#writers block blurbs

[wyattjohnston]

things you said at the kitchen table for daisy and jack!!

jack & daisy <3

Jack’s question was so unexpected that Daisy choked on the toast she was just starting to eat—Jack grimaced.

“Repeat that,” she said once she could breathe again.

He tucked his chin into his chest and mumbled, “It was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, I just wasn’t expecting it.” She inhaled, a steadying breath, even if she was trying not to make it too obvious. “You want to talk about kids?”

“We should talk about it, right? We don’t have to now,” he said, a foreign sense of panic lacing his words.

“Do you still want kids?”

“Is that a trick question? Or a trap?”

“No,” Daisy said, the rolling of her eyes involuntary. “I want you to be honest and I don’t want you to tell me what you think I want to hear. And I don’t want you to be scared to tell me.”

Jack looked caught out, seemingly surprised that Daisy had clocked his fear so quickly. He still hadn’t pulled his chin from his chest.

“I want to have kids,” he told her, quiet and uncertain, “but I don’t want it to fuck you up. You—I really hope I don’t have to tell you that you’re the most important thing in my life.”

“I…” Daisy sighed again. “I’m going to talk to my psychiatrist about it because I do want kids. I just… I need to make sure it doesn’t fuck me up.”

Jack stood slowly but was beside Daisy in a flash, wrapping her up in his arms.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

unexpected consequences

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, p in v sex, condoms breaking, pregnancy/breeding talk, unprotected p in v sex, established relationship, mention of marriage

“oh fuck, yeah.” you moan out, fingers gripping rafes shoulders. “right-right there.”

your moans are extra loud today, having been apart from rafe for nearly a week after he had business out of the country. rafe is just as pent up as you, thrusting harshly into your cunt to the chorus of his grunts.

“close.” rafe warns, but you could tell anyways by the swelling of his cock that he wouldn’t last long.

“oh my god, yes.” you moan out, back arching off the bed as your release pushes through your body, cumming with a final shout of your boyfriends name.

rafe drops his head into your neck as he cums inside of you, pushing as deeply as he can as your cunt pulses around him. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press soft kisses to his head while rafe pants through his orgasm, until you shift slightly and feel it inside of you.

“rafe, pull out.” you shove at his shoulder, causing him to look up in concern, but he slips his softening cock out.

“what is it baby?” rafe asks. you look down at the condom he always wears, where theres always a bit of white cum gathered at the tip, but this time it looks practically empty, like he just rolled it on.

“rafe.” you hit his shoulder, causing him to flinch and look down.

“wha-” rafe suddenly realizes the issue, rolling himself off the bed as he walks into the bathroom, no doubt to inspect the condom and tell you what you already know is true.

“it broke.” rafe says when he comes out a moment later.

“i know.” you admit, shifting your hips from side to side again. “i can tell.”

“im so sorry baby.” rafe says with a sigh, laying on the bed next to you but not pulling you into his arms, not sure if you want to be touched.

“its okay.” you hum softly, mind still reeling. “you didn’t know.”

“what are we gonna do?” rafe asks, knowing you’re not on birth control due to affecting other medication you’re on.

“well, i can take a plan b in the morning…” you say quietly. 

“or.” rafe encourages you to continue, able to tell that you aren’t finished.

“or we could wait and see. i mean i probably won’t get pregnant just from one time, right?” you shrug.

“what about if it does take? and you’re pregnant?” rafe asks, looking at your tummy.

as if you’re thinking the same thing, you lay your hand over your stomach, knowing that even if you are pregnant there is nothing in there yet, but the thought alone has you rubbing gently over your skin. “i don’t know.” you admit.

“i want to keep it.” rafe blurts out. “if-if you are pregnant.” rafe can’t take not touching you any longer, pulling you close to him and tangling your limbs together.

“are you sure?” you raise your eyebrows. you think rafe would be an amazing father, knowing how protective he is of you, and how he strives every day to take even better care of you. “we are so young.”

“i love you. i want to be with you, i want a family with you. why not start now?” rafe questions. he won’t admit it to you yet, but he’s been thinking about taking the next step, having even gone ring shopping to see his options. “besides-” rafe smiles, “why are you trying to talk me out of it? you’ve always wanted kids.”

you grin back at him. “i know.” you let a giggle free, feeling giddy about the possibility. you’ve always wanted to become a mom, especially because you have so many younger siblings. “so, are we doing this?”

“yes.” rafe says definitively, pulling you in for a kiss, a comforting one that you truly need.

“oh my god, im so excited.” you break the kiss to mumble against his lips.

rafe nods in agreement, lowering a hand between your bodies to touch your stomach. “probably too early to start talking to your tummy, huh?” 

“definitely. i mean, we don’t even know if i’m pregnant, it may take a couple tries…” you trail off, hoping rafe gets your intention.

“well, i will just have to keep cumming inside you.” rafe shrugs. “in fact, we shouldn’t take any chances and i should fill you up again right now.”

rafes hand lowers from your stomach to your thigh as he grabs your flesh and pulls your leg over his hip, spreading your thighs for him as your cunt rubs up against his quickly hardening cock.

“rafe!” you shout with a laugh, but don’t stop him as he begins to grind his cock into your core.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

[sushistyless]

Kisses in kiwi flavour.

just some early morning love between Y/N and H.

1.2k (blurb). My masterlist!

——————

“Mhm,” Harry grumbles sleepily as he wraps his tatted arms around Y/N’s waist, encasing her with his strong chest. His arrival in their tiny kitchen (but cozy— they’d add) catches her by surprise, a breathy laugh leaving her lips. She melts into his touch, liking the pattern his fingers make as they skate on the bare skin that’s revealed from the way he rucks her (well, previously his) shirt.

“What’s m���precious doing up so early?” He bends down some, the raspy notes of his voice resonating against her neck, and the feel of his lips curving against the canvas of her skin as he speaks slowly.

Y/N breathes in deeply, a smile blooming on her face from his words alone. She flips a pancake, noticing how the golden brown colour on it has spread evenly, and plops it over onto the ceramic plate kept on the side. She nestles further into him as she does so, and Harry’s hold on her tightens, his face now buried in the crook of her neck as he inhales her scent— rosemary and… cinnamon? — revelling in the knowledge that he now has her full attention.

“She’s making pancakes for you. She’s amazing actually.”

Harry grins hazily at her response, kissing her neck and skating his palms gently along her soft waist before giving her love handles a little squeeze. “Don’t doubt that. My dodo is amazing.”

Y/N bites her lip in efforts to stifle her own fluttering laugh, cushioning her head back on his bicep, and leaning back into him. She twists her head to look up at him, fondly gazing over his features while he continues to talk in the drawly velvety voice of his, “But as wonderful as tha’ is, she left me without m’cuddles this morning.” He pouts, giving her puppy dog eyes that are way too easy to fall for, Y/N thinks. “And I need m’girl to give me my daily dose of cuddles t’function.”

He was such a dodo too.

“Oh no,” Y/N gasps dramatically, “How will you live now? I’m getting worked up just thinking about it—” She pretends to faint on his arm, animatedly throwing a hand over her heart and closing her eyes.

“Hey,” Harry warns, the muscles in his cheek resisting the usual urge to twitch into a grin, “She should know that I have her in my arms— in m’clutches— right this second.”

Y/N blows a raspberry, not giving much regard to the threat, instead fanning her hands in front of her face, “Yeah, yeah, right. Like tha—" Her sentence is cut short however, when Harry’s hands move to tickle her sides. A bubble of chirpy laughter immediately bubble out of her system, as she curls into herself as a built in mechanism.

“H-Harry!” She squirms in his embrace, laughs pouring out her lungs, grappling to hold onto his wrists which is almost impossible considering his tactful tickle skills. And even when she does manage to get a hold of him, he’s way too strong for her to move especially when she’s already in an annoyingly compromised situation. “

“Yeah?” He beams, deep dimples making little craters in his cheeks, “Don’t worry now. Her laughs have resurrected me.” His fingers continue to squiggle around her sides until his arms wrap around her form completely, fully holding her to him.

He decides to relieve her by planting a big smooch on her cheek, and there’s quiet in the room from her breathing finally slowing down, heavy pants and little laughs leaving her lips as she calms down. Her fingers move to thread around with Harry’s, a pulse in his grip as she does so.

“Boo you, H,” she beams, panting out, “Absolute meanie.” She shakes her head, eyes betraying her quest to stay unaffected as if they remain with a blushy, joyful little twinkle in her crinkled eyes.

Harry only stares back at her, the biggest smile pulling on his lips. He watches the sparkle in her eyes, happiness cradling his heart at the fact that he could be the cause of that.

“I wanna kiss you, now.” Harry whispers and flips her to face him completely, entranced by the sight of his idiot. His lover. His dodo.

His.

“Yeah?” she counters, slowly pushing herself up to sit on the now empty, slightly flour-y counter. Harry catches on and guides her by the hips, assisting her.

“Yeah.”

That’s when she pops a piece of kiwi from the bowl on the counter into her mouth.

A glint in her eyes is next slowly, and before he knows it, she’s chewing on it.

“Aish. Too bad. Toooo, too bad.” She lets out a soft giggle as she chews, hand covering her mouth, “Such deprivation this is for you. How can you kiss me, when I-I’m eating, Hm?”

“Oh, no.” He smirks at her, “S’bad manners to talk while eating.” He brushes a strand of hair out of his face, his teasing and banter with her mischievous, actions tender. He scrunches his nose some, “Guess it’s time for me to break a rule too, then.”

He moves forward and nudges his nose with hers, and Y/N helps, giggling softly as she pulls back, chewing with her mouth still covered by her hand, a bit of the kiwi juice trickling down her lips. “H! Oh my god, you are—"

“— much less clumsy than you? Yeah, you messy girl. I am.” He grins showing his usual dimples, eyes far too busy twinkling into taking her features as he brings up his thumb and carefully swipes away the little bit of kiwi juice trickling down her chin.

Y/N giggles softly, with a shy glow in her eyes as he does so, finishing her bite. Just as she’s done, in a moment of bold mischief she tries to reach for the bowl again.

“Ah, ah— ahh. Nope.” Harry’s hand immediately reaches for her, pulling it back, a lopsided smile tugging on his lips. “You menace.”

“Oh, I’m the menace?”

“‘Course you are. You’re dodging m’kisses.”

“I’m eating, H! I-" she bubbles out in a laugh, cut off by him.

“Is it ‘cause I ate that last donut you wanted yesterday?” He now pouts, his hold on her tightening as he bends a bit and nudges her nose with his. “Aw, and now you’re upset, Hm?”

She pouts a bit herself, laughing breathily, as she noses back at his nose, eyes closed. “See? You’re so mean. You’re not even sorry about it.”

“‘M such a meanie,” Harry says with a little smile, his eyes fluttering shut as he rests his forehead against hers.

Y/N finally leans in and kisses him, eyes closed too, as the soft touch of her hands behind his neck send tingles down his spine. Supple lips locked in a sweet dance with hers, harry deepens the kiss, tilting his jaw and pulling her flush against his chest, strong arms tightening against her soft frame.

He pulls away barely, eyes full of tender affection as he looks at her own irises, filled with a shy, excited tinge.

He whispers soft, eyelashes fluttering close to hers in a butterfly kiss, “Mmh. Y’taste like Kiwi.”

She kisses him back, barely able to contain her own shy little smile, “And you owe me a donut.”

———

ah, thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and liking! 🤍

[bloodibambiidoll]

just read your new rafe x weird!reader and oml im obsessed with them 🫠

can we maybe see rafe finally proposing to her ?!

Thank you sm!! Ofc!! Sorry this took me so long, I’ve been plotting this moment for a minute… Mostly fluff 18+MNDI

“Rafeee” You whine, shuffling in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s truck, the blindfold on your eyes obstructing your view entirely. You had no idea where he was taking you, he just told you ‘to put on something pretty and get your little ass in the car’. “Seriously, where are we going?”

“Hush. I told you to stop askin’, didn’t I?” Rafe’s large hand reaches out to grab your thigh, squeezing it. “Just be patient, aight? It’ll be worth the wait, promise.”

You throw your head back with a groan and it makes Rafe chuckle. His ever impatient girl. But he can’t be giving away in secrets no matter how cute you are when you pout. Not tonight. Tonight had to be perfect. He drove out here to this spot you’ve been begging him to take you before picking you up to set everything up and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit nervous. Which was out of character for him. Rafe Cameron doesn’t get nervous. But with you? It’s different. He pulls onto a dirt road before putting the car in park and when you reach for your blindfold he bats your hand away.

“I said no peaking, brat. Keep it on till I say.” Rafe cuts the engine and exits the car so he can come around to let you out. He offers you a hand down and guides you into his arms before leaning down and placing a kiss to your temple. “Can’t have you spoiling the surprise. C’mon.”

He drags you along and you can tell you’re walking through grass and dirt but other than that you’re clueless as to where you are. You keep stumbling every few steps and you hear Rafe playfully scoff before he’s lifting you in his arms and carrying you bridal style. He carries you to what you assume is his desired destination before setting you down gently on your feet again.

“Stay here. And keep that shit on, I mean it.” Rafe’s large finger taps the blindfold on your eyes before you hear some shuffling around. He approaches you again, this time standing behind you with his arms looped around your waist. “Okay, you can take it off now.”

When you pull the cloth from your eyes you can’t help but gasp. You’re standing in what looks like an abandoned mausoleum, surrounded by candles. There’s a blanket spread out with a bottle of wine and the vintage picnic basket you found at the thrift store last year. He even brought the Jack O’ Lanterns you carved together a few days ago and lit them up. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scene before you.

“Wow - Rafe, I - you did all this?” Your voice cracks and your lip wobbles. When you and Rafe met he wasn’t really a romantic guy at all and over time you’ve softened him up but he’s never done anything like this. “For me?”

“Yeah, baby, f’course. Who else?” He whispers in your ear and kisses down your throat and god you want to blow him right this instant. You grind your ass down against him and he laughs into your neck, his breath fanning against your skin only spurring you on. “Always so horny. C’mon, let’s eat first, lil succubus.”

You and Rafe are sitting on the blanket, enjoying the meal he definitely had the cook put together because there’s no way in hell he could ever cook something like this. You’ve been joking and laughing, sharing sweet kisses and dreams about the future. You look around you, smiling. This really is the best date you’ve ever been on. It’s so thoughtful and so you. Rafe has always taken the time to see you for who you are and that’s one of the things that made you fall in love with him. Tonight is no exception.

“Hey, that guy isn’t lit!” You point at the pumpkin directly in front of you and gasp dramatically. “How could you leave him in the dust like this!? You’re evilllll.”

Rafe smiles at you knowingly. You fell for his trap, hook, line, and sinker.

“Why don’t you light it then, baby?” He takes a lighter out of his pocket and hands it to you. You take it gleefully and crawl over to the pumpkin. Giving Rafe a delicious view of those red lace panties under those little tights you have on. He can’t wait to fucking rip them in half and shove his cock balls deep inside you.

He watches as you take the top off the pumpkin and look inside expecting to find a candle. But instead, there’s a little red velvet box sitting at the bottom of it. You turn back towards your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow and he tilts his head, encouraging you to go on. You reach inside and pull out the box, your hands shaking. Is this really what you think it is? Rafe gets you jewelry all the time, but he never makes such a show of it.

“Go on, princess, open it.” When you flip the lid of the box, your hand flies to your mouth and your eyes well up with tears.

“Rafe, I - what is this?“ you turn toward him and almost jump out of your skin because he’s directly behind you, still towering over you on one knee as you crouch on the ground holding the box with the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen in your life inside.

“Bats. I think you know what it is…” Rafe laughs and the sound is like music to your ears, you love his laugh. “I’ve loved you since… well, since you yelled at me in that cemetery and told me off, if I’m being honest. I’ve never met anyone like you, baby girl. And I’m not - you know I’m not the best with words but I wanna spend the rest of my life with your weird little ass. Marry me?”

“Are you serious!? Of fucking course I’ll marry you, idiot!!” You squeal and jump into him, throwing your arms around his neck as the tears in your eyes start to flow down your cheeks. You lean back and place a sweet, messy kiss on his lips as you practically crawl into his lap.

“Yeah? I’m really fuckin’ glad because if you said no I was going to have to lock you in the basement until you changed your mind…” Rafe smirks at you and you burst out laughing. He plucks the box from your hand so he can pull the beautiful, skull, pearl ring from it and slide it onto your dainty freshly manicured finger. He made sure you got a fresh set before this. He knows how you are.

“That’s fucking hot. Maybe we could do that sometime, just for fun?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and Rafe groans at the thought of you all helpless and tied up for him.

“Fuck. I might have to take you up on that, princess.” Rafe takes your face in his hands and looks down at you sweetly, making your insides melt. “But right now? I need you to bend the fuck over so I can show my future wife how much I fuckin’ love her…”

Taglist: @starkeysprincess @babygorewhore @strawberrydolly333 @sturnioloshacker @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @gri959 @rafeinterlude @nemesyaaa

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

Divider is @strangergraphics

[luxbub]

rafe would never admit it but those short videos you keep sending him with the slides and photos, with the caption “us”over them—hello kitty and batman. “every batman boy needs his hello kitty girl” secretly has him folding his insides ready to lay at your feet. and the little shit won’t even admit it. “Rafey, look at us.” hello hello kitty and batman again, this time at least he can see your grin from beside the phone, looking up at him and shit when he just grunts in response, but you can’t tell me there no butterflies kicking the shit out of his stomach in the moment. shit maybe rafe even giggles when he sees them. kicking his feet and squealing like a little girl with a crush, on the inside tho, batman never cracks up after all. he is so not a little girl with a cursh.

never.

[tojisun]

thinking about the way jake smothers your moans with his hand. the way he hears the sound of your whimpers swelling, the pitch of your voice rising – slipping past gritted teeth until they fill up the space – before jake finally decides to cover your mouth with his big palm.

“shh,” he whispers, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips. “not too loud, sweetheart.”

the gruff of his voice and the sudden display of his dominance makes you clamp down on him, your tight walls milking his cock for all he’s worth. jake hisses in pleasure, his eyes narrowing at the unexpected reaction he pulled from you.

“fuckin’ hell, baby,” he grunts, bucking his hips up and thrusting his cock deeper into you. you choke on your moan, your dripping cunt leaking even more as you go cross-eyed, teetering into your orgasm.

jake laughs, the sound coming out so mean even as he gazes at you lovingly. “y’like it when i smother you like this? y’like feeling helpless in my arms?”

you whine, clawing at his back amidst your tears, not knowing how to answer. well, not even needing to.

“oh, yeah, you do,” he mumbles, nosing at your damp forehead and breathing you in. he ruts his cock along your walls, the blunt head of it kissing the entrance of your cervix – fuckfuckfuck!

jake nips the shell of your ear, huffing a fond laugh at hearing another of your stifled whimpers, before murmuring, “don’t worry baby, i love you like this too – fuckin’ putty and incoherent all ‘cus of my cock.” then, he presses a soft kiss on your cheek before straightening back up with a sardonic grin.

fuck-

[jgrills]

Hurt.

- warning: THIS IS A FIRST TIMER WRITING FOR VI 😭. (feedback is appreciated and vi might be ooc????)....guys can November come faster.......( ´_ゝ`) srry it's short I'm getting an experience for writing for her...

Tw: blood & injuries!!!

includes: platonic reader and Vi.

Everything had happened so fast: Jinx's monkey bomb went off in the warehouse, Vi went to jail, Caitlyn and Vi left each other, powde-Jinx launched a bomb at the council.

You had worried about Vi; she no longer seemed to be the headstrong, snarky person she used to be. She had dyed her hair black and started illegal pit-fighting, drinking and smoking her troubles away. She had told you about seeing Caitlyn, her beautiful blue hair and silhouette at one of her matches, in her uniform, her eyes staring everywhere but Vi. But when she looked back, she wasn't there—only a chaotic crowd, yelling and betting on the match.

Once again, she was curled up on her bed, the sheets and covers messed up and on the floor, numerous alcohol bottles by the trashcan, along with some cigarettes, with you sitting beside the bed, trying to give her all the comfort you possibly could.

"You gotta sit up, Vi" you softly utter, holding the peroxide and bandages in your hands.

She grunts, reluctantly sitting up, not looking at you, wincing when the peroxide touched her wounds. She just closes her eyes when you get the injuries on her face, and getting the dripping eyeliner off her face, just enjoying your touch, and your carefulness.

Your heart broke just seeing her like this; she was going through it, and you didn't know if you could fully help her through it, and help her cope. The light in the dingy space was the only light you had, just to see her. You had finished bandaging up her wounds, and dealt with her split knuckles and lip.

When up go to get up, she hugs you tightly, putting her head on your shoulder, and you hug her back, the closeness bringing her some comfort, making sure to avoid any bandaged wounds, in order to not irritate them. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you, not wanting to let you go, as her bluish grey eyes closed, starting to relax.

You had stayed with her the whole night, the dingy lights flickered on and off until Vi got some sleep. You brushed your fingers through her black hair, Vi moving every now and then, as you looked at her, she had no hint of conflict on her expression, just closed eyes and small snores.

She'd know you'd be there for her all the time, just like when you both were kids.

No matter what happened.

🩹 @jgrills ty tv girl for helping me out ^^

[answer2jeff]

not a lot, just forever.

carmen's opening up, but he wishes you'd do the same.

warnings: fluff + angst. fem!reader who is also a big reader (mostly poetry) and occasionally journals. unestablished relationship (friends to lovers, mutual pinning.) very touchy-feely. writing is overly detailed and so painfully poetic you might vomit.

word count : 2.4k

hey. i think i left my book at ur place. 11:15pm.

sorry, just got home. i can bring it over now 11:36pm.

oh yeah that'd be great! thank you. (sorry for the inconvenience) 11:38pm.

no worries 11:41pm.

lmk when ur here. xx 11:45pm.

Carmen had some idea of what that meant: xx. He knew what it meant when girls signed notes with xoxo in replacement of red kiss marks and strokes of long acrylic nails through their secret lovers hair—not that he ever received one, no. But your occasional visits practically felt just as intoxicating. If the order was x-o-x-o, and the worded statement being hugs-and-kisses, then xx must've been hugs, right? Two hugs. Like the one you shared the first time you met at Natalie's baby shower. He smelled like authentic Italian cologne with a hint of cigarette smoke diluted by dish soap and warm water. His grasp was hesitant, but ever-all-consuming once his shoulders relaxed. It was like metamorphosis. The way he wrapped his arms underneath while you tossed yours up around his neck, his gold chain feeling cold and hard against your skin, unlike the rest of him.

He was an under-hugger. He kept the ones he cared for unsuspectingly close to him. Such physical touch felt familiar. Maybe you'd just remembered stories and inside jokes about him through Natalie so well his tenderness and anxious nature was fitting to the idea of him you had in your head.

That was almost 6 months ago. And surprisingly, you'd become pretty good friends. Not that either of you really did friends at your age...but somehow it worked. You'd come to realize that he was so much kinder than anyone painted him out to be. And yet, you never really talked about yourselves.

Not in a way that really mattered, anyway.

The articles you'd written, the interviews you conducted with snobby assholes, the dozens of freelancing jobs with horrific schedules you had before, what you loved about writing and what you hated about the world around you—those were topics of discussion. Carmen's favorite restaurants he ever expanded his career with, the odd relationship he had with his sister that flipped like a rusty switch after highschool, candle scents he loved and bought over and over again despite their poor quality wicks, the first time he got drunk and how he swore he'd never let another drop of alcohol touch his tongue—those were normal methods of late night conversations.

But what about your dream to publish a novel? Or the memoir you read that completely changed your views on love as a whole. What about Carmen's uncle being his only friend his entire life? Oh, how he would've become a starving, broken artist if he ever believed he had enough talent for it. Hell, what about the girl you met in middle school who mysteriously moved away and shared all her secrets on the true meaning of life, death, and everything in between? Why didn't you ever talk about those things? Maybe it was too close, too personal. If he knew you too well, maybe he'd see you as you saw yourself.

Carmen had been thinking about those colored pencils you bought him for his birthday and can't get himself to tell you he uses them every day. Not just to illustrate his dishes...but you, sometimes. Your hair, your smile. He used that photo you begged him to snap of you staring out your window melodramatically with a bowl of pasta carbonara and a glass of bubbling champagne in front of you as reference. How could he ever show you the endless amount of pages containing the essence of your existence in that goddamn sketch book?

Questions. Questions. Questions.

Thoughts of potential ate away at your patience with every pacing step you took around your bedroom.

Answers. Answers. Answers.

—

"Do people even have deep conversations over pasta and wine anymore?" You trace the pad of your middle finger against the rim of your glass, your elbow propped up on the counter so your chin can rest in your hand.

Carmen draws his eyebrows together, the little crinkle in his forehead showing. You glance up at it and struggle to stifle a growing smile. He cocks his head before barring his bottom lip behind his teeth, picking at the skin with the tips of his fingers. That signature pose; where his left arm is crossed against his chest and his hand holds the elbow of his right arm. It's a habit you almost immediately picked up on. It told you time and time again that he was nervous.

Thinking. Contemplating.

"Is that, like—" he breaths a chuckle, but it comes out more as an accidental huff than anything. Smug bastard, he is. Especially when he drags his gold chain across his neck as it loops around the finger that once picked at the dry skin of his mouth.

"Your way of..asking me for a deep conversation over wine and pasta?"

Ah. He's called you out. The one thing he couldn't shake was his annoyance when you were so completely and utterly vague about your wants, your needs, your desires. Hell, Carmen Berzatto would wrap a lasso around the moon, or any planet you put your claim on, and drag it down so it could be yours and only yours. Only if it meant you'd stop feeling so complacent. You knew this. At least to some extent. His little favors buttered you up until you a mushy mess of adoration. What really scratched at your urges and your patience was how blissfully unaware he was of his show of affection toward you. Part of you feared that if you ever told him how much it caressed that bruised, fruit fly infested, rotted spot of your heart so gently it felt like a kiss, despite the sting, he'd stop.

"Y'know what? Yeah. I'm asking."

You shrug your shoulders and stare down at your nearly finished bowl of penne with vodka sauce. Stabbing a stack of pasta onto your fork and the clinking sound of the metal banging against the ceramic bowl seemed to fill the silence before Carmen finally spoke again, though with much hesitation.

"Okay," he barely whispers, nodding his head and fumbling to take a seat in the barstool underneath the counter. Sitting across from you gives him the constant justification to just look at you.

Starting off this session with a question was quite a kicker.

"Y'know Sade Zabala? Author of that book you brought back for me."

Carmen blinks slowly. He pretends to dig deep in his memory to identify the name, wondering if you'd ever mentioned her. But he fails, pulling his lips taught, so as to say 'I've got nothin.' The sound of your dramatic sigh and the 'tsk' sound of your lips separating makes his palms sweat.

"She's a wonderful writer. A poet. I mean, really, her book Coffee and Cigarettes was one of the most gut-wrenchingly beautiful and altruistic collections of.. of love, pain, rejuvenation—all of it."

If he was completely honest, he doesn't have a clear image of what those words meant. But it doesn't seem to matter what comes out of your mouth or how you phrase it. Your use of specific language fascinates him. There is nothing else he can do in this moment but nod and allow the corners of his lips to curl into a smile strong enough to make the apples of his cheeks go pink.

"I'll tell you one line of one of the greatest poems she had ever written in that book. In the humble opinion of yours truly, of course."

"Sure," he assures you. "Of course, of course."

"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway."

Saliva pools in your mouth as you speak the quote, the taste of every vowel washing down your throat as if you dedicate them to Carmen himself. Which, in bare and naked truth, you do. The only thing you could ever ask of Carmen was to let himself tear himself open with the hope and belief that you would crawl into his fears and convert them into profound discoveries. And the trust that you would not stitch him up with your own hands, but rather clasp your fists around the circumference of his wrists as he carefully closes the wound his trajectory of life has created.

"Wow." Carmen's eyes go another centimeter wider, the language still processing in his mind. He interprets it over and over again.

"I know. And—" you set your fork down so you can have complete focus as you recite your following question, "I was just wondering what you'd say if someone told you that, y'know? What would you tell them?"

Vulnerability, he thinks. Fuck.

"I mean...fuck that's—that's a good question. Um.." he chews on the flesh of his bottom lip once again, looking above at the warm glow of the light that hangs over your island counter as if he'll find the answer up there.

"I don't even like the good stuff about me, so. I'm not sure how to, like, articulate that? Is that the word?"

Now the quickening pace has started.

"And what do you think the good stuff about you is?"

Probing questions like this are somewhat too-close-for-comfort inquiries for friends. But Carmen would be stupid to mind it. He relishes in it, actually. With much guilt. But it's tainted with the secret pleasure of being cared for by someone he so deeply valued the opinions and thoughts of.

Since the first day you met, Carmen knew he would never go to anyone else for some piece of mind. For some sanity. Or even just for someone to explain the method to his madness. You understood it—what he believed.

"I care a lot, I think. But that's not always practical. It hardly ever is now that I think about it."

"You do. You care so much." You soften your tone, hesitantly reaching for Carmen's tattooed hand that rests on the cold marble counter.

"Sometimes it freaks me out."

"Like, this whole thing, the—the restaurant, where my life is right now, it makes me crazy. But it also keeps me..."

"Human," you finish.

"Yeah, human."

Though it takes him a couple seconds for his digits to not second guess themselves, he gently takes your hand in his. The slow pace in which he intertwines his fingers with yours is enough to kill you.

"Can I tell you something?" Carmen asks.

"Anything."

"You take good care of me. Of everyone, really." . His thumb gently rubs your warm skin, the rough and calloused mounds over his fingerprints soothing you. A deep breath moves in and out from his lungs as he meets your eyes again. This time, he won't look away.

"It's like you were made to just be good."

You smile, but you're not convinced you're certain on what he means. "Thank you, Carm. But—good?"

"I don't know. You're warm. I'm—I'm not like that. I'm not warm."

This, this is where truths as bare as untraveled paws of loyal dogs that roamed the streets in search of security uncover themselves.

"What? Of course you are." You lean forward, feeling your heart pound so hard it could leap out of your body.

"I don't think I am."

To think—no, to know that Carmen Berzatto cannot share at least one feature of his layered soul he genuinely likes. God, that pains you. You could write a million sonnets listing every little thing you adored about your friend.

"Carmen, you—" you sigh, your head dropping for a fraction of a second. "You have such a big heart. You're not cold or...or out of reach, or anything like that, okay?"

Even with Carmen's tendency for rage and his tattoos that displayed yet another callback to his culinary career—his way of speaking: so gentle and unsupported, you're certain that he is something so much greater than just a chef. He took care of people too. His staff, his clientele, his family—of you. Whether it was home cooked meals when you were sick, or when you needed to complain about Natalie. Carmen listened. Not as her brother, but as your friend. You don't really remember when you started to regularly see each other during his leisure. Either at the restaurant, or a coffee shop next door to your complex, and eventually his living room.

"This is so fucking selfish, but—"

No, Carmen. You could never be selfish.

But you let him be hungry. You want him to be hungry. Starving for reassurance. Because you'll feed him until the empty space in his existence is filled.

"I just wish you'd look after yourself the way you take care of me. Like, fuck, hearing you look at yourself and point out all this shit that nobody notices—which I wish they fucking would—because I notice them and I still love those things about you is..."

Oh, what a beautiful mind you've always had. He'll always store all the love you can't have for yourself in his own heart. Your wit, your intelligence, your smile, even down to the way you have to readjust the grip of your fountain pen as you inscribe your thoughts into your journal

"Wrong." He completed his thought with just one word. "I don't like it. It makes me sad," he says again.

That breaks you. So much that a tear sure to be followed by many more wells up in your waterline. The glisten of the salty liquid in your eyes startles the wonderful man across you. You can see the immediate guilt in his face, his blue eyes filled with concern and regret. But you shake your head, holding onto his forearm as he raises his hand to your cheek to catch the falling tear. Fuck being friends. Fuck small talk. Fuck jokes and laughs and cigarettes and poor communication that just ended in silence.

This was here and now. There was no going back.

With that, you cupped Carmen's own cheek, leaning closer and closer to his lips before he desperately kissed you. His free hand anchored itself on your shoulder blade while yours crawled to the back of his head to burry itself in his golden curls. Your taste was everything. Salty with pasta with a sweet aftertaste that echoed from your fruity lip balm, followed by a final twinge of bitterness from your glass of red wine. He tasted of comfort, of acceptance, something you'd never felt against your tastebuds from the previous years of the dating pool. With every separation of your lips to swallow gasps of air, the further the two of you hovered over the counter in a needy attempt to get closer.

You didn't need answers. Not a lot from him either. Just him. Forever.

tags: @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria @diorrfairy

[generalllimaginesss]

Can you do a part 2 of the finsta one with Nico where the reader lets someone scroll through it as part of their Christmas gift?

Like the whole team knows it’s a thing and no one has been able to find it because she blocked them and everyone is dying to see it. Maybe it’s her contribution to a white elephant gift exchange and everyone fights over it. But it’s not Nico who ends up with it and he’s like “but I’m the love of your life” and she’s like “yes and?”

I’m just imagining this finsta has an insane amount of followers and no one knows it’s Mrs. Cap running it. Like all the followers just think it’s run by a diehard fan who understands the sport. And whoever on the team wins the scrolling privileges from her phone dies dead when he sees the amount of followers

I feel like this went so much better in my head, but I couldn’t quite do it justice when I actually wrote it. I’m slowing down writing some just because the holiday season is chaotic and I don’t have as much time. I’m sorry if it’s not quite what you thought of, but I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting!! Also, Merry Christmas❤️

••

It was a last minute get together, a few of the members of the team lingered in Jersey, some not making it home at all this year. Nico, being the lovely captain that he is, decided to have the few stragglers over for some games and drinks, enjoying the time together without the pressure of hockey lingering over them.

The group currently consisted of Hughes squared, Dougie, Timo, Toffoli, Bratt, Nico, and you, all gathered around the living room. The smell of cookies had infiltrated the room, wafting from the kitchen as a result of your afternoon baking session. Nico was responsible for the decorations and drinks, leaving the sweets and games in the hands of you.

Earlier you had made a group chat with everybody that was planning on coming, explaining the concept of a white elephant gift (gag gifts only edition) and preparing everybody that there would be a game of Cards Against Humanity.

So far Jack had opened a puck from Dougie that was signed, Dougie claiming that it was "priceless." Luke opened the gift that Nico had found at the thrift store, a sequin pillow with Danny DeVito's face on it. Timo opened Bratt's gift, a $25 gift card to Victoria's Secret, a gift that you were going to fight for. Luke's gift was unable to be wrapped properly, a sheet thrown over it instead. Nico picked his and discovered that it was a young palm tree. Dougie opened Jack's gift, a gift card that was specifically for OnlyFans. Bratt opened Toffoli's gift which consisted of an assortment of chocolate in a ziplock bag, the kicker that they were all unwrapped and mixed together. You had opened Timo's gift, a small box that contained Band-Aids and alcohol wipes.

The last box wrapped was small, but wrapped with care, a small bow decorating the top of it. It was Toffoli's turn to open a gift, expecting something good since the last gift was obviously one from you. He pull the bow off and tore into the box, confusion coming across his face as he discovered an envelope labeled TOP SECRET. He cut his eyes at you, you urging him to open the envelope.

"You can't show anybody, Tyler. I mean it," You warned as he opened the envelope and read what was inside. His brows furrowed at first, not sure why the word "finsta" was on the inside, that is until it clicked with him.

"NO WAY," He yelled, the other boys looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I can't show you until everybody has had an opportunity to steal gifts," You explained, the other guys becoming increasingly impatient as they tried to figure out what it could be.

"What the hell did she put together?" Luke asked, trying to peer over Toffoli's shoulder to see what he had.

"Whoever ends up with my gift gets to spend 5 minutes on my finsta," Revealing what the top secret was caused a brief moment of chaos. Luke tried to jump on top of Tyler, but he overshot the distance and ended up face planting on the couch.

"Hey! You have to win it fair and square," You scolded the youngest Hughes.

"Oh, I will. You can bet your ass on that," He gave a warning look to Tyler as he regained his composure and returned to his seat beside Jesper.

"Ok, remember, there's only 2 steals. After the second steal the gift is dead and whoever has it wins it," As you explained the rules, eyeing the Victoria's Secret gift card, the stealing began.

You started it off by handing Timo back his gift, stealing the gift card you wanted.

"Ooh, Cap, you might get lucky with a new nighttime outfit with that gift card," Dougie teased, a pillow chucked at him shortly after caused a wave of laughter from everybody.

Jack was up next, stealing the finsta envelope immediately. He knew he wouldn't end up keeping it, but he had to get his hands on it somehow, even if it wasn't the actual account.

The gift immediately died the next turn, Luke snatching the paper from his brother.

"Give me that," He threw the Danny DeVito pillow at Jack.

The game continued until everybody had either kept their gift, or stolen something. The entire time everybody complained that they didn't end up with your finsta. Nico pouting the most.

"Babe, come on...I'm your boyfriend...the love of your life...your future husband. I think I deserve to see the account," He was trying to pull at your heart strings, but nothing would work. Not his puppy eyes, his pleads, or his hand that was dangerously high on your thigh, covered by a blanket, of course.

"Mhm...and?" Your eyes were filled with a playful banter, but your face was emotionless.

He rolled his eyes, tickling your sides to erupt laughter from you.

"Alright, I've waited long enough. Let me see it," Luke pointed to your phone, his hand motioning for you to hand it over.

You did as he said, but not before starting the timer.

He immediately took note of the username: @/hotforhischier causing his eyes to go wide and his laugh to rock his whole body. The shock didn't stop there, though.

"Holy shit, you have over 25,000 followers? What the hell? You've posted over 3,000 times, like do you even have a life?" He commented on everything he saw while all of the guys were inching closer and closer to him, trying to get a glance of the infamous account. Luke feigned a faint when he realized that you had a viral hockey account.

Nico stared at you the whole time, darkness clouding his eyes as he thought about ways he would get you to show him the account later.

Luke's laugh caught his attention, interrupting his eye contact with you.

"This post says 'The Devil's need to get their head out of their butt and realize that showing off doesn't win games. Somebody relay that message to Jack Hughes." Jack narrowed his eyes at you, not mad, but ready to get his revenge on you.

"There's a ton of thirst trap edits of Nico...a happy birthday post for Coach...SHE MADE A THIRST TRAP VIDEO OF ARBER XHEKAJ," He squealed as he flashed a smirk at Nico, "Damn, that is one good looking man."

Your cheeks were bloodshot. You didn't think he would take the time to watch the videos, but focus on the trash talk that you had posted.

“She calls Mercer ‘Raw Dawg,’” he chuckled.

“Luke, did you just say she made a thirst trap for Arber Xhekaj?” Nico asked, jealousy beginning to boil under his skin.

“Wanna see it?”

“NO! Your 5 minutes is up,” You tried to snatch your phone from him, but he stood up, holding it over his head as if playing a game of keep away.

“Luke Hughes, give me my phone,” You sent warning signs through your gaze, but he didn’t listen, tossing the device across the coffee table to Nico.

It was as if a magnet connected you to the phone, your body flinging itself wherever it went. You tried to climb onto Nico’s back, but he just shook you off.

“Hmm, ‘I’m no doctor, but I have this feeling that Nico feels good enough to come back. Should he really be missing this many games?’” You looked away as his eyebrows created wrinkles in his forehead as they raised.

“Thank God you’re not a doctor because I wasn’t good to go back sooner,” he pinched your side as he continued to scroll through.

“Jack she shits on you, Vanacek, and Schmid a lot,” he chuckled, still pushing you away, keeping you at an arms distance.

“Geez, what did I ever do to you?” A smile rose from Jack, one that was ready to tease you to no end.

“You keep up with the comments too….do these people have any idea who you are? Like you have a few fan accounts that you talk to almost every day!” Nico laughed.

“That’s enough,” You force yourself close enough to snatch it back.

“So what we all can gather from the finsta is that Y/N is the biggest supporter of the Devils and the biggest hater of Jack. I like her,” Luke leaned back on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table and tilting his head back to sip the beer in the bottle that he was holding.

“I’m not a hater,” Trying to defend yourself was useless, all of the guys looking at you as if to point that out.

“She’s like Jekyll and Hyde,” Bratt pointed out, “To Mrs. Cap, also known as Jekyll and Hyde,” he raised his Old Fashioned to you, the others following with their drink.

“I hate you all,” You blushed, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to expose your lie.

The night was long, most of the guys deciding to stay the night because of the amount of alcohol that coursed through their systems. You didn’t mind though, covering each of the sleeping bodies that littered the living room with a blanket before joining Nico in bed.

“You’re nicer than me…I was going to let them freeze,” he said as he snaked his arm around your waist. He pulled you back to lay down, getting in position to spoon you.

“They’re family, Neeks,” you hummed as he placed a kiss right under your ear.

“Mm, so what are you going to buy with that Victoria’s Secret gift card?”

*

*

*

*

[feasibilities]

i've gotten sick (sinus bs from allergies) so i spent my time rotting in bed and rewatched dunkirk. i have unfortunately fell in love with shivering soldier.

[cannibalisation]

VISUALS & SCENTS. (part i)

Sirius Black, the prettiest of the marauders with a soft jawline and hollow cheeks. light freckles atop an aquiline nose and narrow lips. clean-shaved ALABASTER skin that looks translucent in certain lights. silken flesh and straight eyebrows, COFFEE in colour. his dark hair curls over his ears. dainty and veiny hands. Doe eyes of COAL black with silver hints. Hints of ANISE and LAVENDER line his uniforms, an aromatic scent.

Remus Lupin, the Casanova of the Gryffindor tower (propaganda). MOUSE brown hair with faint undertones of red. PEACH coloured skin, connotations of youth and ripeness. Cat-like BOTTLE GREEN eyes with specks of CHARTREUSE, fringed by thick eyelashes. Scars line his face, rich and polished against his complexion. Douses his knit sweaters with notes of CLOVE and HELIOTROPE. Lithe build, slumped over a walking cane.

Of BRONZE skin and veined arms, James Potter was an age-old vision. Heavy eyelashes that sit upon bushy eyebrows. The nose of an ancient Roman warrior, wired frames sit upon it. ROSEBUD lips with gap-between front teeth. His eyes, chestnut and russet in theory, olive in sunlight. Thick and curly hair that encompasses his cherub face. Cologne undertones of VANILLA, PEAR and subtleties of RASPBERRY.

Peter Pettigrew with soft FLAXEN hair. ROSY skin with PINK cheekbones. A pudgy form and twitchy, rough hands. Notes of CINNAMON and shallow CEDAR. Deep-set eyes casted with SIENNA brown, hooded like a fox. A crooked nose with a scar running along the surface. Smooth-shaven skin and fluttery eyelashes.

[wyattjohnston]

things you said when you were crying for daisy and jack 🥺

jack & daisy

The season hadn’t ended but Jack was staring down the end of his. With the Devils playoffs long gone, the decision was made for him to fly to Colorado for surgery, so that he’d be ready to play come training camp.

It wasn’t a hard decision from a season standpoint, or a career standpoint, but from a personal standpoint it was abundantly clear that Jack wasn’t at his best.

Daisy had been watching him play through the injury for months—the All-Star break wasn’t enough time to rest—and it had been wearing on her, as well. She knew it was Jack’s time to wallow, though.

They’d holed themselves up in their room, Luke sending worried looks their way when they disappeared within moments of finishing their dinner, and Daisy ignored that she could feel Jack’s tears on her legs. She just dutifully ran her hand through his hair until he was ready to acknowledge it himself.

“I’m made of glass,” he said, blubbering even though he was trying to hide it.

“It’s just some bad luck, Jack.”

“Maybe—” he choked on his words. “Maybe I should just stop playing for good.”

“Oh, Jack,” Daisy cooed, watching him closely even though she could only see one side of his face. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s so fucking bad, Daze. I’m a bust.”

With another emphatic, Oh Jack, Daisy leant forward to kiss the top of his head. He would get past the thought, she knew he would, but it didn’t hurt to let him get it out every once in a while.

[thesandsofelsweyr]

fun idea: imagine the joker conditioning jason to respond to an audio trigger.

maybe it's to drop to his knees whenever he hears a particular set of footsteps. maybe when he hears a trigger phrase, he loses the ability to speak for 60 seconds. maybe it's something even more invasive, like training him to draw his own blood or vomit up whatever's in his stomach on command. whatever it is, the joker loves seeing just how much he can condition his trembling starling.

months later, jason has escaped from arkham. he's found a space to live and new clothes and people to interact with. he's pulled a little bit of a life together. he thinks, sometimes, that the worst memories are starting to fade. except -

one day he hears his old trigger, out of the blue. and he reacts. instantly. it's like the last few months haven't even happened - he's back in the cell with him, covered in crusted sweat, his body obeying automatically. in fact, as jason's body reacts, the emotion that overwhelms him isn't even fear, but relief at the familiar memory, relief at finally having an instruction he can follow.

it's only until after he's regained his senses that jason feels the violation.

I've been sitting on this one, hoping I could add something to it but it's too perfect for my commentary 😍

(Okay, maybe one lil note: in my 'verse Joker has Jay trained to drop to his hands and knees when he visits Jay's cell as part of the dog game.....)

[donkey-hyuck]

UNDERSTAND:: jjh

idol!au | uni student!reader | strangers-2-lovers!au | fluff

“maybe we could try it if you let me

take you by the hand

you’re the only one who understands” - keshi

TW: food | profanity | lowercase letters

————

~ the night had shimmied it’s way to cover the now dark sky. you and your friends were out at some seven-eleven down the suburban street, taking a break from studying and watching all of the boys play their late night games on the court.

your friends’ lover had invited the two of you to watch him and his teammates play for a bit before going back to stuff your brain of information that may or may not pique your interest.

the two of you had now been sitting on one of the old beat-up benches with your ice cream slowly melting due to the humidity of the hot summer air.

all of the boys were goofing off and constantly teasing each other and their laughs (as well as you and your friends’) echoed through the open air. however the laughing came to a brief hault when a group of about four men asked to join a game. to which the boys boisterously agreed.

the game was neck and neck. not that you were keeping count, your friend was actually doing it for them but you knew they were tied. you could feel it. and by the time someone had finally scored a point (it was a three pointer by the group of four men), everyone was wiping their sweat and congratulating them with ‘good game.’

the group of men had left their belongings on the bench the two of you were sitting on. they were all handsome, that was for sure. even in their sweaty glory. and you hadn’t realized you were staring until you felt a slight puncture in your ribs from your friend.

“hi,” said the first, who appeared to have dimples painting his already beautiful face. the man had told his friends that he would catch up with them later as he turned back to you with his undivided attention.

“hi,” you awkwardly smiled back, looking at your friend who told you she was going with the boys.

the night long carried on, and the summer night breeze felt just perfect in a moment like this. you had learned the man’s name was yoon-oh (he prefaced that he preferred jaehyun, though.)

the conversation which the two of you were having was completely and utterly random. laughs and little bits of teasing were shared, and you don’t know if it’s because of the summer air or because you had been locked up in your dorm for the past couple of days studying for your finals, but something flickered. maybe not physically but emotionally, something was there and you knew you both felt it.

unfortunately all good things must come to an end. when jaehyun had received a phone call from his manager did your encounter finally come to an end.

“oh my god, it’s already one in the morning!” he laughed, “have we really been talking for that long?”

you took out your phone from your back pocket to confirm the time. and it was almost two in the morning. you both laughed out loud, too shocked that you got carried away in your conversation that really was not important. but it was important to you, and you hoped he felt the same way.

“when can i see you again?” he asked, pupils dilated as he took in everything he could of you.

“any time you want, really,” you replied, as he took your phone out of your hand and put his number in your contacts list.

“i’ll call you,” you nodded at his words as he walks further and further away. you can feel the freedom walking away with him.

—

every encounter with yoon-oh has been an absolute dream. he makes you feel like you again. he makes you feel free and he makes you feel incredibly happy. and he can say the same thing about you. everyone, even the makeup artists, can tell that his mood had just been uplifted. although they, of course, don’t know the reason behind it. they also don’t know that the reason is a person— you— rather than an item.

and you remember the exact moment.

he held you close, under the stars as the condensation escapes your noses. and this moment feels different. it feels raw. you’re facing him now, and he can see all the stars reflecting in your gorgeous eyes. he laughs, looking at the ground, not believing that he’s doing this now.

“what’s wrong?” you chuckle, gaining his attention back.

“i thought i’d be too scared to ever tell you this. and to be honest, i’m still shitting my pants right now. you make me feel nervous and calm all at the same time.”

you’re confused on where he’s going with this. he’s a great friend, but friends don’t hang out the way you two do, do they? friends don’t look at each other the way you two do.

he lets out a sigh before taking a step closer and shoving his sweaty hands in his coat pocket. “i cant believe i’m doing this,” he mutters underneath his breath, although you can hear him and it makes you laugh.

“doing what?” your nose scrunches, as you observe his stance. oh no, are things going to get awkward now?

“i like you… like- a lot,” he pauses, “… and maybe- if you want- i’d like it if we tried. if we can be together because that’s all i want and i know that’s all you want. our friendship was brief, i know- and it might be even shorter after me saying this to you- but none of it matters. even if you and i aren’t meant to be, i was eternally grateful to have met you… i still am, and i think i forever will be.”

your smile lights up with every word that escapes the beautiful man’s lips. he has so much to say and you think he still has more. although you know the answer to his upcoming question.

“you understand me. in ways i never even thought of. you’ve helped me escape my shell and you’ve helped me when i never even knew i needed help. our time had been short, yet i still long to be with you for as long as you’ll have me. you understand me and my feelings, and my heart, and my soul with every fiber in your being and i don’t know how much more i can handle. please, i want to create more memories with you. but i want to create them as a couple. [y/n], will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

jaehyun has truly never talked as much as he did that night. and you enjoyed every moment of it. with the whistling of the winter wind, the hot air escaping his lips, and the thumping sound of your heart, you knew the answer. you knew the answer when you first met, as if you knew this was going to happen.

jaehyun feels as though he was going to cry. he had never had a moment like this happen to him ever. his feelings were just too overwhelming and he didn’t no how much longer he could last. he’s looking down at the ground once more, and he hears you step closer to him. you cup the side of his face to finally catch a glimpse of him. and in that moment, he never realized how undeniably in love with you he was. every stare, every touch, and every word has meanings he will never understand. his feelings are overwhelmed in that moment. he remembers.

and it’s in that moment that he will cherish you, your relationship, and the late winter nights as you close the gap you oh-so needed to close.

you had both understood everything the other person wanted and words didn’t even have to be exchanged.

you had understood the underlying feelings you had stowed away from the man since you first met.

jaehyun understood the true meaning of life, because he now had you.

[peachieprompts]

Dialogue Prompt #273

“You’re heartless.”

“I have to be.”

[powderblueblood]

How about Lacy finding Eddie's writing? 🤭

need you to imagine me listening to a fifth of beethoven from the saturday night fever soundtrack whilst writing this because i became insane and filled it with Clues.............

it's like trying to understand the fucking zodiac killer.

it's all codes and ciphers and scrawls and-- well, she thought she might have been reading that one upside down but it's actually indecipherable any way you twist it.

and it's not like any of it is even written on paper either. torn open cigarette packs, napkins, burger wrappers from the diner. one time a leaf.

because eddie's not like lacy in the way she keeps a journal but eddie's like lacy in that if he's roundhoused with a thought that he needs to remember, he's got to write it down now immediately pronto on any available surface.

which is pretty pointless, since he keeps losing all this garbage and she has to pick it up after him.

she bears over the spread of scraps like an fbi agent, palms braced to the table. there's a thread here, but she can't quite untangle it. she's staring at a pile of shit that says shit like

crabs incident-- bruised like a peach worth biting-- violet like violence??

red tights. tingly. carnelian little carnivore.

track two. treasure.

persephone's hall pass.

seventh grade & as many minutes in limbo. shoulda ripped off band aid.

mage in a mink coat.

well, that last one--

"you dumpster diving now? hard times."

fuck! fuck. told you, rat blood. appearing out of nowhere with no noise no notice to then become the loudest thing in the room. he's like thunderclap, this fucko, like a spontaneous combustion.

he also doesn't even recognize his own handwriting, seems like. she blushes, furious. doesn't know why.

"community service. they have me picking up the trailer trash's trailer trash."

"snitty!" he shoves the bag of chips he's holding at her--an offering, he can't do anything normal around her--and reaches for one of the scraps. lacy watches him like a scientist watching a guinea pig for brain activity-- and his eyes go all wide and panicky. "wait."

"eddie-- hey!" but he's scrambling now, going for all the little pieces of writing she'd been trying to arrange on the table like a pointless puzzle. "don't--"

"where'd you get all this shit, huh?! going through my pockets now, is that it? like a cop?"

"i-- hey, don't you fucking dare-- look, you shed!"

"i shed?"

"you shed. you've got shit falling out of that stupid, enormous nerd binder every goddamn day because you just shove shit in there and don't organize anything, and i wasn't gonna stand around and let you just litter everywhere and--" now it's her turn to be like. wait. crosses her arms, eyes narrow, she's mother superior serving nailed ya bitch. "--why are you all skittish?"

"huh?"

"it's just-- trash, right?" she snatches a burger wrapper out of his grasp. oh this is delish.

"yeah," he grabs, but she's holding it behind her back and god her face is like stupid smirky, "but it's my trash. my--giveit--private... trash."

eddie munson is blushing.

"who's the mage?"

"the fucking.... the what?"

little crinkle as she unfolds a piece torn off a brown paper bag. "mage in a mink coat. who's that?"

"nobody."

"i have a mink coat."

"oh. does that really say mage? 'coz it should say mange." he's such an asshole. she's grinning so wide.

everyone says revenge is a dish best served cold but she bets she could use eddie munson's cheeks as a hotplate and eat right off 'em. it'd taste so much better. lobster bisque. filet mignon. michelin star.

"have you been writing about me, munson?"

his face is all stone-set, mouth all i can't fucking believe this and eyes all i'd cut the brake lines in her van if she wasn't the one scamming rides off me all the time. "li'l miss my life is incomplete without eddie munson wants to talk?"

"called you a neanderthal in the next sentence. don't forget that."

"you're such a beastie."

"carnelian little carnivore, you wrote."

"what makes you so sure it's all about you, huh?"

"context clues."

he glances down. she is, in fact, wearing the aforementioned tingly-feeling-inspiring red tights again today. shit.

"what happened in seventh grade?" she's pointing to the scrap in his hand, one he's managed to keep out of her snatchy little fingers.

she doesn't remember anything significant about seventh grade. but he does, and a knot tightens in his chest and he's about to lie and say something crass about my fist, a stopwatch and a view of you from underneath the bleachers at cheerleading practice-- then final bell rings.

"that is for me to know--"

"--and for me to die ignorant?" she's an active listener.

"precisely, you wench. now get the fuck outta here, i got hellfire."

lacy leaves the scraps.

"i will find out, y'know."

he knows. "you're like a bitch with a bone that way."

"the bitchiest."