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pricelessemotion · 6 months

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poltergeists for sidekicks | E.M.

summary: [2.3k] the kids drag eddie to the halloween store where you happen to work.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, pining, eddie being a lovestruck idiot, r wears big prescription glasses and is described as having messy hair

a/n: happy halloween! here’s something i’ve been working on for ages just in time for the end of spooky szn! xoxo

masterlist

Eddie doesn’t hate Halloween.

He used to love Halloween. He likes autumn. He likes watching the leaves change colors. He can appreciate the novelty of a hot apple cider and a hay ride. Hell, ever since he was old enough to go trick or treating, he reveled in it. Free candy and all he had to do was put on a costume and say three magic words? Sign him up.

As he got older, he started to like Halloween for a slightly different reason. Don’t get him wrong, he still liked the free candy, but he liked the excuse to be someone else for a night. He liked how he could throw on a Michael Meyers mask and go door-to-door and be greeted with glee and sweets.

It does a funny thing to a kid’s self-esteem, being treated better when he’s wearing the face of a fictional serial killer.

Now, though, Eddie Munson is decidedly too old for trick or treating. He’s resigned himself to spending the holiday like it was any other day by spending the night in his room, playing guitar, and coming up with new campaign ideas.

Which is exactly what he was doing when three freshmen started pounding down the door of the trailer demanding entry. Within moments, they are practically on their hands and knees asking, nay begging, for the older boy to take them to get last-minute Halloween costumes.

“Aren’t you guys too old to go trick or treating?”

“This is why we need to go to the store! If we wear masks, no one will be able to tell how old we are, hence extending our years of candy collecting.” Dustin explains, matter of factly.

Eddie sighs, leaning back into the sofa, steepling his fingers together. “What’s in it for me?”

The three boys huddle together, conspiring in a manner that is not dissimilar to the way they plan their counterstrikes during Hellfire. They nod in sync, turning around so that Lucas is standing front and center, flanked by the two other boys.

“That one girl you like is working there.”

Eddie remains stone-faced, quipping sarcastically, “That’s very specific.”

Mike lets out an exasperated groan, threading his fingers through his hair before yanking at the ends in frustration. “Y’know, the weird one. Coke bottle glasses, messy hair, always holding a book?”

Lucas’ eyes widen. Dustin smacks Mike on the chest and the hollow sound rings out through the empty trailer. They all start talking over each other, with two of them berating the third for A. being insensitive and B. expecting a good outcome from said insensitivity.

Eddie wants to make a comment that your hair is not messy, it’s actually more voluminous. Besides, his hair is messy and he likes to think it makes him look badass. The glasses comment was a little unfair. Sure, the frames are a similar shade to the iconic green of the bottles of Coca-Cola. But the magnification was endearing, leaning more towards doe-eyed than bug. Unfortunately, Eddie did not consider that while he was observing you, someone might’ve been observing him.

The assurance of your presence is how Eddie ends up here, parked outside of a hardware store turned seasonal shop. He’s helping his friends. He’s supporting a local business and therefore contributing to the local economy! You being here is just a bonus.

A bell rings above them as he swings open the door, the motion setting off a scratchy pre-recorded cackle. He’s gotta hand it to whoever is running the store. They’ve gone out of their way to transform the dingy overhead fluorescents and worn-out linoleum into something that actually resembles an eerie boutique.

“Welcome in! I’ll be right witch you!” Your voice lilts out from the depths.

You appear out of the darkness, expertly weaving under fake cobwebs and pushing aside fanciful drapes that have no doubt been strung up precariously around the store to add to the ambiance. You’ve got a witch’s hat on, tall and black and pointy, which further explains the pun you greeted them with.

“How can I help you?” You smile brightly, adjusting your glasses.

The younger boys barely spare you a glance, just a chorus of we’re good! before running off to the other side of the store, where all of the costumes are located.

You barely blink at their rudeness. Whether that’s indicative of your experience in customer service or due to your generally sunny disposition, Eddie isn’t sure. You turn your smile and magnified gaze at him, “What about you?”

Eddie startles only slightly. He begins to peek over his shoulder as if there’s somebody else in the mostly deserted store that you could be talking to. What about him?

“Oh, I don’t need anything. I just came here with–” He gestures vaguely in the direction that the boys wandered off to. “The little shits that left me in the dust.”

You bark out a laugh, a small smile settling on your lips. “It’s sweet of you to help them out.”

Eddie only blushes in response, murmuring a quiet it’s nothing, scratching the back of his neck like he might find a switch that’ll make him remember how to talk like a normal human being.

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

You pick up a clipboard and a pen and start leisurely strolling down the decor aisle, making inconsequential markings on the paper. Whenever you come across gaps in the shelves you reach back into them, pulling the products to the front edge with a concentration that is quite adorable.

He’s definitely staring by now. Feigning interest in a skull-shaped candy bowl, Eddie scrambles for something, anything to keep the conversation going. “I’m surprised you’re not busier.”

“You just missed the afternoon rush.” You say, straightening a pair of plastic tarantulas that have gone askew. “Not too many people came today, though. I guess they realized that it’s so close to the holiday that the shelves would be picked over.”

“Really?”

You shrug, “I think by October 30th, most people figure if they’re gonna dress up, they’d rather just pull together something from their closets than spend money. We’re actually busier the day after Halloween because everything gets marked down and people want cheap candy.”

“Makes sense.” He nods. “So, I take it you’re a big fan of Halloween?”

Your smile is apprehensive as if you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. Your fingers brush the brim of the witch’s hat. “What gave me away?”

He falls into step beside you, clasping his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest. “I just had a feeling.” Then, feeling much braver than usual, he adds, “I like your outfit.”

You look at him again, clutching the clipboard to your chest. For once, your eyes are leaning more towards bug-eyed. The black velvet dress has draped sleeves and a skirt that swishes with every step. Orange and black striped tights protect your legs from the inevitable chill that comes with October in Indiana. “You do?”

“I do.” He insists, “It totally adds to the magical vibe. If you told me that you were an actual witch and this was just something you do to pass the time I’d one hundred percent believe you.”

All apprehension has slipped off your face, replaced by a genuine smile that cracks open his chest. “Thanks…” You trail off.

“Eddie.” He supplies.

“Well thank you, Eddie. I’d tell you my name but I’m guessing I don’t have to.” You say, rubbing the plastic name plate on your chest.

Eddie does know your name, but it isn’t because of your name tag. He was far too proud to ask around for your name, and far too afraid of rejection to ask you himself. He’d been lucky enough to get a library book right after you. He’d pulled the weathered paper from the slip, seen your name at the bottom of the checkout card, traced the loopy letters with the pad of his fingers. It had definitely been more than a little pathetic.

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat, trying to maintain any semblance of nonchalance. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?”

Your face slowly lifts from the clipboard, twirling your pen between swift fingers polished in a deep burgundy. Directing your gaze at him, you peer through dark lashes and Eddie’s never been more thankful for the inventor of coke bottle glasses. The magnification allows him to see the spark of intrigue dancing across your pupils.

“I was just gonna stay home. Maybe help my mom pass out candy.” The implication of the last sentence seems to hit you. You look down again, scrunching up your nose. Eddie finds it endearing how your first instinct is honesty rather than anything else.

“Cool. That’s cool,” Eddie says in a manner that is decidedly uncool. He fiddles with his rings before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Actually, I was wondering if—”

Suddenly, Eddie feels stupid for getting lost in your eyes and not paying attention to his surroundings. Maybe then he would’ve noticed how the linoleum got ever so slightly softer under the soles of worn-out boots. He would’ve seen the cloaked figure looming in the alcove, waiting for some unwitting soul to step on the pressure plate.

Unfortunately, Eddie did not see any of those things. The poltergeist, or ghost, or whatever the fuck it is swings out. He stumbles backward, releasing a shriek that is so high-pitched, that he wonders if he should start tapping into his upper range. Maybe it would add more texture to Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday night sets.

Instinctively, his arms fly backward, as if to protect you. He stumbles right into you, and he’s sure that if you didn’t grab his waist from behind, you would’ve fallen right over. Unfortunately, the movement has both of you careening back into a shelf, sending bags of overpriced candy and shitty Halloween decorations tumbling to the ground in a cascade of all things creepy and corny. He quickly spins around.

“Shit, are you–”

“I’m so sorry!”

“I should’ve warned you–”

At that moment, chests heaving and hearts racing, you both seem to realize that your hands are still grazing Eddie’s waist. You spring apart, scrambling to clean up the display, haphazardly grabbing the fallen items and placing them back in their rightful places on the shelves. Among them is your hat, another casualty of the calamity.

“I should’ve warned you,” You say again, slightly out of breath. “That thing nearly scares me to death every other day.”

“It’s fine. I should’ve paid attention to where I was walking. It just added to the whole spooktacular experience.” He picks up the hat from the floor, dusting it off. “I think this belongs to you.”

You give a bashful smile, but instead of putting the accessory in your outstretched hand, he gingerly places it on top of your head. Your glasses have slid down your nose from bending over to clean up his mess, and his thumbs gently push the joints of the frames until they’re sitting in their rightful place.

“There,” He punctuates his statement with a resolute tug on your hat, making sure it’s securely on your head. “Perfect.”

You preen at him, eyes sparkling, before you cast them down at the floor. Dustin comes running around the corner, closely followed by Mike and Lucas. All of them are carrying armfuls of miscellaneous Halloween supplies, obviously alarmed at the clamor, but not alarmed enough that they didn’t take their sweet time coming from the opposite end of the store. Eddie takes advantage of your bashfulness and distinctly shoots them a look that says get the hell out of here. Dustin’s eyes dart between the two of you before they widen and his mouth forms a small oh. He sends Eddie an exaggerated wink, walking backward in order to not interrupt the private moment, dragging his two friends along with him.

“Thanks,” You smile at him. “For protecting me. I know who to bring with me if I ever want to walk through a haunted house.”

He gives a lopsided grin, “My pleasure.”

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, “Anyways, what are your plans for Halloween?”

This is it. This is the moment that Eddie has been waiting for since he put down his guitar and his notebook and opened the trailer door.

“That depends.” He clasps his hands behind his back, jutting his chin up in the air. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I get off at four.”

“The Hawk is doing this continuous horror movie marathon. Maybe you would want to go?” Eddie’s fingers are practically vibrating with excitement. He nearly forgets the most important part. “With me? I mean— Only if you like horror movies, I just figured because I’ve seen you walking around with that Stephen King novel. NOT that I’ve been watching you or anything!”

You let out a small giggle. The fact that you’re laughing and smiling is a good sign, even if it is slightly at his expense. He decides to lean into self-deprecation, hoping it’ll seem more charming than desperate.

“I’d say I don’t scare easily, but I think we’d both know that’s a lie by now.”

You scribble something near the bottom of the paper on the clipboard, delicately folding it and ripping it off before placing it in Eddie’s palm.

“Well, I’ve heard horror movies are less scary if you have someone to hold your hand.”

It doesn’t even matter that a ghost animatronic essentially acted as his wingman. The note with your number on it sits heavily in his pocket, thumb tracing over looped ink. Even though it’s cold as shit, he embarrassed himself, and signs of the spooky season decorate every corner, Eddie has a smile that rivals even the best of jack-o-lanterns.

As Eddie turns off towards the dirt path that leads to Forrest Hills Trailer Park, the smile still hasn’t faded.

For once, the streets of Hawkins seem a little less haunted.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #mimi wrote ✍️#poltergeists for sidekicks

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luv-gin · 9 months

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okay i’m convinced gojo would act like the adopted child of geto and y/n, just like the tiktok trend — “mama y papa”

the door opens and the stillness of the room transforms to accommodate the boisterous personality of the gojo satoru. your eyes move from scanning the tv mindlessly to wracking over gojo to ensure he was physically fine, a habit you developed from a certain incident; geto halts his reading to groan at the blob that threw itself on your bed.

“satoru, what are you doing here?” geto asks, irritation peeking through his tone as the man over 6’ wiggled his way in between you two—he couldn’t deny the relief that gojo made it back well in one piece however.

“i just came from a mission, i need my cuddles.” gojo pouts, your fingers already make their way to his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp.

“go cuddle your stuffed toys.” geto retorts as he goes back to reading.

a gasp escapes your lips as you pull gojo closer to your body, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as he slings his arm around your waist "be nice, you heard he just came from a mission."

geto rolls his eyes at your sudden solidarity as you cuddled into and cooed at the large manchild, a little smile painted his lips at your interaction however as warmth filled his chest. sometime later he threw a package of sweets at gojo whilst the two of you focused on the tv once again, held in each others embrace and whispering about the series you started together as to avoid disrupting getos reading.

#ˋˏ mimi talks 😗 ˎˊ #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #lowkey #satosugu x reader #i've ready too many poly fics and can't help it oops #jjk

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starrywilliams · 3 months

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nerdy abby save me…⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

notes: cba to finish this or reread it…slight nsfw warning

one of your favourite things about abby was how smart she was: eyes always fixated on some classic novel and fingers often wrapped around a pen as she completed the daily crossword. you’d be watching some quiz show with her, head in her lap as she played with your hair, when some question about some fucking philosopher would come up. you’d hear her mumble the answer, as if it was just common knowledge. “what?” you’d say, turning to look up at her. she’d repeat the answer, voice tinged with a nonchalance that elicited some carnal reaction from your body.

as your breathing got heavier, she’d ask “what is it, baby?” eyes looking down at you with concern. but then she’d do it again, scoffing as the contestant got the question wrong. you accidentally let out a small whine. it was so quiet, but you felt the grip on your hair tighten ever so slightly, “tell me.” she said.

“it’s nothing.” you whispered, unsure how to verbalize it anyway. “it’s not nothing. so tell me.” her voice was soft, welcoming even - but you knew her too well. it wasn’t a question, it was a command: one you knew you had to obey.

“it’s just…” you began, biting your lip as you tried to figure out what to say. “it’s just that you’re so smart and i-it kind of…” you paused, feeling her blue eyes burn against your skin. “kind of what?” her voice was deep; anticipating your next words.

“kind of…made-me-want-you-to-fuck-me-right-now?” you mumbled breathlessly, embarrassment heating your cheeks. “that’s cute.” abby muttered, smiling softly as her tongue darted over her lip. “cute?” you repeated, slightly puzzled. she’d called you a lot of things before, but cute certainly wasn’t them.

“yeah, it’s cute - endearing really.” she said, hand snaking gently around your neck - tracing your jawline down to your collarbones. “what is?” you asked, feeling your carotid artery thump against your skin. “oh nothing, just how desperate you are.” you tried to interject, but were cut off. “i could breathe and you’d be on your knees, just begging for me to fuck you.”

you gulped, processing her words. you could pretend to be offended, but you knew she was right. there was just something about her that had you breathless simply thinking of her. her other hand which had previously laid idle on your chest rolled over, fingers stretching below your bust: thumb skimming the underside of your boob as it went back and forth.

but her attention wasn’t on you anymore, it was back on the tv. she continued to answer the questions with accuracy, hand ever so slowly moving upwards. “can you?” you gasped gently, feeling her thumb finally brush over your nipple. “can i what?” she replied, not giving up on the uninterested act.

“y’know what.” you sighed, arching into her hand. “i know i’m so smart but i don’t think i do.” she said, watching as you rubbed your thighs together. “so you’re gonna have to tell me.”

#tlou #the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #mimi’s fic updates ✨#abby anderson smut #abby the last of us

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fallinforerling · 1 year

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mimi i can’t stop thinking about when y/n comes and visit sthe bellinghams and y/n and jobe hug for too long n jude is just so very… pouty the whole night lmfaooooo then when he drops you off at home he’s so clingy and whiny :c

- bora <3

ps. this used to be erensfavgirly just so you know 😭 you can tag me as roses-arerosies for all ur new fics <3

but you love me more, right? - jb

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

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Jude was ecstatic once he found out you were able to come with him to England. Visiting his family already had him in a fantastic mood, but now that he knew you were accompanying him, he was over the moon. He knew how well you got along with his family, so once he let everyone know on the group chat, he confirmed all the affection his family had for you with every new text popped up on the screen.

✉️ Mum ❤: Yay! That’s such great news!

✉️ Mum ❤: Tell her I’m making her favorite

✉️ Hey! What about my favorite?

✉️ Jobe: Oh, please. She’s the apple of mum’s eyes, don’t act like you didn’t knew

✉️ Dad: Tell her that I bought new tea flavors for us to try

✉️ I’m starting to think I’m not the main attraction of this visit, am I?

✉️ Jobe: No way! Seriously?

✉️ Jobe: She’s also my favorite

✉️ Dad: Jobe, donʼt be hurtful towards your brother

✉️ Mum ❤: Canʼt wait to see you both 💕

✉️ Jobe: Tell her I miss her

He couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s text. It was obvious he had a crush on you; Jude found it funny since it was a little bit cliché, the little brother having a crush on the older brother’s stunning girlfriend. Oldest joke in the books. It wasn’t a big deal anyways.

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He didn’t consider himself a jealous person. At least, not the type of person that would go as far as considering his own brother a menace to his relationship. It was stupid to even consider it anything more than something to joke about. There wasn't a real chance of something actually happening, not only because he was his brother but also because he was younger than both of you. You considered him a little brother, for the love of God.

Nonetheless, it was hard to ignore how long the hug between you two lasted. His brother seemed to be in heaven while holding you tightly, his head basically on your neck, refusing to let you go after a couple of minutes. It was almost funny to see if it weren’t for the unnerving feeling he was getting from it. He didn’t want to sound crazy, but... Was he smelling your hair?

“It’s so great to finally see you!” You said once Jobe let you go. He looked down at you with the biggest of smiles. “And you got so tall! How did this happen?” You pinched his cheeks, treating him as you always did, with care.

However, Jude’s brain started to overthink, and he was feeling nauseous. Why was he jealous of his own brother? He was being ridiculous, and he knew that. But some things were hard to avoid, and his jealousy was one of them. He tried to fight it as you all moved to the living room, where his mom had prepared a big tray of snacks.

“So, did you had a good flight?” His dad asked once you were all sitting on different points of the large sofa. You nodded with a smile, receiving a tiny bowl full of your favorite snacks from Jobe, who only had eyes for you.

“Thank you, honey!” You said to Jobe, who nodded with a slight blush on his cheeks before getting a bowl of his own. “It wasn’t as terrible as I thought. I actually really liked the food they gave us; it was a tasty chicken sandwich. Right, babe?” Your voice woke him up from his daydreaming, making him sigh with guilt for the direction that his thoughts were taking. “Are you tired?” You asked once he didn’t answer right away, rubbing his leg.

“No, no. I was just distracted for a little bit. But yes, it was a surprisingly good sandwich. She had to talk me into eating it at first, though.”

You smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but hold you closer to his frame, suddenly hungry for your touch. He didn’t let his mind slip to any other ridiculous thought about jealousy and his brother’s stupid crush on you. He gave his full attention to one of his dad’s stories, making sure to always have you close to him while listening. He knew you were giving him weird looks because this wasn’t his usual behavior around his family, but he didn’t care, he needed to have you next to him for a moment.

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Okay, forget about leaving his jealousy thoughts behind.

Jobe was stepping over an imaginary line that he didn’t know he had marked down since you all entered the kitchen. He was all over your space, but the worst thing was that you didn’t seem to mind. He hugged you by the shoulders, talking about God knows what while giving you the smile he knew very well since he was the one who taught him the smile trick. Was he openly flirting with you, or was he seeing things? Why would he do that in front of him? Why would he do that in general?

When he decided that enough was enough, and that he was going to do something about the situation, Jobe left your side. He saw how you nodded with a tiny smile at whatever he said, still sipping the cup of blueberry tea his dad gave you not too long ago. He saw it as the perfect opportunity to take you away from his brother’s hands.

“Hello, pretty.” He said once he was near enough to whisper in your ear. You giggled, as every time he startled you, but you immediately turned around to hug him. “I missed you.” Jude returned the hug, closing his eyes once he felt your warmth around him.

He didn’t know why, but he was feeling the need to be as close as possible to you. Why was he feeling so clingy all of the sudden?

“Are you okay, babe? You were acting a bit weird earlier.” You said against his neck while rubbing his back distractedly.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He wanted to stop there and just enjoy the hug, but his brain had other plans. “Seems like Jobe missed you a lot.”

“Right?” You were apparently naive about what he meant by it, since you just smiled. “He’s such a sweetheart, I love him a lot.”

Okay? Ouch, no need to rub it on his face.

“But you love me more, right?” He bit his lip, surprised by his own stupidity. Why would he ask something like that? What was wrong with him?

“Are you guys ready for dinner?” His mom interrupted whatever dumb thing he was about to say after what just came out of his mouth.

“Just a minute, Denise.” You didn’t let him go, hugging his waist a little bit tighter while smiling apologetically at her. He saw the expression on your face, and he knew you noticed what was wrong.

“That’s alright, I’ll hold your plates for a minute, come when you’re ready.” His mother said, finally leaving you alone. It appears like you weren’t the only one who noticed something strange going on.

“Baby, are you jealous of Jobe?” You asked it in a serious manner, but your eyes were filled with such amusement that he felt like a little kid that just said something very stupid but very funny as well.

“No…” You knew him very well, so there was no point in lying, but he did it anyway because admitting something so ridiculous was very embarrassing.

“You’re so adorable.” You laughed after a moment, taking his face in your hands. “Don’t be silly; why would you be jealous of him? He’s like a little brother to me.”

“I dunno.” He simply answered, knowing he was being irrational. “He has a crush on you…”

“He’s your brother, Jude.” You giggled again, kissing his lips shortly. “That’s why you’ve been hugging me all night long?”

“Mmmh.” He felt mortified, so he went for the safest option and hugged you again, trying to avoid your face. You were having too much fun with this new information. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course I won’t.” You whispered back, silently laughing at his antics. He could actually feel how hard you were trying to hold your laugh. “I really love you a lot, silly jealousy included and everything.”

“But more than you love Jobe, right?” He asked with hope, still refusing to retrieve his head from your neck.

“Yes, Jude. More than Jobe.” You laughed loudly, not being able to keep it down anymore.

“What’s up with me?” Jobe said, entering the kitchen, clueless about the subject of your chat.

“Nothing!” He quickly said, not letting you give away anything that happened seconds ago. If it was bad that you already knew about the jealousy thing, it would be hell if his brother found out. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Okay? Well, let’s go eat it then? Stop asphyxiating her with your love, she’s got enough of that already.” He knew Jobe was just messing with him, but he had to bite his tongue and resist the urge to say something along the lines of “Well, she’s my girlfriend, not yours!” but that would be too childish, even for him.

So he just stayed silent and followed his brother into the living room, still giving him annoyed looks that were received with pure confusion. You just rolled your eyes and whispered to him to keep it down.

Needless to say, even though he acted normally, refusing to let his childish side win, he still felt like he needed to create some space between you and Jobe. He insisted on sitting between both of you, keeping a hand on your tight at all moments, which resulted on you casually laughing or giving him loving looks that just made sense to him, the rest of the family weirdly looking at each other. He made up an excuse after an hour or so, saying you two were so tired from the flight and you needed to head to the hotel, but in reality, he just wanted to cuddle with you and have you all to himself for the rest of the night. You just let him be, still messing around while giving him head scratches to help him fall asleep.

He guessed that jealousy just turned him into a clingy mess, but you seemed very okay with it, so what was the matter?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * JUDE'S TAGLIST

#jude bellingham #jude x you #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude #jb22 #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fluff #mimi answers #footballer fic #football fic #footballer fanfiction #football fanfic #footballer blurb #footballer fluff

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naomiarai · 5 months

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omg just imagine how crybaby Soobin would be while riding him.

His huge cock hitting all the right spots, making you squirm in his lap, and he just keeps moaning beneath you, asking you not to stop and tell him what a good boy he's been(also he would vocalize so much about how tight you are, how beautiful you look, how much he loves you, etc...)

bonus if his pretty hands are tied to the head of the bed

–🐈‍⬛

anon!! sub soobin....!!!

you slowly sink down on soobin's cock, thick and stretching your walls out so good~ his hands are tied to the headboard with your panties~ you start bouncing on his cock, skin slapping against skin, wet and lewd sounds of your previous orgasm~ “mm– good boy~ you make me feel so good binnie” you moan out.

“fuck– feels so good~ just like that- please” he whines at a high pitch, god he's gonna make you even wetter. you start moving even faster, ass slamming against his thighs~ he lets out a shard scream, bursting his load inside of you, warm and wet~

“so soon binnie~?” you coo at his face, peppering him in kisses. “couldn't help it, you fuck- felt so good”

#mimi talks #mimi▪︎anon #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #soobin x reader #soobin hard thoughts #soobin smut #soobin hard hours #choi soobin #soobin fic #kpop smut #txt soobin #soobin #soobin fluff #hard hours

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izvmimi · 1 year

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"angel, wake up."

it takes him a few tries, but he can nudge you awake with a kiss, and through sleep-blurred eyes, you're staring into katsuki's handsome face, his eyes still soft with the tenderness of his words. you're not completely awake from your mid-afternoon nap, but you look at the clock, realizing that he's back early from his shift, and before you can ask him why, he crawls up into bed with you.

you let him move you gently and shift you into a comfortable position, nestled into the side of his body, and let your head rest on his shoulder. you haven't felt right in your own skin for days, and the feeling still hasn't gone away with emergency slumber, but this helps - the feeling of your love holding you close and quietly, supporting your very soul with his.

"they let you off early," you murmur after you sit for a couple moments, while he allows you to wake up fully.

"got deku to take over the rest of my shift."

"why?" you ask, looking up at him. he smiles at you, but it's not his usual cheeky grin, rather a look laced with something between genuine affection and concern. his hand intertwines with yours and places it in his lap, stroking the back of your hand softly with his thumb.

"you need me," he replies. with that, he kisses you on the top of the head then lets his hand pat at the crown.

you blink back a few tears, then shake your head.

"i'm fine. it's okay."

he huffs, then looks towards the window. you follow his gaze, but he's not looking at anything in particular, just collecting his thoughts.

"i thought about what you said the other day."

your head tilts, and then he looks back towards you.

"about me wishing you were different."

your mouth forms a small o, and he studies your expression for a moment, then presses his forehead to yours.

"i was just having a bad time," you whisper, then your face warms as you remember there's no one but the two of you in the room. louder this time you repeat, "i shouldn't have said all of that."

he frowns.

"i need to know what i can do so that you never feel that way again."

you shake your head, feeling tears come to your eyes again.

"it will pass," you insist, but your voice comes out as a croak.

he sighs, and pulls you closer.

"yeah... but at least, let me make sure i'm always there for you."

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #daydreams: bnha #thoughts: bakugou #mimi's notes #a response fic of sorts i guess

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nariism · 8 months

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come out and haunt me

pair. itoshi sae x ghost!reader

content: fluff, angst/comfort with a happy ending, reader is a ghost, platonic + romantic interactions, strangers to friends (to more?), slight pining

synopsis. sae is 13 years old when he moves to madrid. his temporary apartment is old and cheap, and worst of all it's haunted. but he finds your company better than nothing, even if you do tend to knock all of his belongings over.

wc. 5.7k

You are dead.

As it comes to all mortal humans, you have died. You can't remember when, or how, or why— only that it is your duty to haunt this home, that you are abysmally cold, and that you are dead.

You don't know if you had any last words, what it was like to draw a breath, or how to stop feeling so cold. Cradling yourself somehow makes it worse. But you are dead, so what does it matter if you can't remember?

If you had aspirations and meaning in life, then you suppose you should try to find them in death, too. So you float around empty halls, deliberately bump into things just for the fun of it, and pretend that you aren't dead. It is purposeful enough.

There's a boy who lives with you.

You are dead, and he is alive, yet he seems completely unbothered by your loud, obnoxious presence.

Sae feels more dead than alive.

He is 13 years old when he moves into his temporary home in Madrid. It's old and worn. It is all his parents could afford with Yen in a foreign country.

His new home is despairingly lonely. It makes the heart in his chest sink into the pit of his stomach. He misses Rin. His parents. Japan.

He should be thankful. He doesn't mean to be a brat. But the small apartment is cramped and cold and smells like mildew. He's allergic to something in the walls. His light buzzes horribly when it turns on.

And, well. The place is haunted.

You are a ghost haunting an old, rickety apartment in Madrid.

You've never seen your reflection in the mirror, but you're pretty sure you look scary. There has been others before him— a young couple with a dog; a retired carpenter; a businessman complaining about how shitty work is over the phone. Each and every one of them have left you the same way: screaming, crying, colour drained from their faces and packing their suitcase before you could even say hello.

It's a little lonely, being a ghost. Sometimes you wish you came off a little friendlier. You have no ill intent, you're just bored. Bored and lonely and wishing to know why everyone thinks you're so terrifying.

The boy who lives with you is the first. He's the first to look you dead in the eyes and shrug you off. He's the first to fall asleep knowing your presence is watching. He's the first to leave out a bowl of warm, steaming rice for you even though he seems to know you can't physically eat it.

His company is silent, as is yours. It's better than nothing.

Sae is 13 years and 5 months old when he tells Rin his apartment is haunted.

"A ghost? Seriously?" Rin sounds unimpressed even through the static of the phone call. Take it from the kid who watches horror movies in his spare time. Freak, Sae thinks.

"Seriously. I have a picture."

He can hear his brother pulling his phone away from his ear to look at the image he just sent. The call goes quiet for a moment, and then Rin is scoffing in the microphone again.

"Quit messing with me." The younger Itoshi sighs. "This isn't funny."

Rin is only 11. He lives at home with Mom and Dad. He's not alone right now, in a place where everyone speaks a jumbled language he can't decipher yet.

He doesn't understand that even if Sae isn't being haunted, he shouldn't crush his brother's hopes that someone, or something, is watching over him.

"I'm not," Sae deadpans.

"Yeah, okay, and what does this ghost do, then?" He still sounds skeptical.

"Mostly just knocks over my books and stuff."

From his couch, he watches you bristle in embarrassment and scurry away into the darkness of the hall.

You are some sort of untethered soul, unsure of where your actual body rests. It could be 10 meters from this apartment. It could be in Antarctica, for all you know.

Okay, well, Antarctica is a bit of a reach, but you're certain that your body is somewhere. You wonder what kind of clothes you used to wear; what kind of music you used to listen to; what kind of hairstyle you used to prefer.

You wonder if these things are anything like Sae's.

He's all you have right now. It would be nice if you had some things in common. Maybe you could be friends, if he was ever going to acknowledge you to your face instead of gossiping to his brother.

You watch him quietly from the kitchen table, waiting for your bowl of rice. You must make some kind of face when he instead places a plate of eggs in front of you.

He almost laughs, you think. He hasn't shown any sort of emotion in response to you thus far, so it's hard to tell.

"Coaches told me I have to be stricter about my diet," he says out loud. It's the first words he has ever spoken to you. It's the first words anyone has ever spoken to you.

He eats his bland eggs silently after that remark, eyeing them disdainfully.

You have that in common, at least. You miss your warm bowl of rice.

Sae thinks you are funny.

He's only ever known ghosts to be malicious, benevolent beings. Things stuck in purgatory with no way out, forced to wander the mortal plane and thus turning into baneful monsters. Watching spooky movies with Rin has ingrained this into him— hardwired his brain into giving him goosebumps whenever you're around even though he knows you're harmless.

He has to wonder how anyone could ever find a ghost like you genuinely scary, with your avoidant eyes and that patience while you wait for breakfast.

He doesn't mind doing twice the amount of dishes. Not if it means he doesn't feel alone.

You do silly things, like shoving his belongings over when you want his attention, or sitting on the floor and blowing bone-chillingly cold air into his face when he's taking his midday nap.

He's discovered that your inconsistent corporeal interactions with the world are quite amusing.

"What's your name?" He asks one day over eggs that he's shoving around on his plate.

Silence. Of course.

"Don't have one?"

You shake your head, but really, you don't know. You can't remember.

Sae has never been the talkative type, but for some reason he just can't keep his mouth closed. Being a complete shut-in and not having anyone to talk to outside of his team would do that to him, he guesses. He's thankful that you at least don't seem to have a language barrier when he speaks Japanese.

"Should I name you?"

Your offended expression screams: What am I, a pet?

He just smiles, placing his fork down and observing you carefully. And the name he decides on dances at the tip of his tongue, sounds so sweet coming from his lips.

You can't help but think the name was meant for you, in life or in death.

You like listening to Sae talk.

He has a voice smooth as silk, so charming and boyish. He's young, you think. He told you once that you also looked rather young, and asked you how old you were when you died.

Even if you had an answer for him, it's not like you could have told him.

Sae is famous for his age, you discover one night while watching television with him. You're sitting on the floor and he's on the couch. You cause the TV to frizzle and crack with static but he doesn't shoo you away. Maybe he finds your presence more valuable than the background noise of the screen.

He's in a recording, playing what he calls "football"— light blue uniform, eyes wide with adrenaline, sweat sticking to his forehead and a proud shine in his expression. He isn't smiling by any means (you've also discovered that he rarely does), but you can tell he's happy.

"I'm going to be the greatest striker," he says from the couch. He talks about his dreams a lot, which is apparently what he used to do with Rin, but you don't mind filling in that role temporarily. "I'm going to be the best in the entire world."

You don't know anything about football, but you believe him anyways.

Sae is 14 years old when he gets his first contract payment.

This is his chance, he realizes, to move out of his shitty little apartment and into an actual livable home.

He has to consider if you'll feel lonely, if you even can feel lonely, and if you'll like hanging out with your next housemate, whoever it is that's unlucky enough to have a ghost befall them.

He's getting soft. If it were any other point in his life, Sae would have taken the chance to move out without hesitation. But you've been there for him since day one, kept him enough company — no matter how quiet — for him not to go literally insane.

You're the only thing he has in Madrid that he can come home to right now. You’re the only reason he even comes home at night instead of just sleeping in the locker rooms.

If not him, who else would feed you crappy bland eggs in the morning?

You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. At some point, it became his routine.

"I was thinking of moving out."

Your head tilts to the side. You seem perplexed by his statement.

"Like, leaving. Leaving here."

You blink at him, head tilting the other way. There's a look in your eyes that tells him you understand. There's also a look that tells him it's not your first time being abandoned, left in this terribly lonely, smelly apartment.

"I can never tell what you're thinking," he huffs.

You're still for a moment, just staring at him as if you suddenly can't understand Japanese. But then you get up from the table, walk over to the container of dry rice that's been untouched for so long that it's gathering dust, and knock it over.

"Hey," he scolds sharply, chair screeching as he stands. "I have to clean that, you know?"

You start moving the spilled rice into place. He watches curiously as you sort dry rice into a pile. You don't know any Kanji, he isn't surprised. But you know enough to draw him a universally understood symbol.

When he peers over at the messy counter, he finds himself staring at a giant X. Stay, it means. Don't leave.

That night, when he knows you've retreated into the closet where you seemingly go to sleep, he crumples up the lease for his new place without signing and burns the paper.

It's because he needs to make you eggs tomorrow morning. Only he would know to do that.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?"

You raise your head from the edge of the bed. You've made it a new habit to protect him in his sleep, from what he can tell. Perching yourself on the floor beside the mattress and resting there, head in your arms, making his sheets cold.

You shake your head. Of course not, he internally smacks himself. What a ridiculous notion.

He rolls himself over onto his side, looking at you from under his duvet. "So when you sleep, you don't see anything?"

Another shake of the head. He isn't sure you're understanding him. There's another pause as he peers at you, and then he sighs, eyes sliding shut.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?" He asks again, this time emphasizing his words in a different way and hoping you'll answer him the way he wants.

Your eyes shift away for a second, as if pondering. When you look back he's surprised to see that you look... bashful?

You point at him, then at yourself, then shy away again.

You. Me. Friends.

Sae feels silly that it makes his heart ache a little— the sadness carried in your face and a loneliness so powerful he feels it rattling in his own bones.

Well, the two of you have a lot more in common than he thought. How long had you been alone? Was that really all you ever dreamed of? Having a friend?

Suddenly, his doubts about his own dreams feel immeasurably small.

He reaches out to pat your head. His hand goes through you.

Sae is 15 years old when he packs up his belongings for a flight to Japan.

"I'll be back," he promises with a small smile. You believe him. He doesn't lie to you.

You wait patiently at the door for him for two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours. When he comes home, he finds you sitting on the floor like you always do with your head in your knees and a sleepy expression on your face.

He seems colder. More withdrawn, for some reason.

"Miss me?" Sae asks, but he's not even looking at you. He makes his way over to the kitchen and dumps a cup of rice into the cooker, suitcase abandoned at the door unpacked.

You trail behind him curiously, watching him in confusion as he washes it in the sink. He pauses, finally glancing at you before reaching over and dumping a second cup of rice in.

"I stress eat. Don't tell my coach."

The words don't make much sense to you, but you nod anyways.

For the first time in months, he places a bowl of warm rice in front of you. You do as he does, say thanks for the food in your head even though you can't eat, and observe him. You both sit quietly in the dim light of the apartment, moonlight beaming through your single rickety window.

He only gets four bites in before he puts his head in his hands and sobs.

You've never seen someone cry so hard before. Usually, they only do it when they first catch a glimpse of you and flee in terror. You've never known it to be such a painful sound— like a bird singing for the sky but never finding it.

Sae sits there for a long time just crying to himself, not caring that your presence is still watching. It's not like you'd ever judge him or have the voice to speak this secret, anyways.

"Fuck—" he hiccups, wiping up his face. "—Sorry."

You look at him funny. He has no reason to apologize. He's just a kid. A 15 year old kid who needs to stress eat in the solitude of his lonely apartment right now. It makes your chest squeeze; an unfamiliar, horrible feeling that's completely new to you. You wonder if this is what all the anime he watches calls a heart.

By the time he finishes crying, his rice is cold. And when he looks up, his eyes widen. Your lips are trembling and you look like you want to shout at him, but you can't. You are dead. You're a ghost. You can't yell some sense into him, even if you tried.

In the pale moonlight shining into the room, he can see tears illuminated on your cheeks.

Sae is 16 years old when he meets his first partner.

"They're nice," he reassures you as he slicks his bangs up with gel. You shake your head in disapproval and he rolls his eyes. You always liked his bangs down, thinks he looks better that way. "Well, I can't stay single forever."

You scowl at him and swivel on your heel to stubbornly deny his claims. He just laughs.

"You're seriously jealous?"

You shoot him a glare.

"If you really don't like them, you could always scare them away. You are a ghost, aren't you?" He reaches up to pat your head as he always does. And as always, his hand phases through you.

He turns around to fix his hair again, leaning into the mirror to see himself closer.

You're not sure if you even have human features. You can't see them in a reflection, anyways. Even if you did, you're sure they're pretty scary.

You glance at Sae in the reflection. He looks as good as ever, no longer a scrawny little 13 year old kid who eats rice for breakfast every morning. You wonder if his partner is pretty like he is.

He must notice the chill in the air grow ten times colder— a telling sign that your mood is dropping. He turns around to see what has happened, only to find you sulking.

"What?"

You pout, gesturing to the mirror. He looks to the vanity, then to you, and he shakes his head with an exasperated smile.

"I was wondering when you'd ask," he says as if this was a conversation he's been waiting for. And then he talks. Talks more than you've heard in a long time— since he came home from Japan, probably.

He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does.

He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point.

"You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now.

Silence fills the room as he waits for your response. You don't do anything but gawk at him, and he chuckles.

He doesn't show up to his date that night.

"Your hair got longer," Sae points out one day while he's scrolling through his phone.

Your eyes flutter open from where your head rests on the coffee table. You hadn't even noticed. Can ghosts grow?

"You know, I used to think you'd stay the same forever, but you've been growing up with me. It's cute."

Have you? Is it cute? Are you seriously so tethered to him that you've been unconsciously changing to match him?

Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?"

You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays.

He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles.

Sae is 17 years old when he gets the eviction notice.

Four years. Four long, hard, unbelievably painful years later, and he's finally being kicked out of his house.

13 year old Sae would have celebrated. All he feels now is despair.

He doesn't tell you. He can't. How can he explain that he won't wake up every morning at 6am sharp to make you eggs? That you won't have someone around who will tell you every little thing that's changed about you from the last day? That you won't be able to doodle him little incomprehensible blobs with dry rice anymore?

He shouldn't care so much. You're not chained to this Earth. You might just disappear once he leaves, inperceptable to anyone else. The thought makes him so sick that he throws up that night. He tells you he ate some bad food.

Sae doesn't want you to feel sad or lonely, but it's not like he can just become a squatter in this place. His dream is to play football, not be thrown into jail.

You wake up one morning, and he's gone.

There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here.

Well, except for the plate of eggs and bowl of rice sitting on the stove.

You thought you would have been used to being alone by now. For some time, you were used to it. But that was many years ago.

You're not sure how long you've been haunting this apartment in Madrid, nor do you know how much time passes after Sae leaves. The world seems to come to a halt, actually. Without him, what fun is being a ghost?

Now you're just a lost soul like all the others. There isn't anything special about you. You're just the ghost that used to haunt Itoshi Sae and wake him up from his naps.

For the first time in years, you only know one thing. A singular fact that keeps you bound to this world: it's your duty to haunt this home. There is nothing else.

No one moves in after Sae leaves. No one new comes to be haunted. No one dares to set foot into this apartment. You remember that there were moments when life flickered inside of you, if even for just a fraction of your infinite time. The reason for that has abandoned you without explanation.

There's a knock on the door one day. You can't open it, and the person outside doesn't bother sticking around to see you phasing through the door to look around.

There's a birthday cake on the floor with candles that say '19' sticking out of it.

Only one human in the entire world would have deemed today to be your 19th birthday. He's nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to Japan on his 21st birthday. Sae is having trouble remembering what you look like, despite seeing you in his dreams every night.

It's a terrible realization. So terrible that it makes him sob into his pillow at night when no one in the world is awake to hear his anguish.

Japan is lonelier than Madrid. He never thought it would happen, and he blames you entirely.

He doesn't have anyone waiting for him when he opens the door to his luxury penthouse apartment. He only washes one plate in the morning. He wakes up from his midday naps undisturbed and rested.

Sae misses you deeply. And he can't help but wonder if you feel the same.

(You don't know what the yearning ache inside of you is. You don't know what to call it.

You miss him, too. You just can't put a name to the feeling.)

He doesn't stop seeing you in wisps; little blurs in his peripheral that make his head turn fast as lightning. Wherever he looks, you're gone.

It's not fair that you're a ghost who both literally and figuratively haunts him. He'd like to move on in life and forget about those 4 miserable years he spent living in that damned apartment.

He can't. Sae is incapable of moving on from that place. The irony of it is that you actually can't move on from that place, for some reason.

He would give anything to have you haunting him again. It doesn't matter where in the world the two of you are, if you were together everything would be okay. He's impossibly lonely without you.

You start to think that you're the selfish one.

The idea of leaving this terrible apartment in Madrid scares you to your very core— whatever soul is resting in your incorporeal body. It's not fair to place the blame entirely on Sae. Not when you're too wimpy to leave this place and find him.

Death is lonely without him.

One step forward, one day at a time. It's the advice Sae used to mutter to himself while getting ready in the morning.

One step forward, one day at a time. One step forward, one day at a time. And day by day, you're slowly inching closer to the door.

Sae talks to Rin and all he can think about is your confused smiles and head tilts. He talks to his parents and all he can imagine is how cold the room would be if it were you. He talks to his fucking therapist and thinks that all of her shitty advice can't compare to your quiet understanding— that your tears of solidarity are the only thing that could make him feel better.

It's fucked up, really, that he can't move on. His body is in Japan going through the motions: playing football, being famous, being interviewed and going home to nothing. His heart is in Madrid. You took it with you and refuse to let go.

You're the closest thing to love he's ever felt, perhaps— his only friend in Spain. His only reason not to leave. A ghost from his childhood that protected him in his sleep and ate bland eggs for breakfast across the table from him every morning. A ghost that would sit on the floor and wait for him to come home every day. A ghost that kept him company when he had no one else.

He loves you. He doesn't. He needs you. He doesn't. He misses you. He doesn't. Whatever. What does it matter now?

"So playing football has always been your dream?"

Sae stares blankly at the interviewer. He's reminded of a distant conversation: he is laying in bed looking at a ghost with a lump in his throat, and then he makes his first and only friend in Spain.

"Yes."

"And now that you're back in Japan, will you be playing for the national team?"

"I have no interest in playing on such a weak team." In other words, he has no reason to stay in Japan.

"So where will you go?"

Anywhere but here, he wants to say. In reality, he doesn't know where to go anymore if not to his old apartment in Spain. He just knows that he wants to come home to your sleepy face.

(That night, he makes two bowls of rice. He cries like he's 15 years old again and just ruined his relationship with his brother.)

You've never been outside before.

You've heard about it, almost entirely from Sae but also from little snippets of anime he liked to watch. It's brighter than you imagined it to be, and warmer. You're not sure you've ever felt so warm before— it's hard to when you are a walking freezer.

There isn't anyone to tell you where to go. No one pays you any mind. You wonder if you even exist anymore outside of the small confines of that old apartment.

Something tells you that you do.

You don't know where to start looking. He could be all the way across the globe for all you know, though he did used to talk about his home country.

You have no map. You have no sense of direction. You have no one to ask for help.

All you have is the soul caged within your ghostly body tugging in one direction, and wispy feet dragging your body along in response.

Sae is 23 years old when he finally signs the contract to play for Japan, after months of being pestered by Rin about it.

His relationship with his brother is complicated. On one hand, he feels as though Rin will never truly forgive him for what he did when he was 15. On the other, he looks so ecstatic to be playing football together again that Sae wonders if their discourse was imaginary.

Japan is just a smidge less lonely with Rin in his life.

He wants to tell you all about it. That everything worked out and it's fine now. That you can stop weeping for him and to wipe up the tears that fall into nothing.

He counts the distance between you. Fourteen thousand kilometres separate him from telling you how he's living his new dream: playing football with his little brother again.

Fourteen thousand kilometers, ten years of needing you, and a reminder set on his phone to buy you a birthday cake again this year.

His heart aches.

Japan is loud and busy and everyone is always in a hurry to get places.

You have to wonder if Sae really grew up in a city like this, and how he turned out so calm and unmovable. The street names are all in Kanji you can't read, but your soul tells you that you're going the right way, anyways.

There's a crowd gathering when your feet finally come to a halt. Lights flash and there are fancy looking people with microphones clamouring toward the center.

It's only a fraction of a second that your eyes meet, and then someone shoves him into the back of the car and they drive off.

He must be famous here, too.

Sae is 24 years old tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if you were just a figment of his imagination or if you were truly standing there under a streetlamp watching him.

It wouldn't be the first time he dreamed you into existence; on some occasions you feel so real that he nearly reaches out to attempt to pat your head, like he always used to do when he was younger.

He goes back to that spot a couple hours later. The crowd is long gone and it's the dead of night— no one would be around to witness Itoshi Sae looking psychotic.

He doesn't find you in that spot. Instead, you're two blocks down and crouched in front of the window of a 24 hour shop. There's an ad for sparklers, and though you can't read the poster itself, the picture makes you stare with wide eyes.

He crouches down beside you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

"Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod.

He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light.

He smiles at you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

When the sparkler dies out, he lights another. And another. And another, until he's gone through all the packets he could afford with the Yen in his wallet right now.

As if 7 years of distance never existed between you, he reaches out to pat your head. His hand falls through you.

You think Sae's new apartment is pretentious, but it's clean and open and doesn't smell like mildew.

It's hard to imagine what kind of purpose you had before him— all your memories are flooded with his hands and eyes and bangs and small smiles reserved for you. You think that the only reason you were ever materialized into the mortal plane was to haunt him, and only him. Itoshi Sae's permanent looming presence.

He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, you've noticed he's been smiling more lately since you started waiting for him to come home by the door.

Sae is 25 years old when you fall asleep beside him in his bed.

You don't care that he's a kicker or a blanket hog in his sleep. It's not like either of those would affect you. He watches your sleeping face carefully, waiting to see if he would ever wake up from this blissful dream and be alone again.

But every time he wakes up, there you are.

You've grown since he left you in Madrid— you don't look like some lost little kid anymore, at least. He wonders if your souls are truly so intertwined that you would change alongside him, regardless of the distance.

Your eyes flutter open and his breath catches in his throat. You blink at him slowly in the pale moonlight, brows furrowed.

You point at him. Then yourself.

You. Me.

He nods in understanding.

When he drops a plate of protein pancakes in front of you for breakfast, you look confused.

"Oh, sorry. Do you want rice?"

You shake your head. You don't care what's for breakfast, as long as you're sitting across from him while he eats it.

"I'm going to be the world's best midfielder," he tells you one day. You're on the floor and he's on the couch, and it's like time had never even passed.

You don't know what that means, but it's his dream so it must be important. The most important thing in the world.

What you don't know is that it's not his entire dream. World's best midfielder doesn't mean a thing if he can't come home to tell you all about it.

You are dead.

You're a ghost haunting Itoshi Sae— one that followed him from Madrid all the way to Japan. You don't remember how, or when, or why you died. You can't remember what your face looks like either, no matter how much Sae tries to describe it to you.

You are dead. You're a ghost knocking over Sae's belongings to get his attention when you want it. You're the ghost curled up in bed with him even though he has to wear two layers to stay warm because of it. You're the ghost watching him rotate through different breakfasts that he says could never compare to a good old warm bowl of rice.

You are a ghost, and Itoshi Sae gave you a name. A birthday. A purpose greater than being a loud nuisance.

You are a ghost who likes to watch him light sparklers on his balcony. Who feels the things described only in the books he reads to you. Who learned to love somewhere along the way.

You are dead, and somehow alive at the same time.

(One day, Sae will be brave. One day, he will tell you he loves you. One day, he will thank you for waiting for him at the door when he comes home.)

511 notes · View notes

wndaspuppy · 1 month

Text

pheromones | emo nerd!wanda x milf!reader

summary: Wanda can't get enough of you. warnings: top service!wanda, nipple play, mommy kink, fingering & oral (r receiving), age gap (r is 35 and w is 20), dirty talk, strap mentioned as 'dick' . minors & men dni

a/n: hello!! sorry for being so late, i'm sick and only now have i managed to finish writing… i'm sorry for any grammatical error, english is not my first language. enjoy :D i loved writing to my cutie patootie while i listened to jpop and vocaloid.

Wanda was obsessed.

Natasha didn't stop chatting while the brunette's head was somewhere else, or actually someone else. The first time Wanda came here, just remembering it makes Wanda's pale skin turn red. You were in a short silk nightgown and a robe of the same pink material. Not expecting anyone at your house.

— Oh dear, didn't Natasha tell you she wouldn't be coming today? She left the day for studies for tomorrow.

Wanda looked at you, completely lost.

— You came from a long way away, didn't you?

Wanda nodded.

— You can stay the night here! — You said, opening the door wider and giving the younger woman room to enter.

Wanda, not knowing what to say, just nodded, when did it start to get so hot?

Sweaty hands, leg bouncing up and down. That's how Wanda felt in your presence. It was a shame, because you were very communicative, and always placed your hand on Wanda's thigh, catching her attention, who could barely form a sentence.

The memories passed like a blur, bringing her back in time to continue pretending that she was listening to Natasha's story.

Three soft knocks on the door.

Natasha grumbled and got up.

— Sorry to bother you, dear, but lunch is ready! — You poked your head around the door.

— I'm not hungry, what about you Wands?

Wanda's belly responded for itself, making the three of them laugh.

Natasha was already eating, while you were washing the dishes and Wanda was getting food to put on her plate. As the brunette walked past you, she, respectfully, took a good look at you, In tight jeans and a black t-shirt with a V-neck shape.

— Like what you see?

Wanda's forest green eyes met yours, feeling like a deer in the headlights. Your tone was teasing, making Wanda's cheeks burn again and you laughed.

Natasha always sleeps after eating, so it wasn't a surprise that she ended up going to the world of dreams.

Meanwhile you were in the shower, and Wanda enjoyed the TV.

''It's time to leave'' — She thought.

Climbing the stairs, figuring you would be out of the shower and dressed by now.

Oh. How wrong she was.

The crack in the door gave Wanda the perfect view, and you knew it.

Wanda's dirty thoughts come to life, she just wants to use your body, make it hers, mark it. Her's body heated up and her sinful thoughts weren't helping her.

Leaning too close to the door, the wood creaks, catching your attention, you smiled when you saw that it was Wanda, who was covering her face so as not to see you, but you were already dressed. She was a cute thing.

— You can open your eyes, silly.

She let out a huff, removing her hand from her eyes. And that feeling from the first time she saw you came again, you got closer, the brunette was taller than you, making you stand on your toes.

— I know what you need. — You said, placing small kisses on her neck area.Wanda shivered.

— There's so much going on in that little head of yours, isn't there?

Trapping her in the door of her room, which makes small sounds, while she ran her hand over your body, squeezing your waist. You have become feral.

The kisses on her neck continued to Wanda's fleshy lips, who desperately pulled you to the bed. She couldn't keep her hands to herself, begging for more contact with your skin, you smiled into the kiss and removed your silk pajamas.

Wanda went down to the valley of your breasts, distributing kisses here and there, playing with your nipple with her thumb and sucking the other, paying attention to both of them.

You squirm and moan, that was where you were most sensitive, your excitement spread across your legs.

— Wanda…Please, need you.

But Wanda didn't get tired of paying attention to other parts of your body, marking it, purple spots were part of your body now, from your ribs to your neck.

— Do you want me to make you feel good mommy?

The word slipped out smoothly, feeling your heart beat faster. Nodding, Wanda moved forward, giving you another fierce and needy kiss. It didn't take long for Wanda's fingers to trace a journey to your cunt, who was moving in and out, your arousal already making it easier for her fingers to enter.

Wanda was drooling, wasting no time, she traced her tongue down your slit, you squirmed again, pushing your hips up for more friction.

Her tongue danced inside your pussy, and you responded with more and more moans, Wanda's thumb moving your bundle of nerves.

Pushing you to the limit, with your legs wobbling, but Wanda wasn't going to end anytime soon.

— Please, one more... You tried to push Wanda's hand away, everything was too much for you. But it was so good.

— Oh mommy, imagine what it would be like if I used my cock on you, you would be so full of my cum.

Wanda's thrusts were faster and sloppier, your sounds drove her crazy, wanting more.

Almost reaching your climax, Wanda returned to your pussy again, eliciting a loud moan from you, who quickly reprimanded yourself, Natasha is easy to wake up.

— Don't hide your sounds from me, mommy, please. The vibration is enough to make you cum. Your juices make a mess on Wanda's face, who looks at you with doe eyes. You laugh.

— Oh sweetheart, mommy made a mess don't she? —You said as you ran your fingers over the woman's face, licking your own cum.

— Did I Make a good job?

The brunette laid her head on your lap, both enjoying that moment.

— Did I make a good job? — Yes baby, you did.

#mimi's fics (─‿‿─)♡#wanda x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #emo wanda

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harrysmimi · 3 months

Text

Maybe If You're Lucky

Synopsis: One where Harry is smitten like a kitten

More of my work | Based on this ask

Harry had been so smitten lately. He thinks he might be in love even!

So it all started when he met this girl who was apparently new to town and was asking for directions to him, also apparently her google map was confusing her and she was joining her new job that day. He of course helped her out that day, never thinking that she would take the same route everyday to work from then.

One day he finally gathered up enough courage to to go approach her. Yes, he is more shy when he's not on the stage.

Turned out she did seemed to know who he was and what he did for living, in fact she said she was a One Direction fan at some point but, soon enough Taylor Swift took over her life, which is fair enough. Now she does listens to few of his solo songs, his debute solo album is her most favourite she told him.

Now he got to know she moved to London for her new job as the assistant manager at the headquarters of her firm. It was a big day for her, which Harry gladly saved.

Now he's got himself a date with her!

Her nervously got ready, in just a simple black dress shirt, with a pair of pants, he had let his hair be messy. He quickly put on a nice pair of dress shoes and threw on a coat before he was out of the door. He drove directly to the restaurant where they were supposed to meet up. He only had to wait exactly two minutes before his date was jogging upto the restaurant.

Her bag thrown over her shoulder, a beanie on her head and glove covered hands. She was trying to walk as quickly as she can, huffing put of breath. Harry decided to walk upto her even though he have to walk back towards the restaurant.

"Hey," he greeted her with a big smile.

"Hi," he huffed, and slowed down her her pace. "Sorry, I am really not used to walking."

"That's alright, let's fo in and get you some water first." He grabbed a gentle hold of her hand, he knew she was at work. She had some extra work so she was working on Saturday. That's why their lunch date became a dinner date. Just as they were about to get into the restaurant, YN gasped.

"I swear I was on the same bus, why did I got down like 10 minutes away!" She groaned in frustration, earning a giggle from Harry.

"You'll learn, come on now." He urged her inside, it was warmer and she needs water. They finally sat down and waiter served them some water. "I'll take it your day at work was good then?"

"Oh yeah!" She nodded taking a big sip of her water, "I thought I'd enjoy it more here, meeting new people and all, it's someone as worse as back home. Sorry I am complaining. How was your day?"

"No you're not!" He defended, "my day was pretty good, very productive day." She smiled in reply on hearing about his day.

Soon they ordered their food, and hot know more about one another. Just the mandatory first date things, he got to know few little things and that was pretty much it. Harry could see she was getting overwhelmed. Of course, she has been working all day and she is most definitely tired.

"Come on I'll drop you to your place." Harry suggested as he helped her put on her coat.

"Oh you don't have to really, I can take the bus." She said politely, "thanks though."

"You sure? It's quite late." He pointed out. To be honest he did not wanted the night with her to come to an end. He really did enjoyed the time spent with her. "I insist."

"Okay, thank you." She accepted his offer. Harry so kindly got the door her like a gentleman he is. He drove her to her place, it was a safe neighborhood in a complex. He stopped just right by her building and got out with her. "I had a good evening with you, Harry, thank you for being such a gentleman."

"Thank you for giving me your time," he blushed, "hope we could do this again sometime?"

"Yeah." She beamed a rather contained smile.

There was going to be a second date!

......................................................................

It's been three months, the second date happened.

It was a picnic. She brought some delicious home cooked food which reminded her of home. But it's been a good month and half since they both saw one another. Harry had to be in New York for work.

Harry was dying to see her again, hug her again. He was invited over to hers for lunch when he gets back to London.

YN on the other hand was trying her best to get accustomed to the new country and people around her, Harry definitely helped alot and she made a few friends. Her neighbour, Nina was definitely one those people for her who introduced her to her friends. Her weekends were hardly ever spent at home since. Harry said he looked forward to seeing hearing about her weekends on Monday when they have a nice little call during her lunch break.

YN adjusting to her work was really nothing out of blue, she definitely did got the promotion a couple of months before she got to know they needed her at the headquarters. She was used to the work load and pressure. And her colleagues seemed have not to like her much as someone superior at work.

Well, her dad is the CMO at the branch back home, she had joined at junior executive at the age of 18 and made her way up. Did her dad being CMO helped her growth? You can say that. And she is clearly aware of that fact. But her own superiors did not gave a crap about her dad being CMO at the headquarters or at the branch back home, and she worked hard to be where she is. She gave ten years of her life to the company.

And with her sharing these tid bits with her parents had them have a surprise visit to her place. It ruined her plan with Harry. She haven't told her parents about him yet, though they had a idea there was a boy involved. She doesn't even have the heart to tell Harry the truth.

She was at work and her parents and brother were out that dah exploring the city on a Monday. Harry had went in to visit YN. He looked all cosy and snuggly in his winter clothes and a visitors pass hanging around his neck. He'd brought in lunch for YN.

"Hey!" He greeted her the first thing with a hug as she approached him in the waiting area.

"Hi," she hugged him back, "you look handsome!"

"Thanks, love." He smiled shyly, "you look pretty." He tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ear and fixed the fringes she impulsively got last weekend. No she wasn't drunk.

"Thank you." She had a hold her his arm as if she is nervous to tell him something. It was like when she her parents found out that she snuck a kitten in her school back pack on her way home a day after she did pretty badly on a test. "I have to tell you something."

"Yeah, you want to tell me over the lunch?" He suggested, "it's getting cold."

"Oh, yeah, yeah." She realised he was holding a paper bag with take out food containers. She showed him the way to cafeteria and they both sat down at the table farthest away in the corner.

"What is it you wanted to tell me?" He brought up the topic.

"So, my parents are here." She started but paused for his reaction. He isn't really surprised, he really didn't know how to react.

"And...?" He asked.

"I am sorry we'll have to postpone the lunch, they're staying for two weeks." She shared.

"That's fine, love," he shrugged it off, "don't worry about it."

"I haven't told them about you and I, yet..."

"That's completely fine too." This took YN by surprise. But he's told his entire family about her, he had told his mother about her even though they haven't even made it official yet. Hell, they've only been on two dates.

It's a different story that Harry is completely head over heels for her already, that he ended up telling his mum about her and hence his sister and dad and step mother too. She doesn't have to do the same.

"I don't know what to tell them." She shrugged, "the last time I told them I am seeing this guy in junior college, they grounded me!" She let out a chuckled sigh, feeling embarrassed. And here too, it's a different story she was being delusional just to late find out that boy already was double dating two other girls. So her grounding was to really ground her.

"Hey," Harry switched seats to sit next to her. "It's alright, I know we haven't made things official yet but we haven't had the chance to have that conversation yet."

"Do you want to make it official?" She asked carefully, looking at him through her lashes. "It's been pretty official to me."

"I'd love nothing more than that!" He grinned a toothy smile as he placed a kiss on the apple of her cheek. She held up her pinky, he hooked his own around hers. "But do take your time to tell your parents about me and us, there is no rush."

"You're just too perfect, stop!" She hugged his arm making him giggle. She was honestly too nervous about telling him that her parents do jot have any idea about him, but no more than telling the people who birthed her that she is dating a white man. A British white man to be exact!

"I try." He giggled.

They had a good time during her lunch break. YN went back home that evening and decided to tell her parents while she prepared for dinner with her dad. Well, surprisingly her dad was the easiest to handle, he doesn't get angry easily. Her mother on the other hand, she is a tough time. So she decided to tell her dad who will later handle his wife in his own way, he can take all her wrath for his only daughter.

"Well, I knew." Her dad told her, "Jerin told me that there was a lad visiting you today on lunch." He emphasised on the word 'lad' making her chuckle. "Why don't you invite him over for dinner this weekend? Of course, if he is ready."

"You sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Yeah. I'll tell you mother later on." He assured her.

......................................................................

It was Saturday, and least to say YN's mother was just dealing with it. Given the fact her daughter is dating a British guy. She did not approved that. She would rather her daughter marry an Indian guy from a well sophisticated family. But she was willing to put up with this dinner for YN.

Harry on the other hand was lowkey panicking. He had been ranting about this to his therapist for entire week. His nerves were all time high, though he was pretty good at hiding it. He had picked out a pretty semi formal outfit for the evening, a baby blue dress shirt, and black dress pants, with a pair or his faux leather shoes, he chose to wear just few of his rings leaving out his initials rings. He didn't wanted to seem narcissistic on the first meeting with his girlfriend's parents.

He picked up a bouquet of flowers for the mother of his lady, and a rose for her. When he finally got upto her flat, he could hear the laughs and commotion coming from inside of the house. It definitely did calmed his nerves down a bit. Her family seemed a little inviting already, even though he is just a door away from them. He rung the bell, and a few seconds later a young man opened the door.

"You must be Harry?" He said, "I am Veer, YN's brother. Come on in!" He moved aside so Harry can get in. "Please take off your shoes, YN just cleaned her entire flat today."

"Oh, okay." He nodded. And just as they entered the living room, he saw YN on standing on the edge of the backrest of her sofa which was pushed against the wall, hanging up pictures frames. She clearly looked a bit frustrated, her eye bags gave it away. She still looked gorgeous, dressed in an oversized beige jumper and a pair of loose fit jeans and her Cars socks. Her hair tied up with a claw clip on the back of her head. She had just one of the picture hug up before Harry caught her eye and she turned red in embarrassment. There was still a pile of frames stacked up on the coffee table.

Her flat was pretty small for four people to live in, but perfectly too bit for one person. Given all he knows her family is staying with her at her place. The living room was small and cosy, and door which lead to the bedroom. A kitchen which he missed by the hallway. It was all cute, and interior reflected YN's personality in it.

YN quickly got down from the sofa and approached him. "I am sorry about that."

"It's alright, love." He told her calmly.

"This is my mother, Harry. And Mumma this is Harry." YN introduced both of them. Harry went to approach her mother carefully and have her the bouquet of flowers.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. YLN."

"Thank you for these Harry, and like wise." The lady smiled. Which took YN by surprise. "And this is Veer, YN's brother."

"Yeah, we met at the door." Veer said, "go on, why don't tou meet dad he's in the kitchen."

"Oh, yes!" YN grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him back towards the hallway he just came in from and to the kitchen.

There the man was, a look alike of his girlfriend. Gray hair and beard kept clean and nice, a pink appron wrapped around his waist as he cooked up some amazing food.

"Papa, meet Harry!" YN announced, "Harry this is my dad."

"Hello sir, nice to meet you!" Harry smiled shyly as he approached with a handshake, but YN's dad surprised him with a hug.

"Nice to meet you too Harry." YN's dad said patting his back. "So Harry, do you like to cook?"

"I am not very well at cooking I'm afraid, but I can cook some pasta dishes." He shared, "this smells very fragrant, I should say!"

"Papa is the best cook ever," YN started, "his best dish is the Chicken Pulao he makes, since you're vegetarian he's just making veg today."

"That's very considerate, thank you!" He again smiled shyly.

"You kids go out and have fun, food is almost ready." YN's dad suggested, "we'll have a chat over dinner."

"Sure, you want any help?" YN asked to which her dad declined. She took a hold of Harry's hand and walked him out.

"Harry you want to see YN's baby pictures?" Veer announced.

"Oh god!" YN groaned rolling her eyes as she followed Harry to the sofa, he quietly handed her the rose he got her.

He sat down as Veer shared back stories of each of YN's baby pictures. He got to know YN is the youngest, she's got yet another older brother is stuck at work unfortunately. There was a family picture frame where YN seemed to be around 22-23, she had worn a gorgeous black sparkly saree with a slick back bun and a bold burgundy lip. Oh how Harry was smitten again!

Another picture from the same day with both of her brothers. And a few other pictures pf her with her niece and baby nephew. The reason behind all these pictures was her mother who didn't wanted her daughter to feel alone all the way in another continent. Which is very sweet in Harry's opinion. It's a rather good option to stay grounded when you can see pictures of people who you love and who love you everyday.

Soon the dinner was ready and least to say, Harry felt very welcomed in her family. He felt all his worries melt away the more he got to know her parents. Yeah, her mum is a little tough but she is like a marshmallow inside who loves her daughter dearly.

Harry also noticed YN had the tose he got her tucked over her right ear nicely. She looked adorable that way.

Again he did not wanted the night to come to an end but he had to leave, he's got to go studio the very next morning. YN walked him back to his car.

"It was fun meeting your parents, your dad is amazing!" Harry shared.

"Seems he already likes you, more than me might I add." YN giggled.

"What about your mum, she did not seemed much impressed by me, did I do something wrong?"

"Don't worry about her, she'll come around." YN assured him. "I don't want you to go though!"

"Trust me baby, I don't want to leave either." Harry sighed as he leaned back on his car reaching out to pull her closer with his hands on her hips. "We'll spend the next weekend together, yeah?"

"Yup!" She nodded, "thank you for the flower, it's very pretty!"

"You make it look prettier." He swears he's falling in with this girl every passing micro second, he's just too nervous confess just yet. His compliment made her blush though, "anyway, will I be able to see you in a saree in person?"

She squinted her eyes as if she is thinking hard. "Maybe if you're lucky. One day, yeah."

"Oh if I am lucky?" He raised his eyebrows acting surprised, "aren't I lucky now? Have got you in my arms."

YN's awkward senses kicked in as her nose scrunched up to mock him, "you are lucky, yeah!"

Harry let put a defeated sigh, "I don't want to leave."

"You have got an album to make." YN pouted sadly looking at him with puppy eyes behind her glasses. "I have be up early tomorrow as well, apparently my dad's got a surprise which requires getting up early."

"Well do share with me what the surprise is." He said to which she nodded, they stayed in silence for a couple of minutes before he impulsively asked her, "can I kiss you?" It's shocking? Not really, they haven't kissed yet. Well, they hardly saw one another.

YN reaction was holding back an embarassed laugh covering her mouth, "I haven't done before, so sorry if I suck. But yes, you can kiss me!" That made Harry giggle.

"You are adorable!" He went in for the kiss sliding up one his hand on the back of her head. He pressed his lips on hers gently, in a closed mouth lips which lingered longer than YN anticipated. "See it was amazing!" He announced again making her hide her fave in his chest. "Alright, you're making it harder for me to leave now."

"It's working then." She mumbled again the fabric of his shirt. "Okay, okay I'll let you go now. But text me when you get home yeah?"

"You know I will." He pressed a kiss on her hair. She reluctantly pulled away from him and took a few steps backwards before she was running back into her building.

......................................................................

Now it's been a couple of more months. Harry birthday passed by. He got to finally take YN to see his mum and sister, he said he'd take her to see his dad some other time as he seemed to be busy around that time.

Harry was invited to one his best friend's birthday and album released party. Ed Sheeran, his best friend. To which of course he decided to go, he asked his girlfriend to be his date. It was going to big party at one Ed's Villa. It was a themed party, everyone was supposed to wear something black.

So Harry put on one his simpler suit, styled up his hair and put on some nice cologne, got a rose for on the way. He went over to pick up his girl. He went upto her flat instead amd what he saw left him in complete and utter awh!

There she was wearing the same saree he saw her wearing in those pictures few months ago. She looked exactly as stunning in those pictures, or somehow even more. This time she had her hair pulled up in a low slick bun, and wore a smokey eye look and the same bold burgundy lip. God he could kiss her right then and there!

So he did, he pulled her in a big smooch on her mouth. "God, you look stunning baby!"

"Thank you!" She smiled shyly, "oh can you please help me get this?" She turned around and there was a top hook left opened which she couldn't get, so he helped her with it.

"Also, I'm gonna do this." He placed the rose carefully on the side of bun. He'd especially asked the florist to cut the stem short because he's figured YN loved wearing roses he gets her.

"Aw, that's cute, I'm gonna go look at it!" She bunny jogged to her bedroom and came back out just as quickly. "It looks so nice!"

"It does indeed." He agreed grinning ear to ear.

"Okay let me wear my shoes and we can leave." She clapped her hands silently and was hopping her way to her shoe rack before he stopped her.

"And where is your coat, miss?" He asked.

"Oh, I don't need that. It'll ruin my look!" She whined as she looked for her shoes.

"Nuh-uh, we're not going anywhere unless you wear your coat. It's fucking freezing outside, don't want you getting sick. Get your coat or a cardigan at least." He insisted, but firmly. He seriously wouldn't budge, he'd got to know her well in these five months that she gets sick way too easily. Like every month she has to catch a fever or a cold.

She slump walked to her room and got a coat, which he helped put on. And once she put on her shoes they were headed out. Harry drove her to the party.

"I can't believe I am casually going to Ed Sheeran's birthday party!" She fangirled in the car. And even told Harry about how she impulsively bought very expensive looking tickets to his shows, two of them so she is not alone and can drag her friend along. She had just started her new job at the very minimal salary. More than half of her monthly salary went into buying those tickets (the nosebleeds!!) and she gradually saved up enough to book a hotel room and train tickets as the concert was in another city. Those were best chaotic three months of her life.

Finally Harry stopped in front of the venue. It was a party thrown by Ed's manager and least to say the mans did not shy back on spending money. There were valet for every guest. YN felt at ease now knowing she won't be over dressed.

She enjoyed the party would be an understatement, she had a blast. Especially Harry introduced her to Ed in person, her inner fangirl did not shy off. YN was bursting with joy when they left the party.

"Oh my god! I actually got to meet him!" She fangirled on her way back to Harry's car with a little hop to her walk.

Harry was just happy to see her happy and bubbly. They finally stopped by his car by the passenger side, he pulled in close with his hands on her back, under her coat softly caressing her exposed skin.

"Did you enjoyed yourself?" He asked, moving in closer.

"I actually had a blast!" She exclaimed again making him giggle.

"Haven't got to kiss you all day." He pouted sharing. He was actually hesitant of ruining her makeup, thinking her lipstick might smudge or something.

"I was with you the whole evening, why didn't you?" She looked at him confused but could feel her heart melt.

"Don't want to ruin your makeup and smudge up your lipstick." He looked at her with puppy eyes.

"You know I wouldn't have mind, plus my lipstick is tranfer proof." She shared watching his fave lit up.

"Why didn't you tell me that before!" He gasped, and the next thing YN knew was feeling his lips on hers in a needy kiss.

In that moment he knew, he loved her.

231 notes · View notes

casualhedonists · 5 months

Note

I love that you reblog the fics that you like...what are a some of your faves? Just wonder because your fics are amazing and you're such a incredible writer yourself and a icon coriolanus writer

I saw some really AMAZINg but really underrated fics on your reblogs which i didn't come across on my own feed

Attention is so sososooso good btw!! I'm so interested in where you're taking the relationship and hte plot

first off thank you for the lovely words anon!! before i even had the idea for attention i made this blog to rb my favorite corio fics i came across, so i still v much do that, i find a lot of them through tags, and also things my v talented mutuals have posted 💌

there are so many amazing ones that i couldn’t list them all but here are a few of my faves:

anything by @etfrin esp the arranged marriage au fics! their masterlist

blood on his canvas by @pasukiyo recently read that one and WOW

infernal desires by @desireangel just gorgeous and so wonderfully written

everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officer by @cherienymphe we love a lana lyric and this fic is just *chefs kiss* i love it

and a few from ao3 for good measure:

poisoned petals by @sapphicrhaegon (the full fic is on ao3 and is wonderfully dark, heed the warnings)

don’t flinch (i’ve got a soft mouth) by AttaBoyLuther on ao3

may the odds be in your favor by singme2sleep on ao3 (i believe their tumblr is @0bticeo )

there are so many more but those are a few of my faves! tags vary greatly of course so heed each warning individually!

also thank you for asking!! super flattered you’d want to know and go show these incredible writers some love! 🤍🤍

#asks 💌#thank you nonnie!!#i feel like i should backlog the fics i reblog and tag them as recs #i’ll get around to that #mimi’s fic recs

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chanyouchan · 3 days

Text

⌕ futura namorada

⚠ em caso de inspiração, me credite.

📆 24/04/24 | ✎ @mnini (psd)

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pricelessemotion · 11 months

Text

Never really over | S.H.

summary: [4.2k] you and steve fall apart, then fall back together.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: so much angst, best friends to exes to lovers, language, gratuitous taylor swift references

a/n: exes to lovers is one of my fave tropes so i hope i did it justice! reader is vaguely asian-coded by accident (though there shouldn’t be any direct references to r's appearance!) lmao happy AAPI heritage month to all my fellow asians

masterlist

The day after your breakup, Steve shows up at your house with a bag of takeout and a six-pack. He kicks off his shoes at the front door while you’re in the kitchen, already grabbing napkins and chopsticks. The light on the floral rice cooker on the counter just turned from cooking to keep warm. Steve is nothing, if not right on time.

To most people, the situation would seem peculiar. But you and Steve were best friends before your break up and you had promised that you would stay best friends after it.

You settle in on opposite sides of the worn-down loveseat, a rerun of Golden Girls playing on the television. You’re just about to ask him if he remembered to get extra sauce for the chow mein when Steve, seemingly anticipating your question, silently hands you a small cylindrical container.

The night goes on as it usually would, with Steve lamenting Keith’s tyranny and Dustin’s antics. He helps you clean up when you’re done, scooping the leftover rice into a Tupperware container saying I gotta get myself one of these, it’s so convenient! He even does the dishes, washing while you dry, never commenting on the fact that you have a perfectly good dishwasher that you never use.

Once he’s standing in the entryway, shoes back on and keys in hand, he instinctively leans in for a chaste kiss goodbye.

You flinch, turning your cheek at the last second. The moment becomes a sobering reminder as to why you decided to break up in the first place. Instinct over time starts to feel like routine. Routine over time starts to feel like a chore. Another thing that you have to cross off your to-do list.

For a while, it was grounding. It felt good to be normal. Normal felt like warmth, like coming in out of the freezing cold and cozying up next to a blazing fire. But you knew from experience that the cold always comes back. As the days drew darker, the once roaring hearth settled into a pile of ashes. Being grounded can feel like being tied down. It’s only natural to want to break free.

You didn’t realize freedom would feel like this.

“Right.” Steve huffs out awkwardly, swinging his car keys around his index finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He shuffles out the door while you offer a weak goodbye. You know you’re letting the cold in by watching him as he gets into his car. You do it anyway.

–

Steve and Dustin have taken to visiting you while you’re on shift at the coffee shop. You’re not sure why. The arcade next door seems much more fitted to their shared interests, but they still come and visit you all the same. Usually, when you come upon them, they’re standing on the other side of the till having a whispered conversation that dies the moment they notice you’re there.

“A latte for me, and hot cocoa for the kid.” Steve says, ruffling the younger boy's hair.

“I’m fourteen!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Maturity. Did you want a coffee? I’m sure our girl over here has some great recommendations.”

Dustin only grumbles in response, muttering insults under his breath. Steve refuses your offer to comp their drinks, paying and dropping his change in the tip jar.

You set both drinks down on the counter when they’re done. One is a simple steaming cup. The other is piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles, decorated with a tiny plastic snowman left over from the holidays.

“Thank you,” Steve says, leaning against the counter. “Y’know, you’re my most favorite barista in the whole world.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only barista you know, but you’re welcome.”

“So, would you be interested in movie night tomorrow?”

“Wow, let me think.” You feign contemplation, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I’ll have to check my schedule. I have a meeting with some venture capitalists but I might be able to squeeze you in.”

“It’s a date.”

“So… you guys are back together?” Dustin darts a confused glance between the both of you, his irises going back and forth as if watching a ping-pong match.

“No!” You and Steve both blurt out at the same time. Then you both take a moment to look at each other as if to say, I know why I said no but why are you saying no?

Is it really over?

Dustin, as observant and tactless as ever, gives off a little shrug. You mutter something about needing to go to the back to do inventory. As you’re walking away, you hear Steve say something that sounds a lot like Nice going, doofus!

–

Dustin answers the door when you ring the bell. Steve’s house has the usual suspects for movie night. Max and El are cuddled up together on the floor, practically laying on top of each other. Robin and Nancy are on the loveseat to the left, so wrapped up in each other that they barely even register your arrival. You presume that the sounds coming from the kitchen are Mike, Will, and Lucas, no doubt making one too many bowls of popcorn in the microwave.

Steve is sitting, his arm draped over the back of the couch. Before, there would’ve been no questions as to where you would sit. The empty couch cushion practically had your name on it. You would’ve already bounded across the room and snuggled up to the boy that felt like home.

You search the room for another option, but come up empty. Unless you want to pointedly avoid sitting next to him by crashing on the floor with the kids, which would undoubtedly draw attention to the very thing you want to ignore.

Taking a seat next to Steve, you toe the line between platonic distance and romantic distance.

“What’s on tonight?” You ask no one in particular.

“The Princess Bride.” Lucas replies, coming from the kitchen with a bowl of fresh popcorn.

He barely gets a chance to put it down before the three other boys tumble onto the floor and begin shoveling the savory snack into their mouths. Max and El whine about their lack of civility, yelling at them for having spilled popcorn on the floor before the movie has even started.

“Ah, that’s my favorite!”

“I know.” Steve finally speaks up beside you.

“We’ve only seen it like a million times.” Max says, rolling her eyes and resting her head on El’s shoulder.

“Hey! Little shits who eat my food and use me as a taxi service don’t get to complain about my movie choices.”

“Whatever, Steve.” The redhead remarks, with an unmistakable fondness in her voice.

You settle into your seat. The January cold has seeped into the house and, despite the heating being on full blast, you’re freezing. Steve notices, tugging the comforter in his lap over your frame, enveloping you in a warmth you didn’t realize you missed so much. You murmur a quiet thank you that you’re almost sure goes unheard until he turns, giving you a small smile before returning his attention to the screen.

In order to properly share the blanket, you have to scoot in even closer. You tell yourself that it’s a perfectly reasonable platonic distance, that you used to do this all the time before you were dating. If Steve is experiencing even a fraction of your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking ahead, paying far too much attention to the film. The palm that would usually come to rest upon your shoulder stays gripping the back of the couch.

Sometime after Buttercup and Wesley enter the forbidden forest, you fall asleep.

It’s hard to make out anything through the dense fog. The trees around you loom large, foliage so lush and thick that it blocks out the sky, making it unclear if it’s day or night. The only light source comes from an oil lamp.

The lamp casts a shadow over the face of the person holding it, emphasizing his strong brow and straight nose. You go to move toward Steve, but you can’t. You’re stuck. Ankle deep in sand, coarse and with the consistency of molasses, that slowly creeps up higher and higher. It takes you a moment to realize; the sand isn’t getting higher, you’re getting lower.

You’re sinking.

Desperately, you begin grasping at anything and everything that might get you out. It’s futile. The more you move, the further you fall. You’re waist-deep now. Steve is still standing there, stone-faced, oil lamp flickering. He turns, walking into the fog and taking the light with him.

You open your mouth, wanting to scream. Needing to scream. But only one word echoes throughout. It does nothing to stop Steve’s retreating figure.

Stay.

“Hey,” Steve is tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. “Wake up.”

The fog dissipates. Feeling slowly returns to your limbs. The first thing you realize is that you fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder. The second thing you realize is that, due to your impromptu nap, the distance between the two of you is practically nonexistent. You recoil, sliding yourself as far away from him as you can. Steve flinches at the sudden movement.

“Are you okay?” His voice is soft and comforting, like a childhood blanket that you can’t sleep without. “It seemed like you were having a bad dream.”

You blink your eyes furiously, trying to shake the sinking feeling that has settled deep into your stomach.

“Where is everyone?” You ask, avoiding his question. The once lively living room is now empty. Remnants of movie night surround you in the form of stray pieces of popcorn and a nearly empty tub of Red Vines.

“They all went home about twenty minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed so comfortable. I didn’t wanna wake you.” He shrugs, saying the next words gently. “Are you having nightmares again?”

Before, you would tell him yes. You always talked to Steve about your nightmares. Most of the time he was there to witness them firsthand, waking up to your shouting and thrashing. Some nights, he would be able to coax you back to sleep with soothing words and tender touches. Other nights, he would stay up with you for hours, talking about nothing. The next day, the deep bags etched under his eyes would serve as another reminder of just how tiring you could be.

“I’m fine.” You wipe the corner of your mouth, cringing at the slight dampness you find there. Great. Not only did you fall asleep on Steve but you also drooled on him. “I think it’s time for me to head out.”

Leaping from the couch, you get to the foyer in record time. Your shoes are already halfway on before Steve appears, standing in between you and the door.

“You don’t have to. You know the guest room is always made up for you if you want it.” He bargains.

“I— I have to go. I’m sorry. Goodnight Steve.”

“Please, you’re tired. At least let me drive you.” He’s practically pleading, already moving to grab his car keys.

“Just let me go, Steve!” Your outburst echoes throughout the empty house.

Steve takes a step back away from you. “I’m sorry.”

Regret washes over you like a tidal wave. You can feel yourself being ripped under the current. You curse yourself, not for drowning, but for dragging Steve down with you.

“No, don’t apologize. Fuck, I’m sorry. I just—”

“Have to go?” He supplies.

He sounds dejected like this is another battle with you that he’s already resigned himself to losing. You fumble through another apology, another goodbye.

You don’t dare to look behind you as you make your way to your car. It isn’t until you’re halfway down your street that you spare a glance at your rear-view mirror. Steve is still standing there, the door wide open.

You don’t know why you keep having dreams where you ask Steve to stay.

You’re the one who is always leaving.

—

“She was totally flirting with you!” You scream whisper, keeping in mind that the diner is mostly empty aside from the loyal patrons that come in every weekday for a hearty serving of beef and potatoes.

Steve showed up to the coffee shop today, sans Dustin, asking if you’d like to grab a bite to eat after your shift. You obliged, hoping to make up for your outburst from the other night. He still hasn’t mentioned it. For your sake, you hope that he won’t.

“No, she wasn’t.” You thought Steve’s obliviousness when it came to romance only extended to you. Apparently, you were wrong because he was completely ignoring the way that the waitress was batting her eyelashes at him.

“Yes, she was!” You take a fry from the basket and Steve pushes his strawberry milkshake toward you, already knowing that you were going to subject him to the gross combination and he might as well get it over with. “Y’know, if you wanted to ask her out you could. Don’t let me hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back. Anyways, isn’t it weird, having your ex-girlfriend be your wingman?”

“I’m still your best friend. Besides, you totally helped me out with Brandon so I just thought I’d return the favor.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, causing you to furrow your brow at him. Despite having loved him for a long time and having known him for even longer, his inability to read a room knows no bounds.

“Last week at Family Video?” You utter the words with slow precision, but recognition fails to make its way across Steve’s face. “Brandon Clayborn asked you for horror movie recommendations and you sent him to me.”

“And he asked you out?” Steve gapes at you from over the rim of his milkshake. The idea of grabbing the glass and slogging the pink confection at him crosses your mind, but instead, you clench your fists at your side.

“Is that so unbelievable?” At your response, Steve’s brows pinch together. He toys with the wrapping paper of his straw, folding it over and over again.

“And what did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“Oh.” Steve finally stops fiddling with the piece of paper. It’s shredded to pieces in a pile in front of him. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the bulging leather wallet. “I’ll be right back.”

With that, Steve slides out of the booth and walks up to the counter. The giggles of the waitress can be heard throughout the diner. You turn toward the window so that you don’t have to see her scrawl her number on the receipt, and you catch your muddled reflection. You don’t know if you look like you’ve seen a ghost or if you’ve become one.

–

Due to unforeseen circumstances, your second date with Brandon had to be rescheduled. A literal rain check. He’d sputtered out numerous apologies over the crackling phone line, saying how the picnic he had planned didn’t account for a torrential downpour. You promised him that it was fine, that you didn’t even wanna leave the house in this weather. You didn’t think anyone would want to leave the house in this weather, which is why you grew shocked at the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Then you promptly remember that this is Hawkins and that anyone or anything could be behind that door. Grabbing the old wooden bat you keep under the couch for emergencies, you inch toward the door. The frantic ringing of the bell matches the beat of your heart. Peering through the peephole, you sigh in both relief and frustration before flinging the door open.

“Are you insane?!” You practically scream at the soaking wet boy. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Steve stands in the threshold, shaking his head like a dog would to get all the water out. You flinch as the droplets inevitably fall on you. The fine mist and wind that he’s brought in with him chill you to the bone.

“Sorry.” He smiles sheepishly.

“How did you even manage to get this wet in the twenty feet from the street to the porch?” You ask, peering behind him to look for the familiar maroon vehicle. It isn’t there.

“I walked here.”

You balk at him. Sure, Steve has been known to act recklessly from time to time, but never without reason. Instead of taking the time to berate him for being so stupid, you take one look at the soggy shivering boy and shut the door, turning on your heel towards your bedroom. You don’t need to look behind you to know that he’s following you.

“C’mon, you’re gonna catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes.”

You rummage through your drawers, managing to find a t-shirt and sweatpants that you had stolen from him long ago. Now is as good a time as any to give it back, right? Stuffing the items in your arm, you thrust them into Steve’s hands and direct him to the bathroom. He doesn’t need direction. He knows the floorplan of your house just like he knows you–all too well.

While Steve is in the bathroom, you go to shut the drawers that you had left open in the rush to find him something to wear. The bottom drawer has always had a problem, getting stuck at the most inopportune moments. Lifting it just a little, you slam the drawer back into place which causes the contents on top of your dresser to shake with the force. The silver picture frame falls on its face and you go to place it right side up.

It’s a photograph of the two of you from last summer. Robin had pointed the camera at you and at the very last second Steve grabbed you and placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, causing you to squeal in delight. The memory stings. You almost want to put it face down again so that you don’t have to be reminded of what once was. Instead, you’re interrupted by the sound of a lock turning and quiet footfalls on carpeted floors.

The moment Steve steps into your bedroom, you’re drenched in nostalgia. It’s been months since you’ve seen him like this–standing in his pajamas in your bedroom. It’s moments like this that are the hardest. The ones where you can feel how everything and nothing has changed. It feels like relief and restriction.

You realize you’re still standing in front of the dresser and go to sit on your bed. You need to put space between you and Steve. He has this insane gravitational pull and you know that if you stay around him like this for too long, you’ll end up back in his orbit.

He steps cautiously around the room like he’s afraid of stepping on a landmine. One wrong move and everything could blow up. Standing in front of the dresser, he takes the dreaded picture frame into his hands. He’s still using a towel to dry his hair when he finally speaks.

“It’s a good picture.” He says, simply. The pads of his thumbs wipe away the layer of dust that coats your sunbleached faces.

“It is.” You manage to choke out. “Why are you here, Steve?”

He places the picture frame back down on the dresser. It’s perfectly angled towards you. The ghost of your smiling face taunting you in your own bedroom.

“It’s funny, y’know?” Steve lets out a mirthless laugh.

“What is?”

“We broke up and the only person I wanna talk about it with is you.”

All of the air has been sucked out of the room. Steve has always been good at taking your breath away.

“I mean, I get it. I get why we broke up. I do.” He lets out a deep breath before continuing on, not giving you a chance to interrupt. “Except, I don’t. I can’t wrap my head around how one day we were fine and the next day we weren’t. I know that I’m not good enough for you–I’ve always known that. I guess I just wanna know when you finally figured it out.”

His words make you ache. A tightness blooms in your chest and spreads all the way down your arms to your trembling fingertips. You want so badly to reach out to him. He’s on the other side of the room but he might as well be on the other side of the world. You don’t know how to bridge the ravine that you’ve put between the two of you. You know for him you’d make the leap, uncaring of the abyss below. The thought scares you so much that your fists tangle in your bedsheets, hoping for something to keep you from falling back in.

“The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you weren’t good enough for me. You’ve always been good enough, Steve.”

You can tell from the shake of his head that he doesn’t believe you.

“I thought that maybe you just needed a little space, a little time. Then I have to watch you go on dates and move on like it’s easy. Like the fact that we’re not together anymore doesn’t eat you up inside.”

“It’s not easy! It’s killing me!” Tears collect in your eyes, blurring your vision. “I don’t know why I can’t just be happy with you. I want to be happy with you.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Steve begs, his question punctuated by a boom of thunder and a flash of lightning.

You found solace in the eye of the storm. Once the storm passed, you didn’t know what to do with the wreckage. Calm didn’t provide comfort. Instead, it only reminded you that there was likely another storm to come. Steve has always been better at picking up the pieces and patching things up. You didn’t want to become just another thing he had to fix. So, you pushed him away.

He still came back.

This time he brought the storm with him.

“I’m afraid that the minute I actually enjoy everything, it’ll all get taken away from me.” You confess, roughly wiping away your tears.

Steve crosses the room and kneels in front of you. His hair is still slightly damp, a stray strand hanging in front of his forehead. You brush it out of the way and he catches your wrist, placing a kiss in the palm of your hand.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He murmurs, lips still brushing your skin. He says it like a promise. You wish the words were tangible, that you could close your fist around them and hold them close. “Tell me what I can do to fix it.”

The words simultaneously endear and exasperate you. Here is this boy who loves you, sitting in front of you telling you to let him love you. Here you are, about to tell him that he can’t.

“What if you can’t fix it, Steve? What if I’m unfixable?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he takes both of your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Then I’ll still love you anyway.”

Steve looks up and the clouds part. You’ve been so caught up in your doom and gloom, that you’d forgotten what it felt like to see the light of day. You lean down, closing your eyes, pressing your forehead to his.

“Why?” The question comes out watery and wanting.

“I can’t help it.” He breathes out.

You understand the feeling.

You bridge the gap, uncaring of the abyss that lies below. You’d fall through eternity if it meant you got to do it with him. His lips feel exactly like you remember them–like home. He kisses soft and slow, hands anchored at your hips as if to prevent you from floating away. When you break apart, both of you gasping for air, there’s uncertainty in his eyes. It fades away as soon as you lean back on the bed, pulling at his sleeves and dragging him with you.

The night is composed of soft apologies and even softer sighs, accompanied by the din of rain against the roof. It isn’t until far into the night that the storm finally subsides, leaving the pavement to glow in the morning sun.

Waking up next to Steve is a revelation. You don’t know how you ever survived without it. He’s all sleepy smiles and tired eyes, drowsily pulling you closer to him. Resting your head on his chest, you’re soothed by the rhythmic thump of his beating heart.

“Y’know, you didn’t have to walk in the rain just to say that you wanna get back together. You’re so dramatic.” You joke, hoping that it isn’t too soon to start poking fun.

His chest rumbles with laughter, the reverberations quelling your fears.

“In my defense, it wasn’t raining when I started walking.” He says, voice still thick with sleep. “Besides, you love it.”

You smile contentedly to yourself, not offering up a response besides a hum of agreement. He’s right. You do love him. Rain or shine.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #mimi wrote ✍️#steve harrington fic #stranger things

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pleasured-ambrosia · 11 months

Note

I see your “Miguel wants a baby but can’t :((((“ and I raise you “Miguel accidentally gets your pregnant despite all the plan B and the birth control”

That man would be so torn. Happy and sad, furious and overjoyed with himself. There’s a part of him that wants to keep the baby, the anomaly. And that part only seems to grow as he watches his lover defiantly keep the baby. Angst, the tiniest bit of fluff, and feral Miguel. Ah~ it’s perfect.

Ok, I had like a full thing written out here.

And I deleted ALL OF IT because I decided this needs a proper fic. Like a real, decently sized two-shot based on the initial imagine I wrote and this idea.

Here’s my TLDR: You go to Peter B. and Mary Jane after your period, which is never late, is lagging by a few days. Peter’s kind of dumb, doesn’t really know what’s up, but MJ gets it. Lo and behold, the stick says you’re pregnant. And you want this baby. There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re going to fight for this baby—even if Miguel doesn’t want it. This happens before Miles’ interference, just long enough that you don’t give off any vibes.

Fast forward to Miguel’s inevitable redemption where he realizes he got it wrong, yada yada. Canon can be broken, sure, but a baby with the DNA of two universes? Still terrifying. And Miguel’s convinced that you’re hiding something from him because you’re doing all of this sneaking around and not spending as much time with him. It doesn’t help that he’s been spending time in a lab on a secret project.

When it all just boils over, he’s fucking terrified. He lost his family once; he can’t survive it again.

But it also lights a fire in him you’ve never seen before—an overwhelming desire to push all of his love and feelings onto you. He needs you to see that he needs you, that he can’t lose you.

“Aren’t you upset?” you ask.

“No, mí amor. I’m fucking terrified.”

But for just a moment, he wants to drown that terror out with his love for you. He wants to pretend he’s a man who’s having a normal baby with his normal wife.

(I’m not telling you how it gets resolved you’ll have to read it later nyeheheheh.)

#mimi writes #reader insert #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #okay FINE you can have a happy ending #as a treat #I’ll work on the fic #spider-reader #tw pregnancy

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elsfavor1te · 1 year

Text

LISTEN.

not to be a whore but i’ve been thinking about ellie putting brat!reader in check and..

like just think about pushing ellie’s buttons, she’s been so busy on patrol & you haven’t been getting the attention that she knows that you need. so of course, you act out.

arguing with every command that she gives you, questioning her judgement.

“are you sure that’s how that goes? cause i don’t think so.”

going in public with your pretty skirts on & no panties on under it, giving ellie an eyeful every time you subtly “adjust yourself”.

say you were both at seth’s, ellie staying and leaning against the bar as she nurses her drink, still watching you. meanwhile you’re dancing with everybody. for no other reason than to piss ellie off, you know how she feels about people’s hands on what’s hers.

that just fuels you forward, making sure that their hands are the tiniest place from being too far, letting gazes linger, and touches linger even longer. all while you’re constantly checking and making sure ellie can see you, after all you don’t want this to be for nothing.

and it’s not. when you leave ellie is tense, you can feel it rolling off her in waves. you attempt to hold her hand as you both walk out into the night but she shrugs you off. your lips drop into a pout and you halt your footsteps, crossing your hands over your chest as she walks a few steps before stopping where she stands.

she sighs and curses under her breath, really not in the mood for this. you try to tamper down your little smirk when she comes and stands in front of you, irritation written all over her face.

your knees falter when her hand tangles into your hair and she drops her head to your ear and whispers, “i didn’t think your little stunts today were cute so i suggest you start fuckin’ walking.”

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fallinforerling · 11 months

Note

can we get a 13 and 16 angst to fluff with jude please x

in the wrong - jb

A/N: screaming, crying, throwing up. this one has a bit of a double POV that jumps from jude’s to reader’s. i love to write little angst to fluff thingies, especially with jude. send your request! remember that feedback it’s always welcomed. love you xx

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ requested phrases

13. “why are you calling me? it's two a.m.”

16. “i'm angry but i still love you”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was this a sick joke or something?

Your eyes followed the movements of Sasha, the “friend” that crashed from time to time on your reunions, always cheeky and happy to be there. But you knew better. She was into Jude; it was very evident, but your boyfriend didn’t seem to agree with you. Every time you brought up the way she would always find an excuse to be near him, whisper into his ear, or just touch him for no apparent reason, he would say you were seeing things, that there was nothing to worry about. That you were crazy. And, of course, she didn’t care that you, his girlfriend, were there to witness it all.

You were furious.

“Babe?” You called, wanting to get Jude to your side as fast as possible before Sasha could get her hands on his chest or something like that. “Can you come here for a second?”

Jude knows you. He noticed the way you were avoiding any type of chatter, with arms crossed and no sight of even a tiny smile on your face. You were mad, that was evident. But he chose to ignore it since it happened every time Sasha was around. He didn’t get it. Yeah, maybe you didn’t like her as much, but he wasn’t going to avoid her just because of that.

“What’s up?” He seemed a bit apprehensive, since your eyes were sparkling the kind of way they always did when your blood was boiling.

“Can we head home? I’m tired.”

“Now?” He turned back to see all his friends still chatting and drinking. “Can we stay a bit longer? The night’s just starting, babe.”

You took a deep breath, not wanting to seem like a difficult person. But God, you just wanted to leave.

“Is it because of Sasha? Babe, come on. She’s just friendly, we’ve been over this before.”

Oh?

“Friendly?” That word alone made you forget about being easy. He brought it up. “Jude, she flirts with you all the time. You can’t tell me you don’t notice it!” Your eyes went directly to her, who was on the other corner, looking at both of you with a tiny smirk, like she was enjoying the effect she had on you. “She’s waiting for the right opportunity to make a move. And yes, I don’t tolerate her. So, can we please go?”

He stood there, looking at you with a frown for a few seconds before sighing.

“I don’t see it because there’s nothing to see. She’s a friend, and if you want to leave just because you can’t stand a person, then you’re free to leave…” He regretted saying that as soon as it came out of his mouth, but it was too late. You were already doing that thing with your mouth when you were about to explode.

Your whole face went from angry to serious, obviously offended. He just basically kicked you out of the party, choosing a practical stranger who loved to flirt with him over you?

“Oh! So I am the problem… Okay, fine.” You turned, and before he could say anything to make you stay, you were out the house.

He was dumbfounded. He didn’t expected that reaction, since you were the calmest person to ever exist. He followed outside, trying to catch you, but the only thing he saw were your car’s lights before it hit the curve.

Fuck.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

As soon as you were inside your car, you muted your phone. There was no way in hell you were answering anyone’s texts right now, especially not Jude’s.

How dare he? Implying that you were not only imagining things, but also telling you to just leave if you weren’t happy around Sasha. He was the biggest asshole in the whole world. You hated crying, but it was impossible not to when you thought about it all. Why did he act like he didn’t get it? How many times did you reassured him when he felt insecure? Why wasn’t he doing the same for you?

A slight sob escaped your mouth, and you felt grateful that at least you were near home. Crying while driving was a bad combination. Biting your lip, you speeded a bit more, wanting to get out of the car as soon as possible. All you could think about was that your boyfriend didn’t even care.

When you finally made it inside, you weren’t letting yourself just fall into bed and cry yourself to sleep, even though that was all that you wanted. That was out of the question. So you headed to the bathroom, taking all your accessories and clothes off while walking.

“Fucking prick.” You murmured, throwing a high heel against the floor without actual force, just wanting to let some of the anger out.

You just couldn’t get your head around how the night ended. He was such an…

“Stop! Stop thinking about him, it’s not worth it.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Jude was growing more and more worried as the minutes passed. He tried calling and texting, but you weren’t picking up your phone. It’s been almost an hour, and even if he tried to, there was no actual way of getting a car to take him to your place immediately. He had to wait at least another thirty minutes, which was hell. He deserved to be left behind after what he said to you, but he couldn’t stand not knowing where you were and if you were okay.

“Please pick up, please, please.” He murmured like a prayer, pacing back and forth. “I’m such a prick…” It was the twentieth call he made just this past ten minutes, and you were still not picking up.

When he was about to make attempt number twenty one, the door to the backyard opened. Jude turned a bit, just in time to see Sasha’s grin while approaching him. He didn’t have time for this.

“What’s wrong, Jude? Your little girlfriend abandoned you, didn’t she?” Jude stared at her with an arched eyebrow, not feeling the little joking tone she was using while referring to you. “Ah, come on! Don’t let her ruin your night, we can still have fun…” One of her hands brushed against his arm, making him slightly uncomfortable with the way her eyes were looking at him.

Why was she staring at him like that…? Oh…

“Yeah, no… That’s not happening.” He made the space between them wider, still holding the phone to his ear. The realization that what you said was absolutely true hit him like a truck. Yeah, he was the fucking prick. “I don’t know what told you I’d ever cheat on my girl, but whatever it was, nonexistent. Now, excuse me, but I have to get to her house before she thinks I’ll ever waste my time on you or anyone else.”

Sasha stood there, with an open mouth and an offended expression for a long time, even after Jude left her all alone in the backyard. Just as he was about to leave the house, his phone rang. His heart made a little twist, hopeful about you calling him back, but what he saw was the best second option of the night. Thank God.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It was around two a.m. when your phone started to ring. You groaned, regretting unmuting it at the last minute. Why did it had to rang just when you were finally falling asleep? Your eyelids felt so heavy that you could barely see the phone screen as you answered, already knowing that it might be Jude.

“Hello?”

“Are you home?” Jude’s voice was a bit agitated.

Your eyebrows furrowed, annoyed by the interruption and a little bit by his voice.

“Where else would I be, Jude?” You paused, checking the time. “Besides, why are you calling me? It’s two a.m.”

“Because there’s no way I’ll go to bed knowing my girl is mad at me.” He sighed. “You were right, as always… Can you open the door? I left my key at home.”

“What?” That woke you up.

You got out of bed as fast as you could, going straight to the living room so you could look outside. And yes, there he was, looking up at you, like he was waiting to see you peeking out of that exact window.

“So?” He shouted, smiling a bit despite the absence of reaction from your side.

Without a word, you went directly to the door. While opening, you felt your heart a bit heavier on your chest. He came. Once the door was open, you both stared at each other with big eyes; he seemed scared of standing there, and you were feeling a mixture of happiness and desire to punch him in the face.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing that fell out of his lips, making you smirk a bit. “She was, indeed, flirting with me. And I didn’t want you to leave, I don’t know why I said that.” When you didn’t reply, he got closer. “Can I come in?”

“What do you think?” You didn’t move from the door, still looking at him with a frown.

“I think you want to punch me in the face.” Despite that statement, he held you by the waist. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You didn’t know the exact way he was offering to make it up, but you didn’t actually care. Because he was there, and he was saying he was sorry. He did care.

“Okay, you can come in.” When you gave him enough space to do so, he held you fully, embracing you with his arms until you couldn’t breathe properly.

“You’re still angry, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m angry, Jude… But I still love you… Sadly for me.” The last thing you said was in a joking way, trying to get on his nerves as much as he did a few hours ago. Payback and all that.

“Hey! Not fair! I’m an idiot, yes… But never stop loving me for that.” His face was buried in your neck, so you could feel the vibrations of his voice and the warmth of his breath on your skin. “Never stop loving me, please.” This time, it sounded a bit like begging.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

“Never…” And somehow, yours sounded like begging as well.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * JUDE’S TAGLIST

#jude bellingham #footballer blurb #footballer fanfiction #footballer fic #footballer fics #footballfics #jude bellingham imagine #jude #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fic #jude x you #jude x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham one shot #mimi answers #mimi's requests

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