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myworldrightnow · 8 months

Note

Daaaaaaaaaamn ❤️

It's August rn - month of shooting stars so I was thinking maybe you could write something with the idea of stargazing together with Carm or Luca or Marcus?

It's just a blank idea, I love your work, so it's up to you how far you'll go (fluff, etc.)

Much love ❤️.

my dearest, @myworldrightnow! thank you for requesting this. i had so much fun writing for marcus for the very first time. please enjoy this blurb, based off of muna's "shooting star":

You, My Shooting Star (marcus brooks x reader)

“when I see a shooting star, I stay out of its path”

You were wild.

Hurricane. Firecracker. Dynamite, they called you.

The first one with a wild idea. The last one to shut down the party.

But you feel the wildest right here, by his side, wondering how you got lucky enough to get him alone.

It had started with a house party, and maybe a few too many vodka sodas before you realized you should probably step out for some air. He followed you, just wanted to make sure you were alright.

“Yeah, just need a little air. I’ll take a car home, don’t worry,” you’d answered, in the empty bedroom you’d made your temporary home. “C’mon. Do you trust me?” you’d asked him, before climbing out onto the fire escape.

He’d joined you, against his better judgment, but now, as the two sip on waters he brought out for you, watching flashes of light race across the night sky, he’s glad he said, ‘yes.’

“Did you know that August is the month of shooting stars?” he asks, turning his head to steal a glance your way.

“No, I didn’t,” you answer softly, taking another drink of your water, your eyes fixed to the beams of light.

They’re wild, explosive, unpredictable, and you can’t help but feel excited by them, unsure of when, and if, the next one will come.

“This one uh… think it’s called The Perseid – the meteor shower this year,” he continues, as you watch him dreamily search the sky for one more brilliant flash of light.

“Didn’t know you were such an astronomy buff,” you shoot back, teasingly, though you think this has only buried you deeper into your infatuation with the pastry chef.

“My mom and I used to watch ‘em together. When I was a kid. We’d go out to whatever football field my recreational league used to practice on with a blanket and see if we could catch the show,” Marcus explains, recalling his fond childhood memories. “I always looked forward to it… because she’d bring like… you know fruit by the foot or somethin’ like that.”

You nod along as you listen, having grown so fond of Marcus’ stories. You like this, when he shares with you, especially because you know he doesn’t always have someone to tell.

And you like being the person who gets to listen to him.

It’s now or never, you think to yourself.

“Marcus?” you ask him, something bold in your movement as you turn your body just enough to look at him with glossy eyes.

Tomorrow, you’ll chalk it up to liquid courage if this goes absolutely sideways.

“What’s up?” he asks you, suddenly shy with the way you’re looking at him.

“I-,” you begin, opening your mouth to say something, as if you just expect the words to flow, and when they don’t, you try again. “The other night. After work. I… asked you to go for a drink. And you said ‘no’.”

Marcus sighs, leaning back as he rests his weight on the palms of his hands.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He pauses, waits, searches for a good enough explanation, only to discover that he doesn’t have one.

“I kind of thought… well, I thought that you were into Carmy,” he admits on an exhale.

Because he’s seen you flirt with him before. Because why wouldn’t you be? Because he can only imagine that someone as magnetic as you – it’s why you’re such an excellent bartender – could have anyone. Because he’s seen the way that you have patrons of The Bear in the palm of your hands in the blink of an eye.

“and that's what you are, you're so bright, you burn my eyes, and you move too fast”

“What?” you ask him, unable to hide your surprise, or the laugh that comes out of your mouth.

“No I-. I flirt with Carmy… because the guy looks like he needs to take a breath. But um. No.” The smallest smile threatens the corners of your lips as you continue with, “No uh… I sort of… have a crush. On someone else.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks you, playfully.

“Yeah,” you answer, sharing a knowing look with Marcus.

“He’s a fantastic pastry chef. You should meet him sometime,” you tease with a shrug.

“You play too much,” Marcus laughs, with a playful eye roll.

The shared laugh between the two of you subsides, and all that’s left is a thick kind of tension that hangs in the air. It’s a lean forward. Eyes flickering from lips as if asking for permission. A shift closer to one another.

“Look,” Marcus says, as another brilliant beam of light flashes across the sky.

Turning your attention to the tail end of the shooting star for just a moment, your eyes are back on Marcus, and… whatever this thing is between the two of you.

“Make a wish,” he murmurs, his lips so close to yours, as if he might not get another chance at this.

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

But you don’t need to make a wish. You take a breath, as if trying to collect all of the courage you think you can muster, before deciding to make your own move, crashing your lips into his instead.

“you, my shooting star”

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myworldrightnow · 11 months

Text

Cherry Flavored

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

summary: smoking weed with Frankie who has been pining after you for years. Things finally get admitted while high

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count:3.6k

warnings etc: unprotected p in v, dirty talk, angst, light fluff, riding, mentions of PTSD…I think that is all. No use of Y/N

A/N: Happy Sunday! Here is a one-shot of what smoking weed with Frankie would be like if he had really just been in love with you since day one. Just assume you’re in a state (in the US) that has legalized medical, but not recreational. Okay enjoy :) Sorry for the spelling mistakes it's Sunday okay

The thing about Frankie is that he loves smoking weed with you.

It always starts with you having a shitty week, nothing going your way and you’re desperate to relax. Sometimes it goes so far as you’re not able to sleep because of the stress of work and you end up begging Frankie to come over and “unwind with you”. That’s your code for him to bring the weed that he was prescribed by his new doctor to help him with his PTSD.

Ever since he took your advice to ask his doctor about getting it prescribed, he thanked you by sharing some. You really didn’t ask that often, and more than anything Frankie always offered.

This time it had been raining all week. You had texted him about how frizzy your hair had been that week and even though that’s not usually an issue, you were presenting to clients every day and you knew they weren’t taking you seriously. You had only just started this job and wanted to impress and it was like the world was laughing at you after working so hard.

He struggled to not laugh when you sent texts throughout the week–it was always dramatic with you. When you called him on Friday after he did a follow-up text asking how it was going, he could feel the anxiety through the phone as you drove home. You didn’t even ask for him to come over this time, he offered, hoping it would distract you from all your worries giving you an “it’s okay, I’ll head over soon.” Before hanging up the phone and going into his stash.

And so he brings the weed and you just smile at him and mention how much you appreciate him spending time with you. You preferred being alone, always more independent than other girls he had ever been close with, but you guys spending time together was almost the same as being alone. It could be hours of you two not saying anything watching a movie, eating food and it was just as comfortable as if you were spending the night alone.

When you come out from your bedroom, changed into pajamas and a robe to keep warm, he has rolled a joint and offers the first hit to you but you wave him off, not wanting the first puff. He shrugs, reaching for the lighter you keep next to your candles while you sit down and get cozy next to him.

The smoke rolls out of his mouth, not needing to hold his breath like he used to-this stuff was strong and he wouldn’t be surprised if you would feel the buzz just by sitting next to him. He turns his head to you and offers it, planning to warn you about this most recent batch, watching your fingers glide against his to hold the joint gently, bringing it up to your pouted lips and lightly inhaling. He didn’t have time to let you know before your eyes widen, stronger than you were ready for, and holding your breath to not cough. You look over at Frankie, note his smirk as he watches you play it cool and immediately let out your breath to cough roughly, eyes stinging with tears.

“Sorry baby, I should have warned you.” He breaks the comfortable silence, reaching to rub your back lightly He feels the muscles in his shoulders relax, down low closer to the blade where he never thought he could release tension. “This is the good stuff, don’t need a lot to just lay down, you know?”

You nod, taking another quick hit before handing it back to him and sinking farther into the couch. “Don’t be surprised if I fall asleep sitting up.” You joke, glancing at him for a moment to watch him take another hit, mesmerized by his lips around the paper. You found yourself watching him sometimes when he would come over, content with your quiet and just moving about your space as if he belonged there. How he moved, how he rested, you were always fascinated.

He chuckles, stamping out the end against his jeans and setting the joint on your coffee table. You never kept an ashtray, not wanting people to think you like cigarettes and give them the wrong impression, but made it difficult the first few times Frankie brought over weed. He eventually gave up, making sure to wear his ratty jeans whenever he came over like this. The black charcoal spot on the left knee of his jeans reminded him of his time with you whenever he looked down.

He looks at you, feet up with your robe wrapped around your body covering your pajamas, smirking at how your head is lying back as far as it can, the column of your neck exposed with your eyes closed in bliss.

This was what relaxed you. You loved having your body fully relaxed, your mind hazy, and tingles going up and down your limbs. You could feel your feet and hands heating up, your blood flowing more freely.

Every time you got high together, Frankie had to hold himself back from kissing you.

He just imagined it would be literal magic, tasting the candy you seemed to always have, or maybe the leftovers of your gum, warm and plush and soft.

He had been caught plenty of times staring at your mouth, sober or not, typically by the other guys. Pope would always shove his shoulder, cracking a smile and giving him another shove before pointing to his own eyes to say “Keep them up here” before distracting the rest of the group from Frankie’s gawking.

Benny would wrap his arm around his shoulder, turning him away from looking at you to see if Frankie would try anyway, crane his neck out of Benny’s hold to keep looking. Frankie usually was able to control himself, but Benny had caught him plenty of times pulling away from his stronghold to see where you had gone or who you were talking to. “If you don’t make a move then you can’t be upset if she goes for someone else, buddy.”

Will was the nicest about it, going all soft in the eyes and looking between you and Frankie to see if you would notice. You always knew when Frankie was looking based on how Will was acting, and you struggled to not just connect your eyes with Frankie and let Will giggle like a girl watching Pride and Prejudice for the first time.

But if you caught him, you only ever blushed, looked up at his hat, and would turn away. You never had the courage to ask what he was looking at, but you knew he was looking at your mouth and it made your heart flutter, wanting to lean in to see if he would take the bait.

You and Frankie had been friends for a long time, and while you were attracted to him neither of you took it further. You noted his pet names for you, but the other boys also had similar sayings and you didn’t want to read too far into it. Ruining what you had with each other was not in the cards if it meant you had to take the first step.

Tonight wasn’t any different as you opened your eyes slowly, tilting your head to the side to see Frankie leaning back on the couch, facing you so one leg was on the cushions, arm over the back with his fingers reaching out touching some of your hair. There was a small smile on his face, eyes glued to your bottom lip, glancing up at your eyes for a moment when you turned to look at him and back down on your mouth.

When he was high he felt like he could tell you anything. His deepest secrets had come out before on this very couch, stoned out of his mind as he spilled his feelings about what he did in South America, or what flights he felt went wrong. He always watched you throughout his secret telling, unable to look away at how unfazed you were, keeping eye contact with him and reassuring him with a brush of your fingers against his leg.

In the scope of his whole life, what he was about to admit was very minuscule. Gruffly, he stated, “I want to kiss you so badly.”

You gave him that same look that you always give him, eyes glazed over as you reach for his knee and give it a squeeze. “I know you do.” You sigh, the corners of your mouth tilting up as he tickles your cheek with the end of your hair.

He felt vulnerable, unsure where the courage to tell you was coming from but felt he had fallen into a hole and now he had to dig in deeper. “I always want to kiss you, even if I am not high or drunk.” He feels the words start to bubble over like he won’t be able to stop. “Do you ever think about kissing me? About us getting to be….letting us be together like that? Or more?”

Your thoughts are going a mile a minute, unable to keep up with what you end up saying. “Yeah, I think about it. Usually when I am trying to go to sleep.”

His breath stops, letting go of your strand of hair and looking back up to your eyes. You’ve lifted your head now but still have an unreadable expression. “Is that all you think about when you’re trying to go to sleep? Me?”

You giggle, moving your body to face him more with your robe coming loose and exposing your collarbone. His eyes have now attached there. “No, I think about other things too. But I think about you when I want a distraction so I can fall asleep.”

He nods knowingly, reaching out to brush the back of his hand against your cheek and neck, loving how you lean into his touch. While his day-to-day life had slowed down since coming home, his unhealthy distraction was thinking about you. If all he did during the day was think about you, text you, and go out with you and his friends, then to him it was a successful day.

Maybe just the two puffs were enough to give him the courage to ask for more. “Can I kiss you then, baby? I’ve wanted…” He pauses, laughing lightly. “I don’t think I should admit that.”

“Admit what?” You grab his hand that is paused on your cheek, gripping his fingers to not let him pull away. He always tried to reel in his feelings when he was high, realizing too late what he had started to admit and you had worked with him on just letting it out. This information was different from other times, his feelings for you were not something you had ever touched on together, but you tried to push your own aside so he could be open without your excitement getting in the way.

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head and leaning forward slightly to tell you this secret. “Admit that I’ve wanted to kiss you since we first became friends.” He whispers, noticing your eyes jump down to his mouth. Hope began to flutter in his stomach, pupils dilating at how your breathing changed.

“That would have been a good thing to know, Frankie.” You say breathlessly, reaching toward to his crumpled t-shirt and pulling him forward more. “I would have let you.” You pause with his face inches away from you, his nose brushing the side of yours and he tilts one way and then the other.

He can feel your breath pick up again, your hand tightens on his shirt as his hand reaches around to the back of your head and holds you steady. “What about now? Would you let me now?” He needed permission, the final approval.

One second you’re nodding, frantic for him to come closer and to attach his lips to yours. The next your eyes are closed, face tingling and connected to Frankie’s, tongues intermingling messily. His kiss is powerful, hand firmly on the back of your head and in your hair, suddenly nipping at your bottom lip and panting.

He swears he tastes cherry Jolly Ranchers-he didn’t see a bag in the kitchen or any in your candy bowl that you keep on the coffee table, but he swears it is in the undertones of your breath, in every swipe of his tongue. He pulls away briefly to open his eyes and look at you, your eyes still closed and lips pouting out to him. It has always meant to be this way in his eyes. “Did you have Jolly Ranchers?”

His question surprises you, making your eyebrows furrow and peel open your eyes at him. He is already smiling, leaning forward to peck at your lips again before giving you time to speak. “No, I have Starburst on the table…did you want some?” You ask, glancing at the table where the joint is currently, a bowl of candy half empty.

He’s shaking his head, turning your face back to his and leaning in again. He mumbles against your lips “I should’ve known, fucking cherry Starburst.” He kisses you quickly again. “So fucking sweet.”

Now you’re moaning, not sure if he is referring to the candy or to you, reaching your hands back up around to the nape of his neck. One hand glides down your side, pulling your leg over his as he lifts you to be in his lap. He leans back on your couch, your lips following his as he tightens his one-handed grip on your hip to shift you over his center, silently showing you how turned on he is.

You release his lips, panting into his mouth and holding on to his shoulders for leverage, shifting your hips to glide up and down the denim covering him. Your robe has found itself untied, opening your eyes to look down and see Frankie already hovering over your chest with one hand, looking up to your face to ask permission. “Can I touch you darlin’? I want to make you feel good.”

His chest explodes with excitement at your eager nod, capturing your bottom lip with his teeth as his hand connects to your breast, immediately finding the hardened nipple and swiping his thumb back and forth over it. He groans when your hips move again, squeezing your hip tighter and listening to you squeak in surprise. “Fuck, I’ve wanted you forever baby. Couldn’t you tell?” He moans, pushing your robe off your shoulders and onto the ground, moving your shirt to sit up above your chest so he can wrap his lips around one nipple and then the other.

You lean your head back, whimpering at the sight of him attached to you. Your hands find purchase in his hair, yanking slightly to hear him groan, popping off of your chest to kiss and lick up your neck to bite at your ear. “So fucking pretty baby, do you want me? Can I check?”

You nod again, attaching your lips quickly to his. “Please, Frankie.”

He feels like he has lost his mind, running one calloused hand down your stomach and watching goosebumps appear in its path as he sinks two fingers into your underwear. The heat coming from your clothed center has him panting again, his fingers lightly separating your lips to search for your entrance, dragging up to your clit and down again. His eyes look up to yours, mouth open as he does another swipe back and forth. “Holy shit, you’re fucking drenched for me.”

You smirk quickly, hearing the awe and confusion in his voice. “Of course, I am, Frankie. I want you.”

It was like he hadn’t put two and two together, pausing his fingers to look closer at your face. He couldn’t comprehend it fully. “Are you sure we aren’t just stoned?”

“We only had a couple of puffs Frankie but if you want to wait until the morning and ask me again then I guess we can.” You winced slightly at the thought, not wanting to stop the feeling of his hands on you, his fingers pleasuring you…

Suddenly he sinks his index finger in to you, watching as your breath catches and eyes close. “I want you as long as you want me baby.” He whispered, leaning forward to kiss your neck and bite into your collarbone, listening to your whine and whimper around his finger.

He added a second, reaching his thumb to the front of you to move your clit back and forth. Your legs were already starting to shake, wanting to cum already. He paused his hand, reaching up to the back of your neck to pull you to him and kiss you again. “Take off your shorts.”

You shoved away from him, quickly shucking your shorts and underwear in one go and removing your shirt while he unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down to his knees before getting impatient and pulling his shirt off as well. You reached forward, getting on your knees to pull his pants the rest of the way down as he groaned. Seeing you on your knees did something to him, but it wasn’t what he wanted right now. “You better get back up here, sweets. I want you on my lap today.”

You were practically purring as you stood back up, kicking his pants and boxers to the side as he reached for your hips again and pulled you into him. His lips were on yours instantly, hips jutting up to have you feel how hard he was against your center.

He moaned as you moved your hips so that he was sliding between your lips, the head of his cock slipping past your clit over and over, teasing your entrance with every move. He looked down to watch you work, tightening his grip on your hips enough to tilt his own slightly and surprise you as the head of him caught at your entrance and pushed in. He closed his eyes, needing to concentrate on not finishing too soon, already pushed to the hilt without even trying because of your movements.

You gripped his shoulders roughly, nails digging into the pale skin there as you adjusted. “Holy shit–Frankie, fuck you feel amazing.”

That made him open his eyes, gently reaching up to your jaw to cradle your face and lean in again. He kissed you slowly, letting you relax around him and taking his time to savor your mouth. He pulls away with a pop, hand gliding down your arm to your hand and moving it to his chest. His heart was beating rapidly, letting you feel how overwhelmed he really was. He watched you process his movements, eyes connecting with him one more time before he reached for your hips again to lift you slightly and back down.

You both moaned, letting him do it again until you both found a rhythm with your hands on his chest, his hands on your hips and you both working together to find release. He grunted, watching your chest as you shifted over him and picked up his hips to meet yours more quickly. The tighter he squeezed you, the sharper his thrusts up, your body stilling above his as he took you from below.

“You’re so perfect like this baby.” He panted. “Can’t stop fucking you. I can feel you tightening on me–” He paused his words long enough to pull you to him, forehead resting on his, chest to chest as he continued to piston his hips up into yours. “I want to watch you cum darlin’, all over me. Can you do that? Just like this?”

You nodded, feeling your sweat mix with his from the exertion as your moans became louder, his hands impossibly tight around your hip and back, holding you up. Your release began, your legs shaking and ready to give out but he continued to hold you, thrusting through your cries. “That’s it, honey, soak me. You are so fucking beautiful like this–” He groaned, his hips stuttering as you clenched around him tightly.

He pulled you off of him quickly, ropes of his orgasm starting as he reached for himself and pumped between you. His mess reached your upper stomach and his as you tried sitting up to not spread it around more.

You both were breathing heavily, his hand still wrapped around his cock at the base, your hands still on his shoulders. You stood on shaking legs, causing him to reach out to your arm to make sure you didn’t fall. “Hold on a second, don’t go running away.” He said quietly, pulling you back forward but not onto his lap again. “I’ll get a towel.” He mumbled, standing and walking to your bathroom.

You watched him, completely bare as you were as you sat back on the couch and reached for the forgotten joint. You relit it, taking a larger puff than you had previously and setting it between your fingers as you reached for another Starburst.

He returned with a towel, wiping at his stomach and having his softened member on display. You looked up to see him already looking at you with a smirk on his face at the joint between your fingers. You offered it to him as he leaned forward to kiss the top of your head and wipe at your abdomen.

Instead, he took the unwrapped candy for your fingers, popping it in his mouth before you could protest. “You’re too sweet, baby.” He smiled, kissing your jaw before sitting next to you and taking the joint for another puff.

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