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puckarchives · 3 months

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personally, i found it very attractive: l. hughes

blurb: in which an interview with the devils' upcoming rookie takes the intern by suprise. / word count: 1.5k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

To be fair, all that I wanted to do was leave the Prudential Center, go home, and take a long bath. The game between the New Jersey Devils and the New York Rangers had gone into overtime, and as much as I loved my job, it truly had been a long day.

Flashing my lanyard at the security guard standing outside of the Devils' locker room, I was ushered into the room, joining the growing cohort of other journalists; writers who had made their entire career off of reporting on the comings-and-goings in the sports world. Now that the team had been solidified with major additions, and taken players off of their Injury Report roster, the Devils had put up a good fight against their Hudson River rivals.

Grabbing my phone and opening voice notes, I made a beeline for the one player that I needed to cover— Luke Hughes, one of the newest additions to the Devils, and a hell of a defenseman that I needed to talk to on his play earlier on the ice. And, thanks to the work I had put in weeks before trying to get this same interview, I had the opportunity to actually talk to him, instead of having to wait around in a circle while other journalists droned on (and asked) practically the same questions over and over again.

I had fallen in love with sports journalism because of this— because of the opportunity to speak with the players who have it their all on that ice, and who had a true passion for the game they played.

I once again flashed my I.D. to one of the team's publicists, Sharyl, and she smiled over at me— shaking my hand and calling over Luke.

"Hi Y/N! How are you holding up over this season?" she asked as we stood in our corner, both angled to see the player coming towards us.

"Hi Sharyl, I'm doing well! Just finished up my third-year, and I just need this last interview to finish up the project I've been working on these past few weeks," I told her. It was true— I had been working on this player profile for the past few weeks, and currently, this single nineteen-year-old rookie was the only person left on my list before I could publish the article that I was hoping would help my career.

"Oh that sounds so good, sweetheart! I know just how many hours you've been putting in here, and I'm so excited to read!" the older lady said.

"Here's Luke now!" she said, saying hello to the defenseman, and then turning back to me.

"Luke, this is Y/N, the reporter I mentioned from ESPN's journalism internship cohort. She's just going to go over a few things with you, and finish up her profile," she told the curly-haired boy.

"Hi, Luke, I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you!" I spoke up, putting my hand out for him to shake.

It seemed to take him a few moments to catch up with me; and, to be fair, that was to be expected. I was his age, and from the way Sharyl was speaking about me, you'd expect me to be much older, or even a man. When I had begun working for ESPN's College Internship program, I had started with baseball as my main coverage sport— slowly growing from that to hockey as the seasons changed, and then, finally, landing on the Devils as my main beat at the beginning of the season. With all that, however, I knew the way people looked at me— questioning as to why an eighteen year old college student was interviewing men in sports that others thought I didn't even know existed, or even know how they worked. So, his reaction was expected.

The six-two boy in front of me seemed to be struck out of whatever stupor he was in, however, and shook my hand back.

"Hi, Y/N, it's nice to meet you. Sharyl said you'd be stopping by," he said. He was quiet, and I could tell how much of a toll the game had on him— despite being freshly showered, he sported his signature smirk— looking down at me as the cheers and celebrations kept it up behind him.

"Yeah! I just have a few questions to ask, but do you want to follow me out to the media office? It shouldn't take too long, especially since I'm sure you want to go celebrate your win tonight," I told him.

Not really looking for a response, I looked over the boy— he was, admittedly, cute. His eyes were full of life— and he filled out his after-game clothing well. That, and the coupling of beauty marks over his face just enhanced how handsome he was. God, get it together, I told myself. You're on the job!

Finding ourselves in one of the various media offices hosted in the Prudential Center's basement, I sat down across from the rookie, and waited until we were both situated to start the interview.

“So, thank you for sitting down with me! It was a long game out there, but you’re really pushing through,” I laughed, trying to ease the tension I could feel on my end. I really didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of this very cute boy, and even less knowing that he was a professional player in the sport I covered heavily.

“No— no it’s all okay, no worries,” he said, “I’d rather be here than listening to Shmido trying to recap the entirety of the second-half,” he laughed.

“Well, you’re the first to say that,” I smiled back. “So, now that you’re on your second official NHL game, I kind of have to point out— you went from playing for Michigan, and then skating for the league in just a few weeks, and you admittedly have had a huge transformation—” I started.

“Yeah I got faster,” he laughed, his cheeks tinging a shade of pink, and I couldn’t really lie to myself and blame it on his earlier celebrations. “Don’t worry, you can say it— Jacky has.”

“Well, I’ll be honest, it’s really been great to watch. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you the entire game,” I said, and then admittedly felt my own cheeks flush, because truly, what was I thinking? Was I openly flirting with a guy I was supposed to be interviewing? Before I could feel myself blush even further, or even make the situation even more awkward, the silence was broken with Luke’s laugh— a stark and loud chuckle that made me look up automatically. His blush had now traveled from his cheeks to the tip of his hair, peeking out of his wet curls.

He ran his hand through his hair, “Well I mean, that’s definitely great to hear— are you serious?” he said, and for the life of me, I couldn’t tell if he was joking— if he was making fun of my obvious lack of flirting ability, or egging me on.

“Very,” I said. “It was a great game, and the goal you made in OT was just so smooth! Personally, I found it very attractive” I said; I had spent the entirety of the game looking at Luke skating— the smooth and strategic moves he made on the ice, passing the puck back and forth as if he was moving in water. He was beautiful on the ice— weaving between the opposing team’s players quicker and way more efficiently to the point where they couldn’t even keep up with him.

“And I have to point out the pass you made to Jack in the second-half and the assist you sent to Nico! I haven’t seen a lot of puck work that really resembled that in such a while, and—” I cut myself off, trying not to let myself ramble any farther in front of the boy I could feel myself crushing on.

“I mean that’s really a high compliment, thank you,” he said. “I mean, I know this might not be entirely appropriate for the interview, but I’m free after this, if you are two?” he asked. This had to be some kind of cliche, I thought, not really thinking that he had just asked me out.

I did, however, hope he wasn’t egging me on— and, besides, after this profile came out, I wouldn't be covering the NJ Devils until next season, so why not? Why not spend an afternoon with a hot hockey player who I had already called cute? “You know what? I am also free, and I was going to get dinner, if you wanted to join me,” I responded, hoping the youngest Hughes would take me up on the offer too. “I also don’t have class tomorrow, so yes, I am very free after this,” I laughed.

The boy in front of me smiled up, pushing the curls falling in his face back, and saying a quick “Well, then let’s get this thing started.”

#luke hughes #new jersey devils #nj devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine

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dduane · 29 days

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Salutations and good wishes to you. I am an Indie Author seeking to go Pro. Some good advice and guidance might help minimise the mountain of my anxiety about doing this. I know you got your start with fanfiction, but did you find a publisher/agent through that door? [lots sneer at these days. Still] How many rejections did you suffer before you found your place in the literary world? Thanks for your time and sorry for bothering you <3

Hi there! And don't sweat it: this is no bother.

I have to apologize in advance, because my own career arc isn't likely to serve as much of a good example. In terms of how I got into this business, I'm a serious outlier.

Quickest and easiest to discuss: my agent and I got together after my first book was already bought and published. (Which back in the day was seen as a good enough way to go forward, and then still entirely possible.) He was recommended to me by one of my editors, as—like me—he was just getting started in the business: a likely-looking newcomer then scouting new talent. We met up and chatted, and it seemed to both of us that we'd be a good fit for each other. After forty-odd years of working together, we still are.

About the fanfic: (Adding a cut here so as not to carpet people's dashes with wall-to-wall text...)

What writing all that fic did for me—from about age sixteen onwards—was give me a whole lot of practice in getting the initial garbage associated with a story written and out of the way. Best to admit it here: we all have plenty of crap writing in us. And yeah, even long-term professional writers do. Whether you're at the beginning of your career or right in the middle of it, this is what "zero drafts" are for. You tell yourself the story, first time out... and routinely at this stage a lot of what proves to be unusable stuff emerges, and can be discarded in rewrite. (Of course crap writing can also emerge without warning in the later stages of a project, but there are many reasons for that, all beyond the scope of this discussion.) And you learn even more from reworking the material after you've gotten rid of the dross.

During the period when I was executing what might have been, oh, half a million words of fanfic—Trek originally, and then LoTR—and while reading a whole lot of everything, as I'd been doing since I was first allowed to go raid the town library by myself at age eight—I learned a fair amount about writing without realizing it. Some of it was simply about writing inside a set of rules. (Which I hadn't been doing previously: between eight and sixteen I was writing original fiction, mostly fairy tales.) Naturally in fanfic you have to obey the laws of whatever universe you're working in... or even if you wind up flouting them consciously, you do have to be conscious of them. But this work also led me to something that I hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about: the concept that fiction writing as a whole had rules. I realized I'd better find out what those were.

The best stuff I found out during this period was what I picked up by direct example from other writers, whom I'd immediately start imitating and then sort of leave by the wayside when I found others I liked better; at which point I'd start imitating them. (This being a great way to learn and hone new skills, and to start getting a sense of what a writer's "voice" is and can come to mean. I think every writer does this, to some extent: because it's really, really tough to learn how to write without reading. And the more extensively the better.)

I have to emphasize here, BTW, that the fanfic that came out of me as I started slogging up this learning curve was all almost uniformly terrible. All of it, mercifully, along with my earliest original fiction, is gone now: long since burnt, shredded, composted under many layers of time. Trust me, it's just as well. Gah was it awful! Nobody else ever saw the stuff, for which I thank great Thoth every time I think about it. ...What's interesting, too, in its way, was that I didn't even know that what I was doing was fan fiction. I had as yet no contact with any kind of organized fandom, and it would be a long time yet before "online" was invented. I was working in utter isolation, unaware that anybody else might have been doing the same thing. (And it's difficult to describe the sense of astonishment and joy that hit me the first time I went to an SF convention, saw fanzines for the first time, and found out that I was not alone. All unsuspecting, I'd stumbled onto one of my tribes.)

But somewhere along the line, as the years went by—as I finished high school and went to college, and then from there to nursing school, and graduated and started working as a psychiatric nurse, and kept on writing—at some point, as I started writing original fiction again, as well as fanfic, the quality of the output began to improve. The combination of constant practice and voracious reading of better writers outside my chosen genre was slowly having an effect. Trusted friends who saw this later material started saying, "This isn't bad, you should try to get it published!" But since none of these folks were writers, I didn't pay too much attention to their opinions.

I did pay attention, though, when my good friend and mentor David Gerrold said something similar on reading my first novel in 1976. And when that was bought by the first publisher who read it, I had to admit he might have had something there.

This too, though, is unfortunately also a way I'm an outlier: I haven't had a lot of rejection. (Even in my TV work, where rejection is pretty much the rule rather than the exception.) Speaking very generally, just about anyone I've pitched something to in the prose market has bought it—or if they didn't like the idea I came in with, they've immediately said "But would you like to do this instead?" And often enough, what they've offered or suggested has been something that sounded like fun. That's how I wound up doing the Star Trek: Rihannsu books, for example: they were "instead of" a Romulan dictionary. Paramount essentially ringfenced an entire AU-area of Trek and gave it to me to play in, which struck me at the time as amazing. And continues to do so.

Now all this may make me sound almost unfairly lucky. But things do tend, slowly or quickly, to balance out. Over time the universe has made up for its relative kindness at the rejection end of things by making sure I knew plenty about the non-rejection forms of writer-career pain: projects from which I was not rejected but which went terribly wrong (wheels come off a huge deal just before signing, promised actors or directors fail to materialize...), projects where I did the work but didn’t get paid, or where I was brought on board and then got fired/ghosted unreasonably or for no reason at all, or sometimes (mortifyingly) for quite good reason. And let's not forget how, as what could seem a very pointed shot across my bow when my career-vessel was just pulling out of port, half the print run of that very-much-buzzed-about debut novel wound up being pulped in the warehouse because another, far better-established writer's new book needed the pallet space that mine had been taking up. (insert rueful smile here) Believe me, entropy is running, and will catch up with you one way or another. So make yourself as ready for it as you can.

I don't mean to increase your anxiety. Yet that said: you're preparing to enter a business in which, for a freelancer, at least some level of anxiety is more or less part of the basic ground of being. You are going to have to develop ways of dealing with the everyday forms of that to keep it from routinely derailing your work.

I find it helps a little if you can come to consider this as a modern form of Going On An Adventure. Good things will happen; bad things will happen; and all of these will be in service of building your career. Think of yourself as being on a quest.

Your job now becomes the business of suiting up with the best equipment and advice you can find (ideally not from outliers like me). The web is full of useful pages on subjects such as how to query and how to find an agent.

Here are links to some.

Compare these resources one against another to see how their different kinds of advice seem to stack up, and which ones are the most congenial for you.

Then use this data to start drawing your personal roadmap across the terrain. Get as clear as you can in your own mind about what you're trying to get out of being in this business: what kind of writing you want to do and what results you want to produce. Then set out, redrawing your road map as necessary as you keep moving forward through the new terrain.

And I wish you good fortune on the journey! (Because luck, as you can see from the above, can definitely be part of this... but fortune favors the prepared.)

Meanwhile, get out there and have a blast. :)

#writing #writing advice #fanfic #rejection

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arkhammaid · 20 days

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— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE NEW GENERATION SUPERSTARS | TO A GOOD SEASON

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. ollie and y/n talk for the first time... even if it's over text. takes part right after the strategy reveal

content warnings. smau, not edited/proofread

notes. have this first chapter before i dip into my holidays hehe

hey y/n! i hope you don't mind me reaching out, but i thought it would be good, since we're the only rookies and never properly met :) to a good season!

oh hi oliver! i don't mind at all, thank you for the message. to a good season for us

are you busy with preperations as well?

yeah

ferrari is definitely a step up from f2, haven't had a free minute for weeks now

welcome to f1 lol 😂

leclerc treating you well? it must've been a mess with sainz...

no worries, charles has been very welcoming, i'm really honored to be his teammate. and the thing with carlos... yeah, it was a bit, but we actually get along well

good good, wanna see you racing and not getting distracted by some bitch fighting in the garage

lmao 😂😂

nah nah, all good. to be honest, he's still a bit prickly about how ferrari and lewis handled those rumors... but well, it isn't really my business

good good

have to run, dad wants to wrap up our moves to ny

but we'll see each other soon, yeah? lemme know when you have time for a proper talk, we definitely have to stick together as rookies

the grid can be a cruel world

alright, have a nice day! don't know about free time yet, but the lastes we'll see each other will be in bahrain

awesome, till then oliver :)

you can call me ollie

let's meet up in bahrain

hello to you too, y/n

hello ollie

so, let's meet up

i'll be there a few day earlier, you as well?

i actually planned to come with ferrari, but i can come earlier!

awesome. you can entertain me then :)

what about the rest of your team?

kev is back with his family and doesn't want to leave them too early, my dad is busy because the president is an incompetent fuck, harley and peter are working on publishing a paper before they join and the rest is just generally busy

damn. alright, as long you plan everything? i have nothing prepared lol

sure! we can go training together and i know a few nice places we can hit before the stress begins

great!!

i'll send you the data later, don't worry, i'll pay for the hotel

you really don't have to

i don't care, you're hanging out with me, i will pay for stuff. i know you could stay at home but you're gonna spend time with me so shut it

alright

hehe, until bahrain. can't wait!!

until then, y/n 😊

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @themercyverse , @lehm-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles , @fangirl-dot-com , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikifiguerido , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora , @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 , @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @leclucklerc , @yl90

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #ollie bearman x reader #oliver bearman x reader #ollie bearman smau #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 female driver #female driver #fem!driver #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ lightning on track #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ the multiverse madness

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cat-toess · 8 months

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❀ LOVESICK PT.2 ❀

Summary ✄: In which, Lyney finally decides to do something about his massive crush on you with the encouragement of his siblings.

✄ Part one here!: Lovesick part 1

Tags ✄: fluff, friends to lovers, mid-length (sort of) gn!reader (intended, I sincerely apologize if not, please message me if you find any mistakes in terms of this topic! I will do my best to improve my writing :D)

✄ Notes: This was so delayed 💀 And for once in my life my delulu brain had no more delusions to feed my stories with, so I was stuck for a while on the plot... But it turned out good in the end (?) LYNEY IS SUCH A SIMP. AND I'M NEVER LETTING THAT IDEA GO OUT OF MY HEAD

If you want you can listen to any Laufey song while reading this! (That's what I was listening to while creating this-)

P.S: I will be revising this even after this has been published, so if you find any grammatical errors then it might be fixed the next time you check <3 might even add paragraphs- so if you want, make sure to check in regularly!

✄ Ft. Lynette and Freminet's pain and suffering

It’s been precisely a week since the very memorable encounter at the café with Lyney. And honestly Lynette thinks she can’t take another millisecond of her brother's endless rambles about how you ‘gently pulled him up, like he was fragile glass.’ And how ‘you two were about to kiss’

This had been going on for around 7 days, 20 minutes and 15 seconds. A good test of her patience, Lynette thinks to herself.

Now even gentle and ever calm Freminet was staring to run away as soon a Lyney came anywhere from 2 to 5 meters near him. Just so he could avoid getting another earful about how ‘your presence could light up the whole of Fontaine”

It was getting unbearable for both Lynette and Freminet. They both constantly ate dinner in terror, and carefully selected their words, making sure to not make even the slightest gesture that could remind Lyney of your encounter with him.

One time Lynette made the awful mistake of brining up Cafe Lucerene at the dinner table.

Lynette was only half-way through finishing her sentence but Lyney was already talking.

“Oh I could never forget that cafe, it’s the place where me and my darling Y/N met, who knows maybe we’ll get married there!” Lyney dreamily sighs, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

Lynette could only look apologetically to Freminet, who was close to a mental breakdown. And truth be told, Lynette was too. All the (sane) siblings could do was pray that this ramble ended short.

They were sorely mistaken if they thought Lyney’s conversations about you would ever end short.

Lyney ended up filling up 2 notebooks, full of wedding plans. All while he forced Lynette and Freminet to stay and discuss the flowers, the design of the wedding clothes, guests and even the date on which your wedding would take place. (He said February 14th, because what better day to be wed than the day of romance and love?)

“I don’t think I can take all this ranting for much longer” Lynette groans, rubbing her forehead, trying to relive the pounding headache she had from losing too much sleep, due to Lyney keeping her up to vent all his delusions to her. Lucky Freminet, she thought to no one in particular, he was able to avoid Lyney last night. (Not like he was in any better shape though)

“Me too, maybe there’s a solution to this?” Poor Freminet, he looked like a walking corpse. His movements dull and his mouth hanging open, like his soul was going to pop out of it and accend to celestia any minute now.

“Yeah, and some how make Lyney shut up about ‘the love of his life’ for one second? Fat chance” Lynette grumbled.

Freminet stared at his sister, trying to think of someway to solve their problems. All while Lyney angrily stirred a cup of tea.

“Wait, if Lyney likes Y/N then wouldn’t all his ranting stop if he dates them?” Freminet says, deep in thought.

“Huh? Wouldn’t that just increase the topics he can use to torment us with?” Lynette questions, finishing her tea in one violent gulp.

“Well, maybe if they started dating, he would focus on complimenting them directly instead of picking us as his unfortunate victims? It’s worth a shot right?”

“I suppose… though the chance of them reciprocating his feelings are close to none, at least he talks to them often…” Lynette scoffs as she adds a sugar cube to her custom design deep turquoise tea cup.

“Right, we should try to convince him to ask Y/N on a date at dinner today. Maybe that’ll give us enough time to get some rest…” Freminet mumbles rubbing his nose bridge.

Poor Y/N, thought Lynette. Her spine exploding with shivers the moment she thought about what you would have to deal with if you got together with that brother of hers.

Oh well, maybe you’d like it?

——

It was dinner, the atmosphere was stiff and tense. Like someone had to say something (which was true) The only thing that could be heard was the small clinks of cutlery on plates.

Freminet nods at Lynette to signal the start of their plan. Lynette gives a small thumbs up to Freimiet as he gets ready to confront his older brother to hopefully stop the endless rambling.

”So Lyney, we wanted to talk about Y/N-“ Freminet nervously says.

“Oh? Why didn’t you say so earlier? I caught a glimpse of them today in the opera house, and they were as stunning as ever-“ If he wasn’t cut off by Lynette, who knows how long he would have went on for?

“Oh for crying out loud Lyney! We’re here to talk about when you’re going to ask them out!” Lynette yells out while violently stabbing the meat steak on her plate. Her final string of sanity snapping. Her usually tranquil self no where to be seen. Perhaps it was because the hours of lost sleep.

“What Lynette means to say, is that we encourage you to ask them out.” Freminet corrects while coughing into his fist. Praying that the rest of their plan would go smoothly.

“Huh? Really? You think they’ll say yes?” Lyney says, voice barely above a whisper. The mere thought of you and him being an item makes his heart rapidly beat against his ribcage, his hands fidgeting and mind restless.

Now if usually if Lynette saw her brother in a state like this, then new blackmail material would be collected. No questions asked.

But under these circumstances Lynette couldn’t care less about black mail. Not with her sanity (and Freminet’s) on the line.

“Then if I may ask , could you two help me to-“ Lyney says

“No!” Freminet shouts, jumping up from his seat. Lyney surprised to see his brother like this quirks a brow at him, as if to silently ask if anything was wrong.

“I mean, we think that it would be better if you planned it on your own. That way it’ll be more heartfelt because you did it yourself, right Lynette?” He Hurriedly says as Lynette furiously shakes her head up and down.

“I suppose so…thank you for always supporting me Lynette, Fremi, I don’t know what I would do without you two.” (I’m convinced that Lyney calls Freminet “Fremi” Fight me) Lyney beamed as he started to clean up the dishes and put them into the sink (do they have sinks in Fontaine? ) “Well I’m going to head up first and plan the date, after all, it has to be absolutely perfect!” Lyney gushed as he darted up the stairs, but then he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh I forgot to say but, I’ll leave the dishes to you Lynette!” He called, as he started running up the stairs again.

“But it’s your turn to wash the dishes…” Lynette voice dies down in the middle as she realizes her brother is already gone, probably blushing and kicking his feet while planning whatever strange plan he was going to use to wiggle into your heart. Though Lynette doubted he could, not with that face. With a heavy sigh she goes to the kitchen to do the dishes, wishing that the dishes would magically be already be done by the time she arrived to the sink. No such luck.

If he pulled this sort of stunt again, Lynette was more than happy to tell you that her brother had two moles and a scar on his left butt cheek that resembled a smiley face.

——

Lyney had been thinking about ways to ask you out all night. The result? A bunch of crumbled pieces of paper overflowing his rooms trash can and a pair of heavy dark circles under his eyes.

Inviting you to a romantic candle lit dinner and make it rain red roses? “No, too corny” he thinks as he shakes his head. Maybe you’d like it if he simply sent you a letter with a confession in it? No that was too basic, at least for Lyney’s liking.

A groan escapes his lips, as he scratches out the possibility of the other ideas being successful.

He tries to recall every time you’ve talked to each other. But all he can remember was you describing a dream where you went on a date with some mystery guy in a field of marcotte’s on top of a cliff where you could clearly see the sea. He also vividly recalls you saying how much you would love to go on a date like that…

Wait! He could use that dream!

He silently scolds himself in his mind, wondering how he hand’t thought of this before.

Well if this didn’t work he’ll always have plan 235XI-2A to back him up!

(Or his third personal favorite, 682BS-5J)

———

Now all he had to do was ask you out. He was deep in thought, trying to come up with a place you might be. He’s checked the Opera house and the shopping district. Where else could you possibly be?

Until suddenly he feels a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Gha!” Lyney screeches, jumping back, almost like a surprised cat. (You know, when the cats suddenly see a cucumber behind them while they’re eating and just like 2 meters.)

“Sorry, did I give you a scare?” You chuckle as you hold your hand to your mouth, desperately trying to suppress the laugh in your throat.

The magician looks composed now on the outside but really, he’s convinced that his heart is beating at a 100 miles per hour.

“Well, if it isn’t the ever charming Y/N” he tries to play it off cool, and succeeds but if you listen closely enough you could hear the slight waver in his voice.

“Oh drop the compliments, we’re close enough to address each other casually right?” You dramatically sight, feigning hurt as you put your hand up to your forehead. Like a lead actor about to faint.

“But anyway, what brings you here?” You say switching your tone to a firmer one.

“I actually came here to find you.” He says, taking in a deep breath to hopefully calm his nerves.

“Really? Whatever did I do to deserve the audience of the great magician of Fontaine.” You joke, clapping your hands together. “Is it Lynette? Did she want more tea-“

“Iacctuallywantedtoaskyouonadate-“ His rushed words go through your left ear and fall right through your right ear.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lyney slow down. I couldn’t grasp a single word you just said.” You tell him, his earlier sentence sounding more like a cursed language more than anything.

You notice that his face is flushed in a deep shade of crimson out of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, what I meant to say is, I was wondering if you were free this afternoon?” He says coughing into his fist, finally mustering up the courage to say something to cover up his mistake.

Now it’s your turn to get flustered, because as soon as he says that you’re getting butterflies in your stomach. Your mind blanks out for a second, all rational thoughts exiting your brain. The only thing you can hear at the moment is the loud thumping of your heart.

You somehow get a response out of your mouth, mirraculaously you didn’t stumble over your words!

“Sure, dose 4 sound good to you?” You inquire, pulling out your pocket sized planner, double checking if you had any other plans for the evening.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll pick you up at your house?” Lyney says timidly. Thanking all of the gods above and their grandmothers that you had accepted his date offer.

“Mhm, I’m all right with that. See you then I guess?” You say as you start to head back, craining your neck backwards a little to give a small wave to Lyney.

“Yeah.” Lyney says, standing there and waving at you like a fool. Slightly dazed still processing the fact that his long time crush, the person that he was hopelessly in love with was going on a date with him in 3 hours.

———

The sun was setting, and you were in your room, waiting for a certain blonde to knock on your door. The ticking of your clock seems to be mocking your eagerness.

It had just turned 4, and as if right on cue you hear a soft know on your brich door.

Practically sprinting towards the door, you skid through the halls of your home and swing the door open.

Lyney was, dressed in a plain ruffled dress shirt, paired with a harness made of black leather. His pants of course, were black too, simple with no designs in it. Topped off with simple black laced boots. It was weird to see him without his signature hat. Of course, it goes without saying Lyney looked good in his usual magician attire, but change is always welcome.

“Ready to go?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, It’s just that seeing you without your hat is a little odd, but nice odd. You know?” You muse, trailing your eyes over his figure.

In response to that Lyney lets out a merry chuckle.

“Before we go, can you put this blindfold on?” He asks, holding up a blindfold.

You look at the magician suspiciously and quirk a brow at him. “You’re not going to kidnap me right?” Slightly nervous about the whole surprise thing.

“Of course not! I just want to keep the inaction a surprise.” He says giving you a little comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Well, I suppose it’s all right. But I’m running away at the first sign of danger okay?” You sigh, reluctantly letting Lyney’s slender fingers tie the black silky blindfold over your eyes.

“No peaking, okay?” He purrs as he tugs on your arm.

——

After a while of walking and talking Lyney halts to a stop.

“We’re here.” He hums as he slowly unties the blindfold.

It takes you a moment to adjust to your surroundings, since you had been blindfolded for like, what? 6 minutes?

But as soon as your surroundings come into focus, the scene in front of you literally steals your breathe away.

“You did all this for me” You gasp, looking around the venue which Lyney had guided you too. “Ta-da.” He sheepishly says, while softly scratching the back of his head. You two were in a felid of marcotte’s, the grass sways with every soft caress of the wind. Soon you noticed the meadow was located on a cliff, and below was the deep and ever beautiful ocean of Fontaine. The tidalga’s littered benethe made the ocean’s surface appear as if thousands of blue lights were iluminating the area.

The wind was strong but not too strong, the mixed scent of the salty sea and the sweet aroma of the marcotte flowers smelled heavenly. You looked up to the Colbat blue sky. You could clearly see the stars, each star shining with a brilliant yellow. Under the delicate light of the moonlight, Lyney though you never looked more dreamy. For a moment you stood their in disbelief, it was as if this date was pulled straight from your dreams. The dream that you had told Lyney about. It was perfect.

“I don’t even know what to say… It’s remarkable Lyney. I can’t believe that you remember me talking about my dream” You gush, as you feel the uncontrollable smile etching itself on your lips.

“What’s a magician without his fair share of surprises?” Lyney chuckles as he hops over to you.

A comfortable silence envelopes the two of you. The waves splashing quietly in the background.

“You know, I actually invited you here to confess something to you…” Lyney bashfully says, his body restless as he prays to the heavens that this would go well.

“Really? What is it” You say, as you tilt your head to the side.

Why was his voice stuck in his throat? What was he doing? He practiced his lines millions if not billions of times in front of the mirror, so why couldn’t he do it now?

You stare at him with a perplexed expression while leaning forward. As if you were eager to hear his confession.

Oh screw the script, this magician’s improvising.

“When I first met you, I was enamored by your laugh, your voice and no matter how much I thought on how to confess to you, no words could come close to describing how I truly feel for you.” Lyney paused for a moment to put together his thoughts for one moment. Trying to think of a worthy phrase to describe his undying adoration for you. He takes a deep breath in as he continues “If I had a flower for every time I had thought of you, I would only have one. Because not once have I stopped thinking about you since the day we met. I understand if you don’t reciprocate my feelings, yet my mind keeps lingering back to the thoughts of you and me together.” The words from his mouth spill over like a waterfall, genuine and poetic language flying towards you left and right.

“So, Y/N L/N, will you please accept my feelings?” He imagined the confession to be smooth and romantic, he promised himself to be calm and cool. Yet, here he was, face flushed and breathing irregular. Eagerly waiting for an answer. He curses himself for looking like an absolute idiot around you.

In reality, it’s only been a few seconds, but to Lyney it felt like an eternity. His pupils flying on ever direction, his plans already clammy from the anxiety.

“I would be delighted to” You beam, taking his hand in yours.

“Really?” He says, eyes practically turning into stars, you could swear that they turned all glittery for one second.

“Yes really” You smile, laughing at the usually suave and confident magician's expression. An expression you’ll probably remember for the rest of your life.

You could audibly hear the loud sigh of relief he let out when you confirmed your answer.

The two of you continue to stare at each other for a good minute. Then all of a sudden Lyney lets out a little snort. Then you chuckle a little. Before you know it, the meadow is filled with lively laughter. The two of you chasing each other over the rolling green grass, like a pair of idiots. Twirling each other around like one would in a royal ball. Giggles and snickers flowing through the surrounding area.

Even better, the two of you acted out multiple of your favorite scenes in operas. One of them being the all-time famous Titanic pose (pretend titanic exists for the sake of my heart) Only problem being you nearly falling off the edge of the cliff and letting out a blood-curdling scream that sent the birds in the area desperately flapping their wings to find someplace that was maybe… less chaotic.

Time flies when you’re with someone you like they say, turns out that old saying is true. Because by the time you both knew it, it was already 10PM

Exhausted, you both flop on the grass, face up to the shimmering stars. Intertwining fingers together both of you deicide to rest a little.

“You know, you remind me of the moon.” Lyney suddenly says as he points to the glowing moon, breaking the silence.

“Mhm, why is that?” You question, looking at Lyney with curious eyes.

“If you're the moon, then I’ll gladly be your tide, for I will forever flow under your command. Following your ever wish and will. For you are my purpose, are you not?” Lyney hums, you hate how he can say something so… romantic (?) so casually.

“You’re so corny.” You sarcastically sigh, rolling your eyes.

“But you love this corny guy right?”

How could you say no to that face?

———

Now by the time the cackling had settled down, the suns light was long gone and instead a pitch black darkness had replaced it.

So being the gentleman Lyney is, he offered to walk you home.

The two of you started talking about

“Ah, we’re here now.” You say, a small amount of sadness laced in your voice. "Well I have to go now, have a safe trip back home." You sigh disappointed that the date had already ended.

“Oh! Before I forget.. here.” Lyney magically makes a marcotte flower appear in his hands with a snap of his fingers.

“Think of it like a souvenir of our first date.” He giggled, twirling his hair. He seems somehow happier then you, even though you’re the one receiving the flower (?)

Well that’s Lyney for you, I guess.

“Lyney, is this from the field that we went to? “ You say happily, spinning the vermilion and yellow colored flower between your fingers.

“Maybe.” He says while throwing in a playful wink.

You slowly open your door and just as about you’re about to go inside you look back.

“I’ll be looking forward to our next date pretty boy.” You say pulling him in for a little peck on the cheek. (Y/N mega rizzler arc coming soon?!)

Just a moment ago you were the one being all shy, now Lyney’s here too stunned to speak. The combination of your lips on his cheek and that pet name? He swears you’ll be the death of him one day.

You give him a little wave, before closing the door behind you with a click.

Now if it were any normal person, they would just go home and celebrate their successful date. Celebrate the fact that they didn’t get brutally rejected.

But no, this is Lyney.

He ended up standing in front of your door for 15 minutes, just stroking the place where you had kissed him.

He makes a mental note to put a bag over his cheek for the next few days.

Call him unhygienic but hey, love can make one blind right?

“Hey mom, look! There’s a guy standing in front of Y/N’s house!” A child passing by shouts, pointing at Lyney.

“Shhh! Don’t look! We’ll report it to the melusines later…” The mother whispers as she ushers her son away from Lyney.

Yeah, he should probably head home soon before anyone else mistakes him for a creepy stalker.

——

Lyney walks home with a dopey little grin on his face, he opens the door to his house and swings the door open. Kicking his shoes off, he hurriedly runs to the living room where his siblings were most likely having dinner, feet practically skidding to a halt when he reaches to his destination.

“Hey guess what-“ Lyney says his voice bubbling with excitement to tell his siblings about the successful confession (that he had spent days planning)

“I’m sorry” Lynette says without looking up from her food.

“What?” Lyney stands still for a few seconds as he tilts his head owlishly.

“They rejected you right?” Lynette says as she takes a bite out of her mashed potatoes.

“Uh no?” Lyney says visibly confused.

“See I told you, that’s 50,000 mora Lynette.” Freminet sighs, standing up from the dinner table and trudging away to his room.

“Damn it… I was so sure…” Lynette mutters as her cat tail droops down. Standing up and obviously looking disappointed, she puts her dishes away, walking back up stairs.

“Wait? Lynnette? Fremi? 50,000 mora? Your eldest demands an explanation! Hey answer me!” Lyney says as he franticly looks around, only to be met with silence…

That is until Lynette pops her head from the stair case with a devilish expression her face.

“I’ll leave the dishes to you Lyney” She snickers as she hurries away,leaving Lyney to himself grumbling about how “he isn’t respected enough in this household” and that “it was Lynettes turn to do the dishes” But he finds himself a blushing mess all over again when he recalls the events of tonight.

Yeah, you probably shouldn’t tell him that you made the marcotte he gave you into a dry flower. Or else he might combust…

❀ a/n: GARRHHHH, this took so long. I apologize for the wait! Thank you so much for your support in part 1! I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoyed part 1! Heads up to those who want to request anything please check my navigation to find my requests page!

Some of my other posts with Lyney...

❁ Lyney Hcs

❀ Taglist: @alisstaa,@a-traveling-void-human,@agentaspect,@chuu-o3o, @literaryhomos, @canuleavelol, @rebeccawinters, @just-a-ghost-named-echo, @angelofdarkness2, @emburning, @sketcheeee, @toramune, @kithewanderingme, @w9vyy, @karma-gisa, @mizokowashere, @azharyy,@auspicious-lilana, @n8mareee, @sammybeefangirls

@cat-toess 2023 please do not plagiarize or copy on other sites <3 Reblogs are appreciated, but please give credit :D if you have feedback please refrain from being offensive <3

#lyney x reader #cat-toess writes!#lyney #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagine #lyney genshin #lyney x you #lynette #fremitet #gn!reader #gn!y/n #gn!mc

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months

Text

With New Eyes Every Time 🌊🪸🐚👁️

Miguel O'Hara x Reader S/O

Synopsis: Aquarium date with Miguel! 😄💕 Not much else to say. Word count 2.6k

A/N: inspired by my amazing moot @huniedeux ! Thank you for making a post about wanting to go to the aquarium and inspiring me in the process! 🥰 All thanks to you! 🫶🏽 Also really need to thank @hikaru-sama for being so patient and amazing at helping me with Spanish translations! 🖤🫶🏽 I owe you my life lol 😫

Crocodile facts I used came from: Royal Society Publishing and Wildlife Sydney AU (I kept getting confused on the crocodile embryo fact and the Royal Society Publishing ended up being the correct one in regards to that fact)

CW: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, A SMIDGE SUGGESTIVE SO MINORS DNI, BRIEF MOMENT OF GRIEF, OTHER THAN THAT JUST FLUFFY FLUFF. No mention of reader's gender.

"Well, actually, it's your turn to pick the date spot this time." Miguel hums as he gently blows on his oatmeal before taking a spoonful.

"Goddamn it...I'm so bad at choosing." You drum your nails against your coffee mug, the motion generating small tinkles of sound against the white porcelain.

Miguel smirks, "Thought since I'm a Libra, I'm the one who's supposed to be indecisive?"

"Doth mine ears decieve me?!" You clasp your hand to your chest, making a gasp of over exaggerated astonishment. "Astrology's #1 hater is reciting accurate lore of his own sign back to me?!"

Miguel shakes his head, blowing air out of his nose in amusement. "Nah, I'm still the number one hater." He winks. "Just proving to you that when you talk, I do listen. Even if I'm bad at responding."

"Bah." You wave your hand at him and sip your coffee, shifting your thoughts to where you'd like to go on your date with him this time. Truth is, Nueva York was huge. You hadn't been to all the restaurants and bars and every single spot just yet. You just had a few favorites that you kept on rotation.

Miguel, a man of routine and structure, didn't mind that one bit. Actually, there was a place you did really want to go to, you just hope he'll be okay with it since you were just there together for Valentine's.

"Perhaps..."

"Mhmm?" Miguel turns the page of his newspaper, doing his best to be responsive to you while getting caught up on yesterday's news.

"Don't be mad at me..."

"Mad at you?" Miguel's eyes flicker from the newsprint to yours. Scarlet spotlights on you.

"The aquarium." You say finally, your lips pull into a cheeky smile to indicate that you're well aware of your redundant choice but you don't care because you're dying to go anyway.

The corner of Miguel's mouth tugs a little into a half smile. "That's the spot, huh? You think I was going to be mad at you for choosing the aquarium again?"

You shrug. "Well, I do drag us there a lot. But it's so fun! I love seeing the fish and everything. You know me. I can't get enough of that stuff."

Miguel gives you a warm smile. "Well, the aquarium it is then. And believe me, that's farrr from one of my least favorite places we go. It's actually one of my favorites, too."

You echo his warmth, mixing it with some playfulness in your tone, "Oh yeah, I should've known, you love that under the sea, nerdy stuff too, huh?"

Miguel chuckles. "Guilty." He stands up, picking up his empty bowl. "Vamos, los peces esperan." (Let's go, the fish are waiting)

----

You can't help but smile giddily as you walk around the vast aquarium. It's dimly lit, and not very busy at this time, to both yours and Miguel's relief. The fact it was a Wednesday likely helped, since the rare occasion when Miguel's days off coincided with yours were quite sporadic and random.

First, you started with the reptiles. As you walked in the more brightly lit section, you peeled off your hoodie and tied it around your waist as the humidity of the exhibit started to get to you. Moisture hung in the air and the spattering sounds of water hitting rocks from the waterfall that stood tall in the middle of the exhibit created the illusion you were somewhere tropical, a welcome respite away from the March wind chill of Nueva York.

Frog croaks, monkey shrieks, and clicking and chattering of birds rustle in the exhibit, creating the ambiance of a rainforest. You look up at the large bird habitat in front of you, shielded by thin netting, groups of colorful birds hanging out in small clusters, rotating between perching and flying from one resting spot to another. A large smile breaks out on your face when your eyes land on a toucan perched on a twig garland hanging from the ceiling, busy cleaning his feathers.

"Babe look..." You say in a hushed voice. Miguel follows your gaze and his face breaks out into a smile as well, admiring the cute little bird as he ruffled and stroked his black feathers and puffed up his white bosom with pride.

Miguel nudges your side playfully with his hip. "He takes a long time to get ready, kind of like someone I know..."

You try to nudge him pitifully back in response, but Miguel stays anchored in place with a chuckle.

You move on to look at the geckos, lizards, snakes, and caimans as well. A baby crocodile sits with his belly dipped in a shallow pool of water, legs splayed out and mouth wide open, basking in the warmth emitted from the heat lamp at the top of his tank.

"He's SOOOO cute!" You gush, leaning your head just a little closer to the glass. Miguel looks away from the yellow poison dart frog exhibit and follows your squealing noises, putting his hands in his pockets as he stands next to you with a smirk.

"Not sure if cute is how I'd describe him..." Miguel tilts his head at the mini croc, its green eyes still unmoving. "He'll grow up to be an apex predator like his parents."

"Look at you, Mr. Wildlife." You look up at him, impressed. "What else do I not know about Kenny here?"

"Kenny?"

"That's his name, babe. It says so on the sign."

"Oh." Miguel laughs. "Well... crocodiles have three eyelids."

"Oh, you told me that one already, baby. What else?"

Miguel smiles and lists some more facts for you. You love it when he's like this. He was like a sponge, always absorbing knowledge that other people might have found boring or useless. He'd gladly tell you about it too, and he never ever made you feel silly or dumb for not knowing something.

"The sex of embryos in crocodiles is actually determined by the temperature at the time of incubation. So, Kenny here was probably incubated at a higher temperature which is more associated with producing males, whereas cooler temperatures are associated with producing females." Miguel points.

You click your tongue in admiration. "I learn something new every day. Let's hear one more."

Miguel purses his lips in thought for a moment, then says, "See those lumps and bumps on his back? Those are actually called, ‘scutes’. They actually enable them to be more stealthy in the water. They stop it from rippling."

Your eyebrows raise, your eyes still on Kenny and then they move to the tank beside him with the bigger crocs. "Whoa..." you nod. "Well, that proves my point earlier."

Miguel raises an eyebrow.

"Crocs have scutes. So they are s'cute!" You cross your arms triumphantly and head towards the ocean part of the aquarium.

Miguel thinks in his head that you probably wouldn't use that word for long if you knew how large crocodiles killed and ate their prey, but he doesn't argue. He smiles to himself and gives a curt nod in farewell to Kenny before he leaves to catch up to you.

----

Your eyes get big as you enter the room with jellyfish tanks. Soft blue and pink globs glide effortlessly in the water, sinking down slowly before using their tentacles to propel upwards, bobbing hypnotically in dizzying movements.

You and Miguel keep stealing glances at each other when the other isn't looking. You turn to look at him once more, the bioluminescence from the jellyfish mixed with the blacklights of the aquarium cast a soft glow on his features, the crimson in his eyes making him look just as ethereal as the beauty of the sea you're both gazing at. His full lips jut outwards subtly as he purses them in thought, his cheekbones sharp, framing that divine, sculpted face of his.

He looks at you, catching you staring at him this time. You take his hand, wrapping your other hand around his forearm to pull him closer to you. His head turns briefly for a moment, making sure you two are the only ones in the room before he leans down and gives you a soft kiss, that jittery feeling in your stomach when one of his hands cups the side of your throat, pressing you a little harder against his lips. Before you pull away, you add a lingering bite to his bottom lip, making him blush.

"Pórtate bien...." (Behave yourself) He murmurs, running his tongue along the slight puffiness on his bottom lip your teeth left behind, trying to calm the small flame you lit inside him.

Your mouth curls into a grin at the mini rise you got out of him, and you walk into a new area, marvelling at the saffron-colored coral and dainty seahorses.

Miguel moves to the other side of the exhibit where the largest tank resides with an assortment of fish swimming in and out of a large, fake shipwreck, but stops in his tracks when he sees the clownfish and regal tangs. A twinge of sadness pulls at his heart.

After watching the seahorse disappear behind a seaweed stalk, you turn and notice where Miguel is standing and your eyebrows knit in worry as you take long strides to come stand by his side, squeezing his hand.

He exhales at your touch and squeezes back in response, not needing to say anything because you can read him better than anyone. Sometimes this part could be rather hard for him. Clownfish and Regal Tangs were the species of Nemo and Dory.

Finding Nemo was Gabi's favorite movie.

You both watch the colorful fish in peaceful silence, darting in and out behind rocks, speeding up and slowing down, jolting and occasionally bumping into one another as they weave and glide through their underwater habitat around the large sunken ship.

Eventually, you pull Miguel gently by the hand leading him to one of the empty benches behind you. You sit and watch the fish together some more, enjoying the serenity of the buzzing undersea ecosystem before you, smiling when you see the comically large sea turtle next to all of his smaller fishy cohorts, dodging them and spinning like a rotisserie above your heads like it was second nature for him.

After a few more minutes, you turn to Miguel, "Well, last up is the shark exhibit." You try and brighten the mood a little, "That one's your favorite. You ready?"

Miguel turns and looks down at you, his arm still resting on the top of the bench behind you. His hand comes to give your shoulder a squeeze. "You sure? This one's your favorite. We can take our time."

You try to shake your head and play it off, "No, really I've seen it a hundred times, plus I think there's a new tank with stingrays or something..."

Miguel knows when you're trying to be too nice, a not uncommon behavior of yours. "We have all afternoon, really. I want to make sure you're having fun." He reassures you.

Your eyes melt as you sit back in your seat, indulging in staring at the fish for just a while longer like you wanted. Once you're satisfied, you let him know with a nod of your head and a squeeze of his hand and you two make your way to the escalators that run to the lower level, taking you to the shark exhibit.

As you do, you can't help but think about the times when you invited your friends and they practically rushed you through the whole experience, asking if there was anything new you could look at instead or passing up on going to the aquarium altogether, saying they've seen it all.

Miguel was one of the only people in your life who didn't make you feel bad for revisiting places you loved because it made you happy to re-experience it all over again. Hell, he was eager to and even expected an invite each time you did.

Source: Google search, from Las Vegas Magazine

You press your lips together in anticipation and your eyes go wide as if you're looking at it for the first time as you enter the large, underwater tunnel, dozens of sharks swimming in every direction, the shimmery reflection of the water and aqua light of the exhibit immersing you into a whole new world. It takes your breath away and you slow down, pausing in one spot right in the middle of the tunnel, losing yourself in the oceanic beauty above your head. It's one of those no camera moments, a time that requires silence, appreciation, and the person you love right next to you.

Miguel's watching you with sheer admiration, slightly envious even that something else could make you that speechless with adoration. He wants to make you feel that way all the time. It's memories like these with you that he's so glad he lowered the gates of his heart all that time ago. Never guessing when you crossed his path, it would lead to moments as blissful as these. The best part of the whole thing is that they won't end anytime soon. As long as you'd let him, he'd continue calling you all his. Could now be the time to make it permanent? Perhaps. No, you deserved something more planned out, something really special. He hadn't even gotten you that ring that you liked so much, sending not so subtle hints by texting him the link to it every so often while he was at work.

When he feels it's a good time, he approaches you from behind, touching the corner of your elbow, curious to know what's been on your mind. "¿En que piensas, mi alma?" (What are you thinking, my soul?)

You hum and turn around, following that low, mesmerizing voice of his, and you look up at him, the face of your lover looking down at you, warmth dominating his countenance that pulls you right in.

"Just thinking about how much I love coming here with you. You never make me feel bad for wanting to just take my time and see everything, you know? Even if it's my quadrillionth time seeing it. I just love the beach and the ocean, you know? It's like a brand new experience every time."

Miguel smiles down at you, then his eyes briefly wander, the group in front of you starts moving on so you two are left alone once again. He takes a deep breath and turns you back around so you're looking at the sea life once again, keeping his hands on your arms as he gives them a little love squeeze. "Kind of like how I see you, hmm?"

You chuckle, leaning backwards into him. His cologne enveloping you in that embrace that made your heart flutter and your knees grow weak every time. "What do you mean, Mig?"

"Con ojos nuevos cada vez." (With new eyes every time)

You close your eyes with your head against his chest and his arms wrapped around you for several moments. You bring your own hands up to his, sliding your fingers underneath his jacket sleeves in search of the warm skin of his forearms to which he softly exhales into your hair at the sensation.

You murmur to him, "Can we get smoothies on the way home?"

"Hmmm, you don't like my green smoothie recipe?" Miguel asks with a teasing grin.

"It had.. too much kale for my liking."

"Ouch."

"Sorry, baby."

"Ha, ha...well, I suppose we could. In that case we might as well get lunch. You need real food too, not just a smoothie. You're ready to go already?"

"Just a little longer?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

You smile and lean back into him once more, letting your bodies lean against each other in familiar, loving solitude as the sharks swim around you in the tunnel of the aquarium, white flashes of light shimmering against the glass every so often that the water hits the sunlight that's slowly begun to peek out from the afternoon skies above.

🌊🦈🐟🐠🐡💙

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel ohara fluff #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara imagine #Spotify

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lestappenforever · 29 days

Note

With the Lestappen-overtaking-Maxiel situation going on: Could you maybe make a little recommendation list of your favourite Lestappen fics (can be yours and/or other people's)?

Hi anon!

I absolutely can, what a fitting celebration!

As I'm still working on a proper fic rec list as I keep reading more and more fics, below you will find a small selection of my all-time favorite fics - both to read and to write!

Full list of my all-time favorite fics that I have read and written below the cut!

My all-time favorite fics that I have read:

Monaco Malaise (part 1 of Temptation's Trajectory) by @cupidskissx Rated E | 8,037 words | Complete

Using the reflection in the mirror above the vanity, he steals occasional glances into the bedroom as he wets the cloth and cleans himself off. Charles is still on his forearms and knees, face buried in his pillow, he doesn’t look like he’s going to be moving any time soon.

Max and Charles have been hooking up for a few months, casually, no string attached — definitely no feelings involved… The disaster that was Monaco 2021 sees them in Charles’ apartment, with Max having to deal with the fact that Charles can’t get out of his head.

Azerbaijan Abnegation (part 2 of Temptation's Trajectory) by @cupidskissx Rated E | 16,972 words | Complete

Charles stares at him intently, “Last time was an anomaly.” Not for the first time, Max recalls the awkward swell of humiliation after Charles had told him to stop. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the memory of everything that followed, “Yeah, that better not happen again.”

After Monaco, Max thought he’d made up his mind about Charles, and their little arrangement. They’re in Azerbaijan and Charles is everywhere: in his head, in his messages, in his hotel room… Will Max be able to hold onto his resolve, or will his attempts at self-denial only prolong the inevitable?

Mona's comment: I have read these two fics more times than I can count, and I'm going to keep reading them again and again and again until the day I die. Loz is such an amazingly talented author, and her writing has honestly altered my brain chemistry numerous times.

you and me, just us (and your teammate sergio) by @oscar-fastri Rated T | 3,377 words | Complete

Checo was fully aware of what he’s walking into. Still, he seriously doubts that anyone could have been prepared for the full force of Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc being heads over heels in love with each other and not even trying to hide it.

Or: 5 times Checo thirdwheels Max and Charles + 1 time it's everyone else's turn

Mona's comment: This is the "You, me and your friend Steve" song in perfect fic format, and let me tell you the sound I made when Avery published it was not human.

The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together) by @f1writingbyme Rated E | 43,759 | Complete

“Oh, God, what is it?” Max groans. “It’s Mr. Corvetto, right? I knew it. I’m telling you, never move into an apartment next to elderly people. It’s just– Why does she call me? What the hell can I do? Doesn’t she need to call an ambulance or something? Or, I don’t know, her family, or–” “Max.” Charles interrupts Max’s ranting. He ends the phone call, cutting off Mrs. Corvetto’s panicked yelling with a simple press of his thumb. He stares at the blue-eyed man in front of him. “Your apartment is on fire.”

Or: The fire in his apartment is only the beginning of a long list of misfortunes that await Max. Fortunately, he has Charles by his side to help him through it. That is until Charles is the one that gets targeted.

Mona's comment: I don't even have words for this, it just needs to be read. WARNING: Prepare for heavy angst.

And That's How I Foksmashed Dad's Championship Trophy by @il-predestinato Rated T | 6,500 | Complete

All of that would have been forgivable if not for the Green-Eyed Monster’s complete disregard for the pre-contracted occupation rights of Max’s lap. Such rights had long been pre-determined and belonged to Sassy (and occasionally to Jimmy, she admitted begrudgingly). However, no amount of quiet hisses and vicious glares seemed to penetrate the creature’s thick skull, and he would greedily occupy Max’s thigh for more than 95% of any given afternoon. Sometimes with his head, sometimes with his feet, and a few times he even straddled his entire body over Max; the latter could not have been comfortable for Max, as the Green-Eyed Monster was enormously overweight compared to Sassy. (Jimmy had insisted that it was not nice to shame another living creature about their weight, but she was not wrong. With her compact size and considerably more reasonable mass, Sassy was confident that she was much more comfortable for Max to have on his lap than that horrendously oversized creature.)

Mona's comment: I have never read anything as great as this, and I don't think I'll ever read anything as great as this ever again. I want to move into Elle's brain and live there forever.

set my midnight sorrow free (part 1 of this is our place, we make the rules) by @il-predestinato Rated T | 13,439 words | Complete

He doesn’t blame Max, not really. If he could have Charles for one night, he would never let him go either. Maybe he isn’t the one who is losing; Max is also playing a losing game. You can’t open yourself to Charles and try to exist in his charmed life without becoming irrevocably enamoured. When Max let Charles walk into his motorhome, when he let Charles slip into his existence, Max didn’t know it then but the battle was already lost.

we don't know how to rhyme, but damn, we try (part 2 of this is our place, we make the rules) by @il-predestinato Rated M | 4,862 | Complete

He pulls back reluctantly and misses the warm mouth almost immediately. Stars, he was doomed. “I want this too,” he tells Charles. “I don’t believe you.” He can be so infuriating sometimes, so contrarian. Some day, he might actually make Max lose his mind.

even the sun sets in paradise (part 3 of this is our place, we make the rules) by @il-predestinato Rated T | 27,774 words | Complete

If he had to name the place where the story of Max and Charles began, if there was a moment that divided them into Before and After, there would be a few candidates. But there was only one correct answer. He would never forget the name. The place is called Val d’Argenton. Stories are still being written there. Charles likes to tell the story of the incident - turn by turn, infused with poetic drama, detailing every single emotion: frustration, anger, pure spite. Every time he tells it, his smile grows along with the laughter in his eyes, even as his words recount a tale of opposing emotions. “I never want to go back to Val d’Argenton,” Charles once confessed. “We’ll never go back there,” he promised, and Charles knew what he meant.

Mona's comment: This series is such a rollercoaster of emotion, and I don't think I'm still fully recovered from reading it the first time. Elle is a true genius in every way.

p19 by @sennaverstappen Rated E | 5,619 words | Complete

“Charles,” it comes out soft, worried, upset. Charles will light himself on fire. He hears Max take a few steps towards him, feels two warm, winning, arms wrap around his fast-breathing chest. He’s still wearing those golden shoes. Max snuggle into his neck. “I’m here for you.” And Max had won, and he’s winning the season, and he’s P19, and losing this season. And Max is winning, and he’s not even talking about it – choosing to comfort his Charles instead. Every little thought converges into a single, red-hot one. He’s going to fuck the pole sitter so hard he’ll be sore tomorrow. “Max,” he whimpers, trying to find his voice, find his grip, find his footing in this world. Max tightens his grip around his waist. “Yes, angel?” And he can feel Max frown against his nape, soft breath against his earlobe. It turns his body white-hot. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Mona's comment: This one is just *chef's kiss*. Mindblowing. Incredible. Just like its author.

My all-time favorite fics that I've written:

Devil's Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) (part 1 of Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) Rated E | 55,362 words | Complete

It all started with a crash. Well, technically, it started with a blue-eyed boy with blonde hair getting screamed at in a language he couldn’t understand when he was only 12 years old. He remembered looking at the boy, who couldn’t be much older than himself - (two weeks older, to be exact, he’d learn later) - and watching the spark disappear right out of those icy blue eyes. That was the first memory Charles Leclerc had of Max Verstappen: Watching Jos Verstappen, Max’s own father, scream at this 12 year old child with an intensity that turned his face red and made every blood vessel in his neck look dangerously close to bursting. But if anyone ever were to ask Charles when he started to realize that his feelings towards that same Max Verstappen he had known since childhood had begun to change into something else, something bigger, something terrifying he couldn’t - or wouldn’t - quite put his finger on, he would say that it all started with a crash. Because of fucking course it did.

OR: The slow-burn story of Lestappen that has brought me back from the dead, which starts with Max's crash at Silverstone in 2021.

Like Snow At The Beach (Weird But Fucking Beautiful) (part 2 of Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) Rated E | 17,064 words | Completed

The wedding of Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen was always going to be a grand affair. Not necessarily because it had been either man’s dream to make a big deal out of getting married, but simply because they knew so many fucking people. And because Charles had mentioned once — in passing, ages ago, long before Max went down on one knee and proposed — that he had driven past a property in Italy he’d found so beautiful that he’d had to stop the car in order to have a proper look, and that upon walking through the grounds of the property, he’d found himself thinking it would have been the perfect venue for a wedding. Max had been hellbent on finding out which property that was ever since.

OR: The lavish wedding sequel to "Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes)" that you've all been (hopefully) waiting for.

Stop (You're Losing Me) (part 3 of Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) Rated E | 6,399 words | Completed

And now, here they are, with Charles feeling like he’s the only one making any sort of effort to keep their marriage healthy and happy outside of race weekends. He never would have imagined being married to Max could end up feeling so lonely. Another two hours pass before Max comes out into the living room, where Charles is sitting on the couch with a bowl of Andrea-and-Brad approved pad thai from their favorite takeout place just down the street, rewatching Money Heist for what has to be the tenth time. Max stops at the end of the couch, frowning down at the Monégasque. “I thought we were going out for dinner?” Charles looks up at him, face expressionless. “We were.” Max points at the bowl. “But you ordered takeout?” “I did.” “Why?” “Because our reservation was two hours ago, babe, and I was hungry.”

OR: Max and Charles have been married for 3 years, and it turns out marriage isn't always beautiful. Sometimes, it's ugly and tiring and painful.

Mona's comment: This series is what got me back into writing after a 7-year long hiatus from fic writing, and I treasure this series so much because it's what got me to make a Tumblr blog again and fully embrace the F1 fandom after being into F1 for 20 years.

19 Times The Grid Saved Lestappen (And One Time They Didn't Need To) (part 1 of Lestappen + The Grid) co-written with @f1writingbyme Rated M | 16,107 words | Complete

In that exact moment, all Charles wants to do is grab a hold of the front of Max’s stupid Red Bull polo and pull him into a kiss. He’s just about to do it, too, when a pen comes flying out of fucking nowhere, hitting Max smack dab in the face. It brings them both out of their little bubble, and Charles turns to see Lando standing a good distance away from them, already in the process of yeeting another pen in their direction. Charles reaches out to catch it before it can hit Max again, putting his reflexes to good use. Next to Lando, Carlos nods his approval at the catch. “Lando, what the hell?”

OR: Keeping Charles and Max from accidentally outing themselves to the whole world is becoming a full-time job. and Lando decides to enlist the entire grid to help him out.

18 Times Lestappen Tried To Hide Their Relationship (And One Time They Failed) (part 2 of Lestappen + The Grid) co-written with @f1writingbyme

Charles is pretty sure he is going to die of a heart attack at the age of only twenty-six because of all the sneaking around and almost getting caught every time. The only positive thing they have going for them is that they haven't been caught yet. How that's possible, Charles isn't sure, but he thinks it might have something to do with the fact that their friends either aren't paying much attention or are just plain stupid. Charles secretly hopes it's the last one. But of course, luck is not on Charles’ side, as one Mr. Lando Norris, tucked away in the safety of his driver's room on the other side of the paddock, is typing away on his phone.

How (Not) To Third Wheel Lestappen co-written with @f1writingbyme Rated T | 10,344 words | Complete (for now)

Lance doesn’t know which of his emotions is more overpowering; the secondhand embarrassment he feels at how blatantly obvious they’re being, or the fact that watching Max and Charles in their own little world is actually kind of cute. He realizes it’s the secondhand embarrassment as he watches Max shamelessly grin at James and proudly explain that he was just talking to Charles. Lance has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, especially when he notices how Charles is quite literally the embodiment of the heart eyes emoji where he’s standing next to Max for his entire interview. And the beeline Charles makes for Max as soon as he hands the microphone to Lance after his P2 interview is even worse than the heart eyes. He definitely should have been paying attention to that group chat, Jesus fucking Christ.

OR: There is a WhatsApp support group chat on how to deal with being top 3 with Max and Charles. Lance hasn't been paying attention to it at all, and lives to regret it. And then others suffer at the hands of Lestappen as well.

Mona's comment: Writing fics with Ilse is one of my favorite things in the world to do, and I can't even begin to describe how much fun it is to write all our Lestappen + the grid fics.

The Wonders of Valentine's Day (Or Whatever) Rated E | 9,933 words | Complete

Max, having completely lost the ability to speak, just stares at the sight before him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. What the actual fuck? “Hi?” Max phrases it like a question. Charles grins at him. “Hello,” he greets, and Max watches as the grin fades away as Charles’ gaze moves down Max’s body, one eyebrow lifting. It’s only then Max realizes that he never put on pants after his shower, and is standing there in his bright orange Netherlands jersey and black boxers. It takes every ounce of his willpower not to let the internal panic he’s currently experiencing show on his face.

OR: Max isn't a fan of Valentine's Day. Charles is a menace on a mission to change that. Naturally.

Mona's comment: This was just a self-indulgant fic I wrote due to my own dislike towards Valentine's Day, but let me tell you, I had a blast from start to finish while writing this.

The Seasons of Heartbreak co-written with @f1writingbyme Rated T | 14,075 words | Complete

As the ‘I can’t do this anymore’ slipped from his lips, Charles missed his exit and continued straight ahead, unable to fully see the exit sign through his tears. The tears fill his eyes as quickly now as they had done in his car that day, and Charles finds himself realizing that he hasn’t felt happiness since. Not even once.

OR: When two men are hurting from a break-up, they can only use each other to make it right again. But they have to realize that first.

OR: The seasons of heartbreak, seen through the eyes of both Max and Charles.

Mona's comment: The sheer amount of tears shed while writing this, my God.

#Asks #Anon asks #Lestappen fic recs anons #Lestappen fics #Lestappen fic recs

151 notes · View notes

your-girl-mj · 8 months

Note

heyy! could you do hcs where the reader is a female and is ganke's cousin and she just moved to brooklyn from korea and then she meets miles at the brooklyn visions academy and miles fell first but she fell harder?? tysm if you will do it!

that's your cousin?? [42 + 1610!Miles × f!reader]

summary: he fell first, but she fell harder. headcanons!

warning: swear words.

note: she/her for reader, he/him for miles, he/him for ganke.

created: august 20, 2023

published: august 21, 2023

earth-1610 [miles morales]

he fell first

she was the first thing miles noticed when he got into physics class.

headphone plugged in her ears, the sun from the window shining on the side of her face. her fingers twisting and turning, playing with the pen in her hand as she read a comic book.

baby deer is mesmerised.

miles was in complete awestruck

to the point their teacher told him to sit down because he's frozen in his spot, staring at her.

miles took a seat next to her.

he was awkwardly fidgeting, stealing glances at her every now and then.

he wants to talk but doesn't know how to start :(

at the cafeteria, miles is sitting down brainstorming how he will talk to her.

he didn't expect her to sit right in front of him.

she talked to his roommate in korean, though it was more like they're arguing over the food choice.

she left shortly to fetch something while ganke ate

"hey, ganke. you know the new girl?"

"[name]? yeah, she's my cousin."

"that's your cousin???"

[name] retreated back before he could ask anymore questions

the next day in physics, he sat in the same seat again.

he's writing a script about how he will talk to her and how the conversation would go if he said something like this and like that.

he heard her humming to his favourite song, sunflower; as she sat next to him.

he panicked for a second because [name] knew his favourite song was not on the script

"uh, hey. you like sunflower too?"

boy, he's sweating like crazy when he only received a side eye.

"y'know...the song? heh, i uh, like that song, too..." he's biting the inside of his cheek, wanting the floor to swallow him whole.

"i guess it's not so bad."

that simple comment made his day bright. he looked back, with a smiley smiley face, but wipe it off. like, it's cool. she's cool, he's cool, everything is cool.

"yeah, yeah uh.. it's sounds okay."

[name] hides a snort because she can clearly see how happy he is at something.

"hey, i didn't catch your —"

the teacher shushed him, and it got him embarrassed.

he was doing a good job talking with her, and now he looks like someone who doesn't listen to classes.

he's literally have a :( face.

"[name] [lastname]"

her voice echoed and he's awestruck again, and thinking; "she talks to me again! she likes me too!"

"oh uh, I'm miles. miles morales." he made sure he repeated his first name like those cool dude introduced themselves in action films.

and his uncle aaron used to do that too.

do not even get me to the shoulder touch.

she was by her locker and then closed the door and saw miles standing there, waiting for her.

the original plan in his head is he's gonna do the shoulder touch and then ask her if she wanna hang out after school.

and his prayers are not enough.

"hi?" she looked at him sceptical.

— it was so awkward, and miles made it even worse when he put a hand on her shoulder and made a ... some sort of face at her

"hey."

his one brow is rised, it's like he's smiling but also not?

[name] literally have "??????" flying over her head. and look at him weirdly.

"hey?" she repeated his word in a question matter.

miles felt sad after that because he thought she wouldn't talk to him anymore and that he look so weird in her perspective.

but [name] act like that awkward moment never happen to save miles' whole being.

and he's so grateful for her to do that.

she fell harder

how can she not fall for him? he's an absolute sweetheart!

miles invites her to all his hangouts with ganke

(ganke doesn't give a shit but it bothers him a bit that his roommate have heart eyes for his cousin)

sometimes, he brought to her different places in brooklyn. and even if there's a warning sign, it didn't stop her from going with him.

miles treated her so well it makes her heart go BOOM BOOM BOOM

he always has a hand out to help her up, like she wants to get up and his hand is out.

"let me help you up," was always his dialogue for her.

he also pays for her food.

(she and ganke fought about who's miles' favorite)

(in korean of course. no way they let miles heard it.)

he likes to leave little gifts for her.

mostly it was little notes and drawings.

sometimes it was a freshly picked sunflower, or sometimes he gave her a full-grown [fav.flower]

she doesn't know how he got it in a city but didn't question it.

the fact that miles is just expressing his feelings, [name] feel more and more appreciated.

no boy can ever top miles.

[name] is not used to his act of service.

she refuses, knowing she can handle it herself.

but only accept when he insisted or when he looks disappointed.

miles do it all the time, that it became a routine for him <33

to the point that [name] also got used to his sweet actions and unconsciously sought it T_T

(ganke was force to get use to it)

she noticed she feels more giddy with him

she knew she fell when miles stuttered a few words in her mother tongue.

in her head, she was screaming, "HE LEARN HER LANGUAGE SO SHE CAN TALK EASILY TO HIM"

while miles want to jump off the window by how stupid he thinks he sounds.

miles did so much for her. she always returned it back as well. <33

miles is too flustered to even keep his "cool" demeanour whenever she left little notes like he always do

little cousin is forced again to participate (she made ganke give miles her old art materials that still work)

of course, she finds out he's spiderman.

she wasn't allowed to go to the boy's dormitory and vice versa.

but she couldn't take it anymore when her cousin "borrowed" her comic book and hasn't given back for over 5 months and it's pissing her off because she knew ganke can be careless with her things.

she opened the door unannounced and saw something she shouldn't

miles was trying to take off his suit but is stuck, and ganke is helping by pulling it as well.

[name] awkwardly close the door.

with a flaming crimson face, before bolting to her dorm.

miles is slamming his head repeatedly on the wall.

ganke was a little worried that miles' secret is revealed to his cousin, and she might tell on them

that's not what miles is sulking for.

"she saw me without a shirt on... kill me."

he's so embarrassed, he want to stop existing.

to be honest, she doesn't give two fucks that he's spiderman, she's just angry they didn't tell her

especially miles.

they make up tho <33

their hangouts upgraded from abandoned train vandalism to watching the sunset from the top of a tower.

it was also where they had their first date.

[name] confessed. she did it first before miles for the last second.

he's a little pouty about it because it made him look like a chicken

earth-42 [miles morales]

he fell first

just because he fell first doesn't mean he notice her on her first day.

miles didn't officially meet her in school.

he met her at night. when he was prowler, patrolling.

he saw it with his night vision. a drunk guy was following a girl.

he already know it's not gonna end well.

miles was ready to tackle the guy from the top of the building, but what the girl did was unexpected.

she has a tazer in her hand, electrocute the drunk by his neck.

she watches its body tremble for a few seconds before she lets go.

the drunk's body just fell unconscious with a loud thud

the girl needs things to protect herself too, y'know, especially in a city full of crimes.

miles felt his heart do a small flip.

a smirk under his mask as she watch her walked away like nothing happened.

she's a tough one. feisty. and he's desperate for her number.

but he can't just randomly show up. he'll get knocked out as well, and he doesn't want that.

miles thought he'll never see that girl again, but to his general shock, they sat next to each other in one of his class.

he's pissed at himself for not noticing her much earlier.

miles is also pissed when he saw her and his roommate hanging out, inside and outside school.

he thought they were lovers 💀

he's pissed at himself when he finds out she's ganke's cousin.

"that's your cousin...?"

"yeah, she transferred here for over 7 months now."

"...fuck."

he get that they're not that close but still. he's still his roommate, and he could've told him about his cousin he didn't know about.

and didn't make him listen to broken-hearted songs on repeat.

he learned her name indirectly, which was [name] [lastname].

mister here finds himself searching for her whenever he's on patrol or when he's on a heist with his uncle.

his mask have a search thing where you type a person's name, and then he can detect if they're around the area. (inspired by his uncle's old mask)

it has a history bar, and aaron is shocked to see a girl's name over and over again.

one lucky morning is when they got partnered up, and they both started hanging out.

from strangers to best friend kind of one.

but one of them already have feelings for the other.

and he wishes to stay it that way unless she shows some signs she likes him too.

she fell harder.

every moment she feels herself falling, she's snapping herself out of it.

he's good-looking, of course he is.

he always thought he was scary, especially with the rumours of him being in a fight after his dad died.

he always has this frown in his face, too

her fear of miles made ganke take advantage of it by hiding in his dormitory knowing she will leave because miles will show up in any second

she's mad at him for it. (she didn't talk to him in 4 months)

but when they become friends, she feels a small, giddy feeling inside.

miles treated her differently.

but a good differently. anyone can tell he have a soft spot for her and no one knows why, even [name] herself.

yes, he still teased and was annoying as usual, but the way his eyes softened at the sight of her made her feel content with life itself.

she feels a bit special how miles treated her differently than the others.

let say she read a trope like theirs

she didn't look into it much. she hates that assuming something that will turn out to be wrong, she has false hope this entire time.

that's why she stopped herself whenever they're together.

she still acts like she did with everyone else, but she's a little more open to miles than the others.

she lost it when he suddenly grabbed hold of her shoulder, looking directly in her eyes with an unreadable expression.

"hey." was all he can say, and her face fires up like one of her cells commited arson

"oh, oh shit. uh, hi? what the fuck??" she suddenly blurbs out, jumbled on her own words. "miles, what??? what the hell??"

miles burst out laughing at her reaction, he haven't laughed like that in a long time.

[name] just stood there processing everything. she's flabbergasted.

was that a flirt?? or was she not paying attention for him to do crazy things like that???

after that, she didn't know what just happened or what he ate, but [name] feels like he's flirting.

and she's flirting back, with a little violent action as well.

she smacks him every time he smirks, that literally screams, "you want me so bad."

miles concluded her love language is physical. just physical. (she hits him too much that he feels numb but won't change a thing <3)

few weeks later, they're dating, miles did the shoulder touch, and he swear that will not work (it did) to see if she likes him too or not.

through out their relationship, [name] get easier to be flustered now than before since miles was born a flirt.

this is my first time doing headcanons, so idk if i do it right. snsbsksbei

but i hope you like it! comments and reblog are deeply appreciated. thank you for reading!

473 notes · View notes

momotorin · 10 months

Text

make up — sana one shot

heyo! i'm back!!

sana x fem reader, fluff and smut, non idol! sana

with years of being married with your gorgeous wife, this is the first time you've seen her in such a light so alluring; bringing you in its vast warmth that it crawls to your skin as you feel, phantom in thought, her fingertips brushing on your cheek.

you had a long night— coming home from work, running into some problem with your car, the mechanic losing a part for the chassis; then the next thing you know? it's 3am, the lights are off and your wife is sound asleep as you made your way to bed. you feel guilty leaving her in such an uneasy state of worry on where you are, where you could've been, who you were with, even though she repeated many times on the phone that she understands that you just became very unlucky all of a sudden.you crawled your way to the bed, kicking off your leather red oxfords, still on your office clothes, and you pressed a kiss on your wife's crown.

she hummed as you pulled her close, shifted so she could see your face. she felt so guilty for letting you have this day on your own. and it's morning.

the daylight seeps into your closed eyelids in flesh red, and you open your eyes to see that you left yourself in such an uptight pajama, with your white dress shirt literally tucked out of your black slacks from all the moving. you noticed that your tie was gone, and sana is nowhere to be found.

so, you stood up, carried yourself to the bathroom sink and put a splash of water on your face to make yourself feel a little alive. the cold, crisp, clean water knocked your nerves to consciousness.

then, you went and opened your phone to see that it was a saturday. last night was a friday night, which you remember as you should've had dinner at wolfgang's with sana. well, fuck. you also see that it's already 11am, a little way past the half of it, so technically, it's almost noon.

"honey," you called out as you made way off your shared room. you found her, hogged up in a corner of your sofa, watching some variety show. "there you are."

"hey," she says as you filled the empty spot beside her. she removes the suede pillow in between you two, and she hogged up herself to you instead, slinking her arms around your shoulders as she lays her head on your shoulder. "i missed you. tough night, my love?"

"oh, you wouldn't hear the end of it if you listen." you chuckle. even just remembering the ridiculous circumstances of you being stuck in the osaka traffic made your head hurt.

she whispers, "we have the whole day to us."

"well, if you insist," you sigh, eyes closed as you removed her arms on your shoulders and put it on level as yours to make her much comfortable. you opened your eyes, starting to gather thoughts on how'd you tell her about your night. "but, you first. what did you do when i was away?"

she looked at you, obviously stunned that you found your way, yet again, of not answering her question first. "okay," she sighs. "if you wanna play that way."

"please?" you plead with your lower lip being out, tugging at her hand ever so lightly. she deeply sighs at defeat, "so, while you were away, i just answered your calls. i knew it was urgent, and found out that it's really one of those nights. of course, i missed you still, and i'm sad that we missed our date."

"i'm so s-"

"don't be," she chuckled. "you did your best to assure me where you are, and i'm really glad that you're the one who always calls to update me. i love that. i love you."

you place a peck on her lips, "i love you more."

"don't even get me started on that," she said. "okay, now, you shoot. what happened last night?"

"alright," you sighed, crossing your legs as you further melted to the sofa and to sana's touch. "you know how newspapers get published early morning?"

"yeah, you literally took me there to the printing," she said, pulling you closer to her and now you're fully leaning onto her. "but okay, go."

"there was this priority article we needed to make, it was about the ministry of finance, and i absolutely hate it when i'm the one assigned to it because they know that i suck at it," you chuckled, and sana just looks at you with concern as she passes her hands through your scalp.

"but i finished it, 10pm, before the printing of today's newspaper. so, i called you then, saying sorry that i missed our date and promised you that i'll be home before you sleep so we could sleep together. but that didn't happen because," you chuckled sarcastically, putting a hand on your forehead as your eyebrows come to a crease.

"it was fucking traffic. everywhere. i don't know why, i was just stuck in there on the way home and when i finally sped up when the road cleared, one of the oil pipes were slashed by a sharp object on the road. and the next mechanic stop was a kilometre away, so my oil was leaking everywhere when i got there."

you noticed that her hand made its way to your waist, then you interlocked it with yours and you brushed your thumb along her every knuckle. "and i called you again, 12am, telling you that. i was so tired, i slept at the benches when waiting for the car to be fixed. so i drove home, it was already 2:30am, and i didn't even have a soul. i'm just glad that i went home, you were already sleeping, and i almost cried because i was so guilty of missing a friday night with you."

"i told you, don't be," she assures. "that's so bad. i imagined it happening to me, and i realized that you'd understand what i've gone through too, so, it's not an afterthought that i'd be the same. but, i really did miss you, though."

you sigh, flipping on your stomach and now you're facing sana, your head now on her chest as you wrap your arms around her waist. "sorry, love," you said, closing your eyes and basking yourself in the warmth of sana. "i missed you a lot too," you looked up to her and meet her honey brown eyes. "how do i make it up to you?"

you trail your sight down to the crevices of her collarbones, realizing that she has your tie on. loose, pulled, and she's in her silk red pajama top.

you never thought that you'd be more stunned than you already are, but you shift, now sitting upright to observe the glory that's contained in the light of your wife.

"god," you say. "you know you're going to be the death of me one day, don't you?"

she hums, smiling, as she holds your hand to guide you into holding your black tie on her neck. "pull," she says, voice deep, commanding.

you do exactly how she wants, and you heard her slip a sweet moan. "maybe," she says, pushing you down the couch and now she has both of her thighs straddling yours. "do me?"

jesus fucking christ.

you pull her by the tie, sealing her lips with yours in fervor as you melt into the leather of the sofa. you trail your kisses to her neck, as her hands made her way to your shoulders and your scalp, brushing ever so lightly that it makes you want to have more.

she yields with a mantra of your name, sweet and full of breath, "baby," she moaned out, pulling you off from your trance. "do you really wanna do it? i mean you haven't had breakfast and i'm sure yo-"

you pulled her by the tie, again, kissing her, "shut up," you said, now lifting her up from the sofa and you made your way to your room. "you know you're my favorite meal, don't you?"

she giggles as you carefully put her down the bed, still looking at you with eyes hooded, filled with want. you observe her as you hovered above her, she was already rubbing her legs, relieving some tension in between her thighs.

her hands fiddled with your collar, and slowly removed each button until you could put your dress shirt out and on the floor. "you really want me, huh," you said, kissing her once again, a little longer as you also removed her silk top.

lace on her milky white skin makes you want to mark it up with purple from your lips, and as you do, her mantras of your name drip onto yours like honey.

you slithered your hands to the clasp of her bra, her chest being revealed to you on it's very bare form. you pull away, repositioning yourself below her, and now she's straddling you; half naked, on top of you with want. "you look beautiful, baby."

she moans once again, now kissing you, going to trail to your neck. she nips, she bites, and you just wanted her to do that forever. you want her to mark you up as she owns you. you let out a breath, "sana, honey," you said, and she stops to look at you. "i wanna do you."

"well," she said, flipping you two over again, now shes under you. "if you wish so."

you smiled, now moaning as you trailed kisses to her taut tummy, then to the waistband of her shorts. "may i?" you asked, hands on her hips, tickling her a little as she nodded.

you unwrapped the cloth carefully, sliding it off her legs, and you see black lace again, now between her thighs, covering the surface where she wants you most. she was leaking through it, "baby, you're so wet." she moans as you removed her panties, the string of her arousal coming out of it too as she really was leaking with need.

you teased, trailing sweet kisses to her thighs and she moans, later whimpers to a plead that wants you more. "love, please."

you look up at her, hands on your hair already as she pushed her hips to your face. without another word, you dove into her folds, the sweet and tangy taste you've known hits your mouth as she moans your name loud that you're afraid the walls can't keep it.

you continued on, licking lightly on her clit as she positioned her legs on both sides of your head, and you caress her thighs with your hands.

you alternate between licking her and putting your tongue in her hole to gather her sweetness.

you lightly opened her thighs, now removing yourself from her cunt, taking in the view of her blissed out state. "god, you're so beautiful like this," you teased, your index finger circling the wet hole to tease. she whines, holding your wrist. "do you want me go put it in?"

she hums, and you insert your digits in her velvety walls, feeling her in the most raw way you two could imagine.

she jolts up, pleasure getting into her as you curl your finger as you thrusted. she opened her legs wider, allowing access for a deeper spot she never knew until now. you pulled your finger out, gathered a couple of liquid to your hands as you circled her clit, and you insert two fingers in her, motion in and out, curling lightly upwards to hit her spot.

she moans, loud, wonton, as she breaths, "don't stop."

then you lean down, licking her engorged clit, swollen as your tongue makes contact. her hand immediately flew to your head as you made figure eights on it, and she's now grinding her hips on your face.

you feel her walls close up on you, wetness dripping more as you thrust in and out. "please," she moaned out. "i'm going to cum."

you just hummed and fastened your pace on her; your fingers moving in and out of her hole, and your tongue making kitten licks on her clit.

"fuck!" she screams out, gush coming out of her as you continued to lick on her clit. she gyrates her hips forward, letting you lap over the remaining cum off her cunt. "fuck," she breathed out, now caressing your cheeks as you made your way up to kiss her lips once more.

she loves it when she tastes her arousal on your mouth, something with a mix of sin and sincerity. "i love you."

you hummed, pulling her body to yours; putting your head on her still bare chest. "i love you too."

she puts away strands of your hair away from your face, kissing your forehead. "should i return the favor, love?"

"no, sana, i'm fine," you chuckled, slithering your arms around her waist, keeping her clasped around you. you two heard a shocking rumble from your stomach. "and i'm hungry."

"i told you i won't make you full!"

"no, no," you put a chaste kiss on her lips. "you're plenty already. i'm very full and i love it so much."

"don't be such a dick," she sits up, pulling you up with her hands as she stood up. "let's go shower so that we could actually make up for the date part," you said, trailing behind her as she went inside the shower. "and no funny business, please."

turns out that she broke her own rule as she ate you out before going out of the shower.

"so, should we order pizza instead?" she asks, phone already in her hand with the food delivery app open.

you chuckled as you dried your hair, "anything's fine."

"so, hawaiian?"

"no," you said, blankly staring at her. "absolutely not."

"i thought anything?"

"anything but hawaiian."

"okay," she takes a note of it. "so, broccoli then?"

"what?" you said. "really? on pizza? too?"

"what, like it's a bad idea that we'd tr-"

"sana, love," you said, now sitting with her as you're already pampered up and in your lounge clothes. "let's not fight over this. we know it's pepperoni that we want."

she hums, agreeing and feeling defeated as she was actually trying to prank you. "mozzarella sticks; 6 piece chicken, buffalo wings flavored; and iced tea."

you placed a kiss on her lips again, "yup, great," you giggled as sana puts you in a big hug as you melt into your sheets. you heard your stomach grumble once again. "oh, it's roaring."

sana lets you lay on her chest as you two laughed, "but i make you full, right?" she asked, rhetorically. "eat me out till the food comes?"

"sana!"

#twice imagines #twice #twice sana #twice sana x reader #twice smut #twice fluff #twice scenarios #sana #sana x reader #sana smut #minatozaki sana

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chansshands · 4 months

Text

Warm like hot chocolate

Pairing: idol!chan x fem!reader

Genre: fluff??? (I'm confused like you trust me), best friends to ???, cuddles, pecks

Author note: And I’m back babies, I have a lot of free time, sadly I have a brace on my foot so I need to rest all day on my couch, without moving, so I started writing again. I have like 9 drafts just on tumblr and a LOT more in my notes so be prepared I might publish something else this week hihihi, anyway since my birth i have this issues where I can't warm up by my self if the weather it’s not at a proper temperature, I’m in my 20s and I still struggle to warm my self up especially my arms, hands, legs and feet. That’s why i thought about writing this thing down, because I’m 100% sure that Chan is the warmest person ever, just like hot packs. not proof read I'm too tired and lazy.

As always my request are open!🩷

-✉️

I’m so insecure about my English, as I said it’s not my first language and I’m always scared to make mistakes or stuff like that, so if you find mistakes please let me know, I’ll be thankful and also my English will improve!

-✉️

Why it's so fucking cold in here?

you think

after months, you finally had the opportunity to sleep at your brother's place, his dorm actually, that he's sharing with some of his bands mates.

You get up, shivering cold, maybe with a pair of pants you could warm your self up? but you know that you can't fall asleep with pants, who sleeps with pants in 2023? exactly no one, you need something or someone to warm your self up and that's where are you going, in tired, sleepy steps.

you knock at your brother's door, opening it a little to see his figure under the blankets

"Changbin Oppa, you sleeping? I'm so cold"

you say waiting for a response, but a little snore informs you that luckily he is sleeping peacefully.

you get out, closing the door behind your back.

You knock at the door that it's in front of you, knowing that the person on the other side of the wall is awake, for sure, you knock gently, but you don't receive a response, maybe he's wearing headphones?

"Channie-oppa you awake?"

you open the door

"oh, cupcake what you doing here? is everything okay?"

he says taking his headphones off his head

"I'm freezing, why it's so cold in this house?"

you say closing the door behind you

"have you try to put a pair of pants?"

he says closing the laptop that was on his lap

"I'm just like Binnie, I can't sleep with pants on, but that's not the point. there was a fucking penguin in my room, because of the cold"

he giggles a little

"come here cupcake, I'll warm you up, but don't you try to fall asleep here"

"I wont, I promise"

you say crawling in his bed

"wait, before I get in, you have something on or I have to met little bang again?"

"right, wait. cover your eyes, and stop calling him little bang, he has feelings and he's not little, and you know it cupcake"

Of course you know it, the first time that you met him he was naked, like fully naked, you saw IT, just for a couple of seconds but you saw it, he tried to cover himself with a pillow but it was too late, you saw it and even if you know that it's NOT small (the perfect size actually) you call it 'little bang', just to piss him off.

You cover your eyes with your hands, trying to give him some privacy.

"Okay, I'm done."

he says, lifting the blankets so you can snuggle in, placing your body right next to him, head resting on his bare chest, he covers your shoulders with the blankets, his arm on your waist.

"I swear to God if you drool on me, imma ban you from my room"

"I'm not going to drool on you"

you say caressing his abs

"mhmh, liar"

he whispers

"you're so warm, you know that?"

"yeah?"

"mh, just like hot packs"

"hot packs?"

"yeah, hot packs or hot chocolate I don't know, you're just warm, and I want you in my bed every night, I'll pay you to warm me up every night, and your scent is addicting"

"addicting? what you mean?"

"I don't know, every time we cuddle the next day I need more of your cuddles and your scent stay in my t-shirt for nights."

you look at him smiling shily

"you can always come here to get your cuddles you know that right?"

"I know, but you're always working, and naked and I live away from your dorm and I can't come here every night, and-"

"I'll start wearing underwear if you want to cuddle every night"

"no more little bang for me?"

you smile at him, he try to hide a smile, but his dimples pop up anyway

"and again stop calling him little, he's not little"

"mhmh, whatever you say"

you smile

"Channie?"

"mh?"

"can you date someone at the moment?"

"what do you mean?"

he says looking at you

"it's a difficult question for you? can you date someone, you know with the dating ban and everything"

"uhm, yes. It was just for two years after the debut so yeah, I can date whoever I want"

"good, so we can go out right?"

you look at him smiling

"yes...are you asking me on a date?"

"I mean, If you want to yes, I can go back to the penguin in my room if you don't want to"

"nono, i want to-i-yes"

he stutters shily

"yes, I want to go on a date with you, but a real date, in a restaurant, with a nice dress and high heels"

"you mean both of us in a dress and high heels or you can wear that beautiful black coat and a white shirt"

"I'll wear the dress of course"

both of you giggles

"well, thanks Channie"

"for what?"

he asks

"giving the honor to come on a date with me"

"the honor? y/n I wanted to ask you to come on a date for months, I even asked permission to your brother"

"you ask permission to Changbin? For me?"

"yes, is that weird?"

"fuck no"

you say kissing his lips

"i-i'm sorry, I wasn't thinking-i-i fuck sorry I-emh I have to go"

you say trying to escape from his arms

"ah ah, where are you going?"

"setting my self on fire because I kissed my brothers best friend after I asked him for a date?"

"shut up y/n"

"but-"

"shut up, please"

he says kissing you, taking your face between his hands

"you know how long I have waited for this?"

you say in his lips

"yeah, since the first time that you see me, your brother told me about the little crush that you have on me"

he says looking at you

"see, he made a mistake"

"what you mean?"

he asks

"my crush for you it's not little, it's huge actually. You're in my mind most time of the day and the night, especially at night, and this lips? - you say touching his lips- I have dreamed about them for years Chan, so pink, and plumped and kissable, I knew that you were a good kisser"

"really?"

"fuck yes"

you kiss him one more time

"wanna know the other things that I'm good at? they involved little bang"

"don't talk, show me"

Tags: the one and only @paboswriting (I miss Mr Bang)

#bang chan #bang chan x reader #stray kids #kpop smut #skz smut #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan fanfic #skz

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jeansllvr · 11 months

Text

— Show Me Off

+ streamer!kenma x fem!reader

summary: after keeping your relationship with kenma a secret for over 3 years, you both think it's time to announce the news.

notes: this was longer than I intended to be my bad 💀, I only know a few games MAX so I'm tryna work on that, this was my first time writing/publishing my writing works so please bear with me on that 🙏🏾

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When you first started dating Kenma you had absolutely no idea he was a famous streamer. His first time bringing it up was 7 months into your relationship.

"Kenma what do you want to eat?" You said making your way from the kitchen to the master bedroom, pausing in the door frame. "I was thinking alfredo pasta with baked chicken but I'm done for whatever."

"That sounds fine my love, anything you make is gonna be delicious anyways." He said, looking up from his phone to shoot you a smile.

You smiled and made a 'hum' sound as you walked back out.

After you took out the ingredients you also took out your phone and made your way to youtube.

You had a habit of turning on one of your favorite streamers/artists whenever you needed to get work done because somehow, it always made working much faster.

As you were scrolling through the recommended page, you noticed Kenma in one of the videos thumbnail. Letting curiosity kill the cat, you pressed on the video to see what it was about.

And as much to your surprise, your boyfriend of 7 months, was streaming to over 1 million people. Even if this video was old it still blew your mind how you never noticed your boyfriend was a damn streamer.

Setting your phone down you head back into the master bedroom, to have your boyfriend confess to his sins.

"So... You just weren't gonna tell me about you being a famous influencer?"

Looking up from his phone, Kenma took a while to really understand what you meant. "What are you- Oh.. Yeah, my bad."

"My bad? You kept this little secret off yours for 7 months and all I get is a 'my bad'". Your voice getting a bit more high-pitched at the end to mock Kenma.

He chuckled a bit before saying, "I honestly forgot to tell you, my love. I didn't really think it mattered that much."

"I mean it doesn't.. but it would have been nice to know."

He got up from his side of the bed, making his way towards you. When he reached you, he snaked his hands around your waist before kissing you.

"Sorry, I'll let you know next time."

Even though your eyes rolled to appear annoyed, the smirk on your face said otherwise. "Yeah, yeah, whatever.

୨⎯ Present Day⎯୧

"I think I'm ready." Was the first thing that was said by you as you were on Kenma's lap.

Pausing the CoryxKenshin video playing on the tv, he looks down at you, "For what exactly?"

"To announce I'm your girlfriend to your followers."

That topic wasn't brought up so often, after you found out about Kenma's career, he made sure that nobody would know of you if that's what made you comfortable.

It wasn't that you were uncomfortable with the attention, it's just that you weren't really used to it and you decided you needed to warm up to it step by step.

Kenma, understanding it all too well, agreed with you that nobody had to know until you were 100% ready.

Guess that today was that day.

"You sure? Like 100% sure? Don't work yourself up if you're not ready, baby."

"Don't worry I'm not! I do think I'm ready and besides, it can't be a secret for long. We're already 3 years into our relationship and nobody but close friends and family know." You said, sitting up so you two could be eye to eye.

"True," He gave you a quick peck on the lips. "Then we'll do it tomorrow, since I was already planning on streaming that new game."

You simply nodded your head, going right back to resting position on his lap, as the video plays once more.

୨⎯ The Next Day⎯୧

"Stay off to the side until I announce you okay my love?"

"A demanding man today I see." Sarcasm lacing your voice, as you started poking him.

Even though he shook his head and rolled his eyes, you could still see the sly smirk spread across his face. "Oh whatever menace."

Your laughing started to cease as you saw he had started the stream, now it was time to get quiet.

It took a few minutes but eventually more and more people started joining the stream. You were still taken aback by just how many people there were watching him, watching you.

To get your mind off of that though, you decided to read the comments off screen.

@gloharchive: heyyy kenma!!

@plazafolres: watching this stream > studying

@kenmasear: HEYYY

@shoyosunshine: WHAT ARE WE PLAYING TODAY KENMA??

You hear light chuckling next to you, turning you see Kenma also reading the comments.

"Hey to you all. Donations already? Thank y'all so much."

You looked down towards his right hand, he must have taken your hand into his while you were lost reading the comments. You gently traced your thumb up and down his pointer finger before looking up again—as he began to talk once more.

"Yeah we're gonna be playing that new Amanda the Adventurer game. Alot of y'all on twitter have been bugging me about it since it came out." He used his left hand to go to the game's home-screen.

@kenmakozime: WE ALL CHEERED!

@cupipetals: y'all think he's gonna be scared shitless??

@ivanghw: @cuoipetals oh most deff

"But before that.. uh I have some news for y'all," He turned towards you, using his eyes to ask one final time 'are you sure?'

You thought about it for an amount before looking back up to face him and with a sharp nod pushing all those worries down to focus on the now, focus on the fact that people will finally know who Kenma Kozume belongs to.

He smiled once more before turning back to the camera, checking one more time before announcing it.

@kenmasoneandonly: announcement??? getting kinda nervous

@miyatwins_lover: TELL US TELL US TELL US TELL US!!!

@kenmaluvrr: are you filming with shoyo or kuroo???

@ivan: STOP READING AND TELL US? HELLO?

"Alright. Alright. I'll tell y'all now, you demons." Pulling your hand into the camera's view, he kisses it while maintaining eye contact.

You break it by going to read the comments again, noticing how fast they're going than before.

@kenmasoneandonly: WTF?? WTF WHO IS THAT???

@meg_megan: DAMN.

@ricooyat: HUH?? KENMA PULLS??

Before you could look at him again, he pulls you onto his lap so the stream can see your face. You weren't expecting it so you flash a quick and awkward smile.

"Hey.. y'all." Stiffly waving towards the camera.

"Go easy on her guys, she's a lil camera shy." Kenma says with a straight teasing tone as he pokes your back.

You manage to hit his shoulder. "Stop your dork, at least lemme introduce myself first." Playfully rolling your eyes, "So inconsiderate."

"Oh my apologies your highness."

"Thank you," Whipping your hair in his face, "Anyways, hello! I'm Y/n, nice to finally meet y'all."

You began to read the comments again.

@SCORPIOGEMS: AHHH OMG SHE'S SO PRETTY??

@kenmaslefttoe: congratulations! (I'm dying right now)

@hshramint: do y'all see the cute banter they do?? I can't.

@meganthestallionshorse: AWHH WHAT

@hannisdrops: stop she's actually so freaking cute I need her socials

@kenmaslove: Y/N I'M ON MY KNEES WAIT.

Kenma let you read as many as you wanted before starting the game, you gave the occasional 'thank you's and flirty replies back. You started to forget the worries you had about coming on stream.

You found the comments amusing and Kenma's reaction to the flirty ones made you bust into a fit of laughter.

After answering some questions about you and your relationship with Kenma, you made sure to give everybody your socials before deciding it was time to leave and let Kenma do his own thing.

"I'll be in the living room if you need me."

"Alright my love, I love you." He reached his hand out to your chin, guiding you to his lips and you shared a tender kiss.

"I love you more."

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deathbecomesthem · 3 months

Text

Roomies 7

Final Chapter | ~4.2K

A/N: This story has come to an end. I hope you all enjoy it.

Warnings: Lots of feelings, smut, a bit of talk of vomit. I wrote this, and I'm publishing it. As with the rest of this story, I chose not to spend a lot of time dwelling on the details.

---

You don’t think about Eddie. No, you don’t do that. You don’t think about what he thinks when he reads the note you left for him. You don’t think about the anger, the sadness, the confusion he must be feeling. You don’t know what he’s feeling. How could you, when you’ve hidden yourself from Eddie’s feelings since you became his unexpected roommate.

You’re a selfish person. You can admit that now that you’re not face to face with him, not listening to his sleepy snores through the too thin walls of your shared apartment. Not pressing your nose into the throw pillow on the couch trying to catch the ghost of his scent when he’s not home. Sitting on the couch in your sister’s townhouse across town from your own apartment, you feel it happening. You’re putting distance between you and Eddie. Brick by brick, you are expanding the road that sits between the two of you, and soon you’ll not even be able to cross it. Too much space. That’s fine, you’ve decided, because the only way out of this is with that distance, and maybe in the end you’ll find a way to salvage what might be left of the friendship that will always connect you.

“Oh, is that what we’re doing again today?” Jamie is making her way from her kitchen through the living room. It’s Friday, she has work this morning.

“Doing what?” You ask her, running your hand down your face and bracing yourself for impact. You can already feel the welcome has worn thin, and it’s only been 2 days since you showed up with an overnight bag asking for sanctuary.

“Moping. Sitting in your sweatpants and moping.” Jamie looks at you with her typical disapproving older sister expression. “Nobody died, you know. You’re being so dramatic. Just go talk to Eddie.”

“I can’t talk to him right now. It might ruin everything. I can’t lose him as a friend.” You tell her. This is the same thing you’ve been telling her since you walked through her front door. Instead of the sympathetic look she gave you on that first night, this time she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, because everything seems so great right now. I hate to have to be the one to tell you this,” you know she does not in fact hate to be the one to tell you whatever it is she’s going to say next, “but the damage is done. You can’t rewind the clock. Take a shower, get your shit together, and get the fuck outta my house. I love you.”

Jamie strides back over to you and gives you a kiss on the forehead before turning and sprinting back towards her front door. With a bang of the door, she’s gone. You know she’s right, and the time away from Eddie has done nothing but make you more miserable than ever. You take the shower. You pack your bag. You put on jeans and your favorite sweater of Jamie’s, a small revenge that will take her months to realize. You go home to face whatever is left of your friendship with Eddie, and pray to the gods devils that he will accept what you’ve decided.

Friday. You promised him you’d be home. Time to face the music. Time to tell him that you’re sorry, and that you’re moving out.

—

Eddie’s been fine. After that first night, when he went down to the bar and drank until he puked in the sink of the men’s room, he had an epiphany. It was simple really. While the whiskey rose in his throat, the lightbulb went off. He wasn’t the first person to come to big decisions in that bathroom, he was just the most recent. Only two months prior, Lenny Hendricks had done a line of the sick that is now covered in Jack Daniel’s scented bile, and decided he was going to go to medical school. Maybe it’s something about the poetry scratched on the walls. As Eddie cleans his mess, he sees a fresh scrawl next to the mirror - Just start the set on time. She’s not coming.

Eddie had walked out of the bar that evening with a sense of purpose, regardless of the sour smell of his favorite Metallica tee. He walked up the steps to his apartment and went to bed knowing that it was all going to be ok. Everything would be right soon enough, because it had to be. How could it not be? He’s been so stupid. No more, though.

—

It’s heavy and weighing you down as you look up the stairwell to the dimly lit hallway. Someone, probably Eddie but you don’t know for sure, replaced the light with a red bulb sometime before you moved in. It suits your mood right now, the uneasy red tinted shadows trailing behind you as you ascend the stairs, the dread in your guts making your movements slower than normal.

You stand at the door and look at it. Do you knock? Do you use your key? Do you turn tail and go back the way you came, and check into the Super 8 Motel down the road until you can find your own shitty studio apartment that doesn’t make you wonder who you are and what the fuck you’re doing every time you step foot through the door? You try the knob and find it turns easily under your grip. So, you sigh and walk in.

Eddie is in the kitchen, back to the door. He’s wearing your apron, hands deep in a sinkful of soapy water. He looks back and smiles easily when he sees you with your duffel bag still hanging off your shoulder. This is not the way this scene played out in your head. The counters are clean, bottles of beer and cans of soda all sitting in the plastic bin underneath the side table next to the refrigerator. Is that -

“- did you bake bread?” you question, dropping your bag and heading to the rack sitting on the counter with a round loaf sitting prettily.

“Uh huh,” Eddie’s wiping his hands on a floral dish towel he has hanging from where the apron strings are tied together around his waist. “Smells good, don’t it?”

“Did you clean?” Another question that doesn’t need an answer, the proof is in front of your eyes.

“Don’t act so surprised. Who do you think took care of this place before you moved in? Gareth?” Eddie shudders at the thought.

You nod, not in understanding, because you don’t, but you nod because you accept what your eyes are seeing. Eddie’s fine. The place is fine. He didn’t burn it to the ground when you walked out of the door. You didn’t find him curled up in a ball on his bed. He didn’t punch a hole through the cupboard next to the sink when he found your note.

Eddie’s fine. So you nod, and make your way down the hallway to your bedroom, leaving Eddie in the kitchen. Your room, at least, is exactly how you left it. Bed unmade and drawers left open. A testament to the speed run you made out of this place. You shake your head, how stupid you’ve been. Eddie’s fine. This is all in your head, and there’s nothing else to it.

You startle at the quiet rapping of knuckles on your door. From the other side, Eddie says, “I made Wayne’s famous chili earlier. Want that for dinner, or wanna go out and get something?”

Wayne’s chili is your favorite. It’s the grape jelly he adds to it. You asked him so many times over the years for the recipe, but he wouldn’t budge. He won a cook off the year after you and Eddie graduated from high school, and that was when you discovered the secret. He didn’t know you were standing in the doorway of the kitchen trailer that morning, watching him take a jar of Welch’s grape jelly from the cupboard and unceremoniously dump it into the crock pot he had set up in the corner. He let the meat and jelly cook down before he added a couple of handfuls of diced jalapenos and a mixture of dried herbs.

“You got any Jiffy?” You asked him, leaning your head on the wall next to the door imagining it’s Eddie’s shoulder. You brush the door with the tips of your fingers and wait for his answer.

“Of course. Who do you think you’re talkin’ to?”

You’re talking to Eddie, and he would never forget the cornbread.

—

You re-enter the kitchen to find the table already set, cornbread still steaming in the cast iron pan on the stovetop. The crock pot full of chili, a twin to Wayne’s own crock pot, sits in the center of the small table. Cheese, sour cream, and Cholula are laid out along with the bowls and spoons.

“Wow, Munson. You know how to make a girl feel special.” You head over to the cornbread intending to pinch a taste of it, but Eddie slaps your hand away. “Ow. I take it back, you’re a tyrant.”

“Sit down, please. I’ll get your cornbread, don’t fuck with it.” Eddie has a potholder and takes the hot skillet over to join the rest of the food on the table. “Let’s eat, Baby.”

Baby, baby, baby, baby. The word plays over and over in your head while you float to the table. Baby.

Eddie puts a piece of cornbread in your bowl, and ladles chili on top of it. The way you like it. Baby. You watch his face, and he gives you an easy smile. Another one, like the smile he gave you when you walked in the front door. You suddenly feel like the ground is not as firm as you imagined it. Baby.

“How’s Jamie? She still got that stick firmly up her ass?” Eddie asks as he sits down across from you. You laugh, snorting a bit of chili upwards into your sinuses. You cough and take a drink of the lemonade he has set next to your bowl.

“She’s same as always. She practically threw me out this morning. She sends her love.” You reach for the hot sauce and splash some into your bowl. It’s good, but you think it lacks the heat of Wayne’s normal recipe.

“I’m happy you came home to me.” Eddie’s words come out easily, and you’re left yet again feeling like the floors are tilting a little.

You say nothing, just look at him with your spoon held in front of your face. Frozen, a deer in the headlights that are Eddie’s chocolatey eyes sparkling at you. You’re starting to wonder if you missed a very important conversation somewhere along the way.

“You know, I realized something important when you left. That first night was… not great, but I think it was a good thing. We’ve been dancing around each other for a while now, and having you not in the apartment got me thinking about a lot of things.” Eddie’s talking, seemingly unaffected by your stunned silence. He just keeps on going, looking at you straight in the eyes with that small smile on his face.

“I was thinking about how much it hurt to think of you not being in this apartment with me. Which is crazy, right? It’s not like you moved in here with some kind of long term plan to stay. We both knew it was the right thing for right now. So, why was I crying when I found your note?” Eddie takes a big bite of chili and looks to you in anticipation. He wants an answer, you realize.

“I don’t know, Ed. Why were you crying?” You ask him and place your spoon back into the bowl. Your hand moves instinctively to stroke the back of the hand he has resting on the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Because, Baby, I’m in love with you.” Eddie’s voice is firm. His words are spoken honestly, leaving no room for you to doubt them. You want to run, to stand up and bolt for the door. Eddie’s eyes hold you in your seat. Even as the floor beneath you feels ready to open up and swallow you whole, his gaze is steady.

“Eddie,” his name is a whisper, the breath from your lungs. You had thought that night with sighs of pleasure bleeding through the wall that separated the two of you was the point of no return. You were wrong. That point is right here in front of you. It’s sitting between you, Eddie, and the chili pot in your shared apartment. “What if it goes wrong?”

“What if I get hit by a car tomorrow? What if a tornado runs through town and takes me away? What if the sun explodes and burns us all up?” At some point, Eddie turned his hand over to hold your own. “I know you, and you know me. I’m telling you right now, I am in love with you. I want you to stay here, and I want you to bring your shit into my bedroom and make it ours. And if you tell me you don’t want that, ok. Fine. But the damage is already done, Baby. I can’t go back to not feeling like this, and I’m done lying to myself about it. You do what you gotta do, but don’t tell me you’re not feeling something. I know you.”

Eddie gets up without any preamble and begins to fill the sink with sudsy water, leaving you sitting stunned at the table with a bowl of chili that is now room temperature. You push it away from you and begin picking at the edge of the cornbread that’s left in the pan still at the table. And then you hear Eddie whistling quietly while he cleans up. A new feeling begins to creep inside of you, a familiar feeling. You’re annoyed with him.

“So, you think you can just decide that this is how it is, huh? That I’ll come home, you’ll pour your heart out, and I’ll do the same. And - what? Happily ever after, until you decide you’re bored with me? Because I fucking know you too, Eddie Munson.” Annoyance built to anger with every word that you spoke. You stood, grabbing your bowl of cold chili and head over to scrape it out into the garbage. Eddie’s whistling stopped.

You drop the bowl into the water, pushing Eddie out of the way of the sink with your shoulder. You turn to head back to the table to start putting away all the dinner fix ins, but stop dead in your tracks when a wide palm grabs your forearm. He pulls you close so that you have to look up to see him. He places both hands on your face, moving hair that’s fallen over your eyes so he can see you better.

“You don’t understand, so let me be very fucking clear,” his words are a whisper, his warm breath fanning over your face, “I have been in love with you for a very long time, Baby. I just didn’t know that’s what it was. But I know now, and this is it. I can’t make you believe me, and I can’t make you love me back. I just need you to understand, this is not just a fleeting thing.”

You reach up and push the curls away from his face to see him better. Bare faces staring at each other, the truth of this thing holding you in your places. You bring your hand to the back of his neck and tangle your fingers into his hair. You form a fist and squeeze tight. His mouth opens at the feeling, and you stare at him.

“When? When did you start loving me, Munson?” You hold his hair a little tighter. His eyes open again, pupils blown out by your touch and your words.

“Remember that summer when you bought that red bikini?” He asks. You see his cheeks are turning red, and with this close proximity of bodies, you can feel a bulge growing in his pants. You stand up higher on the balls of your feet.

“You’re a pervert, Eddie.” There’s no bite in your words. You turn your face just as he leans down to bring his mouth closer to yours and whisper in his ear, “I bought that bikini because I wanted you to notice me. The way you noticed those girls with the mini skirts and bad perms that hung out at the bar when you played your shows.”

You kiss the skin of his neck and are rewarded with a whimper from Eddie. His hands are gripping your waist, hard enough to leave a mark. You kiss his jaw and move down his neck stopping along the way to press your nose against his skin and breathe him in. You can feel him swallow against your lips. He loves me. You think that maybe you can try to believe it.

“Look at me.” His words vibrate against your nose as it runs along his adam’s apple. You look at him, desperately wanting the kiss you know he’s going to give you. Aching for it. He tells you, “I am so in love with you.”

Eddie tastes like chili, lemonade, and cornbread. Not at all unpleasant to your senses. Kissing Eddie is unlike kissing anyone else. The secret place inside of you that’s been hidden for so long has his light shining on it. His tongue dances against your lips, and you meet it with your own. A slow waltz, mouths moving together, noses brushing noses. Your faces are pressing together, trying to absorb as much of this moment as you can before you have to break apart. And then it’s heavy breathing, his sweaty fringe against your forehead.

“Fuck, do you feel that?” You don’t answer his question with words, but with your hands reaching under his shirt to feel his skin under your fingertips. “Baby, please.”

“Eddie,” his ears perk up like a dog’s at the sound of his name. The way it comes out like a whine. It’s that needy way you said his name on that movie night, and it grips him somewhere deep in his belly.

Eddie drops to his knees on the kitchen floor, head resting against the fly of your jeans. He’s nuzzling you, in an animal way, fingers gripped at the waist of your pants. He can smell you through denim and cotton. It’s not enough. He makes quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping, of peeling back the skin of the fruit his mouth is watering to taste. Your bare ass is pushed against the counter before you realize your pants have been completely removed, and he hooks a leg over his shoulder.

Eddie’s bulbous nose is fully breathing in your scent from the damp cotton of your panties. His nose is brushing against that hard button, and he’s smelling the way the blood is rushing to it. A coppery musk just for him. His finger pushes the cotton to the side so he can finally taste and feel you against him, and his whining mouth sends a rumble of pleasure through you. It’s like this, with his knees on the tile floor of your shared kitchen that he finally, finally, finds himself able to openly praise you until you’re shaking in rapture. The veneration of your body by this devotee is as genuine and beautiful as any congregant in any church the world over.

—

The food is still on the kitchen table, too far gone to save, but neither of you can care. The moonlight casts shadows around the otherwise dark room, it highlights the way your bodies move together. Joining, embracing, loving, and resting. And then it starts again. The moments your bodies are connected feel eternal, and as soon as you separate you feel an inexplicable grief. What is this, is something you have not voiced wonder in your mind.

No other man has made you weep this way. At the sight of the tears streaming down your face, Eddie’s cock buried deep inside of you, he did not wipe them away. He let his tongue taste it, running the firm tip up your cheek and under your eyelid. The feeling unravels that knot in your gut, and not for the first or second time tonight. And just like the other times, Eddie rocks himself with the wave of your orgasm, whispering into your ear, I love you, I love you, I love you.

It’s 4:30 in the morning when your bodies finally force a halt to your incessant love making, but your mind is wide awake. Eddie’s sweaty head rests on your breast, an arm lays heavy over your belly. You think he may be sleeping, but you need to quiet the thoughts that have started to invade your brain.

“Ed,” you shake his shoulder a little and he moans, “how do you know you love me?”

You feel a twinge of embarrassment at the question, but you need to hear his answer. Somehow, despite it being Eddie, you don’t know if you can trust it. What is love? It’s something you’ve learned you can’t trust. You try to not think of Drew, and fail. But it’s not just him, that most recent mistake - the list goes on and on. What is love, but a promise of future disappointment.

“I just know.” His breath fans out across your chest, and your nipple peaks at the feeling. Traitor.

“Well, did you just know every other time you loved someone? What happens if it’s like when you were with Naomi? Or Sandy?” You know it’s wrong to say these names in this sacred space, but the question needs to be answered. There’s a small spot that itches inside of you that threatens to grow. A spot, that if left to grow, will force you up and out the door. You know it, and you know Eddie knows it, too.

Eddie’s face peels from your skin so he can look to you. He runs a finger along the shadows of the lines of worry creasing your brow. It’s so tender, so loving. You feel a tear leak from your eye, unbidden.

“I don’t think I loved them,” Eddie says while his thumb rubs away the moisture on your cheek, “or maybe I did. I don’t know, I can’t remember. But, Baby, I’ve never felt this before. This is - this is it.”

“What does that mean, Eddie? This is it? Like, what, you wanna run down to the courthouse and get married? Want me to pop out a whole litter of mini-Munsons? What does ‘this is it’ mean?” Your voice is rising in frustration, but Eddie doesn’t turn away. He keeps his gaze steady on your face. He’s looking for something there.

“Baby, you don’t have to feel any particular way right now. You know that right? I’m not asking for anything. I just want you to know how I feel. I love you, and I’ve loved you for a long time. Long enough that those other girls never got the whole of me when I was with them. I’m not telling you this so you’ll make me any promises. I’m just telling you because I fucking love you, and I need you to know it.”

And that’s when you realize it, something that scares the shit out of you. Because love, that overwhelming thing that beats inside of you when you look at Eddie, does not come with a guarantee. It does not promise anything more than what can be felt between the two of you. Love is pain, because nothing lasts forever. You know it now, and it’s a relief. The wrinkles at your temple smooth out, and you run your fingers through his tangled hair. You love this man, and that’s a fact.

“Ok, I believe you. I just have one more very important question.” Eddie’s face relaxes under the touch of your fingers along the side of his pretty nose.

“Ask.” He says, kissing your palm.

You hold his face still, gazing deeply into his eyes. Black pools in the dark room that threaten to swallow you up. “Eddie, would you still love me if I was a worm?”

The tension in the moment is gone, and Eddie giggles like the boy you knew years ago. He pulls you down and kisses you hard on the mouth, pressing his body into yours. Warm, sticky flesh vibrating with bubbling laughter.

“If you were a worm? I’d set up a little enclosure for you,” he points to a spot under the window where the moon hangs low in the sky, “just there. I’d get you some really tasty dirt, and I’d write songs about the worm that is the love of my life.”

Your smile is a beacon in the night, Eddie can see you glowing. You kiss his forehead and tell him, “I love you, Eddie Munson.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #asks #eddie munson angst #roomies

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pxgeturner · 18 days

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Miguel O'Hara is a world-renowned professional boxer, and Hobie's other best friend. One night he finally makes the two worlds collide and sparks immediately fly between the two of you. But will he distract you from meeting your publisher's deadline? And will you distract him from getting World Champ?

before you follow. m.list. Iron Fist gfx library. series m.list. tag list.

Prologue. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. Epilogue.

wc. 1.5k

an. hi. its me! Giselle, or gi, or gigi to few (not to be confused w gg, that is one of my moots. she makes really cool art.) n e ways here is the awaited Prologue for Iron Fist. Oh goodness I'm so nervous. I just want to make a few things clear. the reader is an author (obvs). She's recently graduated uni and is Latina! I write with a woc!r in mind always. I try to be as inclusive as possible, pero porque soy Mexicana, r might lean towards being more Mexican but I'll try to keep her Spanish standard and not be too specific to my family's culture. much love! hope you enjoy <3

please don't forget to reblog! likes do nothing to boost engagement.

Your foot taps against the floor. The damn blank document stares back at you. Mocking you is what it’s really doing. Fuck you, you think, I achieved my goal. I published a book and it is a damn bestseller! Only problem is that the readers want more. It’s been… some time since your first book. And sure, Jess said you can take a break before starting a new project. But you also know that it’s good to ride on existing publicity. At least be able to make an announcement that you’re writing something while all this excitement lasts. Maybe you should write something about vampires. You love vampires and how they fit into romance and how them drinking blood is a euphemism just a bit away from, the whole cannibalism-equals-all-consuming-love trope and how when a vampire attacks it’s often an allegory for rape and— but you have nothing to add to the conversation. You have nothing new to say, no new perspective or hot take, or twist. You have nothing. No ideas.

Not a single word on the page.

You have an idea, leaning forward to peck the keyboard. “F-u-c-k. T-h-i-s!” You highlight the text and italicize it.

Fuck this. At least it’s words on the page.

You reach for your cup and take a sip. “If all else fails I can ride on the rest of the signing bonus and royalties for a bit since the book is doing good, and once that dries up, I can apply to be circulation assistant at a library or something.” You sigh and take another sip. “But nobody has to know for now.” You get up, searching for your phone. You find it resting on the arm of the couch, you grab it, sliding onto the cushions, resting your head where your phone just was. “God, don’t make me a one hit wonder, I wanna be a star. I wanna be the one to push that bitch Colleen Hoover into obsoletion. Please God. Please.”

You open your phone and look for your mother on speed dial.

“Hola, nena!” Your mama’s voice is happy, she must be having a good day. You move into the kitchen. You need a snack.

“Hey, mama, how are you?” You hold the cell with your shoulder as you look through your pantry.

“Good, good,” you find a pack of roasted seaweed snacks and grab it.

“I went on a date anoche.” Your shoulder drops and the pack of seaweed slips out of your grasp.

Mi mami fue a una cita. Con un man! You stand there, trying to process that she is actually back on the dating scene.

“How did it—” you aren’t holding your phone anymore. You use the wall as support to lower yourself to pick up your phone and snack.

“—ay, mami, lo siento, mi cellular se cayo de mi mano.”

“Todo bien, hija! I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, I’m ok. Anyways— how was the date? What’s he like? Am I going to have a stepfather soon?” you joke.

“My time for marriage is gone, muñeca, I’m just looking for companionship, pero, tu lo sabes.” You hear some subtle clinking in the background of the call, she must be stirring her coffee. You open your snack and park yourself on the couch. “Are you writing?” Ugh. Not you, too.

“I was, just finished for a bit before I called you.”

“You called me to procrastinate.” You choke on your seaweed from the accusation.

You clear your throat, “I called to check in with you. I call you practically every day.”

“But right now you called me to check up on me as an excuse to not write. Nena, I know you.”

“Okay, fine. I might be having some writer’s block,” you admit, sighing.

“And that’s okay, nena, but then you need to get out, get some inspiration. Allow the world to give you a story.” There’s mama, with her easier-said-than-done advice. But, maybe you should get out of the house.

“Alright, I’ll go out soon.”

“Tonight,”

“—I will go out to the Chinese place across the street and nothing more. I’ll talk with Hobie when he gets back to see if he has any ideas.” You hear your mama make a noise in her throat.

“You still live with that boy?” Here it comes. You’ve lived with Hobie Brown for three years and have known him for five. She’s always been apprehensive of him, since he’s radical and looks like he’s been in jail, with all the metal in his face, and why does his hair look like that? But Hobie is the one who’s kept you sane all these years. He’s held you while you cried and pushed out of your comfort zone when you were getting too stuck into your routines, most likely by dragging you to a concert or a protest. You help him thrift and flip clothes and ever since that one time his stylist had an emergency and canceled, you now help him tighten his wicks every so often. On days like that the two of you stay in, watching nostalgic movies and listening to any demos he’s recorded recently. He’s like a brother to you at this point.

“Yes, mama, I still live with Hobie. Nothing’s changed.” You move the phone down to your chest and take a deep breath.

“I didn’t like him when I first met him,” you clench your jaw as she continues— “…and although he’s one of those kids, I can tell he is a good boy. I’m glad he takes care of you.” You relax. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone you could kiss.” “It would be nice, but right now it’s not happening.” “Alright, muñeca. I’ll leave you alone for now, but keep your eyes open for a nice man.”

“I will, con cuidado, mami, besitos.” You make a kissing noise into the phone, and she responds with a goodbye of her own, and you wait for her to hang up the call.

You sigh, and look at the coffee table. Hobie left his song book at home, weird. It’s open to the song he was working on the other day. It’s a slower song, you can still hear the melody. You drum your fingers to the tune. He’s on an unfinished verse. You pick up a pen from the little catch-all dish and scribble down a line or two.

…

Hobie weaves through the roar of chattering, anticipating fans and into the tunnel, and walks past employees and into Miguel's prep room to see him tying his shoes. “Hey,” Miguel looks up. “Hey.”

“Are you excited?” He moves to sit by the boxer, shimmying up against his shoulder.

“Haven’t really been excited for one of these in a while.” Miguel breathes.

“Well, one step closer to retirement!” Hobie bounces out of his seat. He turns to face his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, you big fuckin’ bear of a man.” He ruffle’s Miguel’s hair.

Miguel gives a half-ass hum in response.

“Well then, I’ll be out there, mate, cheerin’ you on.” He puts his hands in his vest pockets and walks out the room.

As he reaches the empty doorframe, Miguel speaks up. “Thank you, Hobie.”

“Anything for you, mate.” Hobie nods and goes to join the audience. Miguel fastens his gloves and puts on his robe. He warms up waiting for his coach.

“Ready, O’Hara?”

Miguel turns around. “Always ready for a fight.” He clenches his jaw. Walking down that hallway, the festive colors lighting up his path and the music blaring, he does his little bit, the movements molded into muscle memory.

This is it. This is his last year fighting. If he gets world champ again, he’s free.

Soon, he gets to fight his last fight. And dammit, the world championship will be his last match. Then, he’s never gonna have to come back.

He weaves under the ropes, entering the ring. Sitting on the stool, he shrugs off the robe and lets Carlos put the mouthguard in.

“You are going to show this guy exactly why people call you el oso!” Miguel beats his gloves together and nods. He might not like his job right now, but he really wants to hit something and goddammit if his opponent doesn’t look so beatable right now.

Coach Carlos steps out of the way, and Miguel stands to walk to the ref as he calls for him to center.

“We went over the rules in the dressing room.” Right before Hobie got here. “I want to remind you to protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands.” Ring the damn bell already. “God bless you both,” I don’t need it but this kid might. “Touch up,” here we go. He touches gloves with his newbie opponent and each goes back to their respective corners.

Miguel takes an orthodox stance.

The bell rings.

Miguel lands the first punch. He also lands the last.

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thezombieprostitute · 3 months

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Dream Come True - Part 3

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

Warnings: Violence mentioned and referenced, not written. Insecure reader. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!

Part 2 -- Part 4

Series Masterlist

Ransom was not having a good day. Truth be told, he hadn't had a good day since Steve punched his stomach over a week ago. The writer's block had hit harder than usual. Many applicants for the Assistant position were garbage, completely upsetting his idea that you just needed to google the right answers.

He was starting to realize that Fatso, as he had taken to calling her in his head, was able to help him through his writing blocks because she had the context of the other questions, some rough draft information, and she'd include ways to use her research into the story. Maybe he just needed to actually hire someone from the "competent" file and try from there?

Problem was, time was an issue. His writer's block had kicked in hard and his publisher was getting more impatient about updates. He spent so much time just staring at his computer.

He was startled out of his contemplation by a phone call. If it was his publisher he'd just ignore it but the Caller ID showed "Steve Rogers".

Ransom answered, "Rogers! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where the hell are you Drysdale?" Steve was quiet growling into the phone. Indicating he was around others.

"What do you mean?"

"The damned Stark party? Raising funds for Rhodes's campaign?!" Ransom could swear he heard Steve's teeth grinding. "You're supposed to be here chatting with Mrs. Devereaux. Buttering her up to at least not donate to Wilford?!"

"Shit," Ransom jumped up and ran towards his closet. "Tell her I'll be there in 20 minutes. If she needs an excuse, I was writing up a storm. I'll make it up to her by naming a character after her or something."

"Just. Get. Here." Steve hung up.

Yeah, Ransom was not having a good day.

Your life was returning to some sense of normalcy. The crutches were a pain but, thankfully, you didn't have a lot of places to go. You wanted to get back to working as quickly as you could, if only to feel like you were actually earning some of the money you'd been given.

But you'd kept your promise to be safe, and allow yourself to heal. You did your best to keep within the movement restrictions you were given. Part of you was still waiting for that hospital bill. Yes, Curtis, Dr. Beck, even Jake and Jefferson all said it was taken care of but part of you still waited for that dreaded notice of nonpayment.

Thankfully the cybercafe wasn't too far and you were able to convince the J's (as they told you to call them) that it was the perfect distance for your needed exercise and movement and you'd sit at the cafe long enough to rest for the return trip. You were happy to get back to tutoring the girls in the afternoons. Your mornings were spent applying for other jobs.

One morning your applications were interrupted by Jake.

"Hey, Y/N, this is Hal," Jake gestured to the handsome, shirt-haired man, wearing a too small shirt, next to him. "He's here to work with you towards getting his GED.”

"Oh, yes," you perk up. "Curtis mentioned another possible student." You reach out your hand and Hal, grinning even wider, shakes it.

"It's mighty kind of you to agree to this," he began. "I've been meaning to fill in that gap on my resume for some time.”

"Well I'm happy to help you with that. Please, have a seat so we can get started?”

Hal pulls out the nearest chair and turns it so that he sits on it backwards, his muscly arms resting on the back of the chair.

"So, is this a time that works for you," you ask. "I've got a pretty open schedule so your time preferences are get priority.”

"Well," he hesitates, "my schedule is pretty all-over-the-place. Is there any chance we could take it a week at a time?”

"Sure," you affirm. "As long as you give me notice so I'm not sitting here doing nothing.”

"Yes, ma'am," Hal nods. "I'm not in the habit of leaving pretty girls wanting." He gives a wink but you drop your eyes and sigh.

"Hal," you scold. "I'm going to guess you're the type to hit on anything that breathes?”

Clearly taken aback by your tone Hal straightens in his seat. "No," he denies. "Maybe. I swear I was just trying to compliment you.”

You pause your comeback and take a deep breath instead. "I suppose there is a difference," you concede. “Just please be careful with both of those around me. I am not a "pretty girl" and I do not appreciate being addressed as such.”

Hal's eyebrows furrow in confusion so you continue, "let's just keep the compliments related to our work? Please? I'd always prefer being smart or nice to being pretty." You give him a small smile and he visibly relaxes.

"Sure thing, Teach," he says. "So, where should we start?”

Curtis was cleaning up the interrogation room after Barnes and Fowler's latest “message” to Rumlow’s crew. They had already taken the body to drop it off on Rumlow's front door, Curtis would make sure all evidence was removed from the room. It was ugly work but maybe, just maybe, Rumlow would stop trying to push his drugs and thugs in their territory.

He was finishing up when he got a text from Jefferson saying Hal’s first session went well. He normally doesn't need these kinds of updates from the legitimate side of things but he found himself rather invested in your progress. You were unusual. A puzzle he wanted to figure out.

Or so he kept telling himself to explain why he was thinking about you so much. You’d shown yourself to be sweet and patient with others but he remembers the fire with which you spoke to him. He almost felt like a moth drawn to your light but he had to keep himself in check. For now it was enough to know you were doing well and helping his family.

At least until he got the follow up text from Jefferson saying, “Ran is looking for Teach. Ok to share info?”

Curtis felt his jaw tighten. The pompous ass had fired someone for taking a bullet. He didn't want him anywhere near you. He was sure you wouldn't want to see Ransom, either. Jake had told him you'd blocked your former boss’s number and his emails would go straight to spam. He texted back a simple “no.” Let the asshole suffer.

Part 2 -- Part 4

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#Curtis Everett x plus size!reader #curtis everett x reader #mob!curtis everett #mafia!curtis everett #Curtis Everett x female!reader

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scoonsalicious · 1 month

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Mild language, Bucky and Reader being Tolkien nerds, light fluff, mention of rabies (it's a super scary disease and we should all be vigilant, okay?!)

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: You just had the pleasure of meeting the very handsome Bucky Barnes. Despite a little bit of awkwardness during your first encounter, you have a feeling your life is about to get a lot more interesting now that he's been introduced into it.

A/N: You know what? I said I wasn't going to do this, but I thought "fuck it!" and decided to post all of Chapter 1: Unarmed. My anxiety is too high to just sit on it. So, please enjoy Ch1. Pt2! Pts 3 & 4 to follow!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

The next evening, you were making your way back to your suite after a productive, albeit exhausting, day in your lab. You were working on a crisis prediction real-time monitoring system to anticipate global threats. You were convinced it would allow the Avengers to respond to trouble faster, but perfecting the privacy algorithm had been an absolute pain in the ass, and you still hadn't gotten it quite right. Technically, you could have farmed the project off to a subordinate; hell, even a team of subordinates of a subordinate, but this was one of your pet projects and you insisted on being hands-on in its development.

You had your tablet open as you walked, chewing on your thumb and reviewing the dataset from the run of your latest algorithm model one more time. Closer, but not good enough. If you were going to convince Tony that this was a program worth implementing, especially at its projected cost, everything had to be perfect. "Damn it," you muttered to yourself.

You rounded the corner and ran smack into Bucky's chest, dropping your tablet and causing him to drop the three books he'd been holding under his remaining arm. "Oh, shit-- I'm so sorry," you uttered as you bent down to retrieve the dropped items. Bucky leaned down to assist you, but you waved him off.

"’S my fault; I've got it," you told him, piling up his books for him. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Bucky leaned up against the wall and chuckled while you stood up and handed the books back to him. "I doubt you could hurt me," he said, smiling softly. "No offense."

You let out a small laugh. "None taken." He was a super soldier, after all. Stealing a glance at book spines, you couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "Lord of the Rings," you nodded appreciatively. "Have you read them before?"

Bucky looked down at the books tucked under his arm. "No, first time. I read The Hobbit back when it was first published in '37, but these didn't come out until after..." he trailed off, but you knew what he meant. After he'd been abducted and brainwashed, turned into a murderer.

You nodded in understanding. "I'm actually really excited for you," you told him. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read them again for the first time."

"You a Tolkien fan, then?" he asked you. When you nodded, he continued: "When I finish them, maybe we can talk about them sometime? Steve's not really into fantasy."

"Yeah, I'd like that," you said. "If you're interested, we could watch the movies. I'll warn you though; they're long as hell, but their masterpieces. I mean, they didn't need to turn The Hobbit into three separate films, but still, they'll blow your fucking mind."

Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and you couldn't help but follow the motion with your eyes. "That sounds like fun," he said, his eyes twinkling with... something. "Your place or mine?" Was he… flirting with you?

"How 'bout you finish the books first, then we'll talk logistics," you teased. "Hey, speaking of, what floor did they end up putting you on?"

"Um, this one, actually," he said, tilting his head toward a nearby door.

"No shit," you remarked, laughingly. "You must have done something to piss Rogers off, because he put you right across the hall from me."

Bucky looked down, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpeting. "He said it was the quietest floor, thought I'd prefer that."

You pursed your lips, considering. "Yeah, that makes sense; it's just been me on this level for ages. It'll be nice to have some company for a change."

Bucky looked surprised. "Stark's kept you down here all by your lonesome? That doesn't seem very nice."

You shook your head and dismissed his concern with a wave. "Oh, no-- Tony hates that I still live down here, actually. He put in all new living quarters a few years back. Everyone migrated upstairs, but I was the only one who didn't want to move."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, appearing genuinely interested.

"I've lived here since I graduated college," you admitted, "back when it was still just Stark Tower. When Tony relocated here from Malibu to rebrand it for the Avengers, he wanted to redo everything, which meant fancy new suites for everybody. But I love my rooms, so I asked to stay put. They've been my home for so long now and I guess I just like the stability, you know?"

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "And Tony thinks highly enough of you that he let the blow to his ego slide?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I have enough dirt on him that he felt like he didn't have much of a choice." You snorted, not able to keep up the pretense. "No, but seriously, I know you and Tony have a complicated... history, but he's not a bad guy. Ego as tall as this Tower, yes, definitely, but he's also incredibly kind and generous. He paid for my entire college education-- undergrad, post-grad, doctorate. I owe everything I have to him."

Bucky shifted against the wall. "That is pretty generous. And he never expected anything from you in return?" He didn't say the words out loud, but the implication was there. Had you slept with Tony in exchange for your diplomas? The innuendo should have bothered you, but it had been posed to you so many times over the years, you'd stopped being offended by it. Before Pepper, Tony had had quite the reputation, after all, and an MIT education didn’t exactly come cheap. Most people couldn’t understand why he would offer a full ride to someone who, at the time, had been a complete stranger.

"Tony appreciates talent," you clarified. "When he finds it, he cultivates it, nourishes it, does everything he can to help it grow to its fullest potential. But he does like to get a return on his investments, and my skills have helped him make a lot of money." You shrugged your shoulders with a chuckle. "I love my job, I love the work we do, I love the stupid weirdo family we've built here, so I've always considered meeting Tony to be the best thing that ever happened to me. He's kind of like my own fairy godfather."

"So, what exactly does he have you do around here?" Bucky asked. "I know Steve said you did computer stuff, but you said it was an over-simplification."

You ran a hand up to rub the back of your neck while you considered your answer. How best to explain your position to someone who was born before the invention of the television? "Okay," you exhaled, "so, short answer is that I'm the CTO, the Chief Technology Officer, of Stark Industries and, under that, I run the Avenger’s Technology and Innovation Department. It's sort of our take on Research and Development. I've got a lab where I'm in charge of about 450 scientists, engineers, computer programmers, analysts, et. cetera. And our entire job is coming up with cool new ways of making things easier for the Avengers. Like, new features for suits, developing useful programs, coming up with new defenses and weapons, that kind of thing. And if we've got missions that require heavy computer- or tech-work, I come along for on-site support. I'm combat-trained and good with languages, so that comes in handy in the field. There’s probably a ton of field agents that could go in my place, but for Tony, it’s a matter of trust."

Bucky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. That's impressive. You're a little intimidating, you know that?"

Laughing, you tucked your tablet under your arm. "Please. I'm about as intimidating as a hamster." You paused to think. "Maybe a hamster with rabies, but still a hamster."

A series of beeps emanated from your tablet. As you pulled it out to check the alert, Bucky moved away from the wall. "I'm so sorry-- you were heading back to your room and I've basically been holding you hostage this entire time."

"Actually," you said, silencing the notification alarm that had distracted you, "That was just a reminder I set for myself to eat. Sometimes I lose track of time in the lab and completely forget to have dinner. Are you hungry? You could join me."

Bucky pulled his head back, regarding you as though he wasn't sure if you were serious.

"Or, if you don't want to, that's cool," you said quickly once you noticed his hesitation. "I mean, you wanted a quiet floor. Annoying neighbor is probably the last--"

"I'd love to," interrupted Bucky with a grin. "I'm just surprised someone like you would want to spend time with someone like me."

"Someone like me? Hey now, for all you know, I could be an absolute trash person," you teased, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound warmth. "Well, I highly doubt that, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."

"Don't say I didn't warn you when you do." You cocked your head toward the door to your room. "I'm going to change out of my work clothes. While I do, how about you decide what you're in the mood for, and we'll go from there. That sound good?" Bucky nodded as you let yourself into your room. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but you found you were looking forward to spending more time in the company of Bucky Barnes.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky x y/n

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