could get.

Instead of competing, they worked as a team.

Amy would distract you while Sonic took care of any problems (rivals). Sonic would keep you entertained while Amy ensured you stayed dependent on them.

Their dynamic became something terrifyingly perfect.

You didn't realize how much control they had over your life.

Your plans would mysteriously fall through if they didn't include them. Your friends would distance themselves, either by choice (or force). You'd start relying on Sonic and Amy more and more, until one day, they were all you had.

And by then, it was too late.

You slipped up.

And now.

They weren't letting you go.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #fanfic #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #amy #amy rose #amy x reader #amy rose x reader #yandere amy rose #yandere amy #yandere #yandere amy rose x reader #yandere sonic x reader #yandere sonic the hedgehog #yandere sonic #yandere sonic the hedgehog x reader

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nxtaliaistyping · 5 months ago

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Heyy I love your writing so much!! I was wondering if you'd ever consider writing for Harvey dent/ Two-face?? Maybe something based on what you said about the coin landing on the scarred side and him liking a girl with a softer/pink aesthetic? Thank you so much darling~🩷🎀🩷

Two-Face and his favorite girl

Authors note: There are multiple ways of interpreting the Harvey/Two-Face dichotomy in writing, I went with a more Arkhamverse inspired one. Hope it’s okay sweetheart <3

18+ nsfw, rough sex, degradation, spitting

“You’re too perfect f’us sweetheart.” Harvey mumbles, as his large hands come to rest on your hips.

Being with them both for a while now, you can always tell who’s fronting at any given moment. While the voice was usually a giveaway, Two-Face preferring to almost growl out every little sound that escapes his throat, whereas Harvey just sounds like a deep baritone. But it isn’t just that, it’s the way he looks at you. Which eye twitches when you say something, which side of his mouth curls more when you flirt with him, or wear a revealing outfit.

Much like the one you have on now, the pretty pink babydoll dress barely covering the cute panties you’d slipped on when he’d texted he was coming to visit. Whenever that happened, he usually needed a softer touch, a calming session, or a rough fuck to take the edge off.

“Needed to see you.” He continues, hands groping at the plush of your hips in time with his words.

“Always wanna see you.” You giggle in response, smaller hands coming up to grip his broad shoulders. He groans in response, the tension leaving his body at the slight massage.

Emboldened, you begin to really knead your fingers, although being much softer on his scarred side to avoid any pain or discomfort on his end.

At least he’s letting you touch him there, given the nights where Harvey is in control, his jaw clicking whenever you lean against his scarred side or caress it gently. It makes him feel like a failure, a reminder of who he once was. When he was whole.

But you don’t mind, both of them occupying a space in your heart. So you seek to prove it, kissing up Harvey’s jaw while your hands keep easing the pressure and tension out as best you can.

He relaxes underneath you, and you’re just about to climb onto his lap before his hand starts to twitch, thumb feeling that familiar pocket of his trousers. Noticing, you pull away and look at him, before he groans.

“No…fine.” He mumbles, and you realise he isn’t talking to you.

“You need to toss your coin Harvey?” You ask softly, moving away for a moment to look at his face.

“Need to decide…” he starts, before pulling the coin from his pocket and feeling the weight of it in his fingers. “We both want you in different ways sweetheart.”

Blushing softly, you think you’re starting to understand as you nod. “Do you wanna be more…gentle?”

Harvey nods, hand moving to your thigh to grip the soft flesh. “He wants to fuck you.”

Shivering a little, you can’t deny the appeal of either one as he readies the coin. “It’s okay, whatever happens happens.”

He grunts softly at your words, before flicking the coin up. Watching it skim through the air sets your goosebumps off to claw at your skin, time almost slowing as it begins its decent. Quickly he grabs it, covering it with his palm as you both eagerly anticipate the result. He lifts his hand…only to see the scarred side of the coin staring back at you.

At your catch of breath, his head moves ever so slightly, so much so any other person might not have caught it. But you did. So you stare at him with doe eyes until he speaks.

“Guess I’m the lucky one.” Two-face growls, moving you roughly onto his lap. You squeak, feeling the way he moved you as if you weighed nothing at all.

Immediately he’s kissing and licking up your neck, tugging on your hair to expose more of you to his hungry gaze. His other goes under your dress, feeling the lacy material of your panties before giving a soft slap to your clothed cunt.

“Wearing next to fuckin’ nothing.” His tone almost sounds like he’s mad, but the way his fingers grope and cup your pussy shows you how much he loves it, how much he can’t get enough. “Harvey’s right, you shouldn’t be with us. Far too fuckin’ pretty.”

You whimper, shifting on his lap at the feeling of his digits, before he rips off the material to push two fingers immediately inside. At your gasp, he shushes you and fingers you messily.

“Quit y’whining.”

Nodding as best you can, you try and gain as much pleasure as you can from him prepping you before he decides he’s just too impatient. With a slight huff, he throws you off him and manoeuvres you so you’re bent over the sofa.

You hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, so you go to take your dress off, but oh barely get it past your hips before he grips your wrist harshly. “No no no doll. I didn’t say you could do that.”

Before you can reply, you feel his cock head tapping against your clit, gathering up your slick before pushing in roughly, not giving you time to adjust. At your soft cry, he groans heavily, pulling your arms back to hold before starting to push in and out.

“Look at you, creamin’ around my dick. Wanted me to treat you like a whore all along huh?”

You whimper out a yes in between moans, his cock moving in and out at a brutal pace. Clearly he has a lot of steam to blow off, with you acting like the good stress reliever you are for him.

“Our pretty fuckin’ girl, always so dolled up for us. Bet you thought about this while putting on that short fuckin’ dress huh?” He grunts out, feeling the tightness of your walls wrapped around him.

“Yes…yes.” Is all you can say, your knuckles almost turning white from how hard you’re gripping the back of the sofa. Each thrust causes it to creak a little under your combined weight.

“Gonna corrupt your sweet ass for all of Gotham to see.”

His hand yanks your head back, gazing down on your sweet face, the mascara adorning your pretty eyelashes and the lip gloss on your kissable mouth. In that moment, all he wants to do is just ruin you. So he isn’t even surprised at himself when he spits on your cheek. And he certainly isn’t surprised when you moan like a paid whore.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl.” He grins, hips snapping against yours.

Feeling the spit drying on your face, you go to wipe it before he does it for you, rubbing it into your cheek and lips, smearing your lip gloss. The sight makes his cock throb inside of you, especially with how pretty those ruined lips look when he pushes his thumb between them.

You suck the digit and moan like it’s his dick, wanting to please him even now. He loves that about you, they both do. How eager you always are, how that innocent princess look hides such a depraved mind beneath.

Eventually, your cunt throbs with the sign of your impending orgasm, your fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. Before you can alert him, the grip on your hair tightens to an almost painful degree.

“Gonna cum? Gonna cum at me fuckin’ you like a slut I picked up in the Bowery?”

At your desperate sobs of please and yes, he has the audacity to laugh at you before grunting out his permission. After a couple of deadly thrusts against your g spot, you’re cumming hard around him, whimpering pathetically.

But he isn’t done, no no he doesn’t even slow down. He keeps railing you, pushing as deep as he can into your cunt before ripping himself out and repeating. Your juices make a sinful noise with each thrust, the squelching reaching your ears and causing a burning flush to spread over your cheeks.

After what feels like a lifetime, he buries himself deep and cums, unloading the stress of the day practically straight into your womb. A guttural moan rips from his mouth, as he collapses onto you for a moment, coming down from the intensity.

"Good girl..." Two-face mumbles, and you bask in the rare praise from him as you keep laying boneless against the sofa. "Might have ruined your dress though dollface. Gotta get a new one."

#dc #dc smut #twoface #two face #two face x reader #two face smut #twoface x reader #harvey dent #harvey dent x reader #harvey dent smut #villain kink #smut #villain smut #harvey dent x you #harvey dent dc #smut writing #dc x reader #batrogues #arkhamverse

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ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey · 7 months ago

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How about jealous Ginny for a prompt? I mean there are plenty of jealous Harry stories but for once I want to need to see a jealous Ginny! Loved the overprotective Harry btw❤️🩷

They - quite literally - run into her at the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny was walking backward, grinning wickedly at Harry as she tried to surmise just how many photographers would swarm Diagon Alley once word had spread that he was there, while Harry continued to argue he should at least be allowed to don the Invisibility Cloak.

“No, no, I’ll look insane talking to myself all day. You’ve got to face society, sometime, Potter,” Ginny was saying. “Some would say it’s your responsibility, no your duty to–”

“--my duty?”

“--to spend the day dodging photographers for your girlfriend. Isn’t that your whole deal? Self-sacrificing, hero–”

“Rita Skeeter is worse than Voldemort.”

It was precisely the moment when Ginny let out a loud, unattractive Ha! that her back came into contact with a person turning away from the bar. It’s all a bit of a flurry for a few moments - a folder of papers flutters to the floor, Ginny stumbles and corrects herself with an “Oh Merlin I’m so sorry,” Harry jolts forward helplessly as though to catch… something.

Ginny turns to apologize more earnestly, when she realizes that she knows the person she’s just crashed into.

“--I’m such an idiot, are you– Oh! Cho!”

“Er, hi,” Cho Chang says, a bit ruefully. “It’s good to – oh, no, don’t worry, I can–”

Cho flaps her hands uselessly, for Harry has bent over to pick up the papers Ginny had knocked to the floor.

“Here,” Harry says, stuffing the papers haphazardly back into the folder and thrusting it out toward Cho.

“Thanks,” Cho says, and then a horribly awkward silence swallows them all.

Ginny struggles for anything to say. The only idiotic thing she can think to say is - You look pretty - because Cho does. Her silky black hair is swept up into some elegant looking chignon, and it’s clear she’s done up her makeup a bit more than usual. She’s wearing smart robes that are fitted elegantly, and her soft-pink nails are perfectly shaped.

“Are you two off to Diagon Alley?” Cho says, with an air of desperation to fill the silence.

“Yes,” Ginny says, latching on to the subject like a life raft.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “Picking up school things for Ginny.”

“Oh!” Cho says, turning to Ginny in surprise. “Do you have another year of school left, then?”

The question, in conjunction with Cho’s very grown-up elegance, leaves Ginny feeling particularly infantile and irritable; their two-year age-gap seems suddenly to span decades. “Yep,” Ginny says, a note of petulance creeping into her tone. “Finishing up my NEWTs.”

“Good for you!” Cho says, in a way that manages not to sound patronizing, even though Ginny's certain it is. “I don’t know if I could go back to school, after every–”

Harry, shooting an alarmed glance at Ginny’s expression, interjects. “Did you do some shopping today, as well?”

“Oh! Er, no. No I… I just finished up a job interview, actually, in one of the back rooms here.”

“Did you?” Harry says, raising his eyebrows. “Nice. Hope it went well.”

“Me too,” Cho says, looking at Harry a bit shyly, now. Ginny narrows her eyes. “Actually, I’m glad I ran into you. The job - it’s in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Really?” Harry says, and he sounds genuinely interested now. “What role?”

“Oh, something administrative. I’m not very interested in field work, I’d much rather be working on the policy side of things, but – well, I’d actually wanted to thank you. Everything was so in flux after—well, in May, and I never got a chance to–”

“Thank me?” Harry says, sounding baffled. “You don’t–”

“I do,” Cho insists prettily, wringing her hands prettily, sounding pretty. “You were so brave, what you did. Facing him. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you– And honestly, I wouldn’t even have had a chance at this job if it weren’t for the DA. I think they only interviewed me because I mentioned I’d been a part of it–”

“Really,” Harry says awkwardly, “it’s nothing, you don’t need to–”

“It’s isn’t nothing, at all!” Cho says emphatically, tucking a silky strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’ve made such a difference for everyone and I’ve been wanting to tell you but I–”

“Don’t be modest, Harry,” Ginny interjects hotly. Cho’s gushing so much they all might drown in it. In fact, Ginny wouldn’t mind all that much if Cho did.

Harry shoots her a wary look, and then turns back to Cho. “That’s, er, really nice of you to say.”

“I mean it,” Cho says. “I heard you’ve joined the Aurors, is that true?”

“Er, yeah–” Harry says, ruffling his hair anxiously. It strikes Ginny then, as it so often does, that Harry is quite good-looking, now. Not that he hadn’t been, before, but months of regular eating and living out from under the thumb of the threat of constant death has been good to him - go figure. He’s filled out and bought clothes that fit and Ginny’s very much enjoyed it all until this moment, when it strikes her that he could stand to be a bit less handsome, all piercing eyes and messy hair and wry smirks directed at Cho bloody Chang. “I have.”

“I knew you would,” Cho says, like she’s some insider expert on Harry’s tendencies. “We’ll be in the same office, then, if I get this job!”

“Oh!” Harry says, coming up short. “That’s—” he shoots a glance at Ginny. “That’s great.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ginny says in a passable impression of earnestness that she’s positive does not fool Harry. “Really, really, wonderful.”

Cho looks at Ginny as though she’s only just remembered that she’s there. “Yes, well. Are you still interested in doing the Quidditch thing, Ginny?” Cho asks.

“Oh, who knows?” Ginny says brightly. “Maybe I’ll do the Quidditch thing, or maybe I’ll go be an Auror too. It’ll be a regular party, the three of us.”

Cho’s smile falters a bit. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Lovely,” Ginny agrees. “Just lovely.”

Harry coughs, and then they’re plunged into a miserable silence once more.

“Well,” Ginny says heartily. “We’ve got to get a move on. Those photographers won’t dodge themselves, you know.”

“Oh, of course,” Cho says. “Well, it was lovely to see you both.”

“Lovely,” Ginny agrees.

“Yeah,” Harry says.

“Best of luck at school, Ginny,” Cho says, and Ginny hates that she sounds like she means it. “And maybe I’ll be seeing you in the office, Harry.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry chuckles, “Maybe! Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Cho says, and then she gives them an awkward wave and departs.

Once the door has closed with a jingle of the bell above it, Ginny turns to Harry, her eyebrows raised.

“Ginny…” Harry says with trepidation.

“Looks like you’ve got a new office best mate!” Ginny says with supreme sarcasm. “I’ll tell Ron he’s been usurped, he’ll cry for a bit but I’m sure he’ll manage–”

“She might not even get the job–”

“Oh, no. She will. I mean, she name-dropped you and the DA, that’s sure to give her a leg up, never mind that she wasn’t even at school last year with the worst of it, never mind the whole thing disbanded because of her stupid friend–”

“I don’t think that’s what she–”

“I’m just so glad that while I go months without seeing you, you’ll get to pal around with Cho Chang, I was so worried that you’d get lonely without me, but now–”

“Ginny,” Harry says with an awkward laugh. “Come on, you know that’s not how it is.”

“She can go on thanking you for what a bloody hero you are,” Ginny continues. “I don’t think anyone’s told you that in about five minutes, so it’ll be good to get a nice top up from her when you’re feeling down.”

“Well, sure,” Harry joins in. “You know I can’t go more than six without being reminded.”

Ginny pats his chest. “So brave. There. Do you think that’ll last you until we get to the book shop?”

“I might need a quick round of applause in the apothecary.”

Ginny snorts. “Oh, come on, then,” Ginny says. “Maybe we’ll run into Fleur’s little sister, too, if we’re really lucky.”

They make their way through the brick entrance to Diagon Alley - a far cry from the days of the war, the street is bustling and busy once more. They take a circuitous route to Flourish and Blotts, taking care to walk quickly so that not too many people take notice that Harry Potter is in their midst, and because Ginny cannot bear the sight of her brothers’ joke shop, once alive and bustling and colorful and loud, boarded up and quiet. It’s a bit too on the nose.

They make it nearly to the front door of the book shop before Ginny can’t take it anymore. “Did you hear the way she asked if I was doing ‘the Quidditch thing’?” she snarls, halting them just outside the door. “Like it was some cute little hobby, never mind that she was a Seeker too. Not a very good one, mind, but still!”

Harry has the gall to look faintly amused as he pulls her off to the small alleyway next to the shop. “I’m sure that’s not what she meant. Professional Quidditch is really difficult, she knows–”

“Oh you’re sure, are you?” Ginny spits, rolling her eyes. “Just like she just knew you’d become an Auror? Someone alert Professor Trelawney, we’ve got another Seer on our hands. No one without a powerful Inner Eye could’ve possibly predicted that–”

Harry grins and shakes his head. “You do know I’m not thrilled about this either, don’t you?”

“I can’t imagine why,” Ginny rants. “It’s perfect, your girlfriend will pop off to Scotland and you can hang round with your ex instead!”

“My ex?” Harry says, an eyebrow raised. “We went on one date when I was fifteen and it was terrible.”

“Oh that’s only because you were both traumatized,” Ginny says airily. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled at the chance to reconnect now that you’re both older–”

“Ginny,” Harry says, the amusement replaced with something firm. “You’re not really worried about this, are you?”

Ginny can’t look him in the eye. She’s so irritated, so bothered, that it takes her a moment - she wants to say yes of course I’m worried, did you see how annoyingly pretty she was and the way she looked at you - but she doesn’t. Because it’s not true, not really. As she’s tried to rebuild in the rubble after the war, Harry’s been the one thing she’s sure of through all of it, and she reckons he feels the same. No, she knows he does. She knows he’s not interested in doing anything with Cho Chang.

Ginny takes a deep, calming breath, and meets his eyes. “I just really fucking hate that she might get to see you every day and I–” her voice catches.

Harry pulls her in and gives her one of those hugs that seems to calm every cell in her body, like he might be able to shield her from everything bad in the world. She can’t believe that in two weeks, this is a comfort she won’t have, anymore, reduced instead to stolen moments at Hogsmeade weekends and words scribbled in letters.

“I really fucking hate it, too.”

Ginny burrows her head deeper into his chest, and breathes in the woody smell of him. Finally, she says. “You were right, you know. I can admit it.”

“What?”

She pulls back and looks at him. “I really should’ve let you wear that damn Invisibility Cloak.”

#hinny #missing dh moment #jealous!Ginny

188 notes · View notes

dough09 · 9 days ago

Note

this my first time requesting something ever ahh so nervous can i request can where sae hides like little cute notes around the house and reader finds them and sae finds out that reader keeps them in a cute box

Notes stored inside my heart...

Hii im so glad im your first!!

Fun fact: My native language isn't english either so I was also very nervous when I first started writing.

I love your request!! So cuteee.

I hope you'll like it 🩷

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

"Sae definitely isn't the romantic type" or so the rumors say. You can't help but smirk at that statement each time.

A cold exterior doesn't necessarily mean he is like the Antarctica inside. Ever since you started dating he's been nothing but sweet. Except of course when there is an argument. Then he definitely stands for his right.

Each time he'd pick you up from work there is definitely some snacks, flowers, post it notes waiting for you. It's like his precious car, which he treasured the most was entirely lived in by you.

Like his two most cherished jewels united into one.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

After waking up, you go about your daily routine, except, it's the first day of you sleeping over at his.

You went to the kitchen to get your morning coffee. You knew he wouldn't be home so you didn't expect what's about to happen.

Your drink sat on the counter with a note next to it.

╭───────────────────────.★..────╮

Morning mi vida, how did you sleep?

I went running, I'll be back by 7.

Ps.: I love you, you look beautiful when you

sleep.

╰─..★.──────────────────────────╯

You were speechless. Did he watch you while sleeping? Actually makes sense because you did feel his strong arms all around you when you tried turning.

What you hoped he'd never find out is that you always kept these things. Every note, every piece of paper, you even dried out the flowers you got, at least one of each bouquet. Some would call this cheesy and way too much. But you were crazy in that way.

So you kept everything. In a separate pink box with a cyan bow specifically designed for it. You call it the Sae Box.

No one knew about this, because not only did you keep his things in here but when you were afraid of sending him a message, unsaid words. They were all there.

Even throughout all the long distance.

"what are you doing?" Your husband's voice breaks the silence. You could help but jump and hide the box under the bed.

His brows squinted. His weight hugged your figure. "What are you hiding?" "Nothing" you smile and kiss his jaw.

"give me the box cariño" he demanded. There was no use for further arguments. He leaned down and grabbed it. "How long have you been hiding this here?" "Actually ever since we moved in together." You chuckle and he can't help but scoff. He needed to remind himself to look after your ass once in a while.

He slowly took the lid off. In front of him many many dried flowers, notes, (what he considers) trash, and photos laid.

They were all precious memories to you. Even the paper of his gum that he told you to throw out meant more.

His notes caught his eyes and he went over each.

╭───────────────────────.★..────╮

You asked would I love you till the day you die.

I said no, (I stand by that) but that's because if you die, I also go down with you. Yeah you would say I'm crazy. But only crazy for you.

I love you mi amor.

╰─..★.──────────────────────────╯

╭───────────────────────.★..────╮

Mi vida, I am sorry. I should've known you were hungry without you needing to say anything. I am terribly sorry.

Ps.: I already bought your desired snacks, look in the fridge

╰─..★.──────────────────────────╯

╭───────────────────────.★..────╮

If you found the note, does this mean you forgive me? :) <3

I love you so much, don't leave me.

╰─..★.──────────────────────────╯

╭───────────────────────.★..────╮

I'm so sorry. I know it's your birthday but this is an important match. Wish me luck. <3

I promise I'll make it up to you. If you see this CALL ME IMMEDIATELY!!!

Watch me win just for you.

Happy birthday my life. I love you so so much.

Ps.: home by 7pm, reservation at 9! Dress up well.

╰─..★.──────────────────────────╯

╭───────────────────────.★..────╮

You asked me who my dream girl is.

Mi vida, look in the mirror.

╰─..★.──────────────────────────╯

And so on and so forth. Notes on the microwave as a reminder to eat and heat up the already prepared meal.

Notes for dates.

Notes on your birthday.

Notes for those days when he knew you were stressed. Whenever life got hard he was there.

Yet they call him cold and emotionally unavailable.

Throughout it all, be it in Madrid, or in a completely different continent. He was there. Always. Always and forever. In sickness and in health.

Apologies for any mistakes. I hope you enjoyed. <3

Dough signing off~

#f!reader #itoshi sae #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock fanfiction #fanfic #bllk itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader

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meadowfics · 2 months ago

Note

Daeho waking up one day to his hairties nowhere to be found and he has to use one of Seo-ah’s pink glittery disney princess hairtie to keep his hair out of his face while working!😭🩷

AHHH OMG

daeho was having the worst morning of his life because everything had been fine at first.

he woke up, kissed you before rolling out of bed, showered, got dressed, and made himself a quick cup of coffee before sitting down at his desk to start work.

it was all part of his normal morning routine.

except when he reached over to tie his long black hair into a ponytail, his fingers grasped at nothing. he blinked, his brows furrowing.

the hairtie wasn’t on the desk.

okay, maybe he left it somewhere else.

no big deal.

he stood up, walking over to the bedroom. checking his nightstand. then the bathroom counter.

nothing.

daeho's jaw clenched.

he checked the dresser, then the kitchen counter, the couch, the random basket where you sometimes tossed miscellaneous items.

nothing.

at this point, he was starting to feel annoyed. how could every single one of his hairties just vanish overnight?

suddenly, a thought hit him.

seo-ah.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh before making his way to her bedroom. the moment he stepped inside, he already knew he was right.

because sitting in the corner, stuffed neatly inside her tiny pink toy purse, were all of his missing hairties all broken or too stretched out to be used correctly.

the little thief.

of course she had taken them.

this wasn’t even the first time she had done something like this. lately, she had been obsessed with playing "salon" with her dolls, which usually meant taking anything she could find that was hair-related.

she was at daycare right now. she wasn’t here for him to demand them back or for a lecture about stealing without asking. he wasn’t about to dig through her toys and risk losing his father of the year title either.

he just needed one hairtie.

just one.

the man's eyes scanned the room until he saw it... a tiny pink glittery hairtie.

it had a little bow at the end.

he sighed deeply, running a hand over his face.

he had no choice so reaching over, he grabbed the hairtie and quickly tied his hair back into a ponytail.

this was fine. nobody would notice.

he just needed to get through the day.

however, you noticed.

the moment you stepped into the living room and walked into his office, you saw him sitting at his desk, typing away on his laptop. it was the pink in his hair that you nearly made you drop your coffee.

your lips parted slightly as you took in the sight of your husband. the same man who used to be a marine, who was broad-shouldered and strong, sitting there with a tiny, pink, glittery disney princess hairtie holding his hair back.

a hairtie with a little bow at the end.

you stared.

blinking once.

twice.

you nearly burst into laughter but you had to hold it in. biting the inside of your cheek, you took a deep breath before casually walking up to him, leaning against the back of his chair.

"uh… sweetheart?" you said, voice as even as possible.

daeho didn’t even look up from his screen, "yeah?"

"nice hairtie."

daeho's typing came to an abrupt stop.

there was a beat of silence before he slowly turned to look at you, his expression completely unreadable.

"not. a. word."

that was it. that was all it took.

you lost it.

laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, spilling out as you clutched your stomach.

"oh my god," you wheezed, struggling to breathe, "wher- where did you even get that?!"

"your daughter," he muttered, his tone flat, "she stole all my hairties and broke them on her dolls, and i had no choice."

you were in tears. actual tears.

"no, no, i mean—it’s cute! really, it suits you," you teased, wiping at your face.

he shot you a look so unamused that it only made you laugh harder.

"you’re enjoying this way too much."

"oh, absolutely. I love seeing you look like the older male version of seo-ah."

he sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples as if dealing with the teasing was a full-time job.

"if you love me, you’ll help me find my hairties."

you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before whispering,

"no promises, princess."

#kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game #player 388 #player 388 x reader #dae ho #kang daeho #dae ho squid game #dae ho x reader

85 notes · View notes

archivequinn · 4 months ago

Note

I loved your breaking up angst fic! Can I request an angst with a happy ending fic.

Eddie and Reader get into an argument and he does a really sweet gesture to make up for it.

I love your fics and always look forward to reading them when they pop up on my dashboard 🥰

Hello lovely! I hope your day is going very well. Your kind words make me very happy and I'm glad you like my fic. I wish I was able to write a fic like you wanted and I hope you enjoy reading it. I look forward to your comments. 🩷

Summary: Eddie forgets about your anniversary and makes up the night for you after you argue with him. angst to happy ending, fluff.

credit for dividers: @saradika-graphics

While waiting for Eddie to come home, you excitedly rolled up your sleeves to prepare for a day that would make him feel how special it was to you. Since the morning, there had been only one thought on your mind: celebrating your anniversary perfectly. You decided to prepare everything with both great care and love to make it flawless.

First, you headed to the kitchen. You thought about Eddie's favorite dishes: maybe the creamy pasta he's loved since childhood, or that amazing dessert you both recently discovered together. You took out the ingredients from the fridge and carefully began the preparations. As the clinking sounds of pots and pans filled the kitchen, you imagined how the evening would unfold. Once the food was ready, you elegantly plated it—creating a meal Eddie could never say no to.

Afterward, you moved on to setting the dinner table. You chose a soft champagne-colored tablecloth, something both romantic and elegant. On top, you placed tall white candles. When the idea of decorating the candles with red rose petals crossed your mind, a sweet sparkle lit up in your eyes. Once the petals were scattered across the table, it transformed into a work of art. The plates and silverware were meticulously arranged—every detail thoughtfully designed so Eddie would notice how much effort you'd put into this.

Next, it was time to get yourself ready. You picked that stunning dress—the one you were sure Eddie couldn't take his eyes off of every time he saw you wearing it. A long, elegant gown... perhaps black satin or one with lace details in a deep burgundy—whatever you chose, you felt incredible in it. As the dress brushed lightly against the floor, you twirled in front of the mirror and smiled at your reflection.

You began applying your makeup. A subtle eyeliner to highlight your eyes, a warm pink blush on your cheeks, and that favorite lipstick you loved. Once your makeup was finished, the mirror didn't just reflect your image; it showed someone who would absolutely take Eddie’s breath away. You styled your hair the way Eddie always adored: maybe natural waves or an elegant updo—whichever you chose, you felt absolutely beautiful at that moment.

For the background music, you put on the playlist you and Eddie had created together. Your favorite songs as a couple brought back happy memories one by one. The metal riffs resonated with the energy Eddie always brought whenever he picked up his guitar. But the playlist also had one or two slow, romantic songs Eddie had sneakily added as a surprise for you. Remembering how Eddie had thought of you while making this playlist brought an uncontrollable smile to your face.

When everything was finally ready, you gave the living room one last glance. The table glowed in the candlelight, soft music played in the background, and the delicious aroma of food filled the air. And of course, there was you—prepared and brimming with excitement for this special moment. Thinking about the expression on Eddie’s face as he walked through the door helped calm your nerves just a little.

The hours ticked by, and Eddie’s arrival was drawing closer. Everything was set, and now all that was left was to wait for him. Before greeting him, you took a few deep breaths and checked your reflection in the mirror one last time. Tonight had to be unforgettable.

Hours had passed. At first, you eagerly waited for the moment Eddie would walk through the door, but over time, anticipation slowly turned into despair. You had meticulously prepared the meal, elegantly decorated the table, and considered every detail, yet Eddie was nowhere to be found. Your phone remained silent; no messages, no explanations. It silently tore at you.

Initially, you tried to console yourself. "Maybe he’s stuck in traffic," you thought. "Maybe work ran late, but he’ll definitely come." However, as the hours dragged on, disappointment began to set in. You were hungry but kept waiting for Eddie. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold out. Finally, letting go of your dream of sitting down and sharing the meal with him, you reached for the food on the table. The first bite felt like a lump stuck in your throat; this was a meal you were eating alone. The candles in the center of the table were still burning, but instead of a romantic ambiance, the flickering light filled the room with a melancholy loneliness.

When the meal was over, your hand reached for the wine bottle. "I’ll have a glass or two; it’ll help me relax," you thought. With the first sip, memories of clinking glasses with Eddie flashed before your eyes. Glass after glass, the wine bottle on the table was soon halfway empty.

The makeup on your face started to feel like a burden weighing on you. You hurried to the mirror and wiped it off. Staring at your bare face in the mirror, you noticed the disappointment etched into your eyes. The hair you had styled so carefully just hours ago was now disheveled, and your spirit was completely drained.

Now, you sat alone at the head of the table. Your eyes grew heavy with fatigue, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to give up waiting. "Maybe the door will open any moment now," you thought. Resting your head on the table, everything began to blur like a dream under the dim, flickering candlelight. The wine’s slight haze made your eyelids grow heavier.

At that moment, the lock on the door turned. Eddie stepped inside with his key, noticing the smell of wine that filled the room and the candles nearly burned out. As he took a step into the room, he saw the remains of the meal on the table, the wine bottle nearly empty, and you, with your head resting on the table, dozing off. His eyes scanned the details on the table in surprise: the elegant arrangement, the rose petals, the half-melted candles, and you sitting there in silence. Eddie’s expression changed rapidly—surprise, guilt, and a hint of panic flickered across his face.

He stepped quietly, trying not to disturb you, and approached you cautiously. "Sweetheart…?" he called softly, but as he saw your eyes fluttering open, he crouched down beside your chair. "What happened here? Are you… are you okay?" he asked, looking at you with concern.

You brought your hands to your face and groaned lightly, still groggy from sleep. For a brief moment, Eddie’s puzzled expression mingled with your own. But as the depth of your sadness and disappointment resurfaced in your mind, you let out a deep, sorrowful breath. "Why were you so late?" you murmured, your voice slightly cracked, tinged with a trace of reproach.

Eddie’s face grew more serious. "I’m sorry… work ran late, and I lost track of time," he explained, raising his hands in helplessness. "But… what’s all this? The table? The candles? What’s it for?"

Seeing how unaware he was only amplified the depth of your disappointment. You fixed your eyes on him, but for a while, no words came out. Eddie could sense that there was a storm brewing beneath your silence. "What’s wrong? Please, tell me," he said, more insistently this time, but still in a gentle tone.

Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke the truth. "Today was our anniversary, Eddie," you said, the words feeling as if they were stuck in your throat. "And you forgot." Your voice was calm, but the hurt it carried was enough to devastate Eddie. His eyes widened, his hands trembled for a moment, and deep regret etched itself onto his face.

“Oh… no,” he whispered, rubbing his forehead with one hand. When he raised his eyes from the table back to you, it seemed as though he finally understood all your preparations, your effort, and ultimately, your broken heart.

"Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I forgot… no, how could I forget something like this?" he muttered, his voice cracking. But you turned your head away, avoiding his gaze.

Eddie stood before you, his face filled with remorse. Meanwhile, you avoided his eyes with a look that was both hurt and a little angry. You glanced briefly at the melted candles on the table, the empty wine bottle, and the darkened plates, then turned back to Eddie. As you tried to suppress your disappointment, his guilt-ridden expression only hurt you more.

"How could you forget something like this, Eddie?" you said, your tone now unrestrained in its hurt. "I mean… our anniversary… It was something special. And you..." You had done everything for him, planned the entire evening, but he… he had forgotten. This reality made you feel worthless.

Eddie took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as if trying to straighten his thoughts. "I know, you’re right. But work has been so busy, and I lost track of time. I could have called, yes. But—" he began, but you raised a hand to stop him.

"You lost track of time?" you snapped, your brows furrowed. "I planned the entire day, hour by hour. I set up the table, cooked the food, played your favorite playlist. But what did you do? You just showed up late. You didn’t even call to let me know." Tears began to well up in your eyes, but you didn’t want to appear weak in front of Eddie. So, you quickly wiped them away and took a deep breath.

Eddie spread his hands, his voice filled with regret but also tinged with helplessness. "Sweetheart, I didn’t realize how important this was. If I had known—"

"If you had known?" you interjected, your voice rising. Eddie, with his usual calm demeanor, tried to absorb your anger, but that only made you more furious. "Eddie, this is our anniversary! How many times did we talk about it? How many times did you say, ‘Let’s go all out this year’? And what happened?" By the time you finished your sentence, you were nearly out of breath.

Eddie lowered his head, his gaze falling to the floor. It was a gesture he always made when he felt guilty. But instead of calming you, it only fueled your frustration. "Yes, I forgot," he finally said, his tone quiet and subdued. "And it’s entirely my fault. But… please, try to understand. Work… my mind has been all over the place. There’s just been so much going on..."

"There’s always an excuse, isn’t there?" you said, getting up abruptly and pacing around the table. Eddie flinched slightly at your movement. "Eddie, just one day, just a few hours—was it so hard for me to be your top priority? Was it so impossible to set your work aside and put me first?"

Eddie’s eyes softened as he heard the slight tremor in your voice, but you were too angry to notice just yet. "I… I let you down, I know. But I don’t want to make you feel unimportant. Because to me, you’re… everything," he said. However, his words weren’t enough to soothe you in that moment.

"Yes, Eddie, and the person you call your 'everything' was left alone on an anniversary," you retorted. "How ironic, isn’t it?" Your eyes filled with tears again, but this time, you chose to stay silent, not wanting to say anything you might regret. You sat back down and moved away from Eddie as he tried to reach for you.

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded slightly. "Look, you’re right. You’re completely right. But please, give me a chance. I’ll make it up to you tonight. Just hear me out."

Eddie stepped closer. "I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t stand seeing you this upset," he said, placing his hands gently near yours.

In that moment, beneath your hurt, you still felt the love you had for Eddie. But you weren’t ready to show it to him just yet. "Let’s see what you’ll do, Eddie Munson," you murmured. "It’s going to take a real miracle to make up for tonight."

Eddie tried to smile, but the guilt was still evident on his face. "I’ll make that miracle happen," he said with determination.

He paused for a moment, and a familiar mischievous smile appeared on his face. As you raised an eyebrow and looked at him skeptically, Eddie had already started heading toward the kitchen.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" you asked, following after him. But he was already in the middle of the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets and opening and closing the fridge. When you saw a plate of chocolate, some flour, and milk on the counter, your eyebrows arched even higher.

"I’m going to make something for you with my own hands. How about some chocolate pancakes?" he said, a hopeful expression in his eyes. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "Chocolate pancakes at midnight? Eddie, seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring your smile back," he said as he started organizing the kitchen like a professional chef. You watched him, trying to keep the serious expression on your face, but Eddie’s clumsiness was mildly amusing. When a bit of flour ended up in his hair, you struggled to suppress a small smile.

As Eddie mixed the ingredients, your playlist continued playing in the background. When one of your favorite songs came on, Eddie stopped stirring and turned to you. "Okay, wait, isn’t this our song?" he said excitedly, extending a hand toward you.

"What are you doing, Eddie?" you asked, trying to maintain your stern expression.

"There’s a way to make this better," he said, taking your hand. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, my lady? Let’s make the rest of this night a little brighter." "Eddie, weren’t you making pancakes?" you asked, but he had already pulled you into the middle of the kitchen. As the song continued to play, Eddie’s warm hands found their way around your waist. "A quick break, then the pancakes will be ready," he whispered, spinning you gently.

At first, you hesitated, but you couldn’t resist the affectionate look on Eddie’s face. Even the creaking sound of the old wooden floor beneath your feet as you moved to the rhythm somehow became endearing. "You can’t win me over that easily," you murmured, but the way Eddie held you close softened your heart.

As the final notes of the song played, Eddie rested his forehead against yours. In his eyes, you saw a mix of regret and love. "I’ll do better for you. I promise," he said softly.

In that moment, you felt that Eddie was truly trying, that he genuinely wanted to make things right. The anger within you started to melt away, though you weren’t ready to forgive him just yet. "If the pancakes are good, maybe I’ll consider it," you said with a small smile. Eddie immediately dashed back to the kitchen, grabbing the mixing bowl.

Five minutes later, Eddie returned to the table with a plate in hand. The pancakes weren’t exactly masterpieces—they were a bit uneven and slightly overcooked—but the chocolate sauce he had drizzled on top made them look sweet enough. As you sat down, you took the fork he offered you.

"This is the best I can do for now, but next time, I’ll whip up something worthy of a pastry chef. Promise," he said, watching intently as you took your first bite. Eddie’s eyes stayed on you, his expression a mix of nervousness and hope.

"They’re not bad," you said, taking another bite. Eddie exhaled deeply and burst out laughing. "Not bad? That’s the highest compliment I’ve ever received!"

As you chuckled lightly, Eddie walked around the table to sit beside you. "Seeing you smile like this… it’s worth the world to me," he said, taking a bite of his own pancake.

The night began to feel normal again. When Eddie offered his hand, you hesitated at first but then took it with a faint smile. "Eddie, you really are the most stubborn and sweetest man in the world, you know that, don’t you?" you said. Eddie winked and pulled you back toward the living room.

Another song started playing from the playlist in the background—this one from the first night you two had danced together. Eddie gave you his signature mischievous look and gently pulled you closer.

"This song," he whispered, "reminds me of you. Every time I hear it, I think of that first night on the dance floor. You, in that red dress… and me, with too much hairspray and maybe a little drunk…"

You chuckled softly at his words. “Don’t be so hard on yourself; you were amazing that night,” you said. Eddie spun you gently and pulled you back into his arms, his eyes locked on yours.

“Every night is amazing if it ends with you,” he added.

As you danced, Eddie’s hands moved from your waist to your back, drawing you closer to him. The intimacy of the moment slowly erased the tension left by your earlier argument. Near the end of the song, Eddie twirled you one last time but, instead of ending the dance, he did something unexpected: he took your hands and started leading you toward the front door.

“Eddie, where are we going?” you asked, your voice laced with both surprise and curiosity.

“Surprise,” was all he said, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. Before you could press him for more answers, he grabbed your coat and handed it to you, grabbing his own jacket before opening the door.

The cold night air brushed against your face, making you instinctively move closer to Eddie for warmth. “Seriously, Eddie, where are we going at midnight?” you asked again. He just smiled, guiding you toward his van.

Soon, you were driving down a quiet road leading out of Hawkins. Eddie kept glancing at you with a playful smile, his hand occasionally tapping the steering wheel in time with the music. He’d restarted the playlist, making sure one of your favorite songs was playing to fill the silence.

Finally, he stopped the van near a small hillside. From there, the lights of Hawkins twinkled faintly in the distance like scattered stars. Eddie hopped out of the van, pulling a blanket from the back. Then, coming around to your side, he opened your door and held out his hand.

“This place…” you began, but Eddie interrupted immediately.

“Just wait, okay? Everything’s almost ready.” He spread the blanket on the ground and guided you to sit on it before returning to the van to grab a thermos and some snacks. Sitting down beside you, he handed you the thermos and gestured toward the view of the town below.

“So, this might not be a grand anniversary gift,” he said, a touch of nervousness in his voice. “But this place is special to me because, no matter how much I want to get out of this town, there’s always one thing keeping me here. You. And I might have forgotten about tonight, but I could never forget you.”

His words made your eyes glisten with unshed tears. As always, Eddie’s sweet and heartfelt way of expressing himself struck a chord deep within you.

“And also,” he continued, pulling a small box from his back pocket, “I thought this might help make up for it. It’s small, but it’s meaningful. I actually got it a while ago…”

When he opened the box, inside was a necklace that was unmistakably Eddie’s style. The chain was delicate but stylish, with a small guitar charm hanging from it.

“This represents us,” Eddie said as he carefully fastened the necklace around your neck. “Every note is you and me.”

Your eyes shifted from the necklace to Eddie. “You’re really going all out to make up for this, aren’t you?” you said with a smile.

Eddie nodded and whispered, “Because you’re worth it.” Under the lights of Hawkins, you stood beside Eddie, and the argument had melted into a warm harmony. “I think I can forgive you,” you finally said, resting your head on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie pulled you into a tight hug and chuckled softly. “I knew it.” The night ended under the stars, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and the peace Eddie brought to your heart.

taglist: @t-folklore13 @nicholaschavezslut69 @multyfangirl

#eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #angst to fluff #angst to comfort

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piquochino · 8 months ago

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Your Heart pt 2

Bridget Hearts 🩷 x fem! reader

Half of it is in the present, making Bridget an adult, but i decided to use Queen of Hearts for her older cruel version

Also, I wrote it overnight, so it might not be that good. Bear with me 😭

"Hey B...you have to eat. Please eat this for me" Ella passed her friend a sandwich, a simple peanut butter-jelly sandwich, with the crust cut off in the shape of a heart. Bridget loved heart-shaped things. It was her signature, her favorite shape, her favorite word, her favorite thing -scratch that- it was not her favorite thing , nor would it be when you existed.

She loved raspberry jam. The sweet yet tart flavor, which reminds her of summer sunshine - bright, vibrant, and refreshing. The fruit possesses a delicate, ephemeral quality that makes it delightful and memorable for the senses. You loved raspberries and she loved how you talked about how 'they are better than strawberries because every raspberry tastes delightful and you'd have to pick a good enough strawberry for it to taste even remotely as good as the one and only fruit'

Now, she feels physically sick at the thought of even looking at the pink colored fruit.

"Come on, my heart, I'm going to teach you how to swim today. I promise not to let go of you ever, okay?" Your bright smile lit up her world as you guided her through the maze of the forest. It was an ordinarily hot day in Auradon, the tree crowns pleasuring you with shadows as the colder than usual water refreshed your bodies.

She loved your Thursday picnics on the hills. With your special pbj's and her basket of pastries. It was sweet as usual,

Why Thursday? She felt bad that no one liked this day of the week, the constantly forgotten day that no one really plans anything for it. Friday's better, and Wednesday is the middle of the week. So you made it your mission to make this day the best of all after seeing her sulking one day about it.

You'd sit and just talk for hours in the sun. Far away enough from your favorite tree for it to not be shielding you from the sunbeams. Her head on your lap, with your hand tangled in her pink locks as you dreamily described every possible shape you could see while looking at the clouds. Her eyes averted from you to the landscape every now and then. It was perfect. The warmth of the biggest star shining on your faces, colliding with the chilly breeze grazing your skin, it was a wonderful mix.

"What are you thinking about, my heart?"

The phrase rolling off your tongue just like a melody, Her name said by you engraved in her memory for good.

"Nothing, really. I'm just enjoying the moment with you. It means a lot"

It truly did mean a lot. A feeling nothing would ever top. The calmness she felt and relief while being with you. You were like an oasis on the desert. A huge blanket she jumped under after a long day. And a warm shower after a heavy, freezing rainstorm. The love bursting from you just made her wish she was the one loved by you forever. She wanted to be the only one your eyes lit upon seeing. Seeking every ounce of touch from you.

The sight of your unconscious body made Bridget shiver and freeze. She fell, her weak knees hitting the blood-stained ground. The once beautiful, white pebbles, turning maroon as the red liquid pooled out of the corpse.

Her hand reaching for yours only for it to vanish into thin air.

"Bridget?" worried Ella placed her hand over her best friends shoulder. "I will leave it here, okay? please eat, i will be back as soon as i can, promise." She placed the sandwich on the bedside table, grabbing all the untouched food she had brought previously. Walking out of the room, she was met with nothing but silence. Not even a hum from the very hurt and broken princess.

A dead body with a spear shot right through the heart. Hazed eyes and this defeated expression, staring longingly into the distance. The white button-up shirt peppered in small hearts growing more and more burgundy.

Ella felt terrible. She couldn't help her friend even if she wanted to. All she could do was to be there and comfort her. At the same time not being able to throw those awful memories of this day from her own head. Watching her bubbly and full of life platonic soulmate completely shut off and become a ghost of a person was truly painful. Those excruciating sobs she tried to cover up so badly at night hurt her heart to the point she herself tried not to let out a waterfall of tears.

"She will be back! I can feel it! I'm not crazy I swear!" Those broken attempts of yells mixed with cries of helpfulness.

Bridget didn't even try to. She only did so in case to not wake other students up. Her burning chest could not let her sleep. Even if she did have some rest, you visiting her in her dreams would only strengthen the feeling. She felt you faltering away from her. She began to forget the sound of your voice and the way you laughed. She could not possibly, she has to remember every single detail of you.

The gut-wrenching pinning in her lungs made her unable to breathe. All she did was lay under her covers, trying to feel the warmth your hands delivered every time you placed them on her body. Delicately on her waist, harshly on her shoulder, gently grabbing her fists, trying to stop her from her madness. Placing them on her cheek, trying to steady her breaths after another panic attack she had gotten from her confidence tumbling down like dominoes thanks to her bullies.

She touched herself in chance she gets the same result, the same sense of someone being there for her like you were. But all she got in return was a deathly cold hand on her skin and the imaginary feeling you were still there to hold her. To brush her hair away when it fell so ungracefully on her face upon baking another batch of cupcakes with you, raspberry cupcakes with the hint of white chocolate, Both flavors going excellent with eachother like you and Bridget once did.

She felt your presence, hugging her so close, so firm from behind, wrapping your arms around her body as if saying you're still there, and you always will be.

But you were not. It was a lie she was very aware of dragging herself into. Hurting herself every day with the false presentation of you walking around her room, smiling from ear to ear, blabering about how you'd make another couple happen, about how it was the perfect match. You were her perfect match, and now she's left alone with only half of her heart. A piece of yours was the only thing of you she had left, beside a hoodie you once had given her.

She was going mad. She stayed in it for days and days only for it to not lose your scent she so desperately wished to keep. But even this would falter eventually.

"B, come on, you have to shower. I promise not to wash the hoodie. It'll be waiting for you after you get out"

She lied, she had to wash the hoodie, it lost its charm and the beautiful smell. Ony giving her the illusion it was still there.

Heck, everything was an illusion. Her head was playing tricks, not even the best magicians could. Her heart fell for them miserably, sinking so low that nothing could ever pick it up and place back where it belonged. It belongs to you.

"Mom, Mom? Are you okay?" Worried Red placed her hand on her mothers shoulder. It's been half a year since her and Chloe changed the past. She was getting used to her mother being nicer, more loving. They talked more often, and she felt more comfortable being with her. But it was the first time she had seen her mother in such a state after what she had seen in the past.

The lifeless expression was quickly slapped off the Queens face - replaced by a very gentle smile - upon hearing her daughter speak, her touch sending a wave of shivers throughout her body "Oh yes Red my dear! We should be heading to the family's day dinner now, shall we?"

On the way to Auredon, through the rabbit hole, Red had to keep herself from asking about the woman she so yearned to know more of. She did not want to hurt her mother even more than she already was. It was one thing to lose someone. It was another to lose someone who devoted their whole life to you "I love you, mom,"

The Queen took ahold of her daughters hand smiling lightly, the unexpected words coming out of her mouth made Bridgets chest swell with gratitude "I love you more darling"

"I'm going to say hi to Chloe" Red ran off after giving her mother a side hug. Small gesture, but it made Bridget smile once again.

She loved having her daughter, her little angel. Red was like a small light in her life, someone she grew to care about after all she had been through. She tamed her, just like she used to tame her, the bad thoughts and the voices in her head, the anger and the anxiety.

"Off with his head!" the words echoed through the dining room of the palace.

"But, but Bridget, He is your daughters dad and soon to be ruler of -"

"He's no father to Red, nor will he ever be my husband. I don't need him anymore. Shall I repeat my order?"

She was always bound for this fate. To be this mean, cruel ruler. To go mad. Everyone's mad in Wonderland. It's up to you to decide how mad you're going to be.

But Red was there. To quieten the voices and relieve the pain. She lived for Red, who brought the happiness back into her life. The small bits of it, but nonetheless, she was her greatest accomplishment.

"Bridget!" Her bestfriends voice brought her back from her daydreams. After a very warm hug, she greeted her with yet another smile. Never this bright how it used to be, but still a smile of some kinds.

Her dear husband coming right after her.

The envy she felt forbidding her from sparing even a glance at him.

"We've just been talking with Beast and Belle about the upcoming plans of Mal and Ben, and - how are you B?" Ella stopped after acknowledging her dear best friend, staring at the ground, totally cut off from the world, the old rusty pebbles glistening in the daylight.

"I'm great, Charming, never better!" The pink Queen of Hearts burst out. Was she truly feeling better? Never, only in the comfort of her bed chamber with your blouse tightly clutched in her hands. "You could tell me more about your daughter getting into the advanced fencing group? I heard from Red she's excellent. Oh, and my congratulations on your son finishing up college. It's about time this happened!" she laughed light-heartedly reaching for her necklace, silver necklace with a cherry red glass heart.

Suddenly a crowd of ghasps echoed at the event, terrified royals hang tightly onto their lovers and children upon seeing a human-like posture fly over the sky, loose its every ounce of power left and hit the ground so hard it almost looked like a grenade explosion. As the dirt and small stones fell down, the King stepped up, getting closer to the figure, "Everyone keep calm"

The fallen angel covered was by its huge white wings, resembling those of Icarus, burned down by the sun and worn out presumably from flying too much. The groan it let out was so piercing and full of pain, squeezing every person's heart in sorrow and compassion. Its wings dissappearing in an instant, uncovering a beautiful, goddes-like woman. With wet hair falling imperfectly on her face and her clothes torn apart, loosely hanging off her body. Her bloodied bruised skin mixed with dirt was an excruciating scene to be looking at. Her broken voice let out whimpers and pleads.

"Let's get this creature out of here" Mal, the Queen, ordered, her eyes glowing green upon being alarmed of the potential danger.

"NO!" The Queen of Hearts let out loudly, startling everyone present. Dragging herself closer to the fallen angel, basically running straight to it, she dropped on her knees before her. Bridget's eyes started to water uncontrollably, her heart hammered in her chest as her shaky hand reached out to cup the angels head and place it on her lap. "My love..." she brushed your hair away, smiling from ear to ear. The tears streamed down her face as she finally held you close.

You were there. Alive.

Your eyes fluttered open, your blurred sight coming back to senses "Who are you?" You breathed out upon seeing the pink posture hovering over you "And why do you have my heart?"

#descendants #descendants rise of red #descendants 4 #descendants rise of red x reader #descendants x reader #descendants 4 x reader #descendants the rise of red #disney x reader #disney #bridget of wonderland #bridget x reader #princess bridget #bridget #bridget hearts #bridget descendants #bridget hearts x fem reader #chloe charming #red hearts

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buzzcutlip · 8 months ago

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hiiii, for the prompt thing, could u do carmy + "is this the part where you kick me out" and/or "i can't do this without you"? 🩷

also i am BEGGING for part 2 of the worst day pls i check literally every single day to see if it's up !!!

Hello! Cracks and Gaps is getting longer and longer, bigger and bigger. I don't quite know how to separate the text into chapters. I'm hoping I'll publish chapter 2 by the end of August/beginning of September. Thank you for your interest and support :)

Prompt: "I can't do this without you" Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader Explicit 1600 words (warnings for injuries/burns and a bit of mean!Carmy - but also gentle!Carmy so it's fine, Claire is mentioned but note that this is set a couple weeks after the fridge incident)

The loud chime of the downstairs doorbell rings sharply through the quiet apartment. You get up to the intercom and buzz Carmen in.

You’ve only ever had the girls over—Tina, Sydney, and once even Nat. Those were very rare moments spent outside the kitchen, outside The Bear, when you somehow managed to have a day off together. Normally, you’re not very comfortable letting people into your apartment. And having Carmen here—you try not to think about it too much.

The thing is, you had an accident in the kitchen five days ago during one of those crazy afternoons just before lunch opening—full of yelling, collisions, and near-strokes—when you managed to scald your right forearm. Like, properly scald, until the skin was baby pink and raw-looking. The longer you looked at the damaged area, the dizzier you felt.

Richie drove you to the hospital, not caring about his absent driving license, and sat with you in the emergency room while a nurse bandaged the big, painful blisters that had formed where just skin used to be. Only the next day did you learn that it hadn’t been your fault—Marcus had slipped on water that Ebra had spilled, bumping into Carmy, who bumped into you, forcing you to lean against the stove with a huge pot of boiling spaghetti. Due to the shock, you completely forgot. Not that you would ever hold it against any of them.

The moment you hear Carmy’s knock on the door, your heart speeds up. You know it’s stupid and unreasonable, but you look up to the chef very much, admiring what he’s accomplished, and very, very secretly, you do have a little—big—crush on him.

“Thank you for coming, really,” you greet him earnestly as soon as you’re face-to-face with him.

“It’s the least I could do,” Carmy says as you lead him toward the kitchen table where all your medical supplies are laid out. Soon after getting home from the ER, you figured out that you wouldn’t be able to change the bandages on your dominant hand twice a day by yourself—not properly. There are many other things you haven’t been able to do.

“And it makes sense since I live the closest,” Carmy adds as he settles down next to you after washing his hands thoroughly. Leaning in, he starts removing the dressing, as you instructed, holding your hand carefully.

“Have you and Richie talked yet?” you ask to fill the silence with something.

Carmy doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. “You’ve been gone for four days. It’s—it's gonna take longer than that,” he mumbles, peeling off the gauze sponges soaked in antibiotic cream. You hiss, trying to retract your hand instinctively, but Carmy doesn’t relent.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, giving you a moment to relax again. He reapplies the cream to the skin scarred by the blisters, which have mostly drained by now. It hurts like hell, his touch bringing stinging tears to your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Carmy says when he peers up at you.

“Not your fault,” you grit your teeth against the burning pain, trying to remember if you’ve taken a painkiller today. His touch is gentle and careful, and the combination of his softness and the contact does strange things to you. It’s turning you on.

“We should’ve done better. To prevent things like this from happening. The kitchen should be a safe work environment,” he adds, glancing at his own scarred hands. “As safe as possible.”

When he finishes wrapping your arm with the gauze dressing, you feel a wave of relief that he’s no longer inspecting your scarred skin.

Carmen leans back in his chair, running a hand through his unruly hair. “What else can I do?”

The possibilities rush through your mind, but you quickly dismiss all inappropriate intrusive thoughts. “Would you help me wash my hair?” you ask, grimacing at your own ineptitude, embarrassed and frustrated. Your scalp has been itching for the second day, driving you absolutely nuts.

Carmen nods without hesitation, understanding the vulnerability behind your request. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you need,” he says gently, standing up and glancing around your apartment to find the bathroom.

You lead him there, feeling a mix of relief and self-consciousness. You’re not used to asking for help, especially not with something so personal. Carmen seems to sense this because as you walk, he doesn’t say anything more, just follows your lead.

The bathroom is small but clean, and you can’t help but notice the way Carmen’s presence fills the space, making it feel even smaller. You pull out a chair and sit with your back to the basin, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation. Carmen moves around you, adjusting the water temperature and rolling up his sleeves. When his fingers brush against your neck as he gathers your hair, a shiver runs down your spine.

“Lean back a little,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant but soothing. You do as he says, closing your eyes as he begins to wet your hair. The warm water runs down your scalp, and for a moment, you can almost forget the pain in your arm and the way your heart races whenever Carmen is near.

He’s gentle, more so than you would have expected from someone who spends his days commanding a chaotic kitchen. His fingers work the shampoo into your hair, massaging your scalp in slow, careful circles. The sensation is almost too much—too intimate, too comforting—and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“You’re very quiet.”

“So are you. When you’re not shouting,” you don’t miss the opportunity to pick at him. “It’s hard to figure you out.”

Carmen scoffs, but there’s a subtle tension in his voice. “Right back at ya.”

The water in the basin swishes loudly as Carmen rinses the shampoo, combing through your hair with his fingers, careful not to tug too hard, squeezing the excess water ouf from your hair. ““There you go,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “All done.”

You sit up slowly, feeling a bit lighter. “Thank you. Couldn’t do it without you.”

Carmen offers a small, almost shy smile, but there’s something behind his eyes—a flicker of unease, like he’s unsure of how to respond. You wonder, not for the first time, if the tenderness he’s showing isn’t something that comes naturally to him.

The shift is abrupt. Familiar from how you know him from work. His mood swings and angry outbursts. You don’t know what causes it. Maybe he can finally see it on you. The way you’ve been pressing your thighs together, the redness of your cheeks. Is this his secret superpower -- can he read thoughts?

“What?” you ask with an unease when he stares at you for too long, wiping his wet hands in the pink towel, then putting it neatly on the radiator behind him.

Carmen’s movements are swift and decisive as he kneels in front of you, his rough voice breaking the silence. “I blame myself,” he says, almost desperately. He takes your injured hand, his lips brushing against the bare fingers and knuckles peeking out from beneath the bandages. His other hand disappears between your thighs, and you’re mortified at the thought that he can probably feel how wet you are through the layers of clothing.

“There are other ways to make you feel better,” he says, his words dripping with a raw, suggestive intensity that leaves you stunned. You blink rapidly, trying to process the unexpected turn in his demeanor.

A wave of emotions crashes over you, paralyzing you with its intensity. “What about Cla -”

“Shut up,” he murmurs quietly, without much heat. “You want this or not?”

You do, you’re nodding. You’ll take anything he’s willing to give you, no matter what.

Carmen eats you out. He pulls down your leggings along with your panties, eyes fixed between your legs where you’re already - embarrassingly - wet from all of his touches, intentional or not. Carmen only uses his mouth on you - his tongue and lips, keeping his hands where you can’t see or feel them. It reminds you of David Coperfield and his right magic hand never touching Claudia Schiffer. Like if Carmy put his fingers into your pussy it would suck out his mojo, or something.

Usually it’s hard for you to come just from oral sex but Carmen’s different. He uses these long, wide licks on you, literally eating your pussy out, rather than just licking at your clit. That really does the trick for you.

When you come, hand gripping Carmy’s curls, he’s busy touching himself. You can hear the rustling and the wet noises even through the static in your ears.

You can barely catch your breath when Carmen says: “Pull,” and you do - hard - which leaves him gasping, and even though he doesn’t make any loud noises, it makes your pussy throb.

He comes with his head between your legs, licking at you weakly without much intent. You know only because his movements come to a stop and for a moment you’re both still. Until Carmen visibly shakes himself and his eyes find yours once again.

“Say thank you, chef,” he murmurs against your skin, punctuating his words with a sharp smack to your inner thigh. The sting of it makes you jump, gasping at the unexpected pain.

“Thank you,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper, shaky from the intensity of it all.

#this is clearly a work of someone with two personalities #carmy berzatto #my fic #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen x you #carmen berzatto drabble #carmen berzatto fic

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theemporium · 9 months ago

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congrats on 10k cece! truly, so well deserved🫶🏻🫶🏻 yk this celebration reminded me of a funny thing , but i literally just turned legal in my country and I went to a bar with my girls and the bartender said that I look 14 and kept thinking my id was a fake😭🥲🥲

hopefully this experience will be a little sweeter hehe! how abt a nico with "Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you." 🩷

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

31. “Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you."

“M’comin’, m’comin’! No need to bang the door down.”

He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when the person behind the door knocked for the third time in a row. An annoyed huff left his lips as he shuffled through his apartment, his body heavy and his brain far from fully awake. His hair was still messy and dishevelled, and he had barely remembered to throw on a pair of sweatpants before opening the door, let alone a shirt.

He had half the mind to open the door and bite the other person’s head off for waking him up from his nap.

Nico was only slightly surprised to find you on the other side, a smile on your face and two large bags in your hands.

“Oh,” was all Nico managed to murmur out.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” You frowned a little, your expression sheepish and apologetic. “I thought it was still early enough for you to be awake.”

“No,” he lied, despite both of you knowing the truth. “S’fine. I didn’t realise you were coming over.”

“Yeah well, I know you,” you said as Nico guided you into his apartment, opening the door a little wider as you wandered in. “And I know you probably haven’t bought any groceries or anything since you got in last night.”

Nico’s cheeks burned pink. “I was gonna get around to it.”

You shot him a look of amusement as you placed the large bags on his kitchen counter. “It’s not much, just some basic groceries. I know jet lag is still probably throwing you off.”

His eyes softened as he wandered in behind you, peeking into the bags to see a variety of fruits and vegetables and other basics packed in them. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“Every once in a while,” you teased, lightly nudging him with your elbow before you reached into one of the bags. “And I know you are picky with your coffee so I even got that instant coffee from the store in Hoboken instead, since you’re probably going to want to stay up as long as you can to get your sleep schedule back to normal again since coming back from Switzerland.”

Nico just stared at you in awe.

You glanced over at him, your cheeks burning a little when you found him already looking back. “What?”

“Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you,” he murmured, his brain still half-asleep and the warm feeling in his chest taking over any logic or control he had over his tongue before he could potentially ruin his friendship with you.

“Well,” you swallowed a little. “I wouldn’t exactly complain.”

“Yeah?” He murmured.

You nodded.

Nico didn’t waste another moment as he leaned down to grab your face, pressing his lips against yours like had been wanting to do for far too long. He sighed happily into the kiss, nudging you back against the counter as you sunk into the kiss.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips.

You huffed out a small laugh. “For the kiss or the groceries?”

“Both,” Nico confessed before winding his arms around you and pulling you into a proper hug for the first time since he left for Europe at the start of the off-season.

#cece's cocktail celebration #nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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the-californicationist · 5 months ago

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Ursa Major: Ch. 01

In honor of WIP Wednesday, I thought I’d share Chapter One of my 100k+ word WIP on Tumblr! It’s your responsibility to check AO3 for tags. Thanks for taking a look ✌️🩷

You stood, transfixed, as you saw two bull elk, locked at their antlers, fighting for territory. The wide nares of their snouts were flared and desperate for air, gasping for a breath that they would never take. The taxidermied animals were perched, caught in a perpetual battle above the baggage claim carousel of Whitehorse International Airport. Their big, furry bodies were poorly reflected in the shining aluminum of the bag ramp, scuffed and scratched from years of loose luggage rattling over its gleaming slats. They looked as if they were poised over some frozen lake, their forms distorted in the gray ice, faces blurred so that the battle was even more gruesome than it seemed, every detail between them hidden by the frozen sheets.

You peered down at your phone, checking through your emails once again. Your package of equipment had arrived at your client’s office, and he’d been nice enough to send a confirmation picture. He was standing in front of a mirrored window, and you finally got to put a face to a name.

Mr. John Price, owner of The 141 Logging Company, had great taste in music. His Arctic Monkeys band tee looked well-worn and long-loved, its logo chipping and faded. He was bundled up in his Carhart coat, holding his phone in a gloved hand, and his pants were practically painted with saw dust. You closed the email. You weren’t sure why you kept pulling it up. It wasn’t like his face was going to get any clearer, and you weren’t really sure why you cared.

Okay, let’s be truthful; you knew why you cared. He was absolutely killing your checklist.

Back in the eighth grade, you had lain on your floor with your best friend Martha. Her braided hair with its hot pink bobbles swayed back and forth as she insisted that you make The Checklist. Otherwise, she’d said, how will you know that you’ve found The One? So, with much convincing, you’d finally caved.

He’d definitely have to love animals. You were going to be a vet one day, and that was a non-negotiable. He’d be sort of hairy. Martha had turned her nose up at that, but you’d seen that movie with Hugh Jackman as Wolverine before, and you refused to budge. He’d also love nature. Martha had protested that you double-dipped since you already had animals, but you insisted. You would never live in a city when you were a grown-up. Never.

And he’d need to have kind eyes. What color? Martha asked. But, you shrugged and said it didn’t matter. You knew, though, that in your heart of hearts, that you’d know them when you saw them. They’d be eyes that lit up the room when he smiled. When he wasn’t smiling, they’d be soft and patient. They’d look at you while you spoke, and the edges of them would fold together when he laughed.

You turned back to the elk. Their eyes, distant and unseeing, shone like onyx marbles. The two animals stared at each other as they experienced their terrible, static afterlife, forced to face their mortality every morning when the sun came in through the windows of the small airport. You wondered how their skin had been stretched to fit over their hollow sculptures; you wondered how much of them was real and how much was just an illusion of reality. Perhaps there were more things like these two beasts in the space that surrounded you. Just how much of this world was truly a façade?

He’d left you some voice messages, preferring to send memos instead of typing to text. It was nothing personal, just dates for meetings and practical matters. But, you found yourself replaying them, indulgently, listening to his unique, British vowels rumble around in a deep, dark register, reminding you of your neighbor who used to smoke. It was a raspy sort of tone, full of softness despite the gravelly texture. You listened to him speak his address in your headphones. Then, you played it again. The way he said Alaska Highway was particularly delightful. You tried to stop, a part of you policing yourself, finding it odd that you were enjoying the voice of a strange man. But, what was the harm?

If you listen to the voice of Master Logger John Price, but you don’t tell anyone, will anyone ever know? If a tree grows in a forest, and it dies there, and all of its pieces rot away, and no one was there to see it, was it truly real?

These elk had been real, you were certain of that. Their hooves had crunched through dry grass and fresh snow. Their antlers had shed and grown back again. Perhaps they had even battled when they were alive, their blood pumping through their huge hearts, stirring their muscles and making them whistle their war cries into the frigid mornings.

That was the thing you liked most about working with animals. They made you feel real. In fact, sometimes they made you feel primal, as if you were with them at the start of all of this.

Before the airports and the electricity and the capitalism there had been quiet, uninterrupted mornings where the biggest news was that one elk had bested the other. You would pick winter berries and watch them posture against each other across the frozen field, unhurried in your work, knowing nothing of time or its passing. Nothing had been obscured then; no bodies were posed carefully for your enjoyment. There was only the animal need to eat and mate and sleep. You reminisced about a life you had never lived.

Just when you thought your backpack might never be delivered, and you too would be frozen here for all eternity, just like these elk, the baggage carousel came alive. All the metal clattered together like the opening tuning of an orchestra. The whining and whirring of the machine spinning awake jolted you back to reality where you waited a little impatiently for your colorful Cotopaxi to come tumbling down the slide.

You checked your phone. The inn you had booked belonged to an old friend of yours, and she had promised to send you the address. You sent her a picture of the elk locked in their ritual.

You: made it to the great white north

She took a few minutes to respond. Your bag was still missing from the chute. You shuffled aside and helped an older gentleman with his insanely heavy case. Then, a soft pop notified you of her reply.

Marie: looking forward to having you here!

She tacked on the address, and you pasted it into your map app. The airport, it seemed, was right next to downtown Whitehorse, but you’d need to take a cab all the way around it via the Alaska highway in order to make the loop. Ten minutes. Short and sweet. You hoped the bed would be serviceable.

It wasn’t like you needed to get comfy. You were here to get in and get out. These logging companies never wanted an eco-specialist to stick around for too long. They could only keep up their angelic act for a short period of time before they went back to ravaging the landscape. People like you would just be in the way of their profits. You wondered if Mr. Price was like the rest of them, or if the kindness you thought you saw was genuine.

You were looking forward to seeing Marie, though. She had been Marie LeBeau back in vet school when you enrolled together in the DMV program at Washington State, but she was married now. You hadn’t updated her contact card, yet. It didn’t really matter. You guessed you’d get to meet the husband on this trip. Apparently, it was his inn, and she just helped him run it. As a small animal vet in a tiny little town, you supposed Marie’s spay and neuter jobs weren’t enough to keep food on the table.

A flash of color popped up in the carousel, and your bag emerged. You hoisted it up by the shoulder strap and marched to the car park. Your work boots made sticky little squeaks against the linoleum floor as you made your way outside. It was warm for the Yukon, even for June, and although there was a chill in the wind, the sun beamed down through the 70 degree weather. By all accounts, it was turning out to be a beautiful day.

Hailing a cab wasn’t too hard when they were all parked there, waiting like fish by a dock, knowing they’d be fed. You picked the first one on the line and showed him the address. Of course, in a small town like this, there were only so many places travelers could go, so he wasn’t too surprised.

The drive was short, and you admired the general splendor of the mountains and the quaint little town as you made your way in. Your driver pulled over, grabbed your bag from the trunk, and patiently waited for you to pull out your cash. He left you his card,

“That way you’ll always have a ride, darlin’.”

“Thanks very much,” you smiled, leaving him a tip.

He returned the smile and drove off, back the way he came. You turned around to face the old inn, feeling the afternoon sun kissing your cheeks and the wind rushing to make them pink. The tips of your hair stung them like needles, biting into your flesh relentlessly. You tugged it back with your scrunchie.

The building looked like it used to be a factory of some kind, and its clay bricks told a story of many years worth of wear and tear. The giant buzzing neon sign out front said WHTHRS. All the vowels were out. You wondered about the odds of that before looking up further at a great stallion, bucking in his bright white neon piping, his hair billowing and yet static, captured in an eternal winnie. His rider was struggling to keep his seat, but his hat was held tightly in his hand, blinking sporadically in the dimming sun.

The inn was situated on the corner of 2nd Avenue and Main Street, so there seemed to be plenty to keep you interested, at least for six or seven days. But, you were eager to get to work. Even in a tiny town like Whitehorse, the bustle of cars and people was a little much. You missed the woods, like a feral cat who had allowed herself to be domesticated, and a part of you still longed to be wild.

“There she is!” You heard Marie’s distinct Southern drawl shout from the doorway to the inn.

You smiled, opening your arms wide for a tight hug, burying your face in her long hair,

“Marie! It’s so good to see you.”

It truly was a relief to be with your friend again. You studied her face. She hadn’t changed a bit even though vet school had been nearly a decade in the past. Her dark hair still had that signature white streak in the front. She’d always blamed it on a birthmark, but it wasn’t until you went on a two week trip down to Costa Rica on a field work assignment that you believed her. It was such an elegant shock of white, it looked like she’d dyed it on purpose.

“How was your flight? Here,” she grabbed your bag, “Give me that. Come in, come in! Logan’s at the bar.”

She popped into the inn, and you followed close behind. Once inside, you took in the mesmerizing transformation of the run-down factory. They had done so much work on the inside, it felt like you had been transported to a different building altogether. The high walls stretched up so far that the golden glow from the lanterns and lamplight couldn’t reach the arched ceiling. The metal I-beams that spanned across the large, open space were imposing; it made you imagine how this place had looked when it had been filled with machines.

To the left of the entrance, Logan’s bar was generously stocked with gleaming glass bottles of liquors and wines as varied as you could imagine. The rich amber liquid of a whiskey bottle swirled around like boiling honey as the bartender poured it out into a waiting glass. The bar was wide and inviting, and the bartop itself was made from one long piece of live edge maple, shiny from sealant, showing off a gorgeous grain.

The bartender, who you assumed was Logan, was scruffy to say the least. He had a bit of a mullet, and his sideburns were serious business. But, he was painfully attractive, and his eyes held within them an animal magnetism. His golden irises didn’t even seem real. When he smiled, your subconscious registered how sharp those bright white teeth of his were, but you smiled back, extending your hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” that sharp smile was back, and his voice slid over you like warm honey, “I’ve heard more about you than I’ve ever heard about anyone, so we can skip this part, if you like.” He laughed good-naturedly, and you could see exactly what Marie liked about him.

“I’ve heard so much about you as well.”

“Make yourself at home. Looks like we’ve got you all set up in the loft.”

You peered up the small wooden staircase toward the loft area, shrouded in darkness due to its height, and you noticed two doors. Logan pointed to them and explained,

“We’re on the left, and you’re on the right. Marie will take you up.”

“You live here?” You turned to Marie in surprise, not realizing their inn was also their home.

“Yeah!” Marie shrugged her shoulders, “It’s easy enough. If we really need a break from the crowd, we’ll stay out in the cabin.”

“Mm,” you raised your eyebrows, teasing her, “Romantic.”

She gave Logan a look that stopped your giggling, surprising you with her candidness,

“You have no idea.”

You followed her up the stairs and deposited your bags in your suite. It had a small bathroom and a kitchenette; everything you would need for your stay. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, but it would do its duty.

You started to unpack, chatting with Marie and trying to fill in the gaps each other had missed. You’d been on this sort of job three dozen times in the past year, and you were a traveling pro. All your clothes were pretty much the same; wool layers and flannels, waterproof hiking pants and all of your various undergarments. Then, stuffed at the bottom of your pack where he always was: Mr. Claw. Your mom had given him to you, along with some flowers, when you graduated with your DVM, and you didn’t go anywhere without your mini DJUNGELSKOG stuffed bear. You supposed you should feel some sort of shame as an adult woman carrying around an IKEA children’s toy, but you didn’t care. It brought your mom back, just for a moment, and that was all you wanted, sometimes.

After unpacking, you made your way back down to the bar with Marie. You peered over the railing from your high vantage point, admiring the bar’s bustling, homey energy. Then, you spotted him. Your client was talking to Logan. He was much bigger than the barkeep, which you hadn’t really expected from the photo. Aside from his size, he was handsomely made, and just in your taste, too. All of your suspicions about him checking things off of your list were coming true.

He was built with heavy muscles and bone, his posture exuded slick, easy confidence, and his fashion screamed masculinity. His thick, dark hair was cropped short on the sides, and he’d shaved only the chin of his facial hair; it was a unique choice, but it suited him. Even through layers of warm clothes, you could see the outline of mountainous shoulders rolling around in his jacket sleeves. He was also holding a black, full-face helmet by his side, his huge hand tucked into the mask’s hole, clutching it by the plastic jaw. A motorcycle in the Yukon was a brave choice.

Marie’s eyes followed your gaze, and when she realized your fixation, she raised her eyebrows at you,

“Guess you’ll be having fun on this trip, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Your eyes were still watching him. He drank. He talked. You studied it all as if it was your new purpose.

“Aren’t you working on an ecological report for 141 Logging?”

“Yeah,” you finally met her eyes, nodding.

She pointed down the stairs from where you stood in the dark rafters,

“That’s the owner; John Price. C’mon, let me introduce you.”

You wanted to tell her that you knew him already, but that wasn’t quite right. One blurry snapshot and a few replayed voice memos wasn’t truly knowing a person. So, you followed Marie down the stairs, trying to fix your face. You coached yourself to be professional, and as he spotted you, you realized just how hard that was going to be. Those bright blue irises of his hunted you like a hawk, tracking you without moving an inch from the bar, pinning you down handsfree. His eyes were alluringly kind but calculating.

“John,” Marie motioned to you, “Meet your new ecologist… and doctor of veterinary medicine… and professional researcher… and –”

“Hey there, Doc,” he interrupted Marie’s generous introduction, “John.”

His voice was even more decadent in person. People usually wielded your title like a weapon, trying to hurt you with it, or sometimes themselves, but not him. He said it with respect and a hint of amusement. His smile was genuine, if not a little aggressively friendly. You tried to ignore the way his hand slid into yours to shake it, engulfing yours with its immense size, as if his palm could swallow it whole. He lingered on you more than normal. It was as if he was testing you, seeing if you would run from him. You held fast, letting the warmth of his fingers melt into yours, comforting you even though it was the hand of a stranger.

“Nice to meet you in the flesh, John. Looking forward to seeing your land.”

“It’s a little late for a tour, I’m afraid. Thought I’d come down to get you around 0400 tomorrow. Take you to the site with plenty of morning to spare. You said you wanted to lay out your cameras? Got that big shipment up at the office with your name on it.”

He finally released your hand, much to your dismay. How was it that you missed a random man’s touch already? You weren’t usually this easy to please, but (you admitted to yourself with a little shame) it had been quite a while since someone had caught your eye. It was always work. That was what you told yourself. The work won’t hurt you. Do it for the animals. People just cause problems. So, you leaned on your old mantra like a crutch,

“Yeah, they should’ve sent you about a dozen trail cams and the wildlife field kits. If it’s okay with you, I’d just like to check the traffic you’ve got in that area. The report that came in said something about a grizzly hybrid? We’re a little too far south for polars.”

He shrugged, being a little more dismissive than you thought he should have been,

“Just some spooked tourists. Sure it was just a normal grizzly.”

His body language shifted from confidence to a reserved protectiveness, and you could almost taste the tension in the air. You eyed him with suspicion now. You knew that a grolar bear would be a problem for him. They were a protected species, and their discovery on his land would shut down his operation in that sector for good.

“Did they get any footage?” You asked, trying to pry a little further.

“No,” he shrugged and turned away from you a bit, going back to his drink and downing it in one go. Clearly, he was done here. You got the sense he was holding back some information from you, but you weren’t concerned. You had a plan.

“Well,” you tread carefully, “Best for you and your bottom dollar if we make damn sure.”

He smiled, but it didn’t spread wide or reach up into his eyes, and that same aggression was back. White, sharp teeth lay all in a row. You’d thought Logan’s grin was wolfish, but John’s was something even more savage.

He was friendly enough, but you needed to remember that he was there to harvest trees and nothing more. These companies were always in it for the profit. Even a logging venture as highly rated on sustainability as his still needed to sell products. You just didn’t want that poor bear to be caught in the crossfire. If he was out there, you’d find him.

“Alright, Doc. See you in the morning, then. Logan,” John reached across the bar to shake Logan’s hand, took one more long look at you, slid on his helmet, and pushed his way through the double doors.

Whatever John Price was hiding, you were looking forward to finding out.

Logan and Marie convinced you to stick around the bar for a couple of drinks, and you watched them dote on each other. There was no mistaking their love. It was as bright as their neon outside, and buzzing with their own unique joy. You weren’t jealous. Jealousy wasn’t the right word. But, just like having curly hair and seeing someone’s bone-straight locks, unstyled and naturally uniform, you knew there were things that other people had that weren’t for you.

You dismissed yourself, slinking up the stairs to lay in their spare bed, and before you slept, you called your mom.

It rang three times, each with its own infinite silence between their chimes, and then, when she picked up the phone, it clattered a bit, getting stuck as she balanced it between her cheek and her shoulder. You had this next part memorized, and your mom's voice came through, loud and clear.

“Hey… uh, hey! It’s Claire. Couldn’t make it to the phone – I know, shocker! Leave me a message. Uh, okay, bye!”

A deafening beep stung your eardrum. You knew it was coming. It always came. But, you sort of liked it now. The pain was familiar, and at least it was something you could feel.

You reached over to the wall, crossing the chilly expanse of your bed, and turned the radiator up a bit. Snuggling down into the sheets, you clutched Mr. Claw to your chest, wishing with all of your heart that he was real and that you could be buried in his fur, warm and very much not alone.

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deathblacksmoke · 1 month ago

Text

let my mind go quiet

pairing: nick ruffilo x f!reader x noah sebastian

summary: nicky and noah make your day special <3

word count: 730

cw: none, just sweeties in love here

author’s note: a special birthday treat for my beloved @darksigns-exe who wanted a little euclid. i hope you enjoy! happy birthday bestie have the best day 🩷✨

author’s note 2: thank you @concretejunglefm, @concretenoah, and @baddestomens for taking a peek when i was worrying ily guys!!

title from "emergence" by sleep token / dividers by enchanthings / header for once by me :)

You startle awake to a crashing noise from the direction of the kitchen and an empty bed.

You peer over at the clock on your bedside to see it’s still only quarter ‘til 8. It’s your birthday morning, and years with the boys have taught you that you likely have a delightful day ahead of you, planned meticulously by them. You’re all too eager to see where they’ve started, too impatient to wait in bed and pretend to be asleep like you’re sure they’d like for you to do.

You get out of bed carefully, pad down the hallway on your tippy toes so as not to give yourself away.

When you find yourself in the kitchen, leaning against the island watching them, they don’t notice you at first. They’re a little too wrapped up in each other, Nick’s arms drawn tightly around Noah’s middle, dishes strewn all about because they never can quite keep it together when you’re not around to keep them in line.

Noah is pressing a sloppy kiss to Nick’s cheek when from the corner of his eye, he spots you. His expression drops just slightly, for only a moment, before Nick turns his head to follow Noah’s gaze.

You know you’ve ruined the surprise, seeing breakfast and the mess before they had the chance to present it to you. You never get to see this part, though, and you couldn’t help your curiosity. It endears you, more than anything — you didn’t know they managed to make this much mess every time.

“Ruined the surprise, sorry,” you say, but they’re already separating from each other and making their way over to you and crowding into your space before you have any time to feel guilty.

“Happy birthday, honey,” Nick says first, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and a warm, gentle hand just beneath the hem of your t-shirt. His t-shirt.

Noah parrots his sentiment, a kiss of his own pressed to the top of your head, before throwing Nicky under the bus. “We would have been back to you before you woke up, but Nicky burnt an omelette.”

You feel them fighting a little behind you — no matter how long, always on occasion still bickering teenagers. You leave them to it, turning on your heels to find what they have set up for you at the kitchen table.

Two happy birthday balloons and a vase of pretty, pink and purple flowers. You wonder for a moment who helped them pick them out — Nick’s mom or his sister. You always love what the boys pick, but this has the ladies written all over it.

There’s a big box from the bakery down the street, and when you lift the lid, it’s all of your favorite treats.

There’s a rectangular gift, daintily wrapped, with an envelope tucked into the ribbon. Your name is written in Noah’s messy scrawl.

“I thought we could go to the botanical gardens today, the weather is nice,” Nick says, sidling up behind you.

“Maybe the art museum after? Grab a late lunch?” Noah continues, carrying a suspiciously small plate of pancakes in from the kitchen. You wonder how many he burnt. Your cheeks warm, so endeared.

“And then we have to be back by 7:30, because there will be some people waiting to celebrate you, please try to act surprised.”

You don’t have a moment to shoot Nick a glare of fake outrage before the smoke detector starts to go. The second omelette, you suppose.

“Okay, how about this,” you say, grabbing the box of pastries and heading for the back door while Noah waves a tea towel at the alarm and Nick gets the skillet off the stove. “We can order in some breakfast, and go sit outside while we wait.”

You think about the wonderful day ahead of you as you sit yourself down in the sun, a boy on either side of you. The botanical gardens will be nice, a stroll through your favorite art exhibit, a late afternoon lunch at the café.

You’re sure you could be happy just like this — your head resting on Nick’s shoulder, Noah’s resting on yours, both of their hands warm on the bare skin of your thighs.

You’ll go and let yourself be pampered by them, though you’ve long ago come to find that every day with them is a treat, flanked by their adoration always.

tags <3

@circle-with-me @darksigns-exe @concretejunglefm @concretenoah @baddestomens

@sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @malice-ov-mercy @mysticdoodlez @somebodyels3

@sorrowsofsilence @collapsedglasshouses @fadingangelwisp @cookiesupplier @spicywhenspeaking

@lacy1986 @dollieomens @agravemisstake @cncohshit @dominuslunae

@poisongirl616 @iknownothingpeople @thisbicc @theanarchymuse95

@blackveilomens @geminigirlfromfinland @xserenax-13 @screamsinsilver @into-the-grey

@kenzie18 @lilgarbitch

#nick ruffilo fic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian x reader #nick ruffilo x noah sebastian #nick ruffilo x reader #deathblacksmoke works

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