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milesmolasses · 1 year

Note

maybe e-42 miles x black fem fashion designer reader 👉🏾👈🏾 and she makes all different types of clothes like street wear and party dresses, and some girls even pay her to make their prom dresses and miles being her model for stuff.

my lil fashionista (e-42 miles x african!reader)

— I’ve added a small twist to this request I hope you don’t mind

— designer… but make it african

— this song has been on my mind all day

— ⚠️: use of the igbo language, some things may be confusing because they are written in broken african english, cursing, this one is on the longer side

in your room scattered with fabrics and sewing materials, you were on the phone with a last-minute client who wanted a prom dress done for her daughter. she was a close friend of your mothers and she called you expecting you to help her out on this last minute request, with prom only a month and a half away. but hey, if she was willing to pay double, who were you to refuse?

she was sending designs and inspo pictures, as well as different materials she wanted you to use on the dress. your mind was reeling, trying to write everything down as she spoke to you on the phone about all of the measurements of her daughter.

"ah, see the picture I sent to you now on whatsapp, that's kind of the style of dress we want for her. the long skirt one," she yelled into the phone. you could hear all the traffic from the road she was on, as well as gospel music from the speakers of her car.

"aunty have you changed the colors of the dress now?" you asked, praying she would say no as you looked at the photo she sent. you had already taken the fabrics out of your wardrobe and laid them out, so a change in colors would only stress you out more.

"no, same colors—"

just then, the woman was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. you could hear it buzz on the wood of your floor, and when you went to check on who it was, you saw it was your boyfriend miles. "ahhh leave me nah!" you groaned as you picked up the phone to decline his call.

"are you talking to me?"

"no! no no no aunty, someone called me sorry," you pleaded, not wanting to seem rude to the woman who was paying you good money to make a dress on such short notice. you haphazardly threw your phone to your bed as you focused on remembering all of the measurements she told you and writing them down.

"biko (please), what did you say her busts were?" you requested.

"ahn that one is—"

just as she was about to tell you the measurement, your phone cut off. looking at the device on your bed, you saw miles was calling you again. you sucked your teeth as you declined his call, once again. knowing miles, you placed your phone on dnd to make sure you wouldn't get any more of his calls.

you sighed as you just decided to re-take all the girls' measurements whenever she got to your house.

"am nearing your house now, can you buzz me in?" the woman on the other line asked of you.

"of course, just tell me whenever you ring," you said. the commotion and traffic you heard before were gone. "she must be close," you thought to yourself.

you threw your notebook and pen alongside your phone on your bed as you went to focus on the half-finished dress on your mannequin. it was your own prom dress that you chose to make completely on your own, choosing to go for a more cultural look this prom season. you left the needle and thread looped through the sleeve of the dress to attend to the client you had on the phone, but now you went back to the dress you were working on.

the top of the dress was a beautiful, deep, dark red corset with jewels decorating the bust of the dress going all the way up to the sleeves. a swirl pattern of shimmering vines decorated the rest of the top portion. the bottom of the dress—a beautiful maroon color that was also decorated in shimmering, floral vines— went straight down in a tight fit to accentuate all your curves. not yet added to the dress, was the matching train, which you would sew later.

you were about to make the last loop around before finishing off the first sleeve of the dress when you heard a buzz from the front of your apartment. sticking a random hole in the dress to place the needle in, you tugged your bonnet off your head and ran to the buzzer. after buzzing the woman in, you waited by your door patiently.

after a few minutes, your doorbell rang. after waiting a few seconds to make it seem like you weren't literally right next to the door, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Y/N, kedu ka ị mere? (how are you),” she asked, leaning in to hug you.

“adị m mma aunty (i'm fine aunty), I was just finishing up a dress i’m working on," you responded. you looked at the girl right next to the woman; she looked just about your age.

"Adaoma you don't greet? is this not your agemate?" she looked to her daughter who made a face of discomfort. you understood exactly what she was feeling as her mother said that, so you shook your head as you chuckled and smiled.

"it's fine aunty, come inside both of you," you affirmed as you walked backward into your apartment.

as they sat down on your couch, you turned to your kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, "do you guys want some lemona—"

you couldn't even get the sentence out as you heard your buzzer buzz again. without thinking, you walked to your door and buzzed whoever the perpetrator was in.

"ah ah, are you having visitors?"

"no, it's probably just my mom. I think she forgot her key on her way to the market," you reasoned. walking back to your kitchen, you poured two glasses of lemonade into glasses and walked back to the living room couch where your visitors stayed.

"thank you my dear," said the woman. her daughter mumbled a small "thank you" as you handed them the cool drink.

"I have the measurements written down somewhere, hold on," you said, running to your room.

as you were searching your room for the small book you kept full of measurements and designs, you heard your doorbell.

"fuck where is it?" you whispered, scolding yourself for losing it so easily. your bell rang again, and then it rang a third time.

"oh my god— I'M COMING!"

finally, after recking your room completely, you found the book on your bed right next to your phone. you were too happy to beat yourself up about how stupid you were to not check your bed first, so you ran back to the living room, placing your things on the small coffee table.

you muttered an apology to your guests as you turned to the door, unlocking it. who you expected to see was your mom frantically telling you about how she left her keys at home before going to the market. however, what you were met with instead only made you even more annoyed.

"why you not answering the phone, hm?" came a deep, calm voice from the other side of the door.

sighing, you calmly tried to collect yourself, tilting your head back and saying a small prayer to the lord up above.

"miles, please. i'm doing something right now," you pleaded. the last thing you needed was your passive-aggressive boyfriend pissing you off when you already had so much to get done.

tilting his head forward, he peeked into your apartment looking at the people sitting on your couch. when he saw that the older woman was wearing a blouse with an African print—an Ankara blouse— he knew to watch his mouth when he entered your home.

"Y/N, who is that? is it your mum?" she questioned. sighing, you opened the door wider, revealing miles standing there with his head down facing you.

"no aunty, one of my friends came to visit," you said, putting on the fakest smiles known to man.

"introduce yourself, friend—" you grunted that last part, hoping miles got the message.

"good afternoon ma'am, my name is miles," he said walking up to the lady to shake her and her daughter's hands. he gave a small smile to seem less intimidating than he usually did and straightened out his back a little.

pulling miles away from your guest, you excused the both of you, walking over to the kitchen. "are you insane just coming here like you own this place? you couldn't even bother to call me before showing up here?" you whispered, not needing anyone but miles to hear you.

"excuse me, but you're the one ignoring my calls and leaving me on delivered. I sent you like ten messages but you ain't even look at them huh?" he accused sounding annoyed with you. you thought back to when he was calling you and you ignored him completely, going as far as to put your phone on dnd.

"if you did look at my messages, you would've seen one of me telling you I'm coming over. but you obviously too busy for me," he chuckled, but ain't shit was funny to him. "my fault, lemme get out your way—"

cutting him off, you grabbed his hand under the kitchen island to make sure any lingering eyes couldn't see you. you never want him to feel like you don't have time for him, miles was everything to you.

"no, no i-i'm sorry miles, i'm just a lil stressed right now. i'm handling a lot... don't go, baby stay."

he sighed looking around the room. he was definitely mad in the moment, but he understood what you were dealing with right now at this moment. he squeezed your hand from under the island and nodded his head yes. immediately, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug with a smile.

that was until you heard a cough coming from your living room. turning your head, you were met with the eyes of a wide-eyed woman with her hands folded on her lap, seeming very uncomfortable. almost immediately, you shoved miles away from you and turned to face the woman.

"ahem, uh, s-sorry aunty— i'll be right there," you said looking down at your feet ashamed. you turned to miles and gave a small head nod towards your bedroom, signaling him to reside in there until you were finished.

It only really took around 30 minutes for you to discuss plans on what the dress would look like, and to take the girl's measurements. she showed you her pinterest board of prom dresses she had in mind and you even helped her settle on a photo for you to refer to while making the dress. after the thirty minutes were over, you gifted them some puff puffs your mom cooked earlier that morning and bid them farewell.

sighing in exhaustion, you walked back to your bedroom ready to relax and focus on your current project, only to find your boyfriend hovering over it. he looked absolutely entranced at the sight of the dress, from the jewels sewn into the plunging neckline to the way the rest of the dress shinned whenever the sun from your window hit it just right. he'd seen you wear clothes like this to weddings and whatnot, but every time you managed to blow him away with how effortlessly gorgeous you looked in them.

"it's stunning mi reina," he said, finally turning to face you. you walked up closer to him and leaned your entire body into his, wrapping your arms around his waist. "you think so?"

"baby I know so. you don't even have the dress on and i'm blown away," he reassured to you as he held you closer to him.

looking up at him you reached up to peck his lips, that was until he moved his head back to avoid your kiss.

"what's wrong?" you questioned.

he smirked down at you as he shrugged his shoulders, "nothin', i'm just wondering when you gon' make me a nice suit to match ya dress."

— lord have mercy

— i’m like dying here

— please read lol (｀_´)ゞ

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #earth42 miles #miles g #prowler miles #into the spider verse #e-42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #miles g morales #miles g x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #spiderman miles morales #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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ranhaitanisgf · 9 months

Note

heyy congrats on 2k! can i request delinquent & class president + stuck together with baji? thanks and congrats again

—baji keisuke // delinquent & student council president // stuck together

☆ ˎˊ˗ i went. soooo . overboard . this was too good though once i got going i couldn't stoppp omg. all this is lowk inspired by that one scene from the webtoon a reason to die, so iykyk :3 thank you for requesting anon, and i hope youre still around 2 years later to read this! enjoyyy xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ warning! small references from the 'a letter from baji keisuke' prequel series!

☆ ˎˊ˗ fem!reader

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 2.5k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

the breeze of the early evening wind was doing wonders for you at the moment; it was nice to take a moment for yourself amongst all your responsibilities and just relax.

it was even nicer that you were able to enjoy a cold beverage after completing all your student council duties; the vending machine on the rooftop was a great investment, (you’d been against it when someone pitched the idea, but you’re so glad you approved it). all of this paired with your favorite music playing through your earbuds from your iPod?

yeah, this was a perfect moment.

you perked up a bit when you heard the door to the rooftop open, looking to see who was there.

“hm? oh, baji-kun!” the boy looked over to you at the call of his name, the corners of his lips turning up when he recognized you. “what’re you still doing here? i thought you would be home already.” you asked, pulling an earbud out of your ear.

“chifuyu and ryusei were helping me with some stuff after school and we just finished up. how ‘bout you? it’s getting pretty late.” you sighed at his query, the stress coming back to you just thinking about all the things you have left to do.

“there was a lot of club budgeting to finish because a lot of the clubs are requesting more budget. all the presidents are getting mad at me for choosing another club over them, but it’s like, maybe if you were more productive with your club, i would allot more budget, y’know? gah, just thinking about it gives me a headache…i haven’t even finished the revised budgeting for half of them…” you shook your head, sighing at the predicament. when you looked back up, you saw baji adjusting his glasses awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“sorry about that, baji-kun. i just came up here for a small break from it and ended up complaining about it to you.”

“nah, it’s fine. ‘m kinda like that with studying too.”

“oh, right! how has the studying been going for you-? wait, hm…” noticing that he was still standing, you paused, slipping your school blazer off and laying it down next to you, patting it. “here, come sit down! you don’t have to keep standing, y’know. i’m not gonna bite!” you teased, feeling satisfied when he came and sat down next to you.

“anyways! how has the studying been? have your test scores been alright lately?”

“yeah, they’ve been alright. enough to pass.”

“i’m glad to hear it! you’re improving so much, it’s so impressive! oh, you can also always ask me for a tutoring session or if you need anything. that’s what i’m here for!” you offered, smiling at him. “i admire your diligence, so i’m happy to help with anything!”

baji nodded at your words, a small smile on his lips. “yeah, thanks.”

after a few moments of silence, you offered one of your earbuds to baji, who accepted. you weren’t sure if the two of you had the same music taste, but you figured it was worth a try, and surprisingly, he didn’t seem to complain at all. in fact, he even complimented your song choice, which made you feel a very normal amount of happy. a very normal amount.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

you were scared awake by a sudden yell, jerking as you immediately sat up, wondering what was going on.

“hey!! open this door right now!!” the banging on the door drew your attention to baji, who was no longer by your side and was yelling at the door. “hello?! shit…” he walked away from it, sighing a bit.

now that you were a bit more awake and coherent, you realized that it was dark outside.

oh shit…

“ohhh my god, i’m gonna be in so much trouble, ohhhh my god…” you mumbled, scrambling for your phone to check what time it was. when you finally found it and flipped it open, the only thing that popped up on the screen was the dead battery symbol, making you groan.

“uh…” baji started, seeming a bit awkward. “the door…is locked.”

“what?!” you exclaimed, shooting up and walking towards the door. you tried the doorknob to no avail, proving baji’s words to be true. “oh my god…dude, i’m so dead. school administration might actually kill me if they find out about this…”

baji was running a hand through his hair, also seeming to be very stressed. “my mom’s gonna kick my ass…”

now that you were looking more closely, you realized that baji had ditched his glasses and that his ponytail was gone, making him seem almost unrecognizable. in fact, you might not have recognized him if you’d passed by him on the street looking this way.

in all honesty, he actually looked so much better without the thick lenses of his glasses blocking the view of his amber eyes, and you thought that his dark hair being free from a hair tie suits him a lot better. you’re curious to see how he dresses outside of school now; he would probably fit streetwear pretty good-

wait, you have to focus. there are more important things to be thinking about right now.

right, right.

focus.

“baji-kun, does your phone have any battery?”

“no…” he mumbled, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked at the sky. you sighed, trying to think of something. in the midst of your thinking, a chilly breeze blew by, making you shiver a bit.

“ahh, i can’t believe this is happening.” you murmured, laughing a bit at the ridiculousness of the situation. “actually though, i’m sorry about this, baji-kun. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.” you said, feeling a bit guilty. after all, you had been the one who had offered for him to sit down with you, and from what you remember, you were the one who fell asleep.

“it’s fine, i fell asleep too.” he said, leaning down to grab your school blazer off of the floor. “here, put this back on. it’s cold.” he tossed it over to you and you gladly accepted it, brushing some of the dust off before slipping it on. it helped a bit against the cold, but you supposed you underestimated how chilly the nights get in the spring.

baji sat back down, taking his school blazer off and setting it beside him, loosening his lie. he leaned his head back against the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. he seemed to have given up in trying to get someone’s attention, instead accepting the situation. you were about to sit down again and do the same, but you suddenly got an idea, shuffling around in your pockets for some spare change.

“yes! 500 yen!” you whispered excitedly, walking up to the vending machine. “hey, baji-kun, do you like red bean?”

“huh? yeah, why?”

“one sec…” you answered, putting the coins in the machine. you picked out two red bean buns, watching as they slowly dispensed and fell into the bottom compartment. reaching into the bottom, you grabbed both of them, walking a few steps and sitting next to baji.

“i mean, it isn’t exactly dinner, but it’s something!” you said, offering one of the buns to baji. he accepted it, saying something about paying you back as he opened the wrapper, immediately taking a huge bite. you did the same, not realizing how hungry you were until you started eating it.

“i’m actually such a genius for this!” you exclaimed, continuing to munch on the bread. “it’s so lucky that i ended up approving the budget for this vending machine!” silence fell over the two of you as you continued eating, but you felt more content than awkward. you’re glad that you ended up stuck here with someone nice like baji.

speaking of baji, you were still a bit caught off guard by how different he looked without his glasses and ponytail. of course, you’d noticed how cute he was even before, but the word you would go with now is more like…attractive?

really attractive, but still cute.

“what?”

“huh?”

“you were lookin’ at me.” you felt your cheeks flush, a bit embarrassed at the fact that he caught you looking at him.

“oh, i was just thinking, you look a lot different without your glasses. do you actually need them?” baji seemed to think for a moment before he spoke again.

“nah, i jus’ don’t want people gettin’ the wrong idea about me.” he ended up saying. “i’m trying to get better with school, so if i go around lookin’ the way i do…”

“girls will be attracted to you?” baji sputtered at your words, almost spitting out the bread that was in his mouth.

“hah?! no!! it’s ‘cause i don’t want people knowing i’m in a gang!!” your jaw dropped at his words, and he subsequently smacked his hand over his face.

the information was a huge shock to you. of course, you’d heard the rumors, but you’d chalked them up to just that; rumors. after all, even though baji wasn’t someone with perfect grades, you always saw him trying his best to get his grades up, and you really admired that.

“you…pff…you’re in a gang?! riiight…” you managed to get out, giggles starting to overtake your words. “baji-kun, you literally dressed in a sailor school uniform to get extra tutoring-!”

“hey! that was one time!” he grumbled, his ears turning pink. you finished laughing, wiping some tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“okay okay, sorry. i mean, are you being serious though?” you asked, feeling a bit curious.

“yeah. only losers lie about stuff like that.”

“okay, which one then?”

“toman.” again, your mouth dropped at his answer, but you recovered quicker than before.

“t-toman, like tokyo manji gang…right. yes. wait, would you get arrested if people found out you were in a gang? why can’t anybody know?”

“it’s ‘cause then random dudes start showin’ up at school to fight, and then i get in trouble for fighting.”

“ohh, i guess that makes sense. why would they bother you at school though? school isn’t the place for that stuff…”

“dunno. it just gets annoying to deal with after a while, and my mom always kicked my ass when the school called her, so it was kinda crap.” you nodded thoughtfully at his words.

“well, your secret’s safe with me, baji-kun! pinky promise i won’t say a word to anyone!” you held your pinky out, but he just looked away from you.

“i believe you, you don’t have to-”

“c’mon!! it’s not a pinky promise if you don’t lock pinkies, y’know.”

“...fine.” you cheered as baji relented, gently wrapping his pinky around yours. you shook your crossed pinkies and let go, feeling satisfied, (why did that small contact with him make your heart skip a beat?)

“there! and you can beat me up or something if i break it.” you joked, leaning your head back against the wall.

“i’m not gonna beat you up.”

“eh? why not?”

“i don’t hit girls.” he said matter of factly, his tone quite serious. “only assholes hit girls.” you stared at him for a moment, seeing the dead serious look on his face before you smiled, closing your eyes.

“y’know, you’re a pretty stand up guy, baji-kun. i like that about you.” you hadn’t meant to say the last part, but you were hoping he would just ignore it.

“...thanks.” after that, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you, the only light source being the moon. you enjoyed living in tokyo, but if there was one thing you didn’t like, it was the fact that you couldn’t see the stars at all.

“this wall is so uncomfortable…” you muttered, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep again. you’d long since given up on trying to get off the rooftop, so you figured that you might as well get some sleep since you were sure tomorrow was going to be interesting, (you weren’t looking forward to having that conversation with the principal).

abruptly, you felt baji’s arm across your chest, pushing the side of your head to land on his shoulder.

“better?” he asked, seeming to have no reaction.

“uh, yeah…isn’t this uncomfortable for you though?”

“nah.”

“o-okay…” you said hesitantly. if you weren’t so tired, you probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep from how flustered you were right now; after all, you’ve never had a boy offer you his shoulder to sleep on, so why wouldn’t you be flustered?

it definitely wasn’t because it was baji.

definitely not….

it was definitely because it was baji.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

bonus:

chifuyu and ryusei both looked down at the sight in front of them, shock filling their bodies.

they’d been worried when baji had skipped the toman meeting yesterday evening, and they had been even more worried when his phone had been switched off, spending the rest of the night trying to find out what happened to him. however, now that they knew what had happened, they were about to burst their seams from laughter.

“pff…do, hah, do we wake them up?” chifuyu whispered, his cell phone out and snapping pictures.

“n-nah, haha, they look pretty cozy…pfff…” ryusei whispered back, his cell phone also out and snapping pictures from every angle.

in front of them was baji and you, your head resting on his shoulder and his head resting on top of your head, dozing off without a care in the world. he had draped his blazer over the both of you as a blanket, and if one didn’t know any better, they might think that the two of you were a couple.

“pff…this is some good blackmail stuff,” ryusei chuckled, exuding a proud aura. “look at toman’s little keisuke, all grown up now and sleeping with his crush! that’s what dreams are made.” chifuyu spluttered at ryusei’s words, a shocked expression on his face.

“baji-san has a crush on (y/n)-san?! isn’t she the student council president?!” he whisper-yelled. ryusei nodded and shrugged.

“the heart wants what the heart wants, or something.”

“both of you, shut the fuck up.”

“eek!”

“gah!”

baji glared at the two boys in front of him, holding up a finger to his lips, telling them to shush.

“what’re you still doin’ here? scram.” they both immediately made a beeline for the door, fearful of baji’s wrath after being woken up from sleep.

baji rubbed his eyes, yawning a bit as he looked around. he’s not sure what time it is, but he’s glad that it was only those two idiots who saw the two of you and nobody else.

we should probably get up and get to class before someone else comes up here.

he turned to the side to wake you up, but he stopped, looking at your sleeping form. he chuckled a bit when he saw your messed up hair, wondering how it got so messed up when the two of you were sleeping sitting up. he leaned back against the wall, staring up at the clouds passing by.

just five more minutes.

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sofiaruelle · 11 months

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Oh wow, I was not expecting a whole drawing of them trying the dance and falling around. It's very beautifully done, I rmmbr just staring in awe for a while at first 🩵

I have another odd question about the she trio/ass gang, which u don't have to draw

Cause I saw a little video of Harvey going hard; dancing to MiseryxCPR(xReese's Puffs) and it had me laughing for a long while, and I wondered who would be the ones singing the song if say the stardrop saloon had some kind of karaoke night

My head tells me both Sam and Abagail would end up doing Reeses's puffs, but that would leave one of the other songs without a host :/

Harvey would probably end up saying stuff about how cpr doesn't require mouth-to-mouth anymore or smthn, and Shane probably worried Marnie would walk in-or just, too drunk off his ass having fun to care 🤔

nah man i just have to draw them. and oh look I even have another essay under readmore! 😂 😂 😂 😂 😂

✨Also my commissions are open! ✨ if anyone is interested! :D< please reblog/share the og comm sheet ,if you can! it would help me a lot thank you!!!

Honestly i can imagine them all just being pissed drunk before attempting to sing the song😂. i know fersure the SHE trio would require more liquid courage for it (heck even to join/start a kareoke sesh!)

Shane gives of major Kareoke Tito (uncle) vibes~. Yknow that one tito who specifically sings “My Way” by Frank Sinatra and has a bunch of classic rock songs under his belt. He’s not good at singing perse but he can at least carry a tune. He and Sebastian would totally connect with singing Misery. but like Shane vaguely knows the song (he’s heard it on radio a bajillion times but he doesnt know the name of the song so its not quite on his playlists) so he when he’s super sloshed and can barely read the screen, he tries to sing it from memory and misses a couple of the words. but hey! at least he knows the chorus and is in tune.

Meanwhile Sebastian has Misery “secretly” on his go to playlist. He doesnt admit it (the songs is too main stream and overplayed but he stumbled upon a vocaloid cover and rest is history.) He definitely always chooses the song every kareoke sesh (although not his first choice) and he’s passionate about it even has a little performance too(lots of head bangs, fist pumps and that classic 2000s disney knees bent together, feet wide apart moment)! For his duet with shane he’s the first to shed a lil tear and that gets shane going and they cry through most of the song in their own lil misery world ignoring the chaos around them.

Sam is a fucking menace for singing CPR and I do agree He and Abigail would go off on Reese’s Puff BUT i can definitely imagine being commited to singing CPR (we all know he’d awkwardly twerk). Especially if it was to troll on Harvey who probably thought it was a wholesome song about doing CPR at a specific BPM. 😂

Harvey good lird poor harvey! He’s probably the most sober out of everyone. It doesnt help that he’s no light weight + lowkey becomes designated baby sitter everytime (he’s soooooooo going charge them extra in the morning if they come stumbling into his clinic asking for some hangover cure). He was so excited about adding a new song to CPR tempo list he was gonna teach at the nex first aid classes!! Who would have thought that a singer with a cute wholesome name like Cupcakke was just so… sooooo SCANDALOUS!!! He should have known Sam was up to something the moment he grabbed him by the shoulder!!! “This is medical malpractice, Samson!!!” He spends the whole trying to sush Sam who’s having so much fun laughing at Harvey’s reaction 😂

Abigal. F e r a l.

Help! Elliot has fallen over! He honestly just has a mild peanut allergy but he has been drinking and hooo boi. thats not good. thank goodness Harvey is sobered up (with the help of Sam ofc) and has an epipen on hand! Catch Leah cackling from her seat by the bar before assisting Harvey.

#doodle #stardew valley #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley sam #stardew valley abigail #stardew valley shane #stardew valley elliot #stardew valley harvey #ass gang #she trio #sdv sebastian #sdv sam #sdv abigail #sdv harvey #sdv shane #sdv elliot #TW: drinking #TW: allergy #good lird this was such chaotic night to remember

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soccer-love · 6 months

Text

Weddings make lovers

Mala Grohs x reader

Magdas and Pernilles weeding was a thing the whole Bayern team was looking forward to.

The were getting married on a Saturday after the last game of the season.

Everyone helped to make this day perfect.

They offered to let other guest stay at their apartments, helped to decorate the location, picking out the cake and food and helping each other to choose outfits.

The ceremony was beautiful and besides the familys, Tuva was the one to cry, and every five minutes someone else had to hand her a tissue.

After the ceremony and the dinner, the big party started.

Jovi had offered to be the DJ and she really did a great job.

At first she played the song, Magda and Pernille had picked out for their first dance and then more songs you could dance to.

During that, Caro and Georgia took over the bar and tried to give everyone there own cocktail creations, while also being a little bit tipsy already.

Linda was the one to take pictures of everything and everyone.

Syd and Klara where joking and fooling around, making everyone laugh and encouraged everyone to dance.

And I was somewhere in the middle of all of that.

I was already a little bit tipsy, thanks to Caro's newest creation: The Amortentia Potion, inspired by Harry Potter. And maybe that was also the reason why I walked towards Mala as I saw her on standing the side of the dancefloor.

"Mala." I say and smile at her.

I don't know who helped her pick out her outfit, but it was incredible hot.

A blue suit, with a read tie and black shoes.

"Y/N."

"Come dance with me." I say and grab her hand, it's warm and fits perfectly into mine.

"What happened to the shy and calm Y/N?" Mala asks laughing as she starts to dance along with me.

"Maybe this is the true and dark me?" I answer and place her hand on my shoulder.

"You have a dark side?"

"Dark and dusty, hidden deep inside me."

"I am impressed."

We dance for some more and I really enjoy the feeling of her hands on my shoulder.

I like her, more than I should.

More than she likes me.

"Y/N! Sorry Mala but G and I need her." I hear Caro's voice next to me and turn around.

She points over to the bar, where Georgia is standing together with Magda, Linda Sembrant and Zecira Musovic.

"Zecira brought some drink called Akvavit, and you absolutely have to try it." Caro explains and I nod.

"Sorry Mala." I say and let myself get dragged away by Caro.

"This is literally so good!" Georgia says and hands me a shot glass.

The cold liquid burns in my throat but it's also really good.

"Oh my gosh this is really good." I say making them laugh.

"Told ya." Georgia answers, pouring me another shot glass of it and drinking one her own.

"Better be careful." Magda warns, Pernille appearing behind her.

"Careful with what?" she asks, sliding one arm around her wife.

"They are trying Akvavit." Zecira explains, pointing at the bottle.

"Uh yeah you should defiantly be careful, that stuff is really strong." Pernille warns while Georgia and I drink our third glass of that stuff.

"Nah we can handle that, we are big girls." Georgia says and wraps one arm around me.

Caro serves us a round of drinks and Pernille and Magda leave to talk to some people.

The party keeps going till it's late at night, around midnight most of the people started to leave and now there are only some friends, some team members and the brides left.

"I need to go to the restroom." I say to Caro who is still standing behind the bar with Georgia, singing along to a German party song, Jovi finally decided to play.

"Der Zug hat keine bremse." she sings in reply and I cant help but laugh.

The floor on the way there is really uneven and as I come back I see someone coming towards me.

"You're good?" I hear Mala asking, fuck is she hot.

"This floor isn't built right." I say instead of answering her question.

"Uhm?"

"You know what a friend of mine is a carpenter I think he knows how to fix this." I say and pull my phone out of my pocket.

"Y/N, it is 1am I don't think he will like it if you call him now."

I put my phone back into my pocket and look at her.

"I think you should go home and sleep till you're sober." Mala says "I can drive you home."

"You are so smart." I step closer, how can someone actually be so smart? I mean she is studying....something. I know she is studying something you have to be very smart for. But right now I cant remember its name.

"There is so much knowledge inside your beautiful head." I say, pressing one finger against her forehead.

"And your skin is so soft." I feel the need to touch her cheek.

"Yeah you defiantly are druck, come on let's get you home." she says laughing and wraps one arm around me, trying to get me to walk towards the exit.

"Wait." I say and grab her by her jacket, pulling her against me.

Her warmth surrounds me and I feel like I could pass out just from that feeling.

"Mala."

"Yes?" her voice is so soft, like she is an angel.

"I really want to kiss you." I say, looking at her lips for some seconds before I look up into her eyes.

"That's because you're drunk." she says but not letting go of me.

"No! I mean yes...I say that because I am drunk but I want to kiss you even when I am sober."

"You-"

"I am in love with you, Mala."

A small smile curls up on her lips and she softly grabs my chin.

"If you really mean that, then say it again when you are sober." she says, stepping back.

"But don't play with my feelings Y/N."

I slowly nod, suddenly feeling really tiered.

"Let's get you home." she says and I follow her down the hall, we say goodbye to Magda and Pernille and some other people and I see Magda whispering something to Mala while looking at me but I cant hear what they are saying.

Mala drives me home and waits outside until I am inside my apartment.

---

We have two final training sessions before everyone is going on their summer vacations and as usual I am one of the last ones to be there.

Malas place in the locker room is directly opposite to mine and normally we talk a little while getting chanced and she helps me doing my hair.

But today is different.

Yesterday morning I woke up with my head feeling like it had doubled in size but unfortunately I could remember everything that had happened.

And I feel like she also did.

The training is good but it feels different without Mala talking to me and making jokes all the time.

At the final training it is the same and I definitely know that I don't want to go into summer brake like that.

I try to be the last one to go into the locker room but she is already waiting outside as I get there.

"We should talk." she says and I nod.

"Yeah."

I follow her around the corner so we won't get interrupted by any of the other players.

"I don't know how much you remember of the party night but-"

"I remember everything." I interrupt her, leaning against the wall.

"And I am sorry for telling you that but..." I look at the floor, I could just deny it, deny my feelings, deny the fact that I didn't say all of that because I was drunk.

"I...I cant tell you that it was because of the alcohol, because .... because it is true. Everything I said." I say and look up.

I am surprised by the way she looks back at me, not mad or hurt but with a small smile on her lips. Her beautiful lips.

She steps closer.

"What is true?" she asks.

"That I am in love with you and that I want to kiss you."

"And what did I say after you told me that?"

"To tell you that again when I am sober?" I ask, confused about her reaction.

"No after that."

"To not play with your feelings." I repeat her words, realizing that I completely forgot about that till now.

"Because I cant have you telling me, that you like me back and not meaning it." she explains, taking another step towards me, my body now trapped between her and the wall.

"You...you like me too?" I ask, but scared of what she would say I look down at our shoes.

"How could I not like you." she whispers in the space between us. And like she did at the weeding, she grabs my chin and softly pushes it up.

She leans forwards, searching in my eyes for the permission to do it.

I close my eyes, waiting for her lips to meet mine. And they do.

Her lips feel so soft against mine. She tastes a little like Powerade, lip balm and her.

I can't believe I am kissing her.

As we brake apart, a big smile forms on my lips.

I open my mouth to say something but someone else is faster than me.

"Wow."

We look to the side and I feel one of Malas arms around me like she wants to protect me from anything that could happen now.

At the end of the hallway, there are standing Magda and Pernille, both ready to go home.

"Soon enough." Magda says, coming towards us, followed by her wife.

I just look at them, to stunned to speak.

"Magda." Pernille says in a warning tone.

"What?" She says laughing "You also knew about this."

"You...what?" I ask.

"I told them about my feelings." Mala says and looks at me. So that was what they were talking about at the weeding.

"Well, weddings make lovers." Magda says and smiles at us like a proud mom.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #fc bayern frauen #lgbtq #mala grohs x reader #mala grohs #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson #sydney lohmann

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primaviva · 1 year

Text

PAIRING: gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: gwen couldn't sleep, her thoughts of you keeping her up all night. despite the snowy weather, you woke up from your sleep, exhausted and annoyed by notification that kept repeating on your phone. your expression drops when you see a text from gwen. “can i come over?”

WARNINGS: small angst, established relationship, mention of relationship problems, just fluff !!

a vibration from under your pillow is what woke you up to the chaos going on beyond your room. it has to be notification from your phone.

the snowstorm raged outside, its fury evident in the howling winds and the relentless cascade of snowflakes. as you rubbed your eyes to make sense of the blurry scenery, you watched as your block transformed into a winter wonderland, blanketed in a pristine layer of white. but instead of finding solace in the ethereal beauty of the season, you felt an undeniable restlessness that was practically gnawing at your soul. it just wasn’t the vibe it usually was. the type of feeling you’d get scrolling on pinterest and finding a picture of a window at night with stormy weather that exuded this cozy aura to it that held this perfect sense of home and ease. the type of feeling when you go to your winter playlist and play all the slow songs that just key you rock and sway while the rain outside was one fat water drop away from causing a power outage and having to wait several hours for con edison to restore it. con ed ain’t shit anyway.

the point is that yeah, these moments still and some ‘flaws’ like the aftermath of the bad weather and storms, but it brought a sense of peace. happiness, even.

to you, this moment should have been peaceful, little escape from reality, like waking up in the middle of a rainstorm and watching the rain drip down your window while you enjoy a quiet night of binging youtube videos. but for whatever reason, peace seemed impossible. everything about this moment felt wrong. something that should have been soothing and familiar was now strange and unnerving.

as the snowflakes gracefully twirled in the frigid air, your thoughts turned to gwen. the vibrant connection between you both now felt dimmed, entangled in a web of misunderstandings and unspoken words, leaving you adrift in uncertainty. the storm, relentless in its intensity, mirrored the emotions swirling within you. a mix of rage, destruction, and a sense of loss consumed you, propelling you aimlessly forward, seeking something to anchor yourself to. all these emotions were directed towards her.

lately, it seemed as though gwen had become absorbed in her own world. it wasn't just about her being spiderwoman anymore; it was everything about her that pulled her in different directions, inadvertently distancing herself from you. you guessed that the spark you had gradually lost its vitality, and what once felt so alive turned into bittersweet memories of her being replayed in your mind. disappointment lingered in the thoughts of her you had, the remnants of what could’ve been. what still can be.

it’s not like she didn’t try to be more present, it’s just that she simplified it so much that it seemed she didn’t take into account how you would feel. if she was late to a date because of her responsibilities? fine. but to not be able to swallow your pride and take accountability that you couldn’t make it on time and leave your loved one waiting in the cold? nah, not fine at all.

she never wanted to acknowledge her own flaws, instead choosing to blame them for her own wrongdoings. it was a confusing mess you couldn’t wrap your head around. you understood that she had a lot going on in her life, and it could be stressful for her. still, you didn't want her to simply say that she was there and expect everything to be fine. you didn't want her to compensate for her absences with thoughtless gifts.

you wanted action, heart, and risk. you needed her to say she’d just try and be real with you, not just for the sake of the relationship but because you both deserved it.

wrapped in a soft, cozy blanket, you felt the warmth against your body as the temperature gradually dropped in your room due to the light snowfall outside. you knew it was late without even checking the time. if you fall asleep and wake up later you’re bound to be met with an hour that’s after 12:00 am. it happens every time.

“ay, i need to get a grip on my sleep schedule before my eyes get more sunk than the titanic,” you muttered to yourself, voice groggy as you start to wake up.

it hits you as to why you woke up in the first place, your phone. you always slept with it under your bed, fearing that your crazy and overbearing guardian would try checking it at night. you wouldn't dare stop them, but at least you could lessen the chances because they can’t find it or come up with reasons why they shouldn't go through your messages. you let out a deep sigh as you sit yourself up and reach for your phone under the pillow. the screen illuminated, revealing the shocking hour of 3:00 am.

“oooh witching hour,” you mocked, but couldn't help but feel surprised at how late it was.

however, your brows quickly furrowed as you noticed a text notification from five minutes ago. it was gwen. with a tinge of reluctance on whether or not you should answer or get some sleep, you unlocked your phone and opened the message, your curiosity getting the better of you.

my gwen 🤍 : can i come over? i need to see you and i’m not sure it can wait sent at 2:55

gwen? at this hour? you squinted your eyes at the blue light as confusion swept over you at the unexpected request. you were tired. not just because you woke up in the middle of the night but because you were too exhausted to deal with this relationship bullshit right now. it seemed no matter what, nothing ever changed between the two of you. but for whatever it was worth, you responded with something quick and simple.

you : yeah ofc

you : windows open for you sent at 3:02

you put your phone on your bedside table before throwing myself back onto the pillow, patiently awaiting gwen's arrival. her tone sounded so urgent but also a little needy. desperate, almost. it made you wonder why she needed to see you at this time. what could’ve possibly drove her to this?

“hope she gets here good with all that damn snow,” you whispered to yourself while you laid your blanket back on.

raising your head, you perked up at the sound of knocking against the glass. sure enough, gwen gracefully jumps through your window and crawls inside. she was definitely annoyed about something, but it wasn't clear what or who caused it and how. in the moonlight, her blonde hair and blue eyes seemed to shimmer. her cheeks were flushed, and you noticed her slightly shivering.

as she landed on the floor, her shoes left small droplets of water and continued to drip from her jacket. she was dressed in a black turtleneck, a leather jacket, jeans, and pink converse sneakers. seeing her at her full height, gwen looked down at you with weary eyes.

"gwen," you called out, taking a few steps toward her. “everything good? i mean, what’s up with you?”

you got a little anxious as your mind raced with every possible reason as to why she came to see you. especially since she got all dressed and swung over here, not even in her suit. it was dark out and the streets were empty but it still felt risky, too risky.

closing the distance between you, you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling the tall girl down to your height for a hug. your breath caught at the stark contrast in body temperature as the warmth radiating from your body met her chilled skin and wet clothes, which had caught small snowflakes. you felt her cautiously nuzzle her face into the crook of your neck, and a sheepish smile formed against your skin, as the warmth you offered started to bring some heat back to gwen's body.

gwen looked down at you, her eyes still glowing against the snowy backdrop. she slowly put her hands on your shoulders and pulled away quickly to stare into your eyes. her cheeks were still all pink and frigid, and she still shivered with every breath.

"you sure? it's three in the morning and you just crawled through my window lookin’ like a hot unhinged mess,” you teased. "it seemed urgent tho. you even came all the way here without your suit, gwen. that shits risky even for you," you added.

your whole body tingled as her chilly hands wrapped around your waist, drawing you in for a hug. god, she looked absolutely breathtaking in this moment. so effortlessly alluring, so damn attractive, and clearly too into you for her own good. the way her eyes lazily met yours, and her short hair accentuated by the edgy shaved undercut made her glow, made your heart race with excitement.

she was quiet, still looking at you. gwen seemed to be thinking over your words. something was definitely on her mind. she finally took a deep breath, and you could see her exhale a white mist. gwen sighed, turning her head away slightly as if she finally made the decision she was debating over.

biting her lip, she mustered the courage to speak, her voice a little shaky. "okay, i admit it's a bit risky, but i just... really, really wanted to see you." her gaze returned to meet yours, her eyes searching for understanding. "i'm here now, so can't i just stay for a little while?"

her tone shifted playfully, yet her grip on your hands remained firm. there was still a lingering sense of disconnection in the air, as if an undisclosed barrier stood between you both. gwen's presence alone was just straight up weird, and it was apparent that her mind was somewhere else. whatever it was, it seemed like she wanted to talk about it. your eyes drifted towards her slightly wet jacket. there was something hidden under it. something large, a bit bulky.

"of course, you can stay, it's just…”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t coming to you.

you haven't seen gwen in a while. you felt so detached from her life. you heard nothing about her dad, her life, just anything. gwen always says that she's good, just fine. but every time you both talk now, it feels artificial, like small talk you do in group work with a classmate to get some social points.

the last time you truly connected on a deep emotional level was during that intense screaming match you had with her. she had been so consumed by her work as spiderwoman that she stopped talking and even seeing you for a while. it’s not like she meant to do it but you felt neglected. how else were you supposed to feel? in an attempt to apologize, she gave you flowers, and you let them wilt and die. it was symbolic almost, like a statement to her that you didn't want to be bought off with materialistic things. gwen was more than pissed at the time, thinking you were just acting petty and catching an attitude just to spite her. but you didn’t care. you didn't want her to compensate, all you truly wanted was her. you weren't interested in the clichés of romance movies with roses, love poems, and extravagantly corny displays. what mattered most in your eyes was a real, meaningful bond between the two of you.

since then, it felt as if you two had been on a break. but in the ‘freedom’ of not seeing her as often as you’d liked, it just made you realize how much you missed gwen in her absence. you missed her in every sense of the word. you missed her anger, her pain, her happiness, her love, and just the full spectrum of her being. wishing on you both just felt like false hope, and you just wanted to go back to before whatever started this rift and prevent it. maybe then your relationship wouldn't be so stagnant.

"nevermind. yes, you can stay. i don't know what i was gonna say... i'm sorry,” you hastily interjected.

gwen slowly nods as you speak. you didn’t know it for sure, but she really did miss you. she missed having these intimate moments with you. she missed you touching her and saying her name. she missed the time you spent with her before she was the woman behind the mask, open and vulnerable for you.

"i uh actually want to show you something," she mumbles and takes a step back to reveal something poking out her jacket's pocket.

"you have something for me? actually?" you asked, in shock.

though it sounded nice, you’re not sure that's what you wanted from her. you didn't want gifts, or apologies, you wanted action. you want her to tell me that she'll love you even better than before the fights and she wants to be with you. but you know gwen, and you know that's a big ask. she's not the most vocal about her feelings, that's just how she is.

you peered curiously at her, eyes drifting towards her hands as she reached inside and grabbed the hidden object in her hand before offering it to you. it was a small gift wrapped in a pink ribbon. without breaking eye contact, she hands it over.

"yeah, but it's nothing important- it is a little important! but um… it's just simple but it means something to me," she says, her eyes now leaving yours. her voice sounds more genuine now. maybe she realized there was no need to be so secretive around you.

"not important? if it's not important, why did you risk your whole identity just to pull up at my window in the middle of the night?” you questioned, voice stern.

even now, gwen still felt so closed off. she had her guard up, and it's not like you couldn't shame her for not being open, but why? why was acting this way? was she that scared to be vulnerable?

looking at the box, you were surprised that gwen did all of this. it seemed so organized and thought out. you didn't anticipate her ability to tie a ribbon so skillfully or make the box look so adorably appealing. you took the gift in my hand, before delicately loosening the ribbon and gingerly lifting the lid.

you couldn't imagine why gwen would do all of this. her eyes dart between your face and the box, anxious to see your reaction.

the box was smaller than what it looked like from afar. as you took off the top cover of the gift, inside revealed itself to be a heart-shaped locket. its exterior frame was fashioned silver while its interior was luxuriously lined with pink silk.

with a soft smile, gwen points at the picture inside of it.

"it's...it's us!" you exclaimed, realizing the significance of the image. tenderly, you lifted the locket from the box, placing the container gently on your bed. running your thumb across the smooth silver surface, you savored the tactile sensation beneath your skin.

as you gazed deeper into the photo, your eyes welled up with an overwhelming emotion. it was a snapshot of a cherished memory the night of your first date with gwen. you both had ventured to a cozy pizza place and leisurely wandered through the neighboring stores. among them was a music shack adorned with vinyl records and musical instruments. you vividly recalled how you were captivated by an album from your favorite band, and gwen, in a beautiful gesture, had purchased it for you on the spot. the memory continued to play in your mind, the walk back home, with gwen carrying all the bags, and the tender, innocent kiss you placed on her cheek. gwen had always possessed an enchanting charm that endured even to this day.

"i love it, gwen!" you exclaimed, looking up at her with a tender smile, while delicately wiping away a tear that traced down your cheek.

gwen let out a sigh of relief, her smile softening. "really? you do? i'm glad you like it," she whispered, her voice quivering slightly as she reached out and gently clasped your hand.

she didn't know what you'd think of the gift. part of you felt a little strange, even though this type of gift wasn’t odd it was just weird to you how much the locket touched your heart. maybe it's the meaning of it, a memory of a time when things between you and gwen flourished.

gwen's gaze shifted to the locket, and she was transported back to that magical night as if it had occurred just yesterday. every detail remained etched in her memory— the captivating scent of your hair, the warmth of your smile, how beautiful you looked.

"i remember when we walked home that night,” she murmured, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

gwen takes a step closer. it seems like she wants to say something, but she chooses to stay quiet. she still looked wet and chilly, but your eyes were drawn to her lips and she leaned just close enough that you could kiss her if you so desired.

you found yourself fixated on her lips, the allure and temptation becoming almost irresistible. the desire to feel the warmth of her mouth against yours, to experience the tenderness and intimacy it promised, was overwhelming.

but then your eyes shifted up to gwen's tired gaze. her eyes looked sunken and dark, like she hadn't been getting any sleep. you could tell she was losing sleep over you, over your relationship. she stayed up, wondering how to make things better. that's why she gave you that locket, as a way to hold onto the good times and try to fix the mess she had created between you.

the memories haunted gwen, particularly the occasion when her duties as spiderwoman had caused her to arrive late to your birthday celebration. she saw you talking and laughing with everyone else while she sat in the corner, feeling unworthy of your attention. she said sorry, but her apologies were laced with excuses. she'll never forget the look of anger on your face when you expressed how your friends had questioned her absence, making them doubt your relationship with her even more.

but there were also those moments that made her heart soar. like that september night when she broke down and told you everything, her secrets, her regrets, and you held her tight. or the times when you were just together, enjoying the beauty of nature, and she couldn't take her eyes off you, especially when you laughed at her jokes. being with you, your company, your comfort, it made her realize that she was undeniably in love with you.

"gwen," you called out, breaking free from your reverie. "you look exhausted. why did you really come here? i know there's more you want to say, and i won't push you, but please... talk to me for once.”

gwen's eyes widen as you call her out. she looks down at you, almost in a pleading way.

gwen's soft voice crackles a little as she speaks. “i just,” she whispers, her eyes darting to the floor. her face is flushed and her chest begins to rise and fall at a rapid pace. your words seemed to help bring her out of the fog in her thoughts. "i've just been feeling so stressed lately and i just really miss you. i just want things to go back to the way they were between us, you know? i want us to have another one of the good moments. but i feel like things are falling apart.”

you can see tears welling up in her eyes.

"gwen, talk to me," you pleaded, putting the locket down.

you just wanted her to swallow her pride and fears. no, i needed her to. you needed her to just apologize, be real and open with you, not just compensate for the guilt she feels or how she wants to make you feel better.

it was december. and as the scene unfolded with the snow and rain coming through, so did the darkness and the cold of your relationship. all you gave her was love and open arms, but it seemed all gwen gave back was goodbyes.

with a tender touch, you grasped her shoulders, gazing up at her while your own demeanor softened. "please talk, gwen."

gwen closed her eyes. she took a few deep breaths to help calm her nerves and clear her head, but that didn't help much. as she looked into your soft eyes, gwen sighed. she wanted to talk to you so badly. tell you all the things she felt about you, and tell you why she was so scared to tell you all these things. the cold breeze that blew through the window was starting to make her shiver, but she still held eye contact with you as she spoke.

"i'm just struggling so much,” gwen confessed, her voice shaky. “i feel your disappointment in me all the time. i miss the old us sometimes, when things were just so easy. i know i've been working so hard as spiderwoman, and i don't regret it… but i just want you. i want to be with you so badly and feel like i keep messing up no matter what i do.”

her gaze slowly drifted away, fixating on the ground as her fingers clutched her sleeves in an attempt to ward off the encroaching chill. the freezing cold began seeping into her veins, numbing her hands and leaving a tingling sensation.

"gwen," you mumble, taken aback by her honesty. "but why? why feel compelled to do this all now?"

to gwen, it felt like wishful thinking or a dream that gives you relief and a sense of joy as you fall deeper into sleep. it would be a dream to save this relationship. but in gwen's eyes, it feels so far and out of her reach, like everything was too late.

gwen wanted you, but she struggled. and if she could just go back, have another chance and attempt to be the perfect lover, she'd love you right.

she looked down sadly and thought about how to respond without messing up. “i don’t know,” gwen sighed as she put a hand over her mouth in frustration before continuing, “i just don't want to lose you. i want a do over. and i want you to know how much i still love you. i have so many regrets about how i've treated you in the past.”

gwen put her hands over her face, letting out a deep breath. "please, just give me another chance,” she begged.

gwen was a mess, you could tell by the way she was acting. her mind hazy, her thoughts unsure, and it seemed the only clear thing in her mind was you. all she could think of was you. she says she doesn't know why she came here so late, but that can't be true. what compels someone to leave their home in this weather and at this time. you couldn't accept that.

now, she pleads for another chance, as if the relationship has already slipped through your fingers. yes, she's hurt you in the past but it's not like she intended to. it doesn't make it right at all, but she sounds so sorrowful.

but there was a glimmer of hope because all this time, this is what you needed from her. for her to just promise herself to you, say she'll be better, say she'll try her best, say she'll love you right. you didn't want broken promises that she knows she can't always fulfill, you just wanted her to try. the effort that shows she cares for you to try and be better.

"this kept you up at night? reminiscing about another chance with me while i'm right in front of you? gwen, i've been here! i'm still your girlfriend. you can't just wish to go back to how things were and fix everything. you also can't try to replicate the past in hopes the present will feel just as perfect. that isn't realistic!"

you were frustrated more than you were angry. no matter what you always felt like gwen was so far away from your wants and needs.

"i know! but... i can't stand how things are right now," she responds with a soft but frustrated tone.

gwen looked down sadly, hands trembling as you raised your voice and spoke to her so bluntly. she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. her voice starts to break with every word. she knew you were right— her thinking wasn't realistic. she was so caught up in herself and her regrets that she didn't realize how she was hurting you too. as much as she wanted, gwen couldn't change the past. she couldn't change the present if she just sat still and felt sorry for herself. she also couldn't create a perfect relationship.

"all we do anymore is fight... you just have no idea how much i miss you.” she admitted, voice trembling. “i miss all the hugs and the kisses and the time we used to spend together.” gwen adverted her gaze, overwhelmed by shame. “i hate who i've become. i hate that this is my life now. what happened to me?”

her statement turned more into a question. she couldn’t believe she let this happen, how she let the suit and her own problems take over your relationship.

"so, what are you gonna do about it?" you questioned, your voice carrying a stern tone.

you yearned for gwen to challenge herself. while she used to let her guard down in the past, now you only caught glimpses of what lay behind closed doors. that's just what's happening right now. she isn't telling you much, nor is she speaking much with the small information she gives. it's just a peak behind the gate to her life. you wished she would finally confide in you, or else it would all mean nothing. just like the roses, just like every other time.

gwen looks back at you with a little bit of a stunned look. as the snow comes down hard, she thinks about how you're waiting for her to say the 'magic' words. the words that will fix all your relationship's problems and make this all go away. but she was gripped by fear, unable to voice her true feelings. she gently bit her lip, struggling to hold back tears that threatened to spill.

"i'm going to make it right,” she declared, taking a hesitant step closer to you, tears welling in her eyes. she had to say something else. she didn't say she'd try, like she did last time.

her voice still trembled, her eyes glistening from the tears she was still trying to hold back. if you said this to her even a month ago, she would have gotten mad at you for implying that she hadn't been good enough for you, even if it was true. but right now, gwen was determined to be better.

she was scared, but she clung to hope.

“i'm going to love you right," gwen affirmed, her voice quivering. "i swear."

your breath hitched as she closed the distance, your bodies brushing against each other. you couldn't believe it, your mind was spinning. it was like she was a whole new person. gwen had swallowed her pride, her fears, her frustrations and dedicated herself to you.

"h-how?" you managed to choke out, still taken aback by the unexpected turn of events.

she wanted to pull out all the stops. there was a part of her that was scared of making big promises, but she couldn't think straight as you kept staring at her, anticipating what she was going to say. she was nervous about the consequences of making such promises and how much they would weigh on her, but to her, it was worth it. you made it worth it.

"i'm going to tell you the truth. i'm going to tell you how i feel, i'm going to spend more time with you and i promise, no more secrets. even when i don't have time i'll at least call you to tell you why. i'm never going to just leave you sitting in the dark ever again. i've been hurting you for so long. it's time to change that,” she promised.

it felt different, the way she wanted you to understand exactly how serious she was about this.

"i'm going to be yours.”

there was no trace of fear in her eyes, no inclination to retreat from the intimacy and close herself off once more. she stood before you, open and honest. for the first time in a long while, you truly saw her. you saw gwen.

your face heated up as you heard the words ‘be yours’ leave her lips. you felt myself get giddy again, like a little kid. this was the gwen you always knew. the gwen that was a charmer, who was able to fluster you with her raw thoughts of how beautiful you were or the simplest of wordings like calling you hers.

it felt like she was being honest, truthful. you start to tear up at her words.

“gwen,” you mumbled, your voice trembling as you rubbed your eyes.

gwen smiled as she wiped the tears away on your face. she was lost in you, for everything that you were, for everything that you still were in her heart.

"shhh, don't cry, babe. i love you, you know that, right? i love you, and i just want to be more honest with you," she spoke softly, her words a soothing balm to your heart.

it was difficult to maintain eye contact with gwen as she lovingly brushed away your tears, but you mustered the strength to gaze into her mesmerizing watercolor eyes. she had become so committed, so brave.

is that why she came, she just couldn't hold it in anymore? just the mere knowledge that your relationship was like this, she didn't have the strength to fight off waiting till the next day or whenever she planned to do this?

"i love you too, gwen... so much," you sobbed, your voice filled with sincerity.

gwen was rendered speechless for a few moments. the snow continued to fall outside, gently obscuring the windows. the world seemed hushed, still, as if you both were the only two people around.

“i’m here, all yours," she whispered, her breath mingling with yours, her eyes darting between your lips and your gaze.

before you knew it, she leaned in for a kiss. at first it was a soft kiss, but then gwen slowly parted her lips gently and let her tongue wander. her teeth met with yours and she moaned softly, kissing me with all the passion she had been holding in these months.

this kiss was everything she wanted you to know.

it was like a dream. every kiss from before was just a shadow of this moment. gwen kissed you like there was no tomorrow. like she was trying to make up for every moment gone unsaid and unshared. she just kept on kissing you, holding your neck and your hair in her hands. when she finally pulled away, her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled with a light you hadn't seen in far too long.

gwen's heart skipped a beat. she felt butterflies in her stomach as she kissed you like this. you felt so new but so familiar at the same time. she pulled away from the kiss and let herself exhale. she couldn't believe how happy she felt in this moment. gwen was yours. and you were hers.

you wrapped your arms around her and hugged her, wanting to feel her warm embrace. just hearing her say she's here for you was so comforting. and her saying that she was all yours made your cheeks heat up. it was so reassuring.

nestling against her taller frame, tears painted wet streaks on her black turtleneck as you found solace in her comforting presence. her hands found their way around your waist, and you could feel the warmth of her touch as you pressed against her. with a soft smile, you pulled back slightly, gazing into her eyes.

"can you put it on me? the locket," you asked.

gwen's warm smile radiated affection as she gently wiped away the remaining tears. with a soft chuckle, she took the locket from your hand. "of course."

her hands settled on your waist, and she slowly spun you around until your back was pressed against her chest. the distinct click of the locket's clasp reached your ears as she held it above your head, delicately encircling your neck. a shiver cascaded down your spine as her cool breath ghosted against your neck, emphasizing the closeness between you. her fingers brushed the nape of your neck as she deftly fastened the hooks of the locket.

"there you go," she whispered, turning you around to face her, her hand gently resting on your back.

your hand delicately cradled the locket, holding it close to your chest as you admired its beauty. a soft chuckle escaped your lips, your eyes sparkling with delight.

"it's beautiful," you murmured, your voice filled with awe and genuine appreciation.

that was what gwen missed. the moments where she felt like she fell in love with you all over again. the sound of your laughter, the lines that formed around your eyes when you smiled, and the happy yet exhausted look on your face right now that made you look even more adorable in gwen's eyes.

gwen's heart started racing as you started to laugh and smile. this was one of the moments she missed most. she didn't want to lose you, and right now, she could finally feel all the old gwen— like feelings wash over her again. now that you're both here, things finally feel right. gwen smiled as she watched you, content with the moment you were both in. for a split second, it felt as if time had stood still. after being apart for so long, she finally got to experience the version of you that had captured her heart. you looked so happy, so relaxed, so yourself. you were just being you, just like she remembered.

"and you're beautiful," gwen replied, a playful smirk on her face as she gazed at you.

blushing under her gaze, you mumbled a quiet thank you, your fingers idly playing with the chain of the locket.

a comfortable silence enveloped the room until the sudden heavy downpour of rain drummed forcefully against the window. the storm outside intensified, with the snowfall marrying the wind and rain in a furious dance. startled by the abrupt sound, you flinched in wen's arms, and she instinctively caught you, holding you closer.

glancing at the time, you realized it was already 4:00 am. she had been here for over an hour already. we both lost track of the time so much so that the storm outside had started to get worse.

gwen looked outside of the window and noticed the storm. her eyes widened as she thought about what her dad would think if he caught her sneaking out like this.

"i should probably be heading back now... it's getting late. sorry, i just... lost track of time, i guess," she confessed, clearing her throat.

looking back at you, her expression soft. she hated that she had to leave you right now, but she knew she needed to get home soon.

you nodded, understanding the situation, and pulled her into a hug. gratitude filled your voice as you spoke.

"thanks gwen, for y'know coming in the middle of the night like this. even if you didn't plan on it, it means a lot to me. i know you meant what you said, and everytime i think of december i'm gonna go back to this memory. i don't want us to be perfect, because everything is flawed, but isn't that what makes stuff..beautiful? interesting? maybe it's just my exhaustion talking… but thank you." you expressed sincerely, offering her a tender smile.

gwen's eyes were already tearing up yet again, she was feeling all the emotions she was fighting back again, just to keep her calm and focused. now that you both were alone and they've been honest with each other again, she just feels so overwhelmed by happiness.

"i won't forget this night either. it was good to finally talk with you again, and i hope this is the beginning of us being like this again," she replied, her smile radiant. "you should probably go get some sleep. it's so late, and you need a full day's rest if you want to keep up with me, remember?"

her lighthearted joke elicited a laugh from you, and you nodded in agreement.

"yeah, i'm pretty sleepy. and you should start heading back before your dad realizes you're missing," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

"mhm, yeah, i should probably be heading back now. my dad's going to kill me if he finds out i'm out here alone this late... i'm glad we talked, though. i really am," she spoke, her voice filled with sincerity.

she shot you a small smile before walking toward your window, pausing to look back at you. "sorry for the wet floor- i guess i just couldn't wait. haha... i'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

you chuckled at how nervous she became as you changed the topic of conversation.

"tomorrow," you repeated, observing the snowflakes swirling down. the beauty of the snow was marred by its inconvenience. you watched as gwen adjusted her leather jacket before leaping out of your window.

as she departed, you couldn't resist savoring her presence for one last moment.

"wait, gwen," you whispered urgently, careful not to wake the entire house.

gwen turned back, peering up from the bottom of your window ledge, holding onto it for support. hurrying over, you leaned down and looked at her.

gwen appeared slightly confused as she gazed up at you. she hadn't expected you to call out her name.

"what is it, babe? is everything okay?" she asked in a hushed voice. the wind and rain were loud, making it difficult to hear each other unless you were close.

you could see the concern on her face, realizing she didn't want to leave. she cherished this time with you and was starting to fear parting ways.

"i... um..." words failed you, unable to articulate what you wanted to express to her. you poked your head through the window, greeted by the cold outside and snowflakes delicately landing on your skin and hair. closing your eyes briefly, you leaned down and kissed her, a soft and tender peck, all too brief.

gwen was both curious about your intentions and taken aback by the unexpected kiss. her entire body warmed as she quickly reciprocated, her cheeks flushing as she gazed up at you, rendered speechless.

"get home safe," you said, pulling back, your lips barely inches apart. even in a quiet tone, gwen could hear your words as you looked at her shyly.

"i will, don't worry. get some sleep, alright?" she reassured you, then turned and started descending the ledge.

with those parting words, she smiled and glanced back at you before leaping off, disappearing into the snowy night.

nodding in response to her words, you returned her smile with a small one of your own.

as she vanished into the darkness veiled by the falling snow, you made your way to bed, switched off the lights, and drifted off to sleep.

gwen blushed as she saw you waving to her. she smiled softly and waved back before turning away and continuing to swing towards her house. her heart fluttered, and a yawn escaped her as she soared through the air. it was late, and the snowfall intensified with each passing moment. the thought of her father discovering she was out this late worried her, but it was all worth it. grinning, she swung through the storm.

arriving at her house, gwen opened her window and climbed back into her room. the cold air brushed against her skin, and she let out a contented sigh. sitting on her bed, she reflected quietly. she was exhausted, yet the thought of you made her feel alive.

"i'll love her right," she whispered to herself.

for a few more seconds, the snow continued to fall outside, until finally, all was quiet once more.

A/N: starting off the speak now series………..omg

454 notes · View notes

saintslewis · 8 months

Text

❝ 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

summary: we’re still in america 🗣️ . let’s party with nadia, shall we?

warnings: outfit descriptions, cussing, social media environment, slight jealousy, typos, links to tag are down below and let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!

saint’s team radio 🎀: let’s not talk about how long overdue this chapter is, okay? 🫶🏽 hope you guys enjoy and i hope y’all missed Lewdia as much as i did!

pls like, comment and reblog!

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

pic cred: pinterest. dividers: @cafekitsune

With the jingle of the house keys, the pair laughed into the night as Nadia carried her heeled boots in her hand. Lewis held onto her as she was on his back, his kind self offering to carry her since they left the arena.

"Out of all the songs they could've used, why'd they choose old school Drake when we showed up on the jumbotron?" She chuckled, removing the last of her tears of laughter with her thumb. "Nah, I'm still on the baby who wouldn't let go of you during halftime. Your jewellery was like the most interesting toy ever." He smiled at the memory, someone randomly handing Nadia their baby and started taking pictures.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that many cameras around me. The kids back at work are gonna have so much to say.” She admitted, watching the large front door open up and the entry hall greeted them. Nadia tapped his shoulder and he took that as sign to let her get on the ground. “Thank you for the piggy back ride, Sir.” She smiled and turned on her secret sock covered heel to enter the house.

He’ll never admit how much he loves when she calls him sir. Maybe one day he will, maybe he won’t.

Although sad that Roscoe wasn’t there to greet them due to him getting to be with his other dog friends, Nadia pushed that to the back of her mind and thought of her Gucci sandals for the comfort of her feet. “If we ever go anywhere where you know i’ll be cheering, please remind me to take my sandals with me.” She said out loud, slowly heading upstairs when an idea popped into her head.

The night was barely over and ending it so awkwardly didn’t sit well with Nadia.

“I have a feeling that you’re plotting something.” He stated, standing still waiting to hear what she could possibly come up with.

“Would you be up for ice cream right now?” She smiled while turning around to face him from the bottom stairs.

“At this time? Wouldn’t most shops be closed by now?” Lewis asked, confused by the idea but he knew he didn’t want to decline it.

“We could take a drive to find out,” The smile on her face was mischievous. “The night is way too young for us to come back from a game and sit in the house in silence.” She continued.

After a beat of silence, he had made his decision. “Let’s go change and you’re driving.” Lewis gave in. He felt it was right to let Nadia lead such activities, getting her used to such a busy lifestyle.

She walked out of the guest room with a basic athle-leisure romper and the same simple gold jewellery from earlier and her uggs were hugging her feet. “Hey Lew? Do you have a hoodie I could borrow?” She called out as she reached his room door that wasn’t closed all the way. Although not answering her, he walked out with a hoodie that smelled exactly like him, seemingly from Dior. Only written “CD” on the top left of the hoodie and just like she preferred all her hoodies, it was oversized.

“Dior? Are you crazy? I could stain this.”

“We have a laundry room downstairs, Nads. I could always buy another one and the whole store for you.” He slightly smirked.

“If that’s not the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She jokingly put her hand on her chest and they burst into laughter a few seconds after.

Sitting in the almost empty ice cream shop, Sweet Oasis, the two were on their second sugarcone bowl of their respective ice cream flavours. Nadia with cookies and cream and Lewis with vegan vanilla. The first round of desserts were deemed free by the all too excited cashier who was a big fan of Lewis.

“So in hindsight, Mission 44 is to help uplift the youth into STEM spaces including f1. Man, that’s so cool and to hear it growing so fast makes me feel proud.” Nadia nodded as she played around with her ice cream.

“Thank you, I really want to expand even further in different countries such as Brazil and surprise surprise, South Africa.” He chuckled at her face once mentioning her country of origin. “You’re already in my good books, Sir. Once you meet my friends and Rea then maybe you’ll be in the top five.” Nadia smiled, biting down on the wooden spoon.

“What are your friends like? Feel like I have to prep myself to meet them.” Lewis joked by moving his shoulders around. “They’re really cool and incredibly funny. They tried their best to make me famous but looks like I did that all by myself.” She teased.

Taking another bite of the ice cream, she spoke again. “The boys will try and intimidate you, especially Chunks and Filly. The girls will be welcoming, just always bring chocolate with you.” Nadia informed him, smiling at the thought of her friends.

“Then Rea is like my child although she’s my cousin. She’s gonna stay with my mom while she finishes year 12 but I think I might just take her in, I miss her too much.” She said, not wanting to let him know all about the tension with her mom just yet.

Looking at the McLaren that Nadia drove to the ice cream shop, Lewis could tell that she wanted to switch topics because of the tone in her voice and her completely avoiding eye contact with him.

“Do you want to talk about something else?” He asked and all she did was nod. She mouthed a thank you to him afterwards, feeling herself become safe with him. “So we’ve got quite the week ahead of us. Rhode, Hailey Bieber’s skin company, is hosting a party and we were invited.” He spoke.

“You wanna give me a heart attack or something, dude? I’m gon’ be around the Biebers? I still haven’t recovered from Beyoncé!” She replied, whispering the last words to him so that the few people around them wouldn’t be able to hear them.

He grinned at her reaction, her dramatic excitement along with her smile that she would always try hide would always make him feel something in his heart. He didn’t want to think that far. Lewis wouldn’t allow himself to think that far.

“Then the big news that Tia shouted at me to tell you is that we’re going to a Versace event in Cannes on Tuesday I think. Then it’s the Monaco gp which is a spectacle on its own.” He informed then chuckled at her putting her head in her hands.

“Your surprises are going to send me to the hospital one day, what do you mean Versace? That’s like a lifelong dream for me, dude.” She expressed, not sure whether to feel excited about experiencing all of these things or terrified for the busy schedule.

Finishing the last of his ice cream, he pushed the cup to the side and held out both his hands towards Nadia. Taking the sign to put her hands in his, he held them tightly. “Are we bout to pray right now? It’s a little too late for that, the ice cream’s done.” Nadia joked, looking i between their hands and his face.

“Nads.” Lewis started. “Sorry, serious stuff now.” The man couldn’t resist the smile on his face as she joked around, revealing more of her personality to him.

“My life gets incredibly busy, even I get exhausted. So, you don’t have to be everywhere with me. It would be cool to see how you do things while we’re at all these events but you need your time to yourself, y’know?” He continued.

Nodding her head, she spoke up. “Yeah no, I get you. It’ll take some time to get used to everything and I don’t mind the travelling, you’re cool to be…around. Pookie, we gotta go.” Nadia’s eyes were concentrated on whatever was going on behind Lewis.

“Don’t look back, they’ll know we’re watching them. Let’s just get up and go to the car.” Nadia said, still holding his hands and she put on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

And as she said, the pair stood up and threw away their trash, saying goodbye to the worker whilst ignoring the flashes from the large window shops. She lifted her hood before walking out the door that Lewis opened for her and the flashes tripled. Looking at her husband, he already had his sunglasses on and dug in his pocket to give her the car keys.

Once in the McLaren, the car front was surrounded by the paparazzi but the tinted windshield gave them a little bit of privacy. In the driver’s seat, Nadia took out her phone and connected her phone to the car after igniting the engine. “Have you heard of Amapiano?” She asked him, watching him get comfortable being the passenger.

“Uh, kinda. Why?”

“Wanna take a lil drive and listen to it?” And there was her mischievous smile once again. Before he could get his answer out, different beats started playing until the beat started to flow and the artist started singing in a different language that Nadia clearly knew very well.

Rolling down the windows a bit, she reversed the supercar and drove off, leaving the paparazzi speechless.

nadiahamilton

liked by lilymhe, nataliatheedon and 484,828 others

nadiahamilton rhode ready <3

view all comments

loriharvey i’m actually obsessed with you, i can’t wait to meet you

nadiahamilton i’m too excited

lewishamilton you’re so welcome for me curling the back of your head

nadiahamilton sleep with one eye open, pookie 🫶🏽

user blasting amapiano at night while driving to you is cool?

nadiahamilton it’s one of the best things i’ve ever done

user it’s just unnecessary publicity

nadiahamilton you wanted to be in the car with me, didn’t you?

justineskye your face card is insane, i’m hyperventilating

nadiahamilton that’s all you 🥹

user mother

user it’s still weird that you guys are here praising a woman who spawned out of nowhere

user like why is no one talking about this???

user it’s very simple. they’re married and she’s only showing herself to the public now

haileybieber i want to be your mirror, just stare at you forever

lewishamilton that’s what i’m there for!

beyonce 💗

user WAIT WAITTTT HOW TF

user THERE’S NO WAY BEYONCÉ COMMENTED

user NADIA YOU BETTER SPILL

nataliatheedon 5,6,7 what?!

amarawinston ATEEEE

charlotteparks my friend is so super stunning

nadiahamilton awww you guysss 🤭

user idk what he sees in her, she barely is dressed

yungfilly come back to the UK nads, it isn’t the same ☹️

nadiahamilton i willllll, i’m just doing stuff with my husband 😝

chunkz tell him to come back as well 🫵🏽

lewishamilton 👋🏾

chunkz ay big ups brotha, the champion 🙏🏽

nadiahamilton chunkz pls 😭😭😭

user does anyone know if she’s got a studio for styling??

user i actually don’t know if she does

centralcee not yet, she works through emails and shit

user and how tf would YOU know

ajshabeel alr, pack it up cench 😐

user WHAT’S THE BEEF? THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

user please come back home to south africa 🇿🇦

nadiahamilton ofc i will 🥹

versace 🪩💗

“How do you do that? So easily too?” Lewis questioned as he read through her instagram comments. The way she casually spoke to everyone as if they were long time friends was absolutely fascinating to watch.

“It’s a technique I learned from my kids. I always want them to be comfortable in class especially when it’s a tough topic like post-Renaissance.” She shrugged her shoulders like it was nothing and continued to fluff her hair a bit more.

The two, coincidentally, were matching in colours. Nadia’s corset wasn’t too tight but it complimented her jewellery and she felt comfortable wearing such short shorts because the high top Rick Owen sneakers were just the right fit. Her Dior saddle bag sat next to her as they rode in the back of the Escalade.

And of course, they were both wearing their grillz.

“Thank you for introducing me to Amapiano fully. I can’t get any of the songs out of my head.” He said, constantly bouncing his hands on his legs to whatever beat he was thinking of. “It’s addictive! I told you, sthandwa.” She smiled softly but didn’t see him whip his head towards her.

“…What?”

“Oh! It’s a term of endearment from South Africa, it means ‘love’ then sthandwa sami is like my love. Just like how you brits say love.” Nadia explained. Lewis definitely heard everything she said but he was hooked on how she said it. If he thought that hearing songs with her native language was addictive, he could most definitely get used to hearing her speak it.

“Just to clarify, it’s Zulu. Whereas in Sotho, it’s something completely different. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you so that you don’t fuck up when we go to sa.” She chuckled but then stopped in her tracks.

“That’s if we do ever visit, don’t want to be too forward.”

“Of course we’re going to South Africa, are you kidding? I feel like I’ve just discovered a whole new world.” Lewis assured, basically jumping in excitement.

“What have I created?” Nadia joked to herself.

Although she knew that this was Hailey’s event and she knew that it was going to be full, Nadia didn’t expect it to be this full.

Leaning into Lewis as they walked through the crowd of paparazzi and hired photographers, she turned to him a little more. “I feel severely underdressed with my sneakers.” She worried. “You look amazing though, your feet are still not fully healed from yesterday right?” Lewis asked as discreet as possible.

“I mean I knew damn that I wasn’t going to wear heels because of yesterday.” She replied, waving to the photographer calling her and Lewis’ name. All of this was very weird. It felt weird to just be called by paparazzi.

“Exactly, so you’re cool. As long as you feel comfortable and you feel good, then I’m good.” He reassured her.

Before she could answer, they had reached the door and there was a girl standing with cocktails on the tray she was holding. They thanked her but politely declined to it and entered and the atmosphere inside was lively.

The colour scheme for Rhode was beige and other earthy colours which fit the aesthetic perfectly of the decor of the event. Sow r&b music was playing quite loudly while everyone in attendance was talking amongst themselves. As soon as her and Lewis stepped foot inside, many people’s attention went to him and Nadia.

Squeezing his hand a bit tighter, Nadia and Lewis made eye contact and he slightly relaxed because she looked calm but obviously a little nervous.

“Oh my God! The Hamiltons are here!” Someone shouted in a singsong voice and as Nadia was trying to identify who was that, Hailey Bieber and Lori Harvey appeared right in front of them with the the biggest smile on their faces. “Oh my goodness, welcome to Rhode! I’m so excited to see you guys and,” Hailey gasped as she took a look at Nadia.

“Nadia! You’re so beautiful, whoa. Where are my manners? I’m Hailey!” “And I’m Lori and girl, I was serious when I said i’m obsessed with you.” They introduced themselves and their smiles were damn near blinding. “It’s nice to meet you guys, this is exciting.” She smiled, grateful that they couldn’t see how nervous she was.

“Okay okay so let’s go take pictures now then I’ll introduce the products then we party!” Hailey said all too enthusiastically. In all of this, Lewis watched as Nadia interact so gracefully with the same people she was nervous to meet and he couldn’t help but feel proud of her and how she handled everything.

After taking photos with everyone and meeting Justine who damn near fainted at seeing Nadia in front of her, they were seated on their own little table just like everyone and were served hors d’oeuvres during the presentation of the skincare brand.

“How are you feeling?” Lewis leaned in and whispered as one of the products were being shown.

“I’m good, feeling much better. Wasn’t expecting so much love from the girls today.” She leaned over to him as well, careful to not make a noise for other guests.

“I knew they’d love you. And maybe you work with them in the future?” He mentioned, noticing her head resting on his shoulder so he moved a little closer where she could be more comfortable.

“When I get my own studio or truly advertise myself to such a crowd.” She replied. He nodded and she felt it, making her smile a little. “I have the strongest of feelings that there’s an after party when this is all done.” Nadia said, slightly lifting her head to look around the crowd that looked it was ready to party.

“Yup, it’s at their house. It’s like 5 minutes away from home so whenever you want to leave, we can.” And there go the butterflies in her stomach.

Walking into the Bieber’s home and seeing how it came alive, Nadia felt like she was in a movie. People who she always thought she would be lucky to see in person were introducing themselves to her and greeted her husband with the most excitement she’s ever seen.

After ‘settling in’ and finding a designated sitting spot to come back to from the dance floor, Nadia could be seen having the time of her life singing lyrics to the group of girls she met earlier including Jordyn Woods. The music shifted from hiphop to Afrobeats and the energy in the whole room was ignited.

Random people that she didn’t know started partying with her and hyped her up after each song. Once Amapiano started rolling in, all eyes were on her as she was dancing but didn’t want to use all her energy. With only a shot in her system, she started feeling rather thirsty and knew that it was time to go sit with her.

As she walked towards their table, she watched as Lewis danced in his seat at the song she was playing earlier in the day. “Now I have to take you to SA. Look at you shimmying.” She laughed as she flicked her hair back and sat next to him on the couch.

“Look at me? You were the party! Miles calls you Ms Party.” He laughed as Nadia saw where he pointed at and there was Miles and Amara but her eyes were closed. “Miles! Hey, damn it’s like i haven’t seen you in forever!” She greeted, opening the water bottle that Lewis saved for her. “And what’s up with Amara? Is she good?”

“I just got here with Amara and she ate two edibles on the way so she’s sleepy.” He smiled, not moving much as Amara was laying on him. “And Abel says hi.” Lewis said, tapping Nadia’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“Abel? As in Abel ‘The Weeknd’?” Nadia asked, gulping her water down as soon as she realised. All Lewis did was nod and just smile at her, their faces quite close already.

“Damn. Let me go find Justine, she got chocolate for me somewhere-” Nadia’s sentence was cut off short because she stood up and bumped into someone. She was still close to the table so she held onto the small table for balance.

Looking up, she saw a tall white man with a very obnoxious smile and recognised his face to be Jack Harlow. “Oh damn, I’m sorry, Ma. I really should watch where I’m going.” Jack apologised, reaching for her left hand and held it in her hand to hold in between his hands.

With her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes watching this man’s actions, she didn’t bother to answer him. “Don’t you feel the ring on my hand?” She fired at him with all lifted brow.

“You’ve got rings all over your hands and by the way, they’re quite soft, damn.” He straightened up his posture to feel on her hand even more. “What’s your name, Ma?” Jack asked with a dopey smile.

Feeling a hand circle her entire waist, she felt her body being pulled down and landed on something that didn’t feel like the couch. Looking down, Nadia was sat on Lewis’ lap. His lap and his hand was still on her waist quite securely.

“Go on, say your name love. He wants to know.” Lewis’ husky voice traveled through your ears and brought chills down your spine.

“Nadia Hamilton.” She managed to get out, shimmying her hand out of Jack’s hold to formally shake his hand. The white man’s face dropped at the sight in front of him. He really tried to flirt with a legendary f1 driver’s wife.

All Jack could muster up the strength to do was nod. “I’ll catch y’all later, it was nice meeting you guys.” He pursed his lips together and walked away.

Turning her head towards Lewis’ face, she resisted the urge to smirk. Deciding to be a little messy, she made herself comfortable on his lap and moved a bit, feeling an even tighter squeeze on her waist.

“You’re gonna be jealous of a lil white boy?” She teased but his smirk could not be wiped off his face. “Never that, Mrs Hamilton.” He responded, knowing he succeeded because she looked away as she was blushing.

“I’m so happy I was awake to see that.” Amara whispered to Miles as they watched their friends catch feelings for each other in real time.

nadiahamilton

liked by bellahadid, sza and 826,828 others

nadiahamilton miss party

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user i’ve never suffered from fomo like this before

user i wish i was an influencer rn

kehlani what can one do to party with you

nadiahamilton come to next week’s race 🫵🏽

kehlani already got the tickets 😝

fencer MISS PARTY 🗣️🗣️

nadiahamilton is this nickname going to stick?

spinzbeatinc you know it!

haileybieber you’re so much fun ily

nadiahamilton ily!!

loriharvey is this a sign to take a girl’s trip to sa?

justineskye i hope so!

ryandestiny can i come? it looked so fun

jordynwoods i’ve already got my bags PACKED

theestallion count me in, i’ll get to know you on the plane ride baby 😝

lewishamilton sthandwa sami 🕺🏽💗

nadiahamilton 😚🫶🏽

user HOW DOES HE KNOW ZULU???

user he’s got a Zulu wife bro

user this is so shocking to see 😭

user this better be a public holiday when they come over

niko now come back and party with us

nadiahamilton can you give me like a week?

ohnosharky this needs a celebration

nellarose_ Nadia’s homecoming if you will!

kingkennytv ‼️‼️‼️

student now you HAVE to spill the tea with us in class

nadiahamilton ugh fine 🙄

amarawinston 🪩🪩🪩🪩

user i was a server at the rhode event and omg you’re gorgeous in real life 😭

nadiahamilton thank you my angel 🤍

user i was a server too and since nobody’s saying it, you’ve got an ASS on you ma’am (i’m a girl)

nadiahamilton tears thank you 🤭

saint’s team radio 🎀 (once again): my fingers hurt from typing. Hope you enjoyed! Lewdia rises once again!

tags: new post

#saint writes #renaissance: the series #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #f1 x black!reader #f1 x oc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #Spotify

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loganofthenorth · 10 months

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Every time I think about Mulan, I get obsessed with how awesome these three are. So I’mma take a few minutes to rant about it.

This three good balls, bad asses, loveable idiots. They’re fricken adorable and I love them. And like, as a kid, I used to not understand how they became friends with Mulan. I thought they were sexist assholes that only trusted her because, well, you know, she saved China.

But I analyzed the movie as an adult, and honestly? I think they knew Mulan was a girl the whole time, and just kinda, accepted it. Still treated her like one of the guys, wanted to see how long she could keep this up for. Yao and Ling most certainly bet on it while Chien-po was probably like: “Shouldn’t we just… tell her we know so she has people to trust?” And the other two were like: Nah this is funny.

I also think Ling and Chien-Po knew instantly since Yao was too mad to be like: Huh… hmm… something’s off here.

They probably told him later. Like:

Chien-Po: You know, it isn’t nice to hit a lady.

Yao: Wow, didn’t think you had it in ya to be such an ass. I mean, he’s a wimp but sheesh.

Ling: *falling over laughing*

Yao: What the hell’s his problem?

Chien-Po: *whispering* I mean and actual lady, Yao.

Ling: And no one tells! Got it? No telling anyone else. Only us three know. I wanna see how long this goes on for.

Chien-Po: Also… They’ll kill her if they find out, and… She’s our friend now.

Yao: Friend’s a strong word… But sure, I’ll keep it to myself. Besides, only I’m allowed to kill them now.

So yeah, when they later heard that Mulan was alone in the bath pond thing, it was too good an opportunity to miss. I don’t think these himbos even considered how weird it was. They were too distracted with how fricken hilarious it’d be.

I mean

Come on

That smug smile and Chien-Po’s: This is fine.

They know exactly what they’re doing.

Then with ‘A Girl Worth Fighting For’, Ling brings up the song to cheer everyone up because they’re sore, didn’t choose to go to war, and need something, anything to keep them going. Then once Mulan’s line comes up it’s like: “Oh, right. Forgot about that. Whelp, time to continue messing with her.”

Like: Ight, guys. Whatever she says, probably describing herself. So, whatever she says, say Nah. It’s funny.

The main thing that sent me on this tangent, was this scene

Their shock, their surprise, this reaction isn’t an: “Oh shit, we trained/hung out with/bathed/etc with a girl.” Reaction.

This is a: “Shit they caught her and now they’re gonna kill our friend!” Reaction.

Which, yeah, of course it would be. They have their priorities checked out.

However

If memory serves me right there was no hesitation

There was also no hesitation to trust her when no one else would

Because they didn’t have the feeling of betrayal Shane had for being lied to

And they were totally down to dress in drag

They really just couldn’t care less about Mulan being a girl

And I love them for that

This tis the end of my tangent. I love these three gentlebros

#mulan #disney classics #disney princesses #Disney Mulan #Yao #Ling #Chien-Po #Yao Ling Chien-Po #Mulan’s Friends #movie analysis #character analysis #Disney movie #mulan 1998

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jinkookspencil · 2 years

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stay | jjk

jungkook is drunk out of his mind, belting pop ballads in the middle of the night.... you had to check in on him

description/tw/tags: ~4k words / jungkook x (f) reader / one-shot / angst and fluff / friends to lovers / inspired by jungkook's recent lives!! i just had to :') / includes drunk, flirty jungkook and mentions of alcohol and drinking / oc stays sober / jungkook gets so drunk thinks he's having a steamy dream with oc gone wrong / feedback is always welcome and it's appreciated!! it's been a while since anyone really told me their honest thoughts on my fics 💗

Celine Dion’s voice blasting through your phone was not what you expected when you got a call from Jungkook, but it was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. It was an odd thing, you realized. Jungkook never had never admitted to listening to Celine Dion, Taylor Swift, Adele, or any other musical queen you adored - he never protested when you blasted their songs through the car radio or when you belted out their songs during karaoke nights, but he never, ever sang along or reacted much either…. except for when he was drunk… except for when he was too drunk. And it was only ever when he was drunk and alone or drunk and with you. In front of his friends or to you when he was sober, he still pretended he couldn't name a Celine Dion song besides "the Titanic one." But you knew better. Between her iconic vocals through the phone, you could hear Bam’s dog collar jingling, Jungkook’s all over the place but still excellent singing and humming, and finally… sniffles. In the blink of an eye, you were in a cab on your way to his place, not hanging up and listening to him sing “My Heart Will Go On” and "All By Myself" over and over until you got there. Right at the brief moment of silence when the song ended, you knocked on the door, extra loudly and in your signature pattern, so he’d know it was you - but it seemed to only signal Bam, who obviously knew it was you before Jungkook did, jumping up and down even before his owner opened the door in confusion.

“Bamie-,” you giggle against the dog’s nose while he licks yours, Jungkook still disoriented when you look up at him.

“H-hiiiiii,” he forces a smile on his face after realizing you were actually there. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard Celine Dion, so I came,” you say, ruffling Jungkook’s long hair and plopping down on his living room couch. He’s still standing by the door, trying to realize the situation. “You must’ve drunk-called me while trying to choose a song, idiot. Or maybe you were trying to call someone else.” You push away the thought. “Anyways, I’m here to make sure you’re okay. And to see the secret Taylor Swift setlist later.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhh. I actually called you….” Jungkook nods, trying to remember if he did while you figure out what he meant. He chuckles, clicking his tongue before offering you the gigantic, half-filled stein in his hand. “Do you want some beer?”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything crazy, Koo. Don’t make me a problem, too.”

Jungkook holds back a smile while grabbing a second microphone and dramatically turning around, his long hair twirling behind him. “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.”

“Oh god, Jungkook,” you shake your head backwards. Were your persistent efforts at trying to get him to listen to Taylor Swift worth it if he was going to make such cheesy jokes? When you look up and see his scrunched-up nose and proud smirk, you have your answer. It was.

“Nah, I’m not done with my girl Cel-Celine Dion. You know, she’s a very good singer.” It’s only now, when Jungkook says the most obvious statement, do you notice how slurred his voice is. “I still haven't done these songs, yet. ‘The Power of Love' and 'It's All Coming Back To Me' - my… my drinking songs, join and let's GO!”

You watch Jungkook pace around his living room, belting out the song while holding his beer glass with an iron grip, and you can’t help but think about the floppy-haired boy in front of you rather than the not-so-careful steps and chugs he took mid-song, ignoring the mic in your hand. You could never count the days and nights you spent with Jungkook. It all started with the ‘Netflix and Chill’ nights. When he suggested it, you’d panicked until he insisted he meant actually chilling and watching Netflix - and whether it was cuddly, commentary-filled K-drama sessions or drunken fried chicken and reality show nights, you enjoyed every minute of it…. but more so when those nights evolved. As cute as though nights may be, they were topped. The caring, vulnerable nights where you’d slowly unravel a new emotional layer of yourself to the other and the moon - with no one else in the know… those were the ones that destroyed you and put you together again, all at once. You doubted Jungkook even had a deeper side to him until you both laid yourselves out in front of one another - little by little and without judgment or fear. You dreamed of the days the unraveling happened physically as well. When you’d see him during the days, and whether it was just the two of you or with your friends, it seemed as though the sun had an inkling of the bond that formed while she was away, shining a little brighter every time you saw his face, casting her beautiful golden rays onto the boy that shined just as brightly.

A confession forever rested on the tip of your tongue, ready to slip out whenever he flashed his bunny-toothed smile, scrunched up his perfectly round nose, or jokingly teased you. And yet… you never could say anything…. especially since you think you already did. It’s the real reason you vowed never to drink with Jungkook again - you could barely remember anything but the fleeting feeling of his lips on your forehead, being in his arms, and waking up in the morning in your underwear to see him shirtless on the floor beside the bed you lay on. Jungkook’s bed, you later found out - after a party he threw. You mainly remember walking into the kitchen and seeing his roommate and bestie Taehyung preparing breakfast in silence, which only made the morning more unbearable, given his god-awful cooking skills. You fled in minutes and, to this day, had no recollection or idea of what actually happened. Jungkook never said anything either, so you were certain you dreamt the entire ordeal. He stayed relatively the same, save for a few arm grazes that shocked you to your core - a little more than they used to. You almost consider forcing him to watch a K-drama or a horror film - just for the cuddle he'd end up giving you.

But you were here, watching him passionately wrap up a ballad and wiping away a tear that formed in his eye. He was unbelievable.

“I didn’t think she could make you cry.”

“Yeah, well, she sang the Titanic song too, didn’t she? Don’t you know me?”

“I do, Koo,” you whisper into the microphone he had handed you.

“It’s all coming back to me too. It all ends when I'm with you. And my heart will go on, Celine... You get me, Celine,” he utters as he plops down beside you, his hand outstretched behind you as he selected a song, neglecting Bam by his legs.

“Bam wants attention.”

“He always gets my attention,” Jungkook says, eyes fixated on the TV in front of him.

“I’m gonna use that line on you the next time you give me the eyes he’s giving you now.” Jungkook was always a master at pouting and the classic puppy-dog eyes, and in the split second he looked confused, you begin to wonder if it was never intentional. But he quickly looks at his pet and babies him when catching the dog’s neediness, giving you the freedom to grab the remote and pick a song.

“Remember, only pop queens,” he insists in a baby-like voice, his eyes and hands still on Bam. And you found just that - a playlist of nothing but tracks from pop queens, most on your regular playlist. Meaning you knew almost every word, and so did Jungkook. Two hours of singing later, Jungkook’s honey voice and your scratchy one both grew tired. Music videos it’d be, you thought - still in total control of the remote. By the third music video, you were bored - you’d seen them all before, while Jungkook - or more specifically, drunk Jungkook - was mesmerized. And in a flash you neglected the screen altogether, staring instead at the boy right beside you. With your hand on your chin, you study him. You never could when he was sober - his eyes would immediately find yours, and one of two things would happen next: you’d look away in embarrassment, or he’d would pull a funny face. But this was different. He was focused, well, as much as a drunk person could be, softly humming along or murmuring something about the camerawork or costume design - you could barely hear whatever it was he said. Sure, his face looked puffy and drunken, even in his dimly lit apartment…. but he was beautiful. He was beautiful in his side profile, his stare and concentration, the fluffiness of his hair, and the gigantic, soft, muscled arm he flexed beside you. He had no idea just how beautiful he was—just being.

You must’ve been staring for too long because Jungkook turns, catching you - as he always did. You expected it and waited for him to stick out his tongue jokingly, scrunch up his nose, or wiggle his brows… something goofy. The last thing you expected was the softest smile that crept up on his face - the wonder in his eyes remaining, the way you’d been looking at him. And just like that, you look away again, thinking you’d be able to stick it out this time and ignore his presence entirely or make a funny face of your own. You want to frown, but the stinging in your cheeks hurts too much from smiling at him.

“What’s up with you?” he giggles for a very brief moment before repeating the question with that same damn smile on his face. In your periphery, you see him ruffle his hair and you dig your nails into your skin to stop you from reaching out and doing the same.

“Nothing,” you let out, feeling his gaze on you as you looked towards the screen and Bam sleeping just beneath it. A whole music video later, the feeling of his eyes on you grew unbearable. He didn’t even look away when he continued to drink from the glass in his hands.

“Find something better to do, Koo,” you say, folding your arms and mustering up the courage to look at him.

“Hmmm?” the drunken, dazed smile on his face was goofier and sweeter than ever.

“I want a glass of water,” you say, looking towards the fridge, hoping he’d be a good host and stand up to get you one, finally breaking his gaze in the process.

“Well, I want you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. As if you weren’t being tortured enough by his adorableness already... did the flirty side have to make an appearance? But it wasn't a surprise. Jungkook flirted all the time, definitely more than usual when he’s tipsy. It was so excruciating that you damn near scolded Jimin and Chan, the friends he’d picked up the flirting from. All you wanted to say was that you wanted him too, but he’d never mean it the way you did. The giggle he let out when you rolled your eyes proved it - he just liked seeing you all riled up.

“I’m thirsty, JK,” you whine, but he keeps giggling. “Yah, drunk boy - get me a glass of water,” you insist, poking his tattooed arm and letting your finger rest there - he winces between his little laughs, touching the skin and a little of yours.

“Jungkoooook. Don’t ignore me,” you pout.

You don’t know what it is, but something about those three words makes Jungkook jump up from his spot, his laughter fading quickly as he walked over to the fridge, covering his face with his hands.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t…,” he starts before clearing his throat. “Don’t poke me like that. I’m old and sore now. Your Jungkook works hard in the gym and can’t handle it like he used to.”

Your Jungkook. If only you could send him off on another errand to make you forget about him and those words for a moment. But, alas, you were in his apartment. He was too drunk. Bam was stirring in his sleep.

Jungkook returns a freshly filled stein for himself, a glass of water for you.... and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses on his face. The ones he only ever wore at home, during your late-night visits, that none of his friends ever saw. The ones that always fed your delusions of the domestic days with Jungkook you wished you could have for the rest of your life.

“Sure, you don’t want a sip?” A frozen glass swings into your line of vision, snapping you out of your daze.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“…..Shame…” he whispers into the glass as he chugged down half of its contents before setting it down and hiding his face in his arms, folded on the edge of the couch.

“Don’t judge me for not drinking. Just look at the state of you.”

“I’m not. It’s… it’s a shame that that’s what you’re the surest of. What happened to being sure of yourself, hmm?”

You weren’t in the mood for one of your deep talks, which was unusual for you. You usually would jump at any opportunity to talk to Jungkook, even when he was drunk - like the time he spat out a life lesson he learned in the third grade you’d never thought of in your entire life. He was the only person who ever made it safe enough for you to express your deepest fears and insecurities. His honest and supportive advice pushed you through. And you longed for the soft embrace he always gave you afterwards. It’s been weeks since you had one of those talks, days before the night/morning that was somewhere between a dream and a glitch in the matrix. But you couldn’t go there. You couldn’t bear to. Not tonight. Not with a drunk, floppy-haired, adorable, and out of-his-mind Jungkook that was adorable as ever, laying next to you singing pop ballads for hours. It’d have to wait.... even if he didn't want to.

“Tell me, what happened to being sure of yourself? Your thoughts, your ambition….your desires and feelings…” he slurs, waving his arm.

“I don’t know, Kookie,” you let out, grazing his arm. You can’t tell him that you’re sure you love him in more ways than one and that you’re not sure what to do about it.

“If you’re sure of something, act on it. If you’re not, still do it. Better to live with regrets with lessons learned than to never know,” he murmurs, his face resting on his elbow.

“So, can I commit a crime then?” you try to joke and change the mood.

“If you want to, sure. Oh, wait, don't. You've already committed one. I almost forgot," he nods, taking another sip of his beer. "You stole my heart."

"Fuck off," you laugh, reaching out to pinch his thigh instead of the arm he told you to avoid... "We'll talk about this another time, Kookie. Give me actual advice then."

"Okay, but I'll tell you some now. Try being sure of what you want in life. Act on it. Start that business you always wanted to. But I’m thinking.... start with.. a smaller step. Get that tattoo you always talked about. I’ll take you,” he says with a clear voice now, smiling as he looked up and brushed the inside of your arm, where you’d always talked about getting a tattoo. “I’m sure of what I want.”

“As always,” you say with a laugh. “What is it this time?”

“I told you. I want you.”

“Oh shut up,” you say, lightly shoving him this time, but he doesn’t budge, not even a little bit, nor does he giggle as he did earlier, just continues to stare at you and try to hold back…. something. You assume it’s a joke.

“Jungkook, stop - this isn’t funny.” You reply before you could even realize the words he’s saying.

“I’m not being funny.”

You stop and finally look at Jungkook’s face. He desperately tries to avoid your gaze but soon can’t help but look into your eyes - his were dilated and red from all the alcohol.

“You’re drunk,” you spit out, repeating the words softly.

“I am. But I’m sure of it when I’m sober, too,” he says, fidgeting with his fingers before playing with yours. “I’m sure that I want you. I was always sure. And I’m sure I want to hold your hand.” You can’t explain why you allow him to do so, knowing his state, and soon, his fingers find the ends of your hair and the base of your neck, grazing the skin there while his thumb rubs at your cheek. “I’m sure I want to -” he whispers against your lips, and you can’t help but jump at the very instance you feel his breath against your lips.

“Jungkook, no,” you lean back, holding the tears in your eyes and hoping he doesn’t feel the goosebumps on your skin. “Jungkook, you’re drunk.”

He immediately lets go of you, and you feel the world crumble in that brief moment, in fear you’d thrown away the only shot you had at the only thing you were sure you wanted, clinging onto the hope that he'll forget it all in the morning. But instead he shakes his head and looks… confused.

“It doesn’t go like this. This is weird,” he drawls, looking at his hands, you, Bam, and the rest of the apartment.

“What?” you say, just as confused as he seems to be, ignoring a sinking feeling in your stomach at the idea that Jungkook was confused his attempts at kissing girls never went “like this” - with a rejection that you didn’t want to give him.

“It doesn’t go like this! I’m… And you’re…. You’re here, but…. you’re not wearing any clothes. Why am I? Did we not get to that part of it yet?”

“Part of what?”

But Jungkook takes a look around the apartment again before quietly murmuring to himself. “This is a weird sex dream.”

Oh. OH.

He continues, thinking he's asleep.

“We’ve done this so many times, and it never went like this. I… Can’t you at least want me back in my dreams? Why… why is this dream different?”

”Jungkook…”

“Shhhh,” he lazily brings a finger to your lips. “Let me recap. It’s the same. My apartment’s the same. Why is Bam here? He’s usually in the other room. I’m here. You’re here. Wait…. are you?”

“I… I am, Jungkook.”

“No you’re not. You won’t be when I open my eyes.” he pouts, hiding his face in his elbow again.

“It’s like… It’s like that time I put you in bed when I found you drunk in your underwear in the corner at my party after you just… what did you do? Didn’t you say you just wanna dance in your underwear or some shit? Then you… said you wanted me to see you like that. I tried so fucking hard not to look. I put you to bed, and I at least expected to get some reality of waking up beside you, but… you weren’t there.

And I wanted to confess last night during karaoke, with all your favorite songs but... I didn't think I actually called you. It was just practice. Then I was so nervous I drank way, way too much, and I must've passed out. And now you're not even naked in my dreams - well, tonight's dream anyway... Is it because of the stress? And wait, why am I wearing glasses? I don't have you OR perfect vision in this dream?!" he pouts, taking off his glasses and throwing them across the couch before resting his head on his elbow, in his hands, and all over as he struggles with the realization.

Jungkook stays like that for a good minute, giving you time to take in the situation. Firstly, you’d never drink unsupervised at a party again because what the fuck… But you quickly remind yourself that it didn’t matter too much. He put you in bed. He saw you in your underwear and knew that you - or at least a part of you - wanted to be with him in that way. And not only that, he wanted to see you that way too. He wanted to wake up next to you. And Jungkook, awake and drunk, thought he was in a regular sex dream he had… with you…. and was upset at the idea of waking up without you beside him…. again. He wanted to confess. If his hands on your skin hadn't ignited your skin, the touch of him lingering there, you’d be certain you were dreaming too. He… he must’ve really been sure. Who were you to doubt that? He’s Jungkook.

Your hand reaches out to touch his face, not even knowing what you were about to say to him, but it didn’t matter. By the time you look back at him, he was already passed out, the pout still on his face, buried in his arms. Still beautiful. Any gentle attempt at waking him up proved to be futile - and more for you than it was for him. The cheek grazes, the head scratches, the arm squishes - finally yours to touch after he’d been flexing in his short-sleeves all night long. There was no way it hurt like it said he did. Standing up and tugging his arm until he got on his feet nearly did it, and you had to help his drunken and dazed self all the way to his bed. He was just awake enough to lie down on his own.

You stare at him on the bed below you, and with the quiet chirping of the birds outside his window and the early sunlight streaming in below his curtains…. you knew this was the most peaceful moment you had ever experienced in your life, so you took it all in. He'd forget about this tomorrow, but you'd remember it for the rest of your days.

When you suspected Jungkook finally drifted off to sleep again, you reluctantly turned away from the scene and made your way to his bedroom door.

“Stay.”

You’re unsure you heard correctly, but he repeats the word.

“Stay…. please.”

Turning back, you see Jungkook’s tattooed arm outstretched toward you. Inviting you in.

With the serenity of it all and your heart laid out in front of you, it was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Especially since he wasn’t the only one that was up all night. You turn over the covers, holding Jungkook’s hand before gently snuggling into his arms…. and just like that he passes out for real, a soft moan and a snore escaping him instantly. You could dash out. You could run, try to forget the night and hope he does too. But you don’t. Because he’ll wake up. Because he's sure. And because you’re sure too. And you’ll be there to tell him.

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one-piece-aus · 3 months

Text

Unbottle Your Emotions

Eustass Kid x Reader (Part 4)

Ahoy! Know it's been a few weeks since last chapter, my apologies, but it's back! This is the next day in the story!

Enjoy ^-^

"Alright class, you can group with your partners now," Makino said finished marking down the attendants.

You took a deep breath, grabbed your stuff, and walked to Kid's desk. Only fair you go to his this time. You hoped you could work on the project without complications. Things have been going well so far, right? You might have pushed a bit when texting about the project, but he still seemed fine, right?

As you approached Kid, you noticed how he fixated his gaze out the window at the level horizon, his brows knit together. Is something irritating him? Is he in a bad mood? Your steps slowed, your mind begging to retreat. Fearing he's unstable dynamite that could blow if you interacted with him. You could only pray as you took a chair nearby and set it in front of his desk.

"Hey, you good?"

"Hm?" Kid looks to see who's bothering him, his sour expression only making you desire to hide in the janitor's closet.

"I- are you good? Did you want to work on the project or...?" Silently you hoped he'd say no and let you work on the project by yourself.

"I'm fine," he scoffed and leaned down, digging through his bag. He pulled out a few printed pages and set them on the desk facing towards you. "I've taken the liberty of printing out the lyrics in case we needed to use them as reference."

You blink, a bit surprised, yet another part of your mind whispers a reminder that he is the type to take initiative, at least from what you've experienced between your interactions. Taking the papers, you eye up the lyrics briefly before you scan the title of the song. You sweat drop.

"We can't do 'Welcome to the Jungle'."

"The hell you mean we can't do 'Welcome to the Jungle'?" Kid questioned, frowning as he pointed at the page. "That song is one of the classics!"

"I know- I understand it's one of the classics and it's almost on every playlist I own but you can't expect that song to be played in class."

Kid raised a non-existent eyebrow at you, a gesture you knew meant for you to explain why but your ass did not want to say it was because of the moaning featured in the song. Not even 10 minutes have passed and you already felt like you wanted to die, how the fuck do you explain this to him? You could almost hear a sizzle from the frustration burning on your forehead.

"I just think there are better song choices to write about then-" You began flipping through the pages when you noticed one of them clearly had lyrics that were not in the song. Scanning over the page you realized it was another song entirely. Narrowing your eyes in confusion, you skimmed through the rest and saw there were a lot more songs.

Kid averted his eyes, scratching the back of his neck. "I couldn't decide on one song."

A smile cracked on your lips, amused by his indecisiveness knowing you're the same in that regard. "It's alright."

You divided the pages by song before shuffling through the choices.

Burn it to the Ground

Youth Gone Wild

Crazy Train-

You were tempted to choose Crazy Train, another favourite classic, and there sure was a lot you could talk about the song-

"Seems like you've chosen," Kid bluntly stated as he snatched the paper you've been staring at. "Ha! Great choice! I knew you weren't a wuss." Kid smirked seeing the song was indeed Crazy Train.

You were about to object yet seeing him brighten up made you hold your tongue. If it put him in a good mood that meant all the better for you. You buried the urge to look through the rest and neatly shuffled the papers back together and handed them back to Kid.

"I guess we won't be needing the rest of these then if we got our song," you said.

"Nah." He took them and put them back into his bag.

You discussed Crazy Train and jotted down points that were worth writing about, such as talking about the era the song came out in and how the song emphasizes how people felt during the time. Kid brought up how we should mention Ozzy (Ozzy Osbourne) and you agreed, noting that down when-

"So did you think about it?" Kid inquired, causing your pencil to draw off the page.

"About Ozzy?" You hoped that's what he meant. His face turned rather serious, causing you to shift uneased in your seat.

"About lunch."

You opened your mouth then shut it, knowing it'd only piss him off if you played dumb and stated what you wanted to eat for lunch. You knew what he was referring to, but you didn't want to answer, only wanting to focus on the project.

"...No- I mean, no I haven't thought about it properly, I've been focused on schoolwork which we probably should get back to do-"

"We have all week to work on it, and besides class is almost over."

"It is?" You glance over at the clock, seeing it was 5 minutes to class change. "Oh, I should put my stuff away." You move to go back to your desk when Kid catches your wrist, catching you off guard. You look back to Kid, pulse thumping in your veins.

"You're not leaving till I get an answer, [L/n]."

Shit. What the hell are you supposed to do now? You wanted to wiggle out of this, avoid the question, why did he sabotage it? You call for the teacher- no that'd only piss him off more. That's the last thing you want to do.

You can tell he's becoming impatient as the clock ticks to the bell, despite both your faces being drawn in a neutral line.

'Take it easy, [Y/n],' you reassure yourself in your head. 'All you have to say is no.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And you agreed?"

"I panicked okay!" You defended yourself. "It felt like he was ready to rip my arm off at any moment, what was I supposed to do?"

"Say no," Hawkins stated.

You sighed, sinking into your chair defeated. You're grateful that you could at least hide in the corner of drama class until lunch. That, and Hawkins keeping you company. If only you could hide here forever and not go to lunch.

You already had the stress of trying not to piss off Kid, now you'll be walking into eggshell town when you meet him and his gang at lunch. Not that you've seen the others get triggered as often as Kid did, but you've been a witness to a few of their fights at school and heard rumours of shit they got into at night. This left you imagining the many ways you'd likely die before lunch ends.

"Would it ease you if I used the cards to predict how it'll go?" Hawkins offered.

"You'd do that?" You perked up.

"If it puts your mind at ease and allow you to focus on the script, then yes."

"Please."

Hawkins pulled out his deck, shuffling the cards before he began to draw them out. You fidgeted with your fingers as you waited for your fate to be revealed. Your fellow loner looks up at you after he draws the last card, his neutral expression making it hard to decipher if you're screwed or not.

"You'll be fine," Hawkins confirms, and you sigh relieved- "But you'll be confronted with a choice that will affect future interactions with Eustass."

#one piece #one piece x reader #eustass x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #one piece kid #one piece eustass #eustass kid x you #eustass kid x y/n #x reader #platonic basil hawkins #unbottle your emotions #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece eustass kid

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sarahwroteathing · 9 months

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Giddy

[Steve Rogers x Reader]

Word Count: 2950

Summary: You take Steve on a surprise date.

Request: Steve Rogers, Giddy, Ice Skating

Warnings: None

A/N: I got VERY carried away by your choice of mood word, dear anon. I had a lot of fun with it, and I hope it's just as fun to read. Merry Christmas, my loves!

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cuter sight than Steve Rogers sitting in your passenger’s seat for a surprise date. He brought two changes of clothes. A tote bag of snacks. A “fancy coffee” that Natasha taught him how to make, presented to you proudly in a giant thermos. Now he was sitting straight up in his seat, alternating between staring out the windows and staring at you with a goofy smile and bright eyes like this was the best day of his life.

“Are you excited?” you asked with a laugh.

“Sorry. No one ever surprises me,” he said, looking faintly embarrassed. “At least not good surprises.”

“Nothing to be sorry about! I’ve just never seen you like this before. It’s really cute.”

From the corner of your eye, you thought you saw him begin to blush, and you wished there was a way to admire it more thoroughly without recklessly endangering you both.

“And you still won’t tell me how long we’ll be driving?” he checked after a moment, earning a narrow-eyed look from you.

“No, Mr. GPS Brain, I’m not telling you how long,”

“Fine,” he said, still smiling, taking a moment to dig through the snack bag. “Here.”

He poked at your bottom lip until you opened your mouth to take the chocolate-covered pretzel he held up for you.

“Thank you, my love.”

“Mmhmm. Wait, you ate breakfast before you picked me up, right? You told me you were going to.”

“Yes, I did.”

You didn’t have to look to know he was eyeing you suspiciously.

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” you laughed, holding out your hand for a pinky promise.

“Just checking… Do you want some apple chips? I got the green ones you like.”

He was holding your pinky hostage now, dropping a kiss onto the back of your hand as he waited for the specific answer he clearly wanted.

“Of course, Passenger Princess Steve.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he said, not sounding particularly bothered as he released your hand to dig for the apple chips.

“You can look it up. It’s not bad.”

He hummed, depositing an apple chip in your mouth before pulling out his phone. You smiled to yourself as he typed.

“I don’t not drive. You don’t let me drive.”

“I let you drive. Just not my car.”

“I’m a fine driver.”

“Steve. I’m not convinced you’ve ever had to pass a driving test. You drive every car like you stole it.”

“Rude,” he said even as he fed you another apple chip.

“I fear for my life and insurance rates.”

“Just break up with me now, I guess.”

You snorted.

“Nah. It’s endearing in its own way. And you’re very good with the motorcycle, at least when I’m on it. Very gentle.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t want you falling off.”

“I appreciate that,” you laughed.

Things continued this way for about three hours as you drove out of the city and the buildings grew more and more sparse, eventually giving way to frost-covered trees and stretches of snow-covered ground. Steve never lost his smile or his excitable energy, choosing songs that only contributed to the mood. The music had you dancing in your seat and singing to him while he laughed and watched you, joining in for a few lines when he got the hang of it.

By the time you turned off the main road, Steve was wiggling in his seat too, craning to see out all of the car windows. After two stretches of tree-lined country roads, you arrived at your destination, a large tract of land with a few large, well-maintained old buildings and wide open spaces.

On one such space there was a decently sized outdoor ice rink, a low wooden wall with evenly spaced high posts fencing it in and rainbow colored twinkle lights upping the charm. Three small sets of wood benches like partial bleachers surrounded it on three sides, with a cheerfully painted food truck taking up the fourth side. The chalkboard menus placed just in front of the window advertised an assortment of hot drinks and pastries.

There weren’t many people here, late morning on a weekday, no more than ten total wandering the scenic walking trails in visual range and braving the ice.

“I’ve never been ice skating before,” Steve said quietly, staring out his window with a boyish grin that set your stomach fluttering. “I never had the money for skates and then…. But that’s what we’re here for, right?”

“It is,” you said, parking in a small dirt lot and shutting off the engine. “If that sounds fun. We can also take some of the trails if you’d rather.”

He turned to you, responding to you with an enthusiastic kiss that had you giggling against his lips.

“Yeah, it sounds fun. I want to try.”

“Fabulous. I bought you some skates. They’re in the trunk.”

Steve’s eyes got wide again, and he scrambled out of the car so quickly he almost strangled himself with the seatbelt. You followed at a calmer pace, watching with a smile as he unboxed your scuffed up old skates and his shiny new ones.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “Let’s go see how they fit.”

You grabbed your coats, scarves, and hats, leaving the skates for Steve to carry as you headed towards the rink.

“You’ve been skating before,” Steve guessed.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been skating since I was a kid.”

He hummed, smiling at you with a mix of excitement and nerves as you approached a free space of the bleachers.

You took it upon yourself to help Steve into his skates, and he let you, teasing at the way you fussed over the fit and the laces. You got yours on much quicker and guided Steve to the gap in the barrier with one arm around his waist and your other held out for him to grab onto.

He wobbled a little as soon as his first foot met the ice, a panicked little grimace flashing across his face as he reached out to you and the wall on his other side.

“It’s alright,” you said, trying to hold in a giggle. “You’ve got it. Hold on until you feel more comfortable.”

You slid onto the ice seamlessly, gliding along beside him and continuing to steady him until he became a little less wobbly.

“This is hard,” he laughed, jerking both his arms when he overcorrected his balance.

“It is,” you agreed, catching his elbow. “You’re walking on ice with knives strapped to your feet. It would be weird if it wasn’t hard.”

“You’re making it look easy,” he said with a flustered smile.

“Well, of course I am. I’ve had years of practice. Plus, I planned this date very intentionally. I couldn’t show off and perform a super cute romantic cliche if I wasn’t good at it.”

“If you kiss me right now, I’m pretty sure I’ll fall,” he warned you.

“Noted,” you laughed. “Not what I meant.”

You skated out in front of him, turning smoothly to skate backwards. Steve raised his eyebrows, and you grinned at him, holding out both your hands to him.

“Give me your hands. I’ve got ya. I won’t let you fall.”

Steve glanced uncertainly at the wall, which he had been maintaining a tight grip on as he shuffled along the edge of the ice. You shifted your stance, bringing your hands closer so he could more quickly shift his grip from the wall to you. With a quick breath, he made the change, only wobbling a little before steadying again.

“There you go!” you said encouragingly, now holding both of his hands in yours, towing him gently forward as you skated smoothly backwards.

“If I’m about to take you down with me, let go, okay?” he said, with a giddy little smile that made you wish you could kiss him. But he was right. It wouldn’t take much to knock him over at this point.

“Not a chance. We’re in this together. Look how damn cute we are right now,” you said with a smile.

Steve relaxed a little, visibly took a moment to appreciate the moment, the two of you skating together with your hands linked, staring into each other's eyes.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he whispered to you, squeezing your hands when you laughed loud and carefree at the question.

“Obviously. Is it working?”

“Obviously,” he laughed.

The two of you made two laps that way, earning a few smiles from the other skaters. Steve wobbled quite a few times, but you managed to steady him each time, maintaining a slow and patient pace with him.

“You skate better backwards than I do forwards,” he noted as you began your third lap together. “I almost feel bad for slowing you down.”

“Don’t you dare,” you said, squeezing his hands again. “I’m loving every second of this.”

“I kind of want to see what you can do, though. Give you a chance to show off.”

You didn’t want to abandon him on the wall, but the smile he was giving you, somehow already proud before he’d seen you do anything, was impossible to deny.

“Alright, but just for a minute,” you said, slowly guiding his hands to the wall and helping him find a position where he could see the rest of the rink and stabilize himself at the same time.

“I got it,” he said.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “I got it. Go make me fall in love with you again.”

“Steve!” you gasped dramatically, making him laugh again. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be charming you!”

“You are,” he promised. “Go do it some more.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head fondly at him as you started moving backwards again, picking up more speed before turning around. You were by no means an expert, but your grandma had enrolled you in several skating classes when you were younger, and you knew plenty of moves that looked extremely impressive to beginners and weren’t all that difficult for you to execute. First, you enjoyed a lap at full speed, enjoying the feeling, and laughing as Steve gave a loud cheer when you passed him. It was the encouragement you needed to start showing off a little more, taking care to only pull out the big guns when you were in spaces of empty ice, safely out of the way of the few other skaters on the ice.

You were halfway through another spin when you heard a brief shout and a heavy thud. When you turned back, Steve was in a bewildered heap on the ice. Biting back a laugh, you weaved quickly through the other skaters, crouching carefully as you slid up to Steve.

“Are you okay?”

“I fell,” he said, his eyes still wide as they found yours.

“I see that,” you said gently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m bad at this,” Steve laughed, shock morphing into utter delight.

You smiled hesitantly, reaching for him.

“Did you hit your head?”

“What? No! I just - ” He laughed again. “I fell over. I didn’t get pushed or hit a rough patch of ice I just… Lost my balance and couldn’t save it. And I fell.”

“I’ve literally never seen anyone this happy about falling on their ass in public,” you said, a giggle bubbling up at the sight of that wide, delighted smile still fixed on his beautiful face.

“I feel so normal,”

“I’d maybe up the angst a little if you want to be normal. Bruised tailbone and all.”

“Okay,” Steve said simply, flopping straight on his back on the ice like a toddler and sending you into a fit of giggles in the process.

“That’s not quite what I -” You could barely breathe to get the sentence out, clasping a hand over your mouth in an attempt to get ahold of yourself.

“That HURT!” Steve called out, still sprawled out on the ice. “I’m so EMBARRASSED!”

“Steve,” you laughed, letting yourself drop into a seated position next to him.

“Don’t LOOK at me!” he continued. “Leave me here to DIE!”

“Incredible,” you said through your giggles. “We found him. The most normal man on the planet.”

Steve was laughing now too, eyes sparkling as he discovered you sprawling on the ice beside him. He wrapped an arm around you, dragging you closer to him and muffling his laughter against your skin, pressing cold little kisses to your face.

“Ready for a break?” you asked as you recovered your breath.

“Sure,” he said. “But you’re either going to have to teach me how to get up or drag me to the exit.”

You snorted.

“Alright, come on. Scoot closer to the wall. That’ll be easier for you.”

After a couple of false starts, Steve managed to regain his footing, grumbling playfully at the ease with which you popped up from the ice once he was standing.

You made it to the gap in the wall successfully, and you pretended not to notice the way Steve very intentionally overbalanced as he shifted from ice to snow, falling into you with overly innocent eyes and the fakest apology you’d ever heard.

“You’re getting too confident already,” you chastised playfully, as he hugged you tightly. “You’re not good enough to start fake falling. You’re going to actually knock yourself over again.”

“Wow. Meanest teacher I’ve ever had,” he said, barely audible from where he had his face nuzzled against your neck.

“I’m a monster,” you agreed, tugging on his coat until he at least started shuffling back towards the bleachers with you. “Let's get our shoes back on for a minute so we can get our hands on some pastries and hot chocolate.”

You changed quickly, tucking your belongings neatly under the bench and heading towards the food truck. Steve caught you up in his arms again as you inspected the chalk sandwich board, standing behind you and reading over your shoulder. You swayed slightly along with the music playing from the large outdoor speaker.

“What do you think?” you asked after a moment.

“Trying to decide between a croissant and a cinnamon roll.”

“Easy. we’ll get both. What about a drink?”

He hummed thoughtfully, pointing at the bottom corner of the board.

“What’s this list for? Do you know?”

“I think it’s extra flavors you can add to your coffee or hot chocolate.”

After another minute of quiet conversation, you stepped up to the window. An older woman with bright silvery hair smiled at you welcomingly.

“Hi! Can we get two croissants and a cinnamon roll, please?”

“Of course! Any drinks?”

“Do you have a favorite?” Steve asked.

“I think hot chocolate is the way to go,” she said with a bright smile. “I like cherry in mine, but you can’t go wrong with mint.”

“One of each?” Steve suggested, tilting his head to see your face better.

You smiled and nodded, pulling your wallet out of your purse as the woman rang up your order and read out the price. Steve’s hand disappeared from around your waist for a moment, re-entering your field of vision with his own wallet in hand.

“Hey!” you said, snatching it out of his hand. “I told you to leave that at home!”

“You sure did,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement as you flailed your arm around to keep his wallet out of reach. “Must have forgotten. Oh well.”

“You did not,” you argued, hurriedly shoving it down your sweater before he could get his hands on it, keeping one arm tucked around your own waist to keep it from falling out the bottom.

“Seriously?”

“I win,” you said proudly, shifting awkwardly to fish your credit card from your own wallet with one hand.

The woman in the food truck grinned back at you as she handed you your receipt.

“Oh! Almost forgot to ask. Do either of you want marshmallows or whipped cream on your hot chocolates?”

“Marshmallows,” Steve answered, poking at your sides until you squirmed, trying to dislodge his wallet from your sweater.

“So many you can’t actually see the liquid,” you added.

“My kind of people,” she said approvingly before moving out of view to prepare your order.

“We got a good grade in hot chocolate,” you whispered to Steve, swatting at his hands. “Quit!”

“Give me back my wallet!”

Your dramatic sigh devolved into laughter as Steve kept tickling your side. You unclenched your arm, letting his wallet fall out of your sweater, knowing he would catch it before it hit the ground.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, elbowing him lightly. “Even though you broke the rules of surprise date day.”

“Won’t happen again,” he promised, wrapping his arms back around you once his wallet was safely stored in his back pocket.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, unconvinced. “I’ll believe it when I see it, pal.”

“How about…” He kissed the wrinkle between your brows until it smoothed beneath his touch. “Tomorrow?”

“What?”

“We could do another surprise date day. I’ll leave my wallet at home.”

You laughed, surprised and incredibly pleased at the eagerness and joy in his eyes.

“You really want to?”

“I really want to. It doesn’t have to be - I mean, we could do this again. Or stay in all day. I don’t care.”

You smiled at him, shaking your head in awe at that soft, excited expression on his face.

“I’ll see what I can do. For my super cute boyfriend,” you said quietly, giggling at the way his cheeks grew a little pinker.

“Thanks.”

“Anything for you,” you said. And you absolutely meant it.

*****

A/N: My heart is TOO SOFT HELP! As always, replies, reblogs, and asks are deeply appreciated and provide all the happy writer juice. Love you guys!

Tags: @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @a-book-pressed-rose @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us @majesticavenger @buckybarneshairpullingkink @patzammit @pato-el-cerdito

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #marvel imagine

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otaku-bell-livemotto · 2 months

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Steddie Week 2024 | Prompt: I Want To Break Free

Eddie unlocked the door only to hear music blasting from inside the house. It took him a few seconds to identify the artist, but when he did, a smile curled his lips as he followed the music to the kitchen. His smile only grew wider as he watched Steve swing his hips, his smooth voice singing along to Freddie Mercury while his hands were making something that smelled divine. Eddie kept quiet for a few minutes, content to see his boyfriend acting so carefree. When he was ready, Eddie inserted himself into Steve’s dance, grabbing him by the hips and swaying with him to the music.

“Welcome home, Eds,” Steve greeted, his voice cheerful and warm.

Eddie pressed himself closer, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder and gently kissing him on the cheek.

“Thanks Sweetheart,” Eddie murmured into his ear, relishing in the shiver it elicited. “What are you making?”

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe for biscotti,” Steve hummed. “It’s basically a cookie you bake twice. I don’t know if I'm making them right though. This texture is kind of weird.”

“I'm sure they’ll turn out great. Do you want any help?”

“Nah,” Steve answered smiling. “I'm about to put them in for the second bake anyway. Why don’t you get comfy.”

Eddie pressed another kiss to Steve’s cheek before releasing him, choosing to sit on one of the kitchen bar stools to watch Steve finish up rather than leave him. He hadn’t seen him all day and he wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. Steve chuckled to himself as he watched Eddie before turning back to his cookies.

Before long, the cookies were in the oven once more and the song on Steve’s tape changed. This one, Eddie knew, and it had him on his feet immediately. He grabbed Steve’s hands and started swinging him around the kitchen, singing loud enough to annoy the neighborhood. Not that it deterred Eddie in the slightest, or Steve for that matter since he joined in on Eddie’s antics the moment Eddie pulled him into his silly dance.

“I’ve fallen in love! I've fallen in love for the first time and this time I know it’s for reeeal!”

Eddie pulled Steve impossibly closer, admiring the pleased blush that was covering Steve’s cheeks. Steve closed the small distance between them and finally greeted Eddie with a proper kiss. Well, as proper a kiss as one can get when both parties can’t stop smiling.

“God knows, I’ve fallen in love,” Steve mumbled into Eddie’s lips.

Eddie simply kissed him again.

#i was a sleepy bitch this weekend y'all #steddieweek2024 #stranger things #ready steddie go #I KNOW I'M LATE WITH NO COFFEE BUT HERE IT IS IN ALL ITS GLORY

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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year

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In a city the size of Chicago, Eddie should be easy to avoid. Or maybe the city isn't as big as you thought?

Masterlist Listen to Sour Girl Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:6558 beta'd by @superblysubpar

Plink.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The old wooden frame of your window groans against the track, burdened with too many layers of paint to make the slide smooth. The swirls of creamy pinks and oranges have faded hours ago into the star-lit summer sky. The boy is below, standing in your backyard, fist full of pea gravel taken from a neighbor's garden. A smile twisting his lips lifts his cheeks, putting dimples on full display as he looks up at you from the darkness below. You raise a finger, signaling for him to wait before you turn away. Tossing a few things in your empty backpack, you take a pillow from your bed, and your comforter is wrestled free from the mattress. With careful footsteps, you creep down the stairs, stopping in the kitchen. The light from the fridge casts a triangle across the floor as you take a few Capri Suns to add to your bag. Leaving through the slider, the end of your blanket trails behind you through the grass that was trimmed that morning. You slip off your flip-flops, leaving them beside a pair of larger, well-worn sneakers with a chain wallet tucked inside the right shoe. Eddie bounces on the trampoline, his sock-covered feet launching him into the air, arms stretched for balance. You toss everything on before climbing on with him. With a final bounce, he lands on his butt beside you, grinning.

“I got it,” you tell him, tossing the pillow behind you.

“Nah-uh.”

"My dad took me to Tower this afternoon." Rummaging in your pack, you pull out a Discman and over-the-ear headphones with the cord in a tangled mess. "I could only get two. I had to choose between Rage," you begin, ticking off album titles on your fingers, “Soundgarden, STP, and Pearl Jam.”

“And?”

Taking out the CDs, you press them against his chest, letting go as soon as his fingers go around them. His brown eyes widen as he examines what’s in his hands as you pick apart the knotted cord.

“Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop AND Down on the Upside? You haven’t even opened this one.” He holds up the Soundgarden CD before using his teeth to rip open the cellophane covering the plastic case.

“I waited for you.” You smile.

His face softens. “You’re a doll.”

He lies back, his head nestling into your pillow, hands clasped behind his head, gazing up at the sky. After putting the CD into the player, you follow him, pulling the comforter over you both and resting your head on his bicep. The headphone speakers are flipped out, tucked between you, as Chris Cornell's melancholic voice begins to seep into your ears, velvety and dark like the night itself.

"Listen to this transition," he insists, his voice filled with the same awe that it always does when he talks about music, "The shift from acoustic to electric guitar is seamless."

“I wish I could hear it the way you do.”

As you gaze skyward, a slender branch sways in perfect rhythm with the chords, green leaves fluttering with the bass. The stars multiply and shimmer as if they’re caught up in the flow of the song.

“You do,” he says, his head turning toward you, “You’re the only one I know who loves it as much as I do.” He studies your face, his eyes locking with yours. The music building until it’s too intense, and he looks away. “It’s lyrics that hook you. You’ve always got so many words floating around in that big brain of yours.”

The disc spins, and you both listen, the scent of lilacs wafting in on the breeze, and fireflies painting the sky with their gentle glow. Time passes in the slow way it only does for kids on a cool summer night.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He answers, eyes closed.

“Are they fighting again?”

He doesn’t talk about it, but everyone knows—an ugly secret festering on an otherwise picture-perfect street. No one wants to get their hands dirty by getting involved.

“Why won’t she leave him?” A simple question in a world of black and white.

“I want her to,” his adams apple bobs as he swallows, “She says she loves him.”

“Just stay here with me tonight, okay?” Rolling to your side, you wrap your hand across his chest, offering him the only protection that you can.

“Yeah, okay.”

When you wake the following morning, the songs and memories you were reacquainted with last night have faded to a dull throb–much like the martinis. But remnants of their lyrics persist, crawling under your skin, irritating like an itch, a tune hummed without the words to accompany it. Your phone’s screen lights up with an incoming text, the short burst of vibration sending it skittering across the surface of your nightstand. It takes a moment for your bleary eyes to focus on the notification on your lock screen.

Unknown: I admit last night could have gone better. Let me make it up to you. Coffee?

After tapping in your passcode, you open the message app to reply.

You: Wrong number

Darkening your screen, you let your phone slip from your hand onto the bed beside you. With a sigh, you lean back, staring at the ceiling, seeking answers that remain elusive. The scent of brewing dark roast and toasting bagels rises up the stairs with the sounds of Steve moving around the kitchen. A cup of coffee (or five) and a shower is what you need to wash away the past and leave it firmly where it belongs– in your rearview.

It's the bottom of your second cup when Steve walks into your massive walk-in closet with a towel wrapped around his waist, fresh from the shower, his hair still damp, the freckled skin of his chest looking golden in the soft glow of the elegant pendant lights.

“Is that what you're wearing to work?” He asks.

“Um, yeah.” You finish buckling the strap of your chunky mary-janes. “Something wrong with it?” you ask, catching sight of yourself in the mirror, dark distressed jeans and a band tee recut into a fitted v-neck.

“Of course not,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair before sitting down heavily on the leather bench. His shoulders slump as he looks across to the cherry built-in shelves holding the rows of tailored suits hung by progression of color. “You always look beautiful.”

Taking your watch from the marble top of the large center island, you wander over to where he’s seated. He hooks a finger into one of the large holes in your jeans, tugging you over to stand between his legs, his big hands wrapping around the backs of your thighs.

“Guess I’m just missing the days of wearing jeans and a jersey to work,” he says, his smile not smoothing the faint crease in his brows.

“You traded that in for a car service and a big fat paycheck,” you point out, kissing the top of his head and moving back to your side of the closet to select a blazer.

“How else am I going to keep spoiling you?” He stands, dropping the towel and picking up the black Tom Ford boxer briefs he set out before his shower.

“Steve, I don’t need all of this,” your hand sweeps in the air, gesturing to the lit shelves holding more clothes and shoes than you could ever need. “Just take me to a concert every once in a while.” Your voice trails off as notification chimes on your phone.

Unknown: Nice try, doll. Robin gave me your number.

“Can you imagine if we were still in that cramped apartment in Lincoln Park?” He scoffs, pulling on a light gray pair of suit pants. “We were tripping over all our stuff.”

Steve found the three-bedroom, three-bath brownstone on a tree-lined street in the ritzy Gold Coast neighborhood just after he got promoted from Metro, marking the beginning of his rise up the ranks in Second City Media. He spent a year and a chunk of his trust fund on a meticulous renovation before the two of you moved in. It is beautiful—large air rooms with lofty ceilings adorned with pristine white crown molding and wainscotting throughout, giving a modern but classic feel. Living with so much space is lavish in a city of this size. But you would be just as happy back on that ratty couch in Lincoln Park, drinking beer straight from the bottle and eating pizza without the fuss of plates, working on your laptop while he watched a Cubs game. Steve is driven–determined to be a success, and he is, but with the money came the stress. And it’s taking a toll.

Your finger hovers over the block button, but you press add to contacts instead. “Hey,” you change the subject, slipping your phone into your jacket pocket, “Did you ever look into that sailing charter you wanted to book out at the lake? We could do that this weekend?”

“I wish I could, Ace. I’ve got those weekend meetings about the streaming radio we're trying to launch. Pick out a tie for me?” He asks, pulling off a starched black button-up from its hanger.

“Sure.” You walk over and spin the rack holding up dozens of ties on shiny brass hooks.

“What do you have going on today?” The well-defined muscles of his sculpted shoulders, earned from never skipping a day at the gym, flex before disappearing into his shirt sleeves.

“Not a lot.” You pull the silky slip of deep maroon fabric off its hanger. “Lola is put to bed for this year. I just have an album review to finish up and a meeting with my editor today. Maybe a series on the Fall tours?” You propose, mostly to yourself, as you bring him his tie.

“Maroon, huh?” One brow raises with the question, “I would have picked black.”

“I know.” The corner of your lips turn up in a sly smile before you rise to your toes and place a kiss on his mouth, “I’m gonna go.”

“You want my driver to drop you off?” He asks, looking in the mirror and adjusting his tie.

“Nah, I’ll drive myself. Argyle and I are going to the Subterranean for drinks. Santigold is performing. Do you want to come?” You throw out, picking up your ancient army green messenger bag you can’t bear to part with, straining with the fullness of your laptop and notes.

“I’ll pass. Not really my scene.” As he fastens his gold cufflinks, they catch the gleaming light.

“You never come to shows with me,” you sigh.

“I know, I know. I’ll try and catch the next one,” he says, sliding his feet into shiny Italian leather shoes. “I’m meeting Robin for lunch. You want to join us?”

“No. I’ll let you have your girl time.” You blow him a kiss before heading out the door.

“See you tonight, okay?”

“Love you. See you tonight,” he calls after you.

Passing through rooms decorated with rich creams and calming moss greens, you yell over your shoulder, “Tell Robin I said we don’t have any more room for paintings of flowers that look like vaginas.”

“They’re a good investment,” his voice fades as you jog down your stairs, grabbing your keys from the stained-glass bowl on the table beside the door, ignoring the buzz coming from your pocket.

The world is full of cliches. Many become so ingrained that we accept them as unwavering truths. Every cloud has a silver lining. Don’t judge a book by its cover. Actions speak louder than words. A rotten apple will spoil the bunch. Don’t spit into the wind. Well, that last one is just good advice, but there is one that has stuck with you. Love what you do, and you’ll never work a day in your life. Music is your deity, and working at Stax is where you worship at its altar, spreading the Gospel of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. It’s a place where your lifelong obsession is not only validated, it’s celebrated. Your journey leading up to this point feels like destiny, like the universe conspired to harmonize your two greatest loves—the lyrical power of words and the soul-stirring magic of music. Each day within these walls is a new chord, a different tempo, and you revel in the ever-changing rhythm of your life. One spent intertwined with the music and the people that create it. The magazine's pages are your stage, your canvas, and with every keystroke, you paint the stories of the music, offering them to those who care to listen.

Without taking your eyes off your laptop screen, you reach for your coffee mug only to knock over the tittering tower of CDs that you had stacked on the corner of your cluttered desk. The plastic jewel cases meet the cement floor with a shattering crash, the noise echoing off the walls of the open industrial space that houses the offices for Stax Magazine in the heart of Fulton Market District. Clapping comes from other desks as you chase the discs rolling on their sides in all directions. Pausing, you bend into a dramatic curtsey, earning chuckles as the applause dies out. The perpetual chaos of your desk has become an ongoing punchline in the office banter. Your phone begins to ring at the same time an IM pops on your screen - both from your editor, the enigmatic J. Hopper.

“Art Garfunkel’s house of pizza,” you say by way of greeting, trying to get the CDs back in their cases and toppling a pile of mail in the process.

“Where are you? Why aren’t you here? We had a meeting at 2,” comes the gruff voice of a man who's clearly not amused.

“It’s only one forty,” you reply.

“Get your ass in here now,” he yells, disconnecting.

Hopper's bark has always been more bluster than bite. The towering, older man has been a fixture in this building since its days as a "hard-hitting" newspaper. While the city has evolved and transformed, Hopper and this old brick building have remained resolute, like an immovable rock in the ever-shifting stream of time. He possesses zero patience, holds a disdain for people, and dismisses any music created after 1978. You love him as much as your own father. He offered you a position fresh out of college when other magazines wouldn’t take a chance. He's pulled out your best work, often sending you back to your desk like a pouting child, making you the writer you are today. The wisdom he’s imparted is beyond the reach of any professor or workshop, and for that, you’ll always be grateful.

With a gentle rap of your knuckles against the frosted glass, you step into Hopper's office. He's seated behind a substantial oak desk, buried beneath a mountain of paperwork. A hint of cigar lingers in the air, though you've never been able to catch him smoking. He remains engrossed, squinting at his desktop screen with a furrowed brow. Settling into one of the vintage leather club chairs, you wait for his acknowledgment, your gaze drifting across the framed magazine covers and photographs lining the walls. One of a much younger Hopper clad in a tattered flak jacket catches your eyes. His face smeared with dirt and grit, standing amidst the ruins of a war-torn Kosovo street, a city reduced to chaos.

"Where’s my album write-up?" He asks without looking up.

"I emailed it to you before lunch," you reply, confirming on your phone.

He pushes back from his desk, propping up his feet on the edge, and offers you a soft smile from under the bushy mustache covering his lip, "How are you, kid? Everything okay? Harrington treating you, right?"

"Of course, Hop. He knows he'd have to answer to you otherwise. What about you?" You ask, leaning forward, "Is Joyce looking after you? Making sure you're watching that cholesterol?"

"Yup, she's got me eating all these organic vegetables, no booze, no smokes. Kinda takes all the fun outta life." He laces his hands behind his head, stretching out his back.

"Oh yeah, does that include that bottle hootch you got stowed in your bottom drawer?"

He sits up with a quick move, pointing his finger in your direction. "You don't know anything about that. Are we clear?"

The only one who can scare Hopper is Hopper's wife.

"I don't know. What are you going to do if I give Joyce a call? Seems to me that's something she'd want to know," you tease, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You'd be out on that sidewalk before you hung up the call. Don't test me." He shakes a finger at you, "Now, what are you pitching me?"

"Well, I'm going to a club tonight, so I'll have a live performance review. And I was thinking of a piece on the bands touring this Fall. Kind of like a road map that the readership could follow and hit all the good shows."

"Those sound good, kid, but I got a feature for you to cover." He leans forward, narrowing his eyes, "You know this Eddie Munson character?"

The blood drains from your face. "No. Not-not really," you stammer, "we're from the same town, but I haven't seen him in years."

"Well, it's time to get reacquainted. I want a series chronicling the opening of CursedSound Recordings, and I want you to write it."

A featured series is something that other journalists fight over, and usually, you'd jump at the chance, but not this time. Not this series. Not Eddie Muson.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, looking down at your lap.

“You don’t think–”

“Give it to Miles.”

“I’m giving it to you. Morales is busy with–”

“I don’t want it,” the words burst out of your mouth before you think better of it. Less than twenty-four hours after seeing Eddie, your world is spinning out of control.

Hopper's face turns to steel as he plucks the pen from behind his ear and throws it down on the desk. “I think that you’ve forgotten how this works. I give you an assignment. You write it.”

Your lips part before the protest in your brain is fully formed.

“If you’re about to tell me no again, it better be followed by a damn good reason.”

His eyes are locked on yours while he waits for a response, one brow raised in challenge.

“Listen, kid,” he picks up a stack of papers, shuffling through them as he talks, “I’ve looked into this Munson character. He has a good reputation in L.A. His name is in the credits for over half the multi-platinum releases in the last five years. And word is, his studio is booked out with big names for a year in advance.” He pauses for a moment to be sure his words sink in. “Establishing a good relationship with him is in the magazine's best interests. And what's good for the magazine is good for you. Are you hearing me?”

“Yes, Hop,” he answers for you when you remain quiet.

“Yes, Hop,” you repeat.

“Good,” he says, lacing his fingers together. "The printed word isn’t worth what it used to be. Everything's gone digital, the never-ending twenty-four-hour news cycle. The competition's cut-throat out there. Trust me, our friends over at Spectrum would eat this up for Chicago Lifestyles. Frankly, I’m surprised at you. I thought you’d be all over this. Especially since it was proposed by corporate. I figured you went around me and pitched it to Harrington directly.”

The mention of Steve’s name sets your teeth on edge. He hadn't breathed a word about this assignment earlier, and now he's reaching out to Hopper, painting a picture as if you're disrespecting your editor and exploiting your personal connections to secure a story.

“I would never do that,” you shake your head.

"Alright then. Call Byers at Metro," Hopper instructs, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "Bring him with you. His assignment is just wrapping up."

You nod, your blood boiling and your mind racing. Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you finally reply with an outward calm, "Okay."

Hopper's eyes remained fixed on you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Now, why are you still here wasting my time? Get out."

You don’t need any more prompting. Swiftly, you rise from your seat and make your way out of Hopper's office, formulating plans to murder your fiancé.

With a heavy sigh, you sit back down at your desk. The Stax logo bounces off the edges of your laptop screen. Your phone lights up with a photo of Steve. You let it ring a few times before sending it to voicemail. A few colleagues linger nearby, mugs in hand, their idle chatter blending with the hum of printers and the rhythmic clacking of keyboards. Your to-do list sits on your desk with strike-throughs on only half the tasks, but the priority of the ones remaining isn’t enough to capture your attention.

Reaching down, you tug at the handle of your tightly packed bottom desk drawer. It sticks, protesting the overload. The bright yellow color of the Sony Sports Walkman stands out from among the other clutter. You hesitate when reaching for it, the beginnings of the ache already tightening your chest. But you can’t resist, your hand closes around it, pulling it and the headphones coiled around out from under a pile of old concert passes attached to lanyards.

Swiveling your chair away from the desk, you face the windows and slip the headphones onto your ears. A gentle press of your thumb produces a satisfying click, and a soft crackling sound fills your ears as the capstans start to whir.

The crystal blue of the cassette is dulled behind the transparent black window, but you can still make out the handwriting on the yellowed label.

For when you miss me.

“Did you ever listen?”

Everyday.

A bird's eye view of the stage is perfectly spaced in your viewfinder, with Santi downstage dominating the mic, her other arm outstretched to the fervent crowd. Your finger clicks the shutter as a text pops on the screen.

Eddie: Seems this city isn’t so big after all.

With a huff, you close the screen, pocketing your phone.

“What’s going on with you?” Argyle shouts over the crowd, handing you back your drink as you both lean over the black-painted railing on the balcony at The Subterranean.

"Nothing," you reply, your gaze returning to the stage where Santigold is Chasing Shadows.

“You’re moody,” he accuses, leaning closer to your ear to be heard over music.

“No, I’m not.”

“It’s true,” he shakes his head. “You’re moody. Moody dick.”

The corners of your lips lift as you roll your eyes.

“This wouldn't have anything to do with mister dark and handsome sound engineer guy from last night, would it?” He probes as someone bumps into you from behind, throwing you off balance.

Your eyes narrow as he steadies you with a hand on your elbow.

“Hey, I know things,” he says, sipping his drink and looking back out over the crowd.

“Oh, yeah?” You ask, turning and leaning on the banister to face him, “What do you know?”

He turns his head toward you, his thoughtful brown eyes connecting with yours. “I know you looked freaked the fuck out when he showed up for drinks and even more so when he said he was staying. And I’ve seen you tell off enough people to know that’s what was going on at the bar when you walked away from him last night,” he says, looking back toward the stage, gesturing with his hands, “Now we're here, with my future baby mama killing it on stage, and you’re sucking all the energy out of the room.”

The song ends with the crowd erupting in applause. “I love you!” Argyle shouts toward the stage with his hands cupped around his mouth as the bass starts back up with the opening of High Priestess. Santi looks up, throwing him a wink, her voice low and fast as the reverb vibrates under your feet.

“Future baby mama?” You laugh.

“Yeah. Do you think you could use your press pass to get us backstage?”

“No. I don’t think you need to add to the population tonight.”

"See, you're no fun,” he complains, sticking out his lower lip, “So you really used to crush on that guy?

Chewing on your lip, you throw him a sideways glance.

“Yeah, you did. You crushed hard,” he laughs, “So, tell me, what happened?”

“I don’t like talking about it,” you say, scrubbing your face.

“Keeping everything all bottled up ain’t good for you, little mama,” he pokes your arm, letting you know he’s not going to drop this, “I’m your boy. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

“Circle of trust,” he says, stirring the air between you with two fingers when you don’t respond.

You lean against the rail, considering. “Alright, but this stays between us,” you threaten him with a pointed finger. His head nods as his fingers slide across his mouth like a zipper.

“There’s not much to tell,” you say, looking down at the sticky floor. “I had a crush, and he didn’t feel the same way.”

“I get it. The fury of a woman scorned. What did you do, go full bunny boiler?”

“No,” you chuckle, “Nothing like that. That part didn’t even really bother me. He was my best friend, my only friend for a long time. I thought there was something between us, that he cared about me. Maybe not the same way I cared about him, but you know, I thought we were close. I must have built it all up in my head because one day, he just takes off.” You swallow the sharp pain pressing into your chest, “He never even said goodbye.”

“Nooo,” Argyle’s eyes widen.

“It broke me,” you admit.

“Harsh,” he agrees, “And he never called you? Or gave you an explanation?”

“Not until yesterday. He asked me to lunch. You know, he actually had the nerve to say that Steve has me on a tight leash.”

“Typical.” He shakes his head, swallowing the last of his drink.

“What do you mean?” You ask, swirling the last of your ice into your watered-down drink.

His face turns serious as he explains, “It’s like surfing. We all want that wave that’s just out of reach. Especially if someone else is riding it.”

“How did you get so wise?” You ask.

“I don’t know. Must be all the weed,” he says with a hand on your shoulder, turning you toward the bar. “Let’s go get another drink.”

“You never told Steve any of this?” He asks as you join the crowd of people that constitutes the line.

“No,” you sigh.

“No?” He repeats in surprise, “This is bad news, man. Why wouldn’t you tell him? What are you going to do, just going to keep it a secret forever?”

“I guess. It doesn’t really have anything to do with him.”

“This is going to get messy.” He shakes his head as you move up in line.

“Well, I’m not real happy with him either right now. He went behind my back to Hopper, deciding that I’m going to cover Eddie’s recording studio's opening. He completely humiliated me in front of my boss. I look totally unprofessional.”

“Well, that's not cool,” Argyle sympathizes as he takes the plastic cup from your hand and tosses it into a trashcan tucked beside the bar.

“No, it was very not cool,” you agree, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Wait," he looks at you with sudden revelation, “Technically, isn't Steve your boss?"

“That’s not the point–”

“And isn’t your job to write about major happenings in the city, like when fancy L.A. sound guys open up studios?”

“You're not helping, Argyle.”

His hand lands on your head, offering a comforting pat like you're a child before the line begins moving again. "Cheer up, Bernstein," he quips with a grin, "I'll buy the next round."

Your anger hasn’t abated when you walk through the front door of the brownstone. Steve is already in bed, shirtless with the taupe velvet coverlet pulled up to his waist, glasses perched on his nose, not looking up from his laptop as you enter the room.

“Hey, Ace, how was your day? Did you write me–”

“Anything you want to tell me about, Steve?” You ask, your voice already coming out more heated than you intended.

He looks up at you, brows pulling together. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, dropping your bag onto the blue slipper chair in the corner of the room, “Maybe about how you went behind my back?”

"What?” He questions, slamming his laptop shut.

“The story, Steve,” you huff, leaving the room through your closet. You’ve just put your shoes away when he appears in the doorway, padding across the carpet in his bare feet, wearing just his boxers.

“Munson’s opening, that’s what you’re mad about?” He demands.

“You totally blindsided me,” you complain, pulling a hanger off the rod and hanging up your blazer with enough force to have the other clothes swinging. “Why didn’t you say anything this morning?”

“Because I hadn’t thought of it this morning.” His hands run through his hair, tugging in frustration.

“So what, it just came to you in a flash of brilliance?” Popping the button on your jeans, you tug them down your hips, kicking them into the corner instead of putting them in the basket.

“No, it didn’t, and I hate it when you’re sarcastic. Robin wanted to stop by and see his studio. We had lunch nearby,” he informs you, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the gold chain he wears glinting in the low light.

“So the two of you just decided what I was going to be writing? Maybe that’s something you should be discussing with me.” You lay a hand on your chest before pulling your shirt over your head and giving it the same treatment as your jeans. “You know, your fiancée, not some old buddy that sold you weed a few times back in Hawkins.”

“The content Stax puts out is directly under my approval, just like Metro and the Newsdesk and every other division.” His voice, which has been steady and even until now, begins to rise, “I’m not going to call you and ask for permission every time I make a decision. Eddie and I have kept in touch. How do you think we landed that interview with Radiohead last year when they wouldn’t even sit down with Rolling Stone?”

“That’s another thing you kept from me. I had no idea Eddie was your best friend.” Your eyes narrow as your fingers yank at the delicate clasps of your jewelry and watch.

Steve's eyes roll in frustration as he shakes his head. "He's not my best friend. He’s a business contact. I know him through Robin. They were is band together, you know this."

"That feels like a lifetime ago, Steve," you remark, the clinking of your jewelry against the marble island adding a discordant scrape.

"Well, some people aren't embarrassed about where they came from," he accuses.

"I'm not embarrassed," you scoff and begin to pace as if you can outrun his words.

"Oh, please," he says, taking a seat on the bench, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge, his gaze tracking your restless movements. "You cut off anybody we still know living there. You won't even go to visit your parents. They always come here."

“You never listen to what I’m saying. This has nothing to do with Hawkins or my parents.” You halt your steps, your hand slices through the air, punctuating your statements. “It's about you making me look like a fool in front of Hopper. Like I’m trying to go around him to corporate to get assigned the big stories. Like I’m sleeping with the boss. I’m not ruining my reputation so you can give free advertising to your friends.”

“You're being crazy right now,” he yells, wincing with regret as soon as the words leave his mouth. He stands, moving closer, making an effort to control the tone of his voice, “I gave you this assignment because you know Eddie, and it will make for a better story, not because I’m fucking you. We’ve been together since the day you started at Stax. We’ve been engaged for two years. If anyone was going to think that, they already would’ve.”

Your head shakes, rejecting his rationale. He throws up his hands in frustration. “I can't have a conversation with you when you’re like this.” He starts to walk back toward the bedroom but stops abruptly, spinning on his heel and pointing his finger in your direction. “But I'll tell you one more thing—you are going to write this story.” He waves a hand toward the bathroom. “Now, go wash your face.”

Your teeth cut into your bottom lip as you walk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

A sliver of gold from the streetlights outside pierces the tiny gap in the curtains. You’ve been lying on your side staring so long that you can see its warm hue behind closed lids whenever you start to drift. You burrow your arm deeper beneath your pillows while your feet shuffle, searching for a cool spot on the sheets. Steve’s breathing hasn’t changed behind you. He’s having the same trouble falling asleep. He turns over, his weight rocking the mattress. He’s much closer now. You can feel the comforting warmth from his chest, filling the space between him and your back.

“Baby.” His breath caresses the spot just behind your ear before the wet press of his lips traces a path along your neck, latching on to the apex when it meets your shoulder. A gentle bite follows the swirl of his tongue as he moves even closer. The rough pads of his fingers glide over your shoulder and down your arm, coaxing the thin strap of your tank with them.

“Please,” he whispers between kisses, his fingers finding their way under the bottom edge of your tank top, the light scrape of his blunt nails against your ribs sending shivers across your skin. Your breathing is picking up, the fire from your argument morphing into a new kind of heat. His hips flex against your ass, his cock hard and ready. When you turn your head, his lips are there, a wet slide over your mouth until they pull back, floating just above you, lingering with a question. And when his hand cups your shoulder, urging your body to turn towards him-–you answer.

The sultry feminine voice drifts from the speakers in your bedroom, her smoky timber weaving through the air like dark tendrils intertwining with the high piano notes. Your hips rise with the flow, a slow, unchanging cadence, the stretch of his cock creating delicious friction against your velvet walls. You move higher until he almost leaves you before you start your descent, the angle finding all the hidden places that light you up beneath your skin.

"M' sorry," he murmurs.

Your eyes flutter open at his words as they carry you away from the depths.

"Hate telling you no." He gazes up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his hair pushed back from his face, and a flush across his skin.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Your hands cover the ones wrapped around your thighs, guiding them up your body. His warm, rough fingers are eager to map out every contour. Your head falls back when they find their destination, cupping your breasts with a possessive grip.

The song shifts, the new baseline a drawn-out pulse lining up with your movements. The lyrics are raw and a little filthy, fueling the urgency of your rolling hips, your clit grazing the short hairs at his base.

"Don't like telling you what to do," he mumbles even as his hands drop to your hips, attempting to hold you still as he bucks up from underneath. "Just wanna take care of you."

"Steve," his name passes your lips in a low moan as you lean forward, taking his hand from your hips and pressing them into the pillow, "Stop talking."

Sitting up, you shift your position, leaning back, bracing your hands behind yourself on his hairy thighs. You set a new pace, bouncing harder, driving him deeper, taking what you want.

“Jesus, fuck, baby,” he groans, eyes hitting the back of his head while his hands slide across the sheets seeking any purchase as you ride him. The music surges, its tempo rising in perfect sync with the wet intimate sounds of your bodies coming together, the rhythm repeating over and over.

"So close…please," his fingers slip between you, adding pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves that he finds there, "Need you to cum."

"No," you rasp out breathless, pushing his hand aside, your eyes locked on his as you bring your own fingers to your mouth. With a swirl of your tongue, you coat them with wetness before sliding them down to touch yourself, controlling your own pleasure.

The muscles in his neck strain with effort, his gaze darkening, fixated on you. “Goddam, so sexy like this,” he murmurs.

Your body tightens, taut like a bow-string, the tension building until the crescendo crashes over you. The music washes over your senses as you reach your peak, your legs trembling with the intensity. You push your body further over the edge, succumbing to the euphoria lost in the wave of sensations.

Floating back down, your eyes open to the sight of your ceiling, your body still arched, catching your breath. His fingers tighten on your ribs, reminding you he's there. Sticky wetness dripping between you is evidence that he reached his own climax. His hands gently urge your forward to collapse into his chest.

"Wow, that was…" He strokes the sweat-slicked skin of your back. "I’ve never seen you like that before. What got into you?"

"I think you did," you say, placing a kiss over his heart as your fingers smooth through the hair covering his chest. He chuckles, holding you closer.

The gentle croon of the music fills the quiet space between you as you lie entwined, drawing closer to sleep's embrace. With a fumbling hand, Steve reaches for the remote on his nightstand, silencing the stereo, returning the room to a restful hush. He places a final tender kiss on your temple, his eyes closing as his features turn peaceful. But for you, even in this stillness, another song lingers in your mind, its lyrics echoing like a secret.

AN: Thank you for reading and rebloging. Your comments are what keep me at my keyboard plugging away at this story. Please keep sending me your songs and asks! They have inspired so much of what's to come. xoxo- Jelly

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the-authoress-writes · 4 months

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Up Where We Belong Part Two

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Up Where We Belong Masterlist

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties), some to-be-expected cursing, depiction of the beginnings of a panic attack (it doesn’t become a full blown one).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: I intended this to be a two part story, but as always, it didn’t turn out that way (my brain is like a mushroom farm at this point), and the third part of this (fingers crossed), is going to be the final part.

I’m choosing to look on the bright side and I’m telling myself I’m more than halfway done with this.

*sighs in frustrated writer*

This part is a little more MavDad than shippy, but it’s where this wanted to go, so…

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs)

I can’t stop, apparently.

So here we go!

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell had been expecting a normal day when he met her.

Or, well, as normal as a day could get for him.

It was a bright and sunny weekend at the Apple Valley Airshow, where Mav had just flown an aerobatic sequence for the gathered crowds in Bianca, his beloved P-51, and Bradley had not taken much convincing to come out for a day with his dad and the chance to see planes, despite the fact that he was already around them Monday to Friday.

Most aviators were plane nerds after all, and airshows like these were heaven for aviators like him and Bradley.

“You okay back there, Baby Goose?” Mav asked through the comms, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the engine of the P-51.

“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine,” Bradley breathlessly replied from the backseat, his exhale turning into a weak chuckle. “You’re crazy, you know that, right, Dad?”

“Your father and uncles might have mentioned that a few times,” Mav grinned.

He gracefully looped the venerable Mustang around and brought her smoothly onto the runway, mindful of the P-51’s unstrengthened landing gear, gently flaring the aircraft so she caressed the tarmac, unlike the unflared, hard landing he instinctively would have done in any Navy aircraft.

After an uneventful taxi back to the flight line, he pushed the canopy back and climbed out of the cockpit, Bradley a second behind him.

“At least we didn’t have anyone shooting at us this time around,” Mav half-joked, patting his boy on the back, once he’d also jumped down from the wing.

“Thank Heaven for small mercies,” the younger man muttered.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that, Brads.”

Bradley chewed the inside of his cheek, before amusement shone in his eyes, and he cracked a smile. “Okay, yeah, it was pretty cool.”

“She’s still got moves, huh?”

His son looked affectionately at the P-51. “Yeah, she does.

But it’s not the plane, it’s the pilot, isn’t it?”

“I’m willing to share when it’s this girl,” Mav grinned, patting her sun-warm silver fuselage.

After the two of them had stacked their parachutes and harnesses between the landing gear, Mav was busy putting the chocks on the wheels, when he heard a smooth female voice say, “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” Bradley replied.

“Is this the P-51 which flew a few minutes ago?

She is a P-51, right?”

“That’d be a yes to both questions, ma’am.”

A low, rich chuckle. “Are you the owner?”

Bradley scoffed amusedly. “Nah, that’ll be my dad.

Hey Dad, someone wants to talk to you!”

Mav ducked out from beneath the undercarriage and under a propeller, coming face to face with a very unexpected, but not unwelcome sight.

The first thing he noticed about the woman standing before him was her air of extreme competence, which immediately had him wanting to know more about her.

(He was decidedly ignoring the memory of Halo saying he had a competency kink after he’d told some stories from when he was in relationships at a Dagger Squad get together [non-explicit; the Daggers, especially Bradley, didn’t need to hear… intimate details of his life, after all].)

A quick appraisal had him estimating her to be older than Bradley, but younger than him.

She was beautiful, with lips glossed just right, shining, lush hair that he could already imagine running his hand through, a smile he could look at forever, and a figure that ticked all his proverbial boxes, visible even with her long, loose brown cardigan and cream button-down shirt over black jeans.

But what hit him like Mach 10 (and he would know) was the spark in her eyes, keen and intelligent, and they held a warmth and passion that called to him.

“Hi,” he began, extending his hand, ignoring the fact that he was stunned by this woman so he could attempt to be his usual self.

He’d been delighted to show her around Bianca, and he even went so far as to let her sit in the old girl.

Mav had not been expecting what she said about the book she was writing—her granduncle’s story hit home on practically every level possible.

He was absolutely honest with her when he said he wanted to help, but… he’d absolutely be lying if he said he didn’t give it with the hope that she’d call him in the first place.

It’d been years since he’d felt like this about someone, and he tried to stifle a smile as he recalled how they’d collided on Bianca’s wing, his quick reflexes preventing them from falling off the wing with a snapped-out right hand on the cockpit edge, his left instinctually protectively pressing her against him.

He’d never forget the way his heart raced as he realized their proximity, his battle-honed wits prompting him to swiftly move his hand before she could register his touch, though he kept his arm close enough to catch her if she began to slip off the trailing edge.

“What’s with that look, Dad?”

Bradley’s voice brought Mav back to the present, where he sat on his favorite chair in his hangar, Bianca’s flight log book in his right hand, pen in his left. “What look?”

Bradley shut the locker for the safety gear, the last thing on the P-51’s post-flight checklist, and strode over to the couch opposite. “You look sappy.”

“I’m just happy I had a great day flying in my girl, and with my Baby Goose, no less.” It was not a lie at all, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Any other person would have probably bought that excuse, but Bradley was one of the very few people he’d ever met in his life who could read him like a book in every situation, a skill unfortunately inherited from his father. “Uh-huh, sure, I think you’re just thinking about __,” his son incisively replied.

Mav absently bit his lip, “…That obvious, kid?”

“…It’s about as obvious as an F-14 in cloudless sky at 2,000 feet.”

“So, pretty damn obvious,” he squinted speculatively.

“Yeah.

You guys were like something out of a romcom, honestly.

Was that thing on the wing on purpose?” Bradley grinned.

“No, it wasn’t,” he smiled.

“Because you know, if you were any shorter, you might’ve ended up kissing her.”

Mav felt himself turn a little red, but was still amused despite himself. “Shut up.”

Heedless, Bradley continued, “You would have liked that, I’m sure.”

“You’re just as bad as your father,” he sighed.

His gosling’s grin turned sentimental. “Learned it from both of them.”

Bradley had openly called him “Dad” for years before, and again after their reconciliation, but statements like that never failed to warm his heart.

Helpless, Mav stood, and, going over to his son, stooped slightly to place a hand on his shoulder and a kiss at his temple. “Love you, Baby Goose.”

Before he could pull away, Bradley wrapped both arms tightly around him. “Love you too, Dad.

Mav was more than content to let the moment sit, the two of them still making up for almost twenty years of no hugs from the other.

Bradley eventually broke the silence with, “I’ll go heat up that pizza we got from the grocery last night, Dad, how about that?”

He frowned, pulling back, “I can do that, B,—”

“I’ll do it, Dad, you just sit and relax,” Bradley said, already walking towards the Airstream, and just as he was about to step inside the silver trailer, the kid fired off, “Think about your writer!”

Mav spluttered, looking incredulously at the Airstream’s door.

Bradley was really too much like Goose and him, he chuckled silently to himself.

The weekend’s end saw the two of them return to the duplex he and Bradley had bought together last year, sitting about fifteen minutes drive in the Bronco (about half that on the Ninja, at full Mav power) away from TOPGUN, where they were both posted as instructors; Mav himself permanently, Bradley, for a three-year period before his next deployment cycle.

Monday dawned, and he found himself glancing at the screen of his phone every time it dinged, so much so, that said son repeatedly glanced between him and the cellphone laid out on the Officer’s Mess Hall table over lunch.

“What?” Mav asked, confused at the younger man’s consterned expression.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my Dad?

You have not looked away from your phone since we sat down, Mav.

You used to have no idea what TikTok was, and now you look like Hangman after he posts a new photo on Insta, and I would know—God, he was insufferable that time in Sigonella.”

“…I’m guessing Insta is Instagraph?”

Bradley made a noise quite like his callsign. “l—you don’t even—Instagram, Mav, Instagram.

It’s like you’re expecting a call or so—” brown eyes excitedly widened as dots were abruptly connected, “—ohh shit; you gave her your number, didn’t you, your writer?”

Mav rolled his eyes, “She’s not my writer, Brads, but I… I did give her my number just in case she needed more help with—research.”

“Oh, research, sure, Mav; I bet you’d love to help her with her research,” the younger man chortled.

“You sound like your Uncle Slider.”

“Uh-huh—” Bradley brushed off, “we’re getting off topic here, did she say she’d call you or something?”

“No, she didn’t.

I told her to call if she needed me.” He wondered if, instead of being subtle, he should have just out and asked her to call him—or even just asked her out directly; the Maverick of over thirty years ago would have.

His son’s eyes comically widened. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you did not say it like that—that is as bad as you serenading that ex of yours with, of all the songs, “Abracadabra” by The Steve Miller Band.”

“Hey, that’s a good song!” Mav protested.

“It’s also creepy as hell—‘I wanna reach out and grab ya’?

Tell me you hear that?!”

Well, when the lyrics were said like that… “In hindsight, I hear it, no, I did not say it like that, and now who’s getting off topic, Roo?”

“Fine—so you were playing subtle, huh?” Bradley wrinkled his nose, tilting his head from side to side. “Well, we’ll just have to see if the subtle play works, because the Maverick charm was on max power, so you likely made an impression—”

“Thanks, kid?”

“—so I’d say… there’s a sixty-five percent chance she’ll call you,” was the determination.

Mav paused and raised an eyebrow. “Only sixty-five?”

“I’m taking into account the variable that she might not go for… people like you, you know.”

“…No.”

Mav could see both himself and Nick in Bradley’s shit-eating grin. “Old men.”

“An old man, huh?

Well, this is an old man who can still kick the asses of people less than half his age, and you too, Brads, six ways to Sunday, in the air or on the mats.”

A fork promptly got brandished daringly. “I almost had you when we did that demo on the death spiral two weeks ago, Dad, and if you hadn’t slipped my headlock on Wednesday, I’d have gotten you to tap out.”

Mav reached over and affectionately ruffled his son’s brown curls. “Almost only works with grenades, Baby Goose; now eat your shitty mashed potatoes.”

The week ticked by, and after every hop, he tried not to make it too obvious to Bradley, whose locker was right next to his in the Instructor’s Locker Room, that his phone was the first thing he checked.

By Wednesday evening, he was starting to lose what hope he had, and he ignored his son’s sad look as he surreptitiously looked at his phone.

On Thursday evening, Bradley slung an arm around his shoulder as they walked together to the parking lot. “I know I give you shit about being old, Dad, but you’ve still got more than enough charm and looks for women to be attracted to you.

I mean, you should have heard the stuff Phoe and Halo were saying about you during the detachment training—ugh, especially after Dogfight Football.

The thirst was real.”

At his confused look, Bradley continued, “Long story short, they said you were—bleh—hot.

I’m not repeating exactly what they said, even though I can, it’s all seared into my memory, unfortunately,” he finished, shuddering.

Mav laughed, “I’m sorry for the trauma, but, what, uh, brought this train of thought on, Baby Goose?”

He was pressed closer into a Hawaiian shirt-clad side. “I know you’re sad about not getting called by your writer.”

Knowing it was useless to deny it, he shook his head, “I won’t lie and say it doesn’t sting, because I really thought we had a connection, but it’s probably for the best, because I’m… well, you know.”

“No, I don’t,” his son adamantly stated. “Because you’re… kind and loving, with a heart about a billion sizes too big for his body, who gives so much of himself in literally everything—except maybe following orders; any woman would be happy with you.”

Mav reached and gave the vague vicinity of a shoulder a loving pat. “You give me too much credit.”

“No, Dad, you would make someone very happy—I want to see you happy,” Bradley squeezed a Nomex jacketed arm.

“I am happy, kiddo;” he cheerfully stated, “I can fly, I have the rest of the Flyboys, the Daggers, Bianca, and most importantly, I have you, my not-so little boy, who’s become a better man than I could have hoped.”

Bradley halted in his tracks, and tugged him into a hug with a laugh that could have been a sob. “Fuck, Dad, how do you just say shit like that?”

“Like what, that I’m so proud of you?” Mav beamed.

His son’s heatless “Shut up, will you, old man?” sounded suspiciously wobbly, but Mav chose not to remark on it, and hugged back before they continued walking after a moment.

“But back to my point,” the younger man pointed, “unless there’s something you’re not telling me about your relationship with Bianca, she doesn’t count as a woman in your life.

I know you have me, the Daggers, and the Flyboys, but it’s different from being in love and getting that love back.” Bradley suddenly snapped his fingers, “I know, I should start you a dating app profile!”

“Oh no, I’ve heard horror stories about dating apps, and I’m not desperate, Baby Goose.”

Bradley threw both hands up, “It’s not about desperation, Hangman has—okay, that’s not a good example—but you know, you need to put yourself out there more.

Meet someone.

Come on, Dad, please?”

The kid looked so hopeful, he couldn’t outright say no. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!

It’s not a no, I’ll take it.

I’ll look through the photos at the hangar tomorrow night—we gotta pick the right one—that can make or break things!

Maybe one of you in the dress whites or blues—or hey, ladies love the flight suit, and it’ll be even better if you’re in front of your F-18…”

At Bradley’s musing, Mav had a smile on his face all the way to his Kawasaki, and the whole way home, trailing in the Bronco’s wake.

After work early Friday evening, both men began the preparations for their weekly getaway to the hangar, packing their respective bags with whatever they deemed necessary for a two-day stay in the Mojave.

Mav was busying himself with checking his duffel before he hopped in the shower, when he heard clattering from his kitchen, and immediately, a dismayed “Damn it!” rang through the house.

“You okay, kiddo?” he called out.

“Yeah, I just—we’re out of Doritos!”

As amusing as it sounded, that did constitute a little bit of an emergency—the triangular chips were Bradley’s go-to snack, ever since he was a child, and he’d be bemoaning the lack of them the whole two days at the hangar if they really were out. “Did you check your kitchen?”

“I looked there first—we can’t leave without Doritos, Dad!”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “You still have time to go grab some if you want, I still have to take a shower, Brads,” he offered.

“Good idea, I’ll just go to the store and grab some, be right back!”

“Okay, drive safe!”

“Always!”

Mav waited to hear his front door shut before turning for his bathroom and starting the shower, tossing his shirt in the hamper on the way.

A few minutes later, he’d just begun to rinse off when he heard a faint noise from downstairs; his phone was ringing, he realized.

He initially paid it no mind—he’d been getting scam calls the last few days, which always ended up disappointing him—but then… it kept ringing.

And ringing.

Hope suddenly bloomed in his chest, and he hurried to get out of the shower.

He nearly faceplanted on his own bathroom floor in his haste, stumbling when his lunge for his towel missed, but he was able to keep himself upright and the second attempt had the fabric in his hand, then around his waist.

Mav dashed out the bathroom and down the stairs, tapping the green “accept call” button.

“Pete Mitchell,” he spoke into his phone, trying not to sound like he’d just run a marathon while his chest heaved.

A slight pause later, a hesitant “Hi,” came over the phone, and his heart leapt. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at the Apple Valley Airshow—”

She had to be joking if she thought she was that easily forgettable. “__, right?

The writer,” he replied, pushing the dripping strands of his hair out of his face.

“Yeah, that’s me, you said I could call if I had any questions.”

“Uh-huh.

I’m guessing you have one,” he smiled.

The following invite to the hangar was twofold; he’d be able to help her without the hassle of dealing with emails or something like that, and he’d be able to gauge if she was actually interested in him.

He remembered the way she’d slightly frozen, when he stepped out from under Bianca, how she’d glanced at his hand when he’d extended it for a handshake.

But he’d been wrong about a great many things before, and he didn’t want to immediately assume she was interested, because everyone knew what the first three letters of assume were, and for all he knew, she really just needed help.

Regardless, he smiled while they bantered as easily as breathing; it was invigorating, and… maybe a little bit of a turn-on, if he was honest.

(Maybe Halo was right.)

Shortly after they said goodbye, Mav sent the address of the hangar with a “How does 3:30 sound to you?” to her number, and three beats after it registered delivered, a “That’s perfect—see you tomorrow 😊” message came in, which had him sigh like a teenager as he leaned against the counter for a moment, before he pushed off to get dressed.

By the time Bradley came back with four grocery bags full of Doritos, from two different groceries, Mav was already dressed in his usual t-shirt and jeans, ready to go. “You got enough Doritos there, Baby Goose?” he gawked at the sheer amount of chips.

“I’m restocking us, Dad, it’s not all for the weekend,” the younger man replied, emptying one grocery bag and a half into Mav’s snack cabinet. “I just need to put another bag and this half at mine, and the rest I’m taking.”

He bit down on his laughter and watched as his son dashed next door to stock his own snack cabinet, before returning in time to catch him staring at the “That’s perfect—see you tomorrow 😊” message on his phone.

“You’re looking sappy again,” Bradley squinted suspiciously at him. “It’s almost like you got a call from your writer.”

Mav tried to keep his face neutral, but as always, it was pointless with his gosling.

The kid’s eyes widened, “Holy shit, she did call you, didn’t she?!

Fuck, you still got it, Dad.”

He waved off, “There’s no guarantee she actually is interested in me like that, and she called me because she needs my help.”

“Oh, your help, of course,” Bradley grinned. “Well?

What’s the profile?”

Mav rolled his eyes. “She wrote a dogfight scene she can’t cut, and she wants to make sure the tactics are sound.

So I invited her to the hangar tomorrow so we don’t have to do any emails and stuff.”

The younger man whistled, impressed. “That was smooth as hell, Dad.

You have an idea of when she’s coming over?”

“1530ish.”

Bradley planted his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Well, that’s a good amount of time, but we’ll still have some work to do.”

“Work—what are you planning, Baby Goose?”

“We have to make the hangar a little neater than usual—make you seem like a responsible adult,” his son replied, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Mav burst into laughter while picking up his duffel. “If your father, your uncles, and nearly forty years in the Navy couldn’t do that, what makes you think spiffing up the hangar could?”

“Worth a shot, you never know—she might be fooled,” Bradley muttered, locking Mav’s front door behind them both.

“I heard that!”

When the afternoon set over the hangar the next day, now the neatest it’d been in a long time (admittedly, it wasn’t that bad, Mav just had a particular system, which didn’t much look like one in the first place), Bradley clapped his hands, “Now, I’m going to head into town, Dad.”

“What for?”

“Dad, your writer is coming in about ten minutes, and the last thing you need is me cramping your style, so I’m going to head into town, I’ll be back at around… let’s call it 2345–please don’t be naked when I come back—”

“Bradley!” Mav exclaimed, a little bit scandalized, though they were both hardly virginal.

“—and, and, prior notice of if I shouldn’t come back would be greatly appreciated.”

“Bradley!”

“What?

I’m just covering the bases.”

“There’s no bases to cover here, I’m just going to review her scene,” he replied.

“Annnd?” the younger man deadpanned.

“And then… we’ll see what happens.

But all I know is I’m not about to—whatever you’re thinking is going to happen.” Mav sighed, picking up a screwdriver that had fallen off the maintenance cart next to Bianca, and placed it back in the toolbox. “And I don’t… this probably isn’t going to go anywhere, because—I’m pushing sixty, kiddo, and really… I don’t think I have casual—anything—left in me anymore.”

Bradley slowly nodded, a proud look on his face. “Good for you, Dad.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, nodding, mustache quirking up. “I’m happy you know what you want.

But you gotta be more optimistic than this, because who knows, this could lead to your more-than casual something.” Bradley slapped him on the arm, “Come on, where’s the ‘I’m going anyway’ Maverick Mitchell who proved he could fly a suicide mission on a crazy profile, with fifteen seconds to spare?”

Mav scoffed self-deprecatingly, “Doing crazy pilot shit; that makes sense to me, Baby Goose, but… relationships—I’ve always FUBAR-ed them.

Oh God, I don’t actually know what I was thinking, giving her my number—this was a mistake,” he muttered, thoughts beginning to spiral as his breathing picked up.

Bradley grabbed both his arms, squeezing them to ground him. “Hey—hey, Dad, look at me—look at me.

Take a breath.

You did not make a mistake, you made a connection with someone, you offered to help them, and she took you up on the offer.

At the least, you help someone in need, and you come out the other side with a friend; if everything goes well, maybe you get more than friendship.

But like you said, you’re just checking the scene she’s having trouble with, like she asked.

Don’t put pressure on yourself—just see what happens.

You got this, Dad.”

“I got this,” Mav murmured, partly confirming his son’s statement, partly reassuring himself, and partly asking if he did, indeed “got” it.

“You got this; come here.” Bradley pulled him into a tight hug, one to which Mav clung, while he got ahold of himself.

When he pulled back from his son’s embrace and repeated “I got this,” a minute or so later, it was still slightly shaky, but held some of the classic Maverick confidence.

“That’s the spirit.” The younger man checked his watch, wincing. “I don’t want to cramp your style, and I’m cutting it close, but I don’t want to leave you if you’re going to spiral again.

You good, Dad?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” Bradley frowned.

“Yeah, I’ll just check on Bianca a little while I’m waiting.”

His son exhaled heavily. “You do that, alright?

Don’t get in your head—don’t think, just do, remember?”

“I remember,” Mav smirked.

“Okay.

I’m gonna go now.” Bradley cautiously backed out of the hangar, as if ready to pull him into another hug if he showed the slightest tell of another mental spiral. “Call me if I shouldn’t come back, and remember, 2345!

Please don’t be naked!!”

“Go!!” Mav chuckled, feeling mostly like himself again, if not slightly nervous.

“Love you!”

“Love you more, kiddo!”

Soon, the sound of the Bronco’s engine rumbled through the dry air before it faded, leaving the air still and silent except for the distant sounds of the Mojave.

Before his and Bradley’s reconciliation, he was used to the stillness and silence, a consequence of choosing to make the hangar his home a few years ago, upon his assignment as a test pilot at NAWS China Lake, despite the long commute; he’d never liked base housing, and avoided it like the plague.

He’d even found the stillness and quiet comforting in a sadistic way, thought it was maybe something he deserved in cynical moments.

But now, the hangar which Hondo had once referred to as his “Fortress of Solitude”, was a place of life, love, and joy, the old silence and stillness now the strange one.

Before he could think too much about his relationship with silence, he went to Bianca and started some busywork with her engine, allowing his mind to get lost—and more importantly, his body to relax—in the process.

He’d gotten so absorbed in his beloved plane’s maintenance that he almost missed the sound of an unfamiliar car pulling up to the hangar.

Immediately, his heart started racing again, but he’d accepted that for better or worse, this whole thing was going to play out as it would; if that involved him fucking something up, he just prayed he could fix it.

Moment of truth; the car door opened.

“Ghostrider, up and ready,” he muttered to himself.

“Hello?” she uncertainly called.

“In here,” he replied.

Mav swallowed thickly upon seeing her; he liked to think he had a decent memory, but his memory did no justice to her.

The desert afternoon light streaming in through the open hangar door haloed her in an otherworldly way, only making her even more beautiful to him, the breeze blowing her hair around and billowing her loose blouse.

His eyes were drawn to the little smile at the corner of her lips, and it was only because he’d been looking there, that he realized she was speaking.

“Hey, glad you could make it,” he brightly said, hoping that that wasn’t too out of left field from what she’d said, because he’d completely missed it.

Her smile widened, “Not going to miss it—for all I know, this is a one time opportunity.”

The replies that immediately came to mind sounded creepy, stupid, or worse, so he settled for, “Who said it was?”

She chuckled, lighting up her already sparkling gaze, biting her lip briefly before looking around the hangar, her eyes soon landing on Bianca. “Great place you’ve got here; must’ve been hard to get, though, with it being Navy land.”

“Not that hard when you’re got friends in high places.” Mav recalled the moment Ice and the Flyboys gave him the title to the hangar for his fortieth birthday, which they were celebrating along with his promotion to Commander.

She tilted her head slightly, and he realized that she probably heard the somber tone in his voice—remembering Ice was still hard, but it was getting better.

“Anyway, uh,” he clapped his hands, pushing forward, “you had a scene that needs checking?”

She blinked as if clearing her head, and raised the leather messenger bag on her shoulder. “I have my laptop right here.”

Mav gestured to his couch, and as they moved towards it, he prayed that he wouldn’t somehow make a fool of himself today.

To be continued…

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Because the P-51 was an Air Force aircraft, her landing gear was not designed for hard, unflared Navy-style landings, which are flown in that manner for carrier operations.

However, even if naval aviators land on a full-length runway, carrier habits die hard, and if you watch planespotting streams, such as my favorite, L.A FLIGHTS, you can make reasonable guesses as to who was former Navy, as the landings will tend to have a shallower flare at landing.

Chocks

The Apple Valley Airshow takes place every year in the town of Apple Valley, located in San Bernardino, California.

(I considered setting this story at the annual Miramar Airshow, which takes place at MCAS (formerly NAS) Miramar, but I imagine that Mav would probably want to avoid going to MCAS Miramar for obvious reasons.)

The trailing edge of a wing is its back edge, the edge closer to the tail—its opposite is the leading edge, the edge closer to the nose.

The chair I write as Mav’s favorite chair is the one he sits down in in the opening scene of TG:M.

As Mav is a Maverick in most aspects of his life, I thought it was perfect for Mav to be left-handed—and as Tom himself is left-handed, it couldn’t get more perfect.

The F-14 is notable as being quite large as fighter jets go, and she is practically impossible to miss in the sky, once within visual range; and she is sometimes called the Flying Tennis Court, a nickname she shares with the McDonnell Douglas/Boeing F-15 Eagle.

Bradley and Mav living in what is essentially the same house, having bought a duplex together, is something I can see them doing after they reconcile, because to me, these two are basically orange cats with separation anxiety, and I feel like they would be the epitome of healthy codependency, if that’s possible.

Mav power is a play on words/reference to the engine throttle conditions of fighter jets; Max power is the maximum engine power with afterburner (wet power), and MIL (which stands for Military) power is the maximum engine power without afterburner (dry power)

Do not quote me on this, but as I understand it, in the Navy, you don’t deploy all the time.

There are years you are given a land-based assignment, like Bradley being assigned to TOPGUN, before you are put back on ship deployments for a similar amount of years.

TL;DR: Deployment cycles in the Navy have you rotating between ship-based assignments and land-based assignments every few years.

NAS Sigonella

“Abracadabra” by The Steve Miller Band

I chose this song because of this piece of art by @woodsywarbler, and “Abracadabra” is my favorite song by The Steve Miller Band, despite the really creepy lyrics.

A death spiral is this little bit of crazy pilot shit, as shown in TG:M. (Timestamp 7:34)

Nomex is the flame-resistant material which flight suits are made of, and it’s also what Mav’s green jacket is made of.

Doritos came out in 1964, plenty of time for Bradley, ‘80s baby that he is, to develop a yen for them.

(Flight) Profile: a graphical timeline of the operational characteristics, configurations, and speeds of an aircraft along a flight path in a specific phase of flight or maneuver.

FUBAR: Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition (or Repair, people argue which word the last letter is)

Fortress of Solitude

Ghostrider was Mav and Merlin’s operational callsign during the Layton Mission, and again, do not quote me on this, but you get to keep the operational callsigns you received during notable missions, a detail alluded to in the TG:M screenplay, so Mav uses it here to psych himself up.

Taglist

@ohtobemare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

#not me 👀 at men literally old enough to be my father #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fic #top gun maverick fic #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #tom cruise

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