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flwrstqr · 4 months ago

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HONEY, HONEY ⠀ ⟡⠀ WHEN THEY WANT YOUR ATTENTION ───𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

𝓲⠀⠀ ⦂ enhypen & fem!rea 𝑖𝑛 8OO fluff one shot head canon 警告 cursing, skinship, petnames, jealousy & click . . ( 𝓲ssue )

다니 ⠀⦂ ⠀this is dedicated to juni & annachu (> <) i know i alternated the title a bit & the prompt... but hope you guys enjoy xoxo. also thank you jenn for help on certain members 💌

LEE HEESEUNG

"baby, don’t you think you’ve talked about that guy enough?” heeseung pouts, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face into your neck. “i mean, sure, he helped you with your project, but did he hold your hand while you stressed over it? did he kiss your forehead and tell you you’re the smartest, prettiest person ever? no? exactly.” he leans back, eyes narrowing playfully. “i bet he doesn’t even make you laugh like i do. does he send you good morning texts? compliment your hair? tell you how much he adores you?" he intertwines your fingers, bringing them to his lips with a pout. "face it, angel, no one loves you like i do," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your jaw. "so how about we focus on me now, hmm?"

PARK JAY

jay doesn’t say it—he never does—but you know. you feel it in the way his arm drapes over your shoulders, effortlessly pulling you against his warmth as he scrolls through his phone with his free hand. in the way he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering for just a second too long. in the way he exhales softly, setting his phone down as if nothing else in the world matters except you. "let’s go out," he murmurs, voice low, but there’s no second-thinking. an expensive dinner, a shopping trip where he never lets you check the price tags, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you through every store. you don’t have to ask, don’t have to wonder—because when jay wants your attention, he gives you all of his first.

SIM JAKE

“baby, look at me,” jake whines, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “why aren’t you paying attention to me? i’m right here.” his lips graze your skin, warm and teasing, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. “you love me, don’t you? then love me properly,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek, hands roaming your back in slow, lazy circles. when you hum in response, still distracted, he groans dramatically, placing his head onto your lap. “you’re so mean to me,” he sulks, his voice muffled. “just wanna be spoiled by my baby. is that too much to ask?” he lifts his head, eyes big and pleading. “one kiss, and i’ll forgive you.”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon is shamelessly competitive when it comes to you, and it’s honestly hilarious. the moment another guy dares to make you smile, he’s swooping in. “your hair looks really nice today,” some guy says, and before you can even respond, sunghoon’s already cutting in, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “nice? angel, you look like you just stepped out of a dream. actually, scratch that—you are the dream.” his voice is smooth, like he’s making sure you don’t even think about entertaining someone else’s compliment. when the other guy laughs, trying again with, “you have a really pretty smile,” sunghoon scoffs, tilting your chin up. “of course she does. it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen, and, by the way, i’m the reason she's smiling.” he smirks, eyes flickering to you, desperate for confirmation. “right, baby?”

KIM SUNOO

sunoo is so dramatic when he wants your attention, and he makes sure you know it. he starts with a loud, exaggerated sigh, arms crossed as he leans against you. when you don’t react fast enough, another sigh—longer, heavier. finally, you glance at him, and there he is, bottom lip jutted out in the deepest pout, eyes wide and pleading. “baby…” he whines, nudging his head against your shoulder. “you’ve been ignoring me for so long.” (it’s been five minutes.) when you try to hold back a laugh, he only pouts harder, leaning in until his face is this close to yours. “don’t you feel bad? look at me,” he insists, tilting his head. “my lips are a bit lonely today.” and oh, he’s expecting it now, tilting his chin up ever so slightly, waiting for you to finally give in and kiss the pout away.

YANG JUNGWON

you barely register the way jungwon tugs at your wrist until you suddenly find yourself pulled onto his lap, his arms circling around your waist with ease. “baby—what are you doing?” you laugh, but he only hums, resting his chin on your shoulder like this is the most natural thing in the world. “you weren’t paying attention to me,” he mumbles, voice laced with the smallest pout.you huff, pretending to be annoyed, but the way your heart races betrays you. “you could’ve just asked, you know,” you murmur, but he shakes his head, squeezing you a little tighter. “this is better,” he grins, tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “now you have no choice but to focus on me.” and when he nuzzles into your neck, you know he’s already won.

NISHIMURA RIKI

“baby, pay attention to me,” riki whines, snatching your phone right out of your hands with that smirk. he holds it high above his head, effortlessly out of reach, and you groan, standing on your tiptoes to grab it. “oh? trying so hard, huh?” he teases, laughing as you struggle. determined, you lunge up, but just like every cliché romcom, your foot slips, and before you know it, you're crashing right into him—chest to chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around you. “woah, princess, if you wanted to be in my arms, you could’ve just asked,” he chuckles. you glare, cheeks burning, but he only tightens his hold, grinning down at you. “you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he muses, finally handing your phone back—only to boop your nose and whisper, “but i’m still the only thing you should be looking at.”

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ruinix · 25 days ago

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The think fast I'm a random girl tik tok with Will Smith or Quinn Hughes?

Hello, lovely. With Quinn, yes, yes. (Sorry, I don't write for Will 😞 he's my child). I doomscrolled for this and another challenge in my inbox. I tried, of course. I always do. I hope you’ll like this. My bad for taking so long! You asked this back in April. I hope you’re still there. We thank @mrshelenhoran for sending me the picture on the left (of the banner). It visually screams QUINN—the facial hair, the nose, the plump lower lip.

Outfits & Evasions

TW/CW: 18+, Fluff, lots of kisses, Tiktok Challenge: Think fast, I'm a random girl. Slight suggestive tones.

Count: 1907 words | Masterlist | Taglist

You are blasting songs in your shared walk-in closet. Hearing you sing along in some verses perfectly eases Quinn while he prepares for your date.

He combs through his hair with his fingers. When his hair keeps poking out by his ears in an uncomfortable way, he puts the tiniest bit of hair wax to tame his waves, tucking them behind his ears. After doing his hair, he washes his hand, drying them soon after.

He stares at himself, examining his beard. He runs his hand over it, tilting his head from side to side, his fingers feeling its length along his jaw, his chin. He squints at his moustache which is the same length as his beard. It is more than a stubble now but still tamed in his opinion. He wonders if he should’ve shaved it earlier.

You did tell him that you liked his beard, but that was two days ago. What if you don’t like his beard for your date? What if you prefer him to be clean shaven? Or maybe a shorter beard? Maybe he should trim it. Will you hate him for his facial hair? Why the fuck is he getting antsy right now?

He should stop.

So he does.

Sighing, he exits the bathroom, still hearing you rummage through your things behind the slightly ajar door beyond music. He wants to peek in and ask about his beard, but he also doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re doing. He knows that you take your preparations seriously, especially for dates.

However, he is curious if he is matching you. He likes it when his outfit matches yours, or at least, compliments it. He holds himself back because he also wants to be surprised if you are, so he doesn’t peek. Besides, despite being so proud of his fit—a safe combination of white linen-shirt with sleeves rolled up and khaki colored dress pants—he is open to change when he finally sees you. He doesn’t want you to change because of his clothes. He can do it himself. It will take him less than a minute to put on a new outfit. It will be easy. Well, he hopes it will be.

After he put on his dress shoes, ignoring the call of his sneakers, he sits down on the couch, throwing a slight glance to where he hid a bouquet of flowers he got delivered an hour ago. He lets the minutes pass, patiently waiting for you.

He scrolls through the messages from his family and replying to them while ignoring the “important” mails from Canucks management. At some point, he is humming a tune of one of your songs as he goes to Instagram. He instantly goes to your profile, staring hard into your posts like it’s his first time seeing them. He undoes the second button of his shirt after his body heats at the simple sight of your beauty. What can he do? You’re marvelous. While he is a simple man who easily gets turned on by you.

He hears your footsteps, halting his horny thoughts. He looks up, his jaw dropping instantly. You’re wearing a cream-colored dress with light brown ribbons crisscrossing down your sides, cinching the waist before it comes down to a flowy skirt that ends just a couple inches from your knees. Your neckline is low enough to hint your cleavage, giving ample space for your well-coordinated necklaces—some he had gifted you throughout the length of your relationship. You wear a particular flower-shaped earring with tiny diamonds on their centers and a few bracelets. . You looked amazing, so comfortable and pretty.

The shoulder bag that is perfectly the same shade as his pants is brimming with keychain trinkets, loudly blinking against each other. Quinn bets those trinkets weigh heavier than your bag and its contents. He will, for sure, carry it by the end of the night and he won't mind that. He’ll be delighted to carry your stuff for you.

You are matching him. The colors of your outfits fit and compliment one another. It makes him feel giddy, a slight blush coloring the tops of his cheeks the more he looks at you. He wants to say that you’re beautiful, but his words keep getting stuck on his throat as he stares while you set up your phone against the window. He’s utterly mesmerized by the way your skirt moved with your steps. You look ethereal.

"Quinny. Come." You grin, beckoning him with your hand and especially with your sweet smile.

That smile distracts him. He doesn't notice that you have this devious look in your eyes. That your phone is already recording, red circle blinking as time increases. That you are giggling, not just because of him following you without protest, but also because you are clearly concocting something. Quinn usually can see when you are planning something, but not now.

All he can think about is that you are calling him, so he needs to come to you.

He’s so lost in your smile, in the sparkle in your eyes, in you.

"You look handsome," you praise him the moment his hand touches yours.

Now, Quinn is full-on blushing. Your compliments truly hit him down to his core. There was something about compliments when they came from you. They mean so much more, because he knows that you mean your words. You are pure like that. The light of his life.

"You're beautiful," he throws back, grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against him, sighing when you wrap your arms around his nape. It emphasizes how perfectly you fit against him, in his arms. “We match., my Love.”

“Yes,” you murmur.

Quinn gazes at your lips that shine with your tinted lip gloss. He’s getting too focused on them, his mouth watering. His need to kiss you grows by the second, so he does. Just a soft peck. Then another, his tongue darting out to lick your glossed lips, groaning at its taste mixed with you. Again, another, slipping his tongue past your pretty lips, meeting your tongue. Perfect. You taste perfect.

He cups the back of your head. He feels absolutely greedy as he kisses your lip gloss off your lips, as he keeps on deepening the kiss when you want to take pictures with him. He can’t help it. He needs to kiss you. All the time.

"Quinn," you murmur, smiling into the kiss.

You giggle when he groans a whimper, because you’re torturing him now. You pull away just enough to not allow him to slip his tongue into your lips again, to make him be at ease with small desperate kisses. He needs to kiss you as deep, so he tries to beg his way with those kisses, panting as you reciprocate some kisses but not all. His brows furrow together as confusion settles in his gut.

Your hand presses on his chest, pushing him away, so he backs off. Hesitantly. Tears almost burn their way out of his tear ducts. He finally notes the evil glint in your eyes. What the fuck is happening—

"Think fast, I’m a random girl,” you say in a raspy tone that almost draws him in.

No, it does draw him in. He almost kisses you again, your words not sinking into his hazed mind until they do. They sink in a snap. The hair at the back of his nape stands. Sharp shivers ran down his spine as you lean in, luring him in like a siren singing to lure weak-willed men who don’t know they are walking to their deaths.

He instantly recoils from you, instantly six feet away. Maybe even more. Especially when you try to chase after him.

“No,” he grits out.

The word almost doesn’t come out because he never likes saying no to you, but he has to right now, because you’re a…random girl? Honestly, he’s confused as fuck. He only wants to kiss you and you’re not you? This is fucked. He doesn’t like this. Is this a test? He doesn’t like this test.

“Come on, let’s kiss, Quinn.” You manage to grip his arm. Your nails graze his skin. “Just one kiss.”

Quinn nearly folds. How can he not? You are looking at him with such wide eyes. Your touch electrifies his whole body down to his soul. You’re telling him to kiss you, the one thing he wants to do right now. Your tongue licks your lip before you bite down on it. You blink up at him, your hand running up and down his arm. He’s so close to doing what you ask.

Instead, he grips your hand, firmly pushing it away, then he turns away. His heart pounds in his chest from the adrenaline, from the sting of the mere act of putting his back on you. His body tenses. His whole being is protesting. He hates this.

When you try to touch him, he moves away, refusing to look at you directly. He side-eyes you, but even then, he is only looking at your hands to avoid them. He can’t look at your face. He knows he’ll lose it. He tries to be mad at you for trying this test on him, but he can’t. He is only upset that he wants your hands to touch him again. The sound of your giggle is making him cave.

“So this is what you’ll do when you have a persistent girl on you?” You ask, stepping back, holding your hands behind you. “Saying no and not letting them touch you?”

Quinn finally looks at your face. He’s refusing to speak, his lips pursing together. He’s getting annoyed by the distance between you two more than he should be annoyed that you are laughing at him doing his best because this is literally unfair. You are never going to be a random girl. Not when you’re you. He will easily just walk away if there is an actual random girl trying to kiss him. Fuck, he might even just call security, wherever he is. He should say that, but he is really upset that you’re too fucking far.

He knows you can see him being upset, because your laughter dies down, your lips pouting. “It’s a TikTok challenge, you know.”

He grunts, his hands twitching from the need to pull you in his arms.

“Aww, come on, Quinny.” You spread your arms for him to which he squints at. “I’m no longer a random—”

He rushes to you, hugging you tightly.

“Kiss me,” he demands. He melts when you kiss him, appeasing him. Your proximity pushes his upset out of his system. “If you’re going to test me, don’t do it when I’m desperate for you. Is that clear?”

“Okay.” You shiver, nodding, gripping and crumpling his shirt.

Quinn doesn’t care about his fucking shirt. He only cares that he gets his point across. It’s clear that it is. So, he punishes you with a deeper kiss, holding you to him with a hand on your lower back and on your nape.

He doesn’t stop.

He kisses and tastes you for minutes, until he feels you rubbing your legs together, until he hears your tiny whines and moans.

It's his turn to tease you. Not with a challenge. Just with a promise of more.

He stops kissing you, grinning when you groan.

“Time for our date, my Love.”

#sorry for the wrong grammars #no BETA yet #quinn hughes #qh43 #qhughes #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes drabble #quinn hughes fluff #ruinix answers #ruinix drabbles #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #sweet #sweet quinn

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kpop-reactions-povs · 2 months ago

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Ateez- When their S/O is shy around them

Hongjoong

He’d absolutely notice it right away. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear, avoided eye contact, bit your lip when he complimented you.

And instead of calling it out bluntly, he’d lean in closer with that little smirk.

“You always do that when I look at you too long,” he’d whisper.

His voice? Low. Just for you.

When you stammer something back, flustered, he’d grin and brush his thumb along your jaw.

“Don’t get quiet now… I love it when you get shy around me. Makes me feel like I’ve still got that effect on you.”

Seonghwa

This man would melt. Instantly.

The moment you shyly reached for his hand, or blushed when he called you jagiya, Seonghwa’s entire face would light up.

He’d gently cradle your cheek, voice soft.

“You don’t have to be shy with me. I’m yours, remember?”

But deep down? He adores it. Every little giggle, every diverted gaze—it makes his heart pound.

He’d also go out of his way to help you feel safe and adored. A quiet kiss to your knuckles. A warm smile when you nervously fuss with your clothes. “You’re beautiful. Always.”

Yunho

The teasing would never stop.

You shyly look down after he compliments you?

“Oh no, don’t look away now—look at me, jagi,” he’d say with a grin, poking your side.

You mumble a flustered “thank you”?

“Is it my fault you’re this cute?”

Yunho lives for your shy moments. He makes it his mission to make you laugh or hide behind your hands.

But when he notices you getting too overwhelmed, he’d lean in, kiss your temple, and whisper, “Hey. You’re safe with me, always. And you don’t ever have to hide how you feel.”

Yeosang

He wouldn’t say much—but you’d catch the tiny upward twitch of his lips every time you got shy.

When you got flustered trying to explain something, he’d just smirk and gently say, “Take your time. I like listening to you.”

He’d tilt his head and quietly observe you like you’re the most interesting book he’s ever read.

Later, he might tease you softly—nothing loud, just a murmur while holding your hand:

“Are you always this cute, or is it just around me?”

You’d be beet red. He’d act like he didn’t notice. But trust—he noticed everything.

San

You being shy? Dangerous. San sees it as the ultimate weakness—and he will lovingly exploit it.

He’d lean in close when you’re mid-sentence, just to watch your face heat up.

He’d purposefully call you pet names like baby, angel, sweetheart—in public—just to see your ears turn red.

“You like it when I call you that, don’t you?”

But behind the playful flirtation is so much affection. San adores the way you get nervous. He sees it as proof that your feelings are real, and that makes him feel lucky.

And when you shyly bury your face in his shoulder? He hugs you tighter and says, “Don’t hide. I wanna see every part of you—even the flustered bits.”

Mingi

He would instantly become shy with you.

You blush? He blushes.

You stutter? He stumbles over his own words.

It’s like watching two puppies trying to flirt for the first time.

“W-wait, did you just… call me handsome?” he’d ask, face burning.

And when you nod shyly? He’d let out the softest little squeak and bury his face in his hands.

Eventually, though, he’d gather enough courage to lean in and say, “You’re so cute when you get like this. Can I… kiss you?”

Cue mutual heart explosions.

Wooyoung

He lives for it. Like, actually gets high off your shyness.

You say something shyly? He gasps, clutches his chest like you just confessed something scandalous.

“Oh my God, are you trying to kill me with that voice?”

He teases, absolutely, but he also secretly melts every time you duck your head or whisper a compliment.

“Come on, jagi, don’t go all shy now—I like it when you tell me how good I look.”

But when he sees you genuinely flustered or insecure, he drops the playfulness and pulls you into his arms. “I’m not teasing you because I think you’re awkward. I tease you because you’re the best part of my day.”

Jongho

He’d act like he’s unaffected—but you’d see the slight twitch in his lip when you shyly reached for his hand or looked away during a compliment.

You’d say something soft like, “You look really handsome today,” and immediately hide behind your cup.

He’d chuckle, then lean closer.

“Say it again. But this time, look at me.”

He wouldn’t make you repeat it if you really couldn’t—but he would softly thread his fingers through yours and say, “You don’t have to be nervous around me. I like you exactly the way you are.”

And every time you’re shy? He stores it away like a little treasure to replay later in his head.

#ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez

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hinge · 28 days ago

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Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

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mylovesstuffs · 2 months ago

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OT13 reacting to having a younger s/o

Requested by @whrryuu : helloooo can u make ot13 reactions to a younger s/o with tooth rooting fluff plsplspls u r one of my fav authors and i loveee all ur works <33 thank yeww

A/N: Hiiiii angel!! Thank you SO much for the sweet words, I’m smiling so hard!!

Also, I wrote this while waiting for my call to the doctor's office, and the amount of time I giggled... in public 😭 I'm pretty sure the assistant there wanted to write my name to see the psychiatrist 💔 I really enjoyed writing this one!!

Seungcheol: He calls you baby so much, it’s comical atp. Wraps you in his big strong arms, shielding you from the entire world. He high-key spoils you: buys you snacks, jewelleries, designer bags, tucks your hair behind your ear, even ties your shoes sometimes. If anyone teases you for being younger, he’s like, “And? She’s mine.”

Jeonghan: tease. level. expert. He’s constantly poking fun at your age. “Aww, are you even old enough to be out this late?” “Are you even old enough to use your pretty mouth like this?” “Is my baby old enough?” But then he’s doting lol. Pulls you into his lap during movie nights or when he's feeling freaky, strokes your hair when you're sleepy, gives you forehead kisses and says, “You’re too cute. What do I do with you?”

Joshua: Such a gentleman it’s unreal. Always checking on you, opening doors, holding your hand when crossing the street. Calls you sweetheart or baby with the softest smile. “Did you eat? Want me to walk you home?” He loves listening to you talk about little things like your classes or shows, eyes full of admiration, which makes him even more eager to protect you from the outside cruel world.

Jun: Younger? He’s taking that as a challenge to be the ultimate younger boyfriend. I mean he's old but, in your relationship, he's the kid. But don't forget, he's Jun: he’s playful and flirty but super doting whenever he feels like it. “You’re so smol, it’s adorable,” he coos, pinching your cheeks. He buys you keychains, kisses your lips when you pout, and tucks your hand into his pocket when it’s cold.

Hoshi: Calls you my baby with a proud grin. Carries candies in his bag just for you. Sends you selfies like “miss you~~” even if he saw you ½ an hour ago. He shows off a bit in front of the other members. “Look at my cutie! Isn’t she the cutest??” Will not shut up about you. Ever.

Wonwoo: His affection actually runs quite deep. Always watches you with fond eyes when you ramble about your day animatedly. Reads books with you on his chest, lets you doodle on his arm with pen. Will buy you random gifts throughout the week. He doesn't really see you as a kid but definitely thinks it's cute that you're younger. His favorite thing is seeing you in oversized hoodies aka his hoodies.

Woozi: Pretends he’s unaffected and acts superrrrrr nonchalant but yk Jihoon lol. He’s so shy about PDA, but his ears turn pink when you kiss his cheek or nose or forehead or lips or... anywhere actually. But he sneaks cuddles when no one’s looking. Writes you little melodies on his guitar, gives you USBs like, “I made this… it’s for you.” Deadly soft. D.E.A.D.L.Y. S.O.F.T. I'm telling you, the nonchalance bullshit doesn't go too far with him around you.

Dokyeom: Literal sunshine™ boyfriend. He thinks your every reaction is the most adorable thing ever. “Look at you getting shy! You’re so cute I could cry!” Will deadpan compare you to toddlers and say you are cuter... infront of the kid's parents 💀 Makes silly faces to make you laugh [he loves making you laugh], sends voice notes of him singing songs before bed. Never stops telling you how much he loves you.

Mingyu: Always holds your bag, opens your drink, wraps his arms around you in public like a warm wall. “You good, baby?” Loves it when you act bratty—it makes him grin like crazy and turns him on. Carries you over puddles, cooks for you everyday, and looks like a proud boyfriend when you compliment his food. He'll definitely marry you one day, that's how smittenly in love he is with you.

Minghao: So gentle, holds your face when he kisses you. Buys you art supplies and writes little notes in the margins of your sketchbook. If you’re overwhelmed, he’s like, “Come here,” and pulls you into his arms in total silence. You’re his soft spot, no matter how calm he seems. He really loves that he can be your protective figure, not that he thinks you're any less capable to protect or defend yourself but he loves it that in general sense, he's the one. Note: he coos you all the time

Seungkwan: Panics over every little thing because you're his baby [in a romantic sense]. “Are you cold? Are you hungry? Do you need water?” Cups a hand on your cheeks , “You’re too cute, I can’t take it.” and have cuteness aggression every five minutes. Will 100% hide his face when you kiss his nose. Loves showing you off—“This is my girlfriend, the cutest woman in the whole world!” Yeah, he still calls you a woman, because you are!

Vernon: Our Vernon can be so so so so so so soft. Tugs you into his hoodie with him, lets you nap on his chest. Blushes when you hold his hand first, but won’t let go the whole day. He thinks you being younger is the cutest thing ever. Just wants to sit next to you forever, playing with your fingers. If he could, he'd keep you inside his pocket.

Dino: He tries so hard to be ‘the man’ but ends up being an adorable mess because of you. “I’m older, I’ll take care of you,” then trips over nothing after you smile at him. You make him flustered constantly 24/7, but he’s serious when it counts—“You can count on me, always.” and you can. Will dance with you in the kitchen because he's romantic.

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ijustwannabecool · 27 days ago

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hello! i am absolutely enthralled with moments you wished you caught on camera - i've truthfully read it multiple times now 🥹 i just adore that fic!! i was wondering if you'd ever write smth similar for charles??

also!! i've just recently discovered your account & your fics are just amazing! i've already read the entirety of your max & charles masterlists (my favs🤭). thank you for blessing us all with your wonderful writing 🫶🏻 have a lovely day!

First of all I love you 🫶🏻!!! Thank you for your sweet message🥹 You asked and you shall receive. I hope you love it :)

Moments You Wish You Caught on Camera - Charles Version

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary…Six Strangers. Six ordinary places. One unforgettable couple. This is a collection of short, cinematic glimpses into Charles Leclerc’s life with the woman he’s loved beyond the track. Seen through the eyes of strangers who just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚｡⋆♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚｡⋆♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚｡⋆♡

RESERVATION RUN-IN

— Nina, 24, new Ferrari junior marketing coordinator, still figuring out the cafeteria coffee machine, and definitely not ready for what she saw at dinner.

It was supposed to be a celebratory night.

Nina had survived her first week at Ferrari. Five whirlwind days of press releases, brand decks, and learning how to properly pronounce Scuderia. Her small onboarding cohort decided to treat themselves to dinner at a little tucked-away restaurant in Modena. A place so charming it made pasta feel sacred.

They had just started on their second round of drinks when Marco, the guy from media partnerships, nearly choked on his Aperol.

“Holy shit. Don’t look now. Or actually, look. Just not all at once.”

Too late.

Every head turned toward the restaurant entrance, where a man in soft navy trousers and an unbuttoned white shirt was stepping in with casual ease. Tousled brown curls, sun-kissed skin, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Charles Leclerc.

But it wasn’t the sighting itself that stunned them. It was the fact that he wasn’t alone.

A woman was tucked into his side, hand interlaced with his. Her long, sundress swayed slightly as they walked. She looked relaxed. Happy. Gorgeous.

Charles pulled out her chair for her, kissed her cheek before sitting down. Then, like it was habit, reached halfway across the table with an open palm. She placed hers on top without hesitation. Their wedding bands sparkled subtly in the candlelight.

“Is that his wife?” someone whispered.

“He’s married?!”

“I thought she was a model.”

“She looks…normal. Like us.”

But she didn’t look ordinary. Not to Charles. Not by the way he watched her talk, leaning in like every word was the only one worth hearing. Not by the way he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear like it was muscle memory.

Nina tried to focus on her gnocchi. Failed.

At one point, Y/N laughed, head tilted back, nose scrunched, full-body kind of joy. Charles mirrored it instantly, a low laugh that sounded nothing like the polite one he used in press conferences. This one was real. Unfiltered. Like he hadn’t laughed that way in weeks.

Their food arrived. They shared everything. He offered her a bite, raised an eyebrow when she took too much, then immediately forked over another taste. She stole his drink. He didn’t mind.

When she got up to use the restroom, a waiter tried to clear her plate.

Charles stopped him with a soft, “Non ancora. She’s coming back.”

A few minutes later, Nina herself bumped into Y/N by the sink.

“Oh! Sorry,” Y/N said immediately. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. You okay?”

Nina nodded, starstruck. “Yeah. You just…you look beautiful.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “That’s sweet. Thank you. I’m still getting used to wearing heels again.”

She complimented Nina’s dress before ducking into a stall. Completely normal. Completely kind.

Back at the table, the mood between Charles and Y/N had shifted. Softer. Closer.

Her fingers trailed along the stem of her wine glass. His hand rested low on the back of her chair. She leaned in, whispering something in his ear that made his eyes darken instantly.

A beat later, he flagged down the server, dropped a stack of bills with zero ceremony, and stood to help her into her coat.

Their exit was quiet, but Nina caught it all—the way Charles held her hand like it was something sacred. The way he looked at her like no one else in the room mattered. The way her laugh floated back toward them as they disappeared through the door.

The table sat in stunned silence for a moment.

Then Marco muttered, “Forget TikTok edits. That was the real thing.”

And Nina, with stars in her eyes and a stupid grin on her face, finally took a sip of her now-warm wine and whispered, “I think I just witnessed a rom-com in real life.”

THE RAINY TRAIN RIDE TO MONACO

— Henri, 72, retired art teacher, hobbyist painter, and lifelong romantic with a sketchbook full of strangers.

The train rocked gently as rain tapped the windows in a steady rhythm. Henri sat by the window, sketchpad in hand, capturing the silhouettes of the passengers around him.

He wasn’t looking for anything special. Just shapes. Light and shadow. Faces in thought.

But then he saw them.

A young couple seated across the aisle. The man in a navy sweater and loafers, his arm draped casually over the shoulders of the woman tucked into his side. She had her knees drawn up, a book open but forgotten in her lap. Her head rested against his chest, eyes closed, their fingers lazily intertwined.

Henri watched them for a long while.

They didn’t speak. Didn’t scroll on phones. They just... were.

So he sketched. Quietly. Carefully. The tilt of her head, the curve of his hand on her hip, the ease in their closeness. Love looked different in every face he drew, but this one, it felt familiar.

When the conductor called out Monaco as the next stop, the man gently nudged the woman awake with a kiss to her temple. She stirred, blinking herself back into the world, then smiled up at him with a look that could warm marble.

Henri stood and approached them slowly, sketchbook in hand.

“Excuse me,” he said in accented English.

They looked up, surprised.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he continued, turning the book around to reveal the drawing. “You two... you reminded me of me and my wife. Many, many years ago. On this same train.”

Y/N blinked at the portrait. “Oh. Oh wow… this is beautiful.”

Charles smiled, touched. “Merci. That’s incredibly kind.”

Henri smiled back. “Hold on to each other. Make time to listen more than you speak. Kiss even when you’re tired. And never, ever stop choosing each other, even on the hard days.”

He handed them the sketch, carefully torn from the spiral binding. “You look like you’re just beginning something worth everything.”

They thanked him quietly as he returned to his seat.

When the train stopped, Charles tucked the drawing carefully into his bag. As they stepped onto the platform, the rain still gentle, Y/N looped her arm through his.

“That was lovely,” she said.

Charles nodded, a little quiet. “It was. I think I want to grow old like that.”

She looked up at him. “With me?”

He gave her a look so full of affection it made her chest ache. “Only with you.”

They walked on, the smell of rain in the air, hearts warm beneath their coats, a paper memory folded between them.

MEDIA DAY MADNESS

— Gianna, 31, freelance makeup artist, first Ferrari gig, not mentally prepared to witness Charles Leclerc in husband mode.

The media room at Ferrari HQ was buzzing.

Cameras, lights, clipboards, producers pacing like the fate of the universe rested on the exact timing of a five-second promo shot. Gianna was on her third espresso and her second emergency beauty blender, and it was only 9:12 a.m.

She wasn’t new to chaos. She’d done shoots for footballers, actors, even a royal once. But this, Formula 1 pre-season media day, was its own monster.

Her assignment: keep Charles Leclerc looking like he hadn’t just stepped off a red-eye from Monaco.

He was scheduled for his final touch-up after a round of interviews, but when the call sheet hit a ten-minute delay, Gianna found herself camped near the back hallway, grateful for the silence.

That’s when she heard laughter.

Not the stiff PR kind. The kind that made you want to smile even if you didn’t know the joke.

She glanced up just in time to see him.

Charles. Not in front of a camera. Not in fireproofs. Just… Charles. Hoodie pulled over his curls. One hand wrapped around a paper coffee cup, the other linked tightly with a woman walking beside him.

She was half-laughing, half-whispering something into his shoulder, and he was clearly trying (and failing) not to laugh back. It was the kind of laugh that made him bite his lip. Crinkle his eyes. Lean in like her words were gravity.

Y/N.

Gianna had heard her name floating around all morning. She wasn’t crew, but everyone knew she was coming.

The wife.

She didn’t expect her to be so… casual. In jeans and white sneakers, with her hair loosely tied and the kind of face that made natural look like magic.

They disappeared around the corner for a moment. When they reemerged, they were each holding a croissant, whispering like kids playing hooky.

Charles was smiling at her like there weren’t fifty cameras waiting. Like he didn’t have the weight of an entire nation on his back. Like nothing else existed.

When they passed by, Gianna tried not to stare.

Charles nodded politely. Y/N caught her gaze and smiled warmly.

“Sorry,” Y/N said, motioning toward the pastries. “We were on a very serious mission.”

“Vital carbs,” Charles added solemnly.

Gianna laughed. “Well, you look a lot more relaxed than everyone else here.”

Charles shrugged. “That’s her fault.”

He looked at Y/N like he meant it. Like that ten-minute delay had been a gift.

Back in the makeup chair minutes later, Gianna set to work while Charles scrolled through his phone.

“Can you hold still for just a sec?” she asked.

He nodded, put the phone down.

Gianna caught a glimpse of the screen as he locked it.

It was a photo.

Of Y/N. Wearing his hoodie. Holding the coffee she clearly didn’t want to share. Smiling at the camera like he was the only person who’d ever made her laugh that hard.

She didn’t mean to say it, but it slipped out anyway.

“You really love her.”

Charles blinked, surprised, then nodded once. “Yeah. I do.”

Gianna stepped back, brush in hand, heart weirdly full.

She’d done hundreds of faces. Watched hundreds of men step into their public personas. But in that quiet ten-minute window, she’d seen something else entirely.

Not Charles Leclerc, the Ferrari driver.

Just Charles. Someone’s husband. Someone who looked at his wife like she was the only peace he’d ever known.

Gianna made a mental note to text her sister:

You wouldn’t believe who I saw today. But more than that… you wouldn’t believe how he looked at her.

RAIN DELAY AT SILVERSTONE

— Freya, 22, student photographer, soaked to the bone, and emotionally unprepared for the Leclercs in the rain.

The sky had opened up over Silverstone in biblical proportions.

Freya was soaked, her camera strap sticking to her neck, her waterproof jacket failing miserably, and her feet dangerously close to pruning in her boots. The race had been delayed indefinitely, the grandstands were buzzing with energy and impatience, and umbrellas popped up like mushrooms across the paddock.

She was huddled under the eave of the Ferrari hospitality tent, trying to dry her lens, when she spotted them.

Charles Leclerc and his wife, walking hand in hand through the paddock like the rain had been invited.

No umbrella. No sprinting for cover. Just strolling.

Y/N was wearing an oversized Ferrari rain jacket—clearly his, if the way it swallowed her was anything to go by—and she kept tugging the hood back so she could look up at the sky.

Charles said something, and she laughed. Head thrown back, cheeks flushed, soaking wet and absolutely glowing.

Freya raised her camera instinctively. Not to shoot, not professionally. Just to remember.

Charles glanced up, spotted her, and offered a small smile. Not the PR smile. Not the podium smile.

Just… soft.

Y/N nudged him and whispered something.

He grinned. Turned toward her. Tucked a dripping strand of hair behind her ear.

And kissed her.

Slow. Steady. Rain clinging to their lashes. The kind of kiss that looked like a thank you. Like a promise.

Freya’s heart thudded.

Later, she spotted them again near the garages. Y/N stood on the edge of the pit lane, arms wrapped around herself, watching the water pool across the tarmac.

Charles came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back into his chest.

“I always liked the rain,” he said quietly.

She leaned back. “Why?”

“Because it slows everything down. Even racing.”

She turned in his arms, pressed her forehead to his. “You hate slowing down.”

“Except for you,” he said.

Freya snapped the photo before she could second guess it.

Back home, she kept the shot for herself—framed it even. Because no one else needed to see it.

Not the fans. Not the sponsors. Not the media.

It wasn’t for them.

It was for the kind of love that didn’t need a checkered flag. Just a rain delay and the right person to walk slow with.

THE PLAYGROUND SURPRISE

— Clara, 27, nanny with a mild caffeine addiction and a wild 3-year-old charge, not expecting to make a new mom friend.

“Hi! Is this seat taken?”

Clara looked up from her iced coffee, blinking in the midday Monaco sun. A woman about her age was standing beside the park bench, a toddler on her hip and a tote bag slung over one shoulder.

“Nope, you’re good!” Clara scooted over, wiping condensation from the bench.

“Thank you. I’m Y/N, and this little troublemaker is Colette.”

The toddler flashed a big grin, curls bouncing as she waved. “Hi!”

“I’m Clara. That chaos gremlin over there on the slide is Matteo. I nanny for his family.”

Y/N smiled wide, dropping onto the bench with a sigh. “God bless you. Seriously.”

“Right back at you,” Clara replied, amused.

As their kids played, they fell into easy conversation. Clara found herself surprised by how down-to-earth Y/N was. She swore like a sailor, offered Clara half her granola bar without asking, and immediately launched into a rant about the judgmental moms at the other park by the marina.

“Swear to God, if one more woman side-eyes Colette’s snacks or asks me if I’ve considered yoga for ‘postpartum toning,’ I’m going to fake my own death,” Y/N muttered.

Clara barked out a laugh. “Okay, where were you two months ago when I was trying to survive toddler teething alone?”

“Probably crying over a lost pacifier under the fridge,” Y/N replied without hesitation.

It was easy. Uncomplicated. Until Clara noticed the tote bag.

“Wait—is that the limited edition Gucci monogram tote?” she asked, eyes wide.

Y/N looked down, rolled her eyes fondly. “Unfortunately. My husband got it for me on ‘International Stay-at-Home Parent Day,’ which is fake, by the way. He just knows I yell if he buys me expensive stuff for no reason.”

Clara laughed but clocked the massive ring on Y/N’s finger next. It was gorgeous. Eye-watering.

Before she could say anything, Y/N’s phone buzzed. She picked it up without looking. “Hi, baby. Yeah. The park near the bakery. She’s on the slide in the pink overalls.”

Y/N hung up and looked at Clara. “My husband’s coming by. He has meetings later and wanted to see Colette before bedtime.”

“That’s really sweet,” Clara said, thinking of her own boss—who couldn’t be bothered to FaceTime.

Y/N just smiled, a bit dreamy. “Yeah. He’s really good to us.”

A few minutes later, Clara heard the soft rumble of a high-end engine pulling into the lot. She turned just in time to see a sleek Ferrari park like it belonged there.

Out stepped Charles Leclerc.

Clara froze.

Hair tousled, sunglasses on, casual hoodie and joggers like it wasn’t Monaco’s golden boy striding toward them. The man her employers followed like religion. The one with posters in every other shop window.

He didn’t glance at the bench. His eyes were on Colette.

“Hi, mon ange,” he called out. Colette squealed and sprinted toward him, launching into his arms. Charles lifted her with ease, doting and soft.

Y/N stood to greet him with a kiss. He tucked her into his side immediately, one hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to rub her back like it was second nature.

“Oh—Charles, this is Clara. We’ve been bonding over snack packs and judgmental moms.”

Clara tried not to choke. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Charles gave her a kind smile and nodded. “You’ve got the good bench spot. Shade always disappears by 4.”

They chatted a few minutes more. Colette returned to the jungle gym, this time with Charles trailing behind like her personal security.

Clara turned to Y/N, eyebrows high. “So… you’re married to Charles Leclerc?”

Y/N snorted. “I know. Doesn’t fit the vibe, right?”

“Honestly, you’re way cooler than I expected a Formula 1 wife to be.”

Y/N winked. “Don’t tell the other ones. They still think I know what a diffuser does.”

Clara would end up texting her sister that night: Met the love of Charles Leclerc’s life today. Spoiler alert: it’s not F1. It’s her.

THE STADIUM GLANCE

— Lina, 25, team hospitality staffer at Ferrari, trying to keep her head down… until she catches sight of the man who once changed her life.

Lina didn’t mind her job. She liked the behind-the-scenes chaos, the espresso machines, the rush of getting everything just right. What she didn’t like was how invisible it sometimes made her feel.

Except once.

One night after a long debrief, she’d been hiding in a tucked-away hallway outside the paddock garage, trying to stop herself from crying after her student loan payment failed to go through again.

“What’s wrong?” came a voice—calm, accented, quiet.

She looked up to find Charles Leclerc.

She was horrified. Embarrassed. Tried to brush it off.

But he stayed.

Asked again.

She broke. Told him everything in a flood of panicked breath: about school, money, her brother she helped support.

Charles didn’t say anything at first. Just pulled out his phone, typed for a moment, and told her to check her email.

There was a Ferrari scholarship grant in her name. Paid. Approved.

When she looked up, he was already walking away.

He never mentioned it again.

Lina never told a soul. She didn’t want to cheapen it by turning it into gossip.

----

Months later, Lina was at a Monaco football match with her cousin, box seats, courtesy of a friend of a friend. She wasn’t expecting much.

Until she saw the Ferrari suite next door.

Just two people inside.

Charles.

And a woman.

Y/N.

She’d never seen him like that.

Not on a podium. Not in the garage. Not in full sponsor-mode.

Just… soft.

Y/N was visibly pregnant, cradling her bump in one hand and a hot dog in the other. Charles had his arm slung over the back of her chair, pressed so close it looked like he’d never moved.

They laughed at something together. Y/N nudged him with her shoulder and leaned back against his chest. Charles responded by wrapping both arms around her middle and dropping his head onto her shoulder.

For a full five minutes, he didn’t move.

Just rubbed small circles over the fabric stretched across her belly. Pressed a kiss to her temple. Let her feed him bites of cotton candy like it was a Michelin-star meal.

Lina watched, heart caught in her throat.

At one point, Charles pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of Y/N mid-laugh. He looked at it, smiled to himself, and locked the screen like it was something private. Sacred.

Lina had to blink back tears.

Toward the end of the match, Y/N looked sleepy. Charles helped her put on his jacket, held her hand while she stood, and tucked a hand under her belly with almost reverence as they exited the suite.

They never saw her watching.

But Lina never forgot.

She still has that grant email in her inbox. Still opens it on hard days. Not for the money.

But for what it meant:

There are still people who quietly show up when it matters most. And sometimes, they sit beside you in the stands, more in love than ever.

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haikyu-mp4 · 6 months ago

Text

High school sweethearts

“Did you hear about aone? I heard that he started dating that one popular girl! But you didn't hear that from me!!” – @sharkissm for my Gossip Event.

word count; 686 – f!reader

Aone did an uncharacteristic double take the first time it happened, the first time you came to one of his games and cheered for him after a successful block. You were of another world to him, so perfect in the way you were not only beautiful but also so kind and charismatic. People wanted to be around you, unlike Aone who always sat alone on the train.

So he also couldn’t believe it when you sat down beside him on the train one day, smiling so kindly and asking him if the seat was free. He nodded silently, gulping and fumbling with his fingers as you sat down. Your knee knocked into his and he almost felt like blushing. You’re just so cool.

“I watched your game the other day, it was awesome!” you gushed, flipping out your phone and showing him a video you had taken of him blocking the last point, then the camera turned to your face as you screamed in cheers for your school’s team. If he heard correctly, you even yelled his name in particular. “I would be so scared to break my fingers or something if I blocked like that.” As you said this, you held a hand out, showing off your perfect gel nails.

Aone admired them, making a sound of approval at the cool design in the school’s colours. “They are very pretty, breaking them or your fingers would be a shame.” It was said as a clear statement, and his deep voice made your eyes widen.

“Thank you,” you said softly at the compliment, eyes glittering. Surely, his eyes were betraying him because it looked like you were blushing too. “My nail artist is great…” And then you spent the rest of the train ride telling him about anything that came to mind, about your nails and your schoolwork and him.

A few days later, Futakuchi let out the biggest huh when you came to the gym doors and asked for Aone. “Class project?” he asked, somewhat protective of the big friendly giant.

“No,” you answered simply, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him as a playful challenge. “So? Can I talk to him?”

“We have to practise, princess-“ Futakuchi started, holding up his finger, only to be interrupted by a shadow behind him.

“I can take a short break.”

The captain turned around slowly to see his best friend, scrunching his nose trying to think of something to say before slumping his shoulders in defeat and stomping off. “Five minutes.”

You looked at Aone, the sparkle back in your eyes that he still couldn’t believe had anything to do with him. “Sorry. What did you need?”

Licking your lips and tucking some hair behind your ear, you asked him if he was free after practice, earning you a quick yes from Aone and a distant complaint from Koganegawa about team-building activities.

That evening you spent talking over your instant ramen cups in the closest konbibi became your first date.

And a first date eventually turned into dating.

Aone’s cheering squad was the loudest for every game, and you lavishly spoiled him with attention and care that made him feel like he was soft, not just big and scary.

In return, he gave you comfort and always listened. Whether it was seemingly meaningless yapping or serious conversations about life’s many trials, he was always there for you.

A power couple, one must admit.

Even Futakuchi admitted it after you got the principal to make all the arrangements for when they got to nationals in their third year, also making sure every student who could go, came to cheer for the Iron Wall.

And as Aone looked up at you in the stands, you cheered just as loudly as you did the first time he caught your eye, and you looked just as gorgeous to him no matter what happened. Even at night, all makeup off and bawling your eyes out over a sappy movie with toilet paper stuck in your nose to stop it from running.

Always his beautiful girlfriend, who just happened to be very popular.

masterlist

#The Gossip Event #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyu fluff #aone fluff #aone #aone takanobu x reader #takanobu aone #aone x reader #haikyuu aone #hq aone #aone takanobu

766 notes · View notes

svtiddiess · 9 months ago

Text

Green Eyes And Confessions

Synopsis: Wonwoo thinks you're fucking his best friend. But his best friend is fucking with him while you're fucking oblivious to what your crush thinks.

Pairing: Wonwoo x afab!reader x Mingyu

Genre: smut, one shot, roommates to lovers, non-idol! au, college! au

Rating: mature

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: mean dom!Wonwoo, sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), breast play, overstimulation, squirting, voyeurism, exhibitionism, male masturbation, reader is said to be smaller than Mingyu, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thank you so much to my twin @tomodachiii for beta reading and helping me come up with the synopsis! (I'm still offended you put me up for sale)

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Humming in satisfaction, your hands smooth over your skirt and you do a final outfit check before heading out to the kitchen to grab coffee for class.

"Hey, beautiful," a voice you've come to love stops you in your tracks. Smiling, you turn towards the source of the voice.

"Hey, Gyu!" you chirp, smile widening as he approaches you.

"Heading to class?" he wraps his arms around you into a playful hug, making you giggle; you're always in awe at how much bigger and taller he is compared to you. Wrapping your arms around him and not so subtly snuggling your face into his chest, you hum in confirmation.

"Came to grab coffee before heading out."

"Luckily for you, I already made you one," he tilts his head towards the kitchen counter where a cup of freshly brewed coffee awaits you.

Making Mingyu your roommate was one of the best decisions you've made in life. Not only is he tall, buff, and handsome, but he also knows how to cook and clean; he's the perfect man, really. Letting out a weird mixture of a groan and moan of satisfaction, you squeeze him before grabbing the cup.

"What will I ever do without you?" you muse before taking a sip and letting out a sigh.

"Probably make your own coffee," he chuckles.

"That sounds like torture."

Chuckling, he tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear before patting your cheek. Mingyu has always been affectionate towards you, usually opting to show you his love through physical touch. You don't mind it, as he knows his boundaries and knows when to stop, but lately, he's been a bit too affectionate.

It seems as if he's always going the extra mile for you: memorising your schedule so that he can pack lunch and coffee for you, commenting and complimenting on any changes you make to yourself, being more physically affectionate, and throwing in flirty remarks which never fails to make you blush. Unsure of why the sudden change in attitude, you've brushed it off as him simply being friendly.

"Look who's finally up," Mingyu's voice interrupts your thoughts, and you turn towards your other roommate, Wonwoo, who walks into the kitchen.

"Are you sure he's up?" You giggle at his state. Wonwoo's hair is dishevelled, his hoodie is crumpled, and his round-rimmed glasses are drooping from his nose. If you squint, you can tell there are very prominent eye bags under his eyes and a permanent pout plastered on his face.

"Did you even sleep?" Mingyu quips, to which Wonwoo responds with a grumble.

Wonwoo is the complete opposite of Mingyu—reserved, quiet, and someone who expresses love in subtle ways. He won't openly hug or shower you with affectionate names like Mingyu does, but you can tell he cares deeply; you just have to read between the lines. He follows you to parties to make sure you're safe, even though he hates them, always takes notes for you if you're in the same class, reminds you to drink water when you forget, and offers silent comfort whenever you need it.

Feeling bad, you give Wonwoo the rest of your coffee, to which he smiles gratefully before taking the cup. You find yourself smiling as you watch him finish the rest of your coffee; even in his dishevelled state, he looks handsome. With both his personality and appearance, he reminds you of a black cat.

"You should go, beautiful; it's getting late," Mingyu's voice pulls you from your thoughts. Nodding, you gather your things and prepare to head to class. Mingyu hugs you and kisses the top of your head, and for a moment, you could swear Wonwoo's hard stare and tense posture from over Mingyu's shoulder—but you brush it off, convincing yourself it was just your imagination.

With a final goodbye, you set off to class, already missing their presence.

You decide to grab a quick bite before your next class and head to the campus café. The food isn't exactly drool-worthy, but it gets the job done. Plus, seeing Wonwoo working there always gives you the boost you need to get through the day.

Your mood instantly lifts the moment you step into the café. Seeing Wonwoo in his work uniform never fails to make your heart flutter. It’s just a simple black button-up shirt and a brown apron, but the way the fitted shirt highlights his muscles makes you blush. Add his glasses framing his face and tousled black hair, and he’s the very definition of a 'campus crush.'

With a light blush dusting your cheeks, you approach the counter where Wonwoo awaits.

"Hey, Wonwoo," you greet him with a smile.

"Hey, you," he says, his eyes lighting up and his shoulders lifting at the sight of you. "Here for a snack? Want your usual?"

You giggle and nod, thankful he remembers your usual order. It was bound to happen, though—you make a point to visit the café whenever he's working.

He nods and, despite your many protests, gives you the order on the house. You're certain it's coming out of his salary, but with a defeated sigh, you take a seat at your usual table—the one with the perfect view of Wonwoo at work.

A few minutes later, Wonwoo brings over your order. The café is self-serve, but he always makes an exception for you. You're puzzled when you spot an extra chocolate chip cookie on the tray.

"A cookie?" you ask, looking up at him, confused.

"You’ve got three classes after this; you’ll need the extra sugar," he says with a shrug and a smile. "Plus, it's freshly baked."

You take a bite and instantly melt. The cookie is perfect—gooey, warm, and just the right amount of sweetness.

"I didn’t know the café made cookies," you say, tilting your head.

You notice him get flustered for a moment as a blush creeps up his cheeks. He quickly looks away, clearing his throat.

"It’s, uh, for a special event…" he mumbles, trailing off before clearing his throat again. "I can pack you more to take with you if you'd like."

You nod enthusiastically, making him chuckle. He heads back to the counter and returns with a bag full of chocolate chip cookies.

"Wonwoo, this is too much," you gasp.

"Hush, I know how much of a sweet tooth you have. These will probably be gone within the hour," he smirks, and you blush because he’s absolutely right.

You pout as you thank him, and he chuckles before leaning down to gently wipe the crumbs from the corners of your mouth.

"You're such a messy eater—cute," he mumbles. By now, you’re blushing so hard you probably resemble a tomato.

Before you can respond, someone calls his name. He sighs, giving you a sad smile.

"Well, duty calls," he says with a sigh. "See you at home, Y/N."

You wave goodbye, watching him get back to work, your heart still racing.

Heavy footsteps echo throughout the shared apartment as you trudge back from an excruciating day of classes. Tired was an understatement to the fatigue you're feeling right now.

"Hey," Mingyu greets from where he's sat on the couch.

Trudging over to Mingyu, you plop down next to him with a sigh. He scoots over, and his arms instantly welcome you, pulling you close and enveloping you in comfort.

"Long day, beautiful?" He hums, gently massaging your scalp, causing you to sigh and melt in his embrace.

"Too long," you murmur, wanting nothing more than to forget the day's events.

He shifts you both to lie on the couch, tugging on top of him. This was new territory, but you're too tired to resist; you let him do as he pleases. The smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body, the sound of his heartbeat, and the feeling of his hand rubbing your back slowly lull you to sleep.

"Go to sleep, beautiful; I'll be right here," he hums when you fight to stay awake. You relax into his embrace and drift off to sleep slowly at his words.

"What are you two doing?" A displeased voice cuts through the silence, startling you awake.

"She's tired, so I'm cuddling her," Mingyu states as you turn your head to look at Wonwoo, who's looking at the both of you with a glare that almost pierces your soul.

He holds his stare, the same hardened glare he had when you hugged Mingyu this morning. You shift uncomfortably under Wonwoo's gaze, unsure of why he's so irritated. The silence was deafening, and you could feel the tension in the room rise. You want him or Mingyu to say something cause you surely can't in the face of his scowl.

"Don't stay up too late," Wonwoo grumbles and returns to his room.

You release a breath you didn't realise you were holding and shift to face Mingyu. You're a little confused and startled as to why there's the barest of a satisfied smirk on his face, but he quickly hides it, looking down at you with a gentle smile.

"Let's cuddle in my room instead," he says and picks you up effortlessly. Letting out a small squeal, you wrap your legs around him and cling on for dear life.

He laughs as he plops you down on his bed. Huffing, you look up at him with a pout to which he coos.

"Wonwoo looked upset," you mumble, picking at a stray thread on his bed.

"He's probably just grumpy. You know how he is," he replies, heading towards his closet. Blinking, you're sure that if anyone was the most perceptive between the three of you, it was him. Mingyu would have already noticed and cared, but right now, it seems like he's purposefully pushing Wonwoo's buttons, which you deemed to be odd.

"But he seemed actually upset just now. It feels like he has been upset with us for the past few weeks…"

"What makes you say that?"

"I dunno…it's just he always seems annoyed whenever he sees us hanging out…"

"He's probably stressed cause of uni…" he pauses before finishing with a mumble, "or he's maybe jealous."

"Jealous?" Before you can say anything else, Mingyu tosses one of his t-shirts over your head. "Hey!" you protest. Snatching the t-shirt off, you huff as he laughs at your irritation.

"Go change. I'm sure you don't want to be in those stuffy clothes for any longer."

You grumble and head to the bathroom to get changed. Since Mingyu's shirt was far too big for you, you decided to wear it as a dress, slipping out of your now dirty shirt and skirt. After a silent debate, you decided to remove your bra as well, since wearing a bra to sleep would be very uncomfortable.

Walking back into the room, you find Mingyu already comfortable in bed and shirtless. He's told you multiple times that he prefers sleeping topless, but seeing him in this state makes you blush. Shaking away any thoughts and affirming yourself that you're only friends, you slip into bed with him. His arms immediately wrap around you and pull you close. Softly giggling, you snuggle into his chest.

"Gyu?" you hum.

"Yeah?"

"Earlier, you said that Wonwoo might be jealous of us. What did you mean by that?"

You feel his body tense a little but as quick as it came, it went.

"You've had a long day, beautiful; go to sleep," he murmurs, using one hand to massage your scalp gently.

"But-"

"No buts. Sleep."

With a defeated sigh, you reluctantly drift off to sleep in Mingyu's warm embrace.

The whirring of the coffee machine pulls you from your slumber. Groggily, you sit up and rub your eyes, glancing over at Mingyu, who's still fast asleep beside you. A sudden pang of guilt washes over you, and though you're not sure why, it feels as though you've somehow betrayed Wonwoo. Shaking off the thought, you carefully untangle yourself from Mingyu's long limbs, stumble out of the room, and head to the kitchen.

"Can you make me a cup too?" You ask Wonwoo, whose eyebrows furrow when he sees you leave Mingyu's room.

"Why are you coming out of Mingyu's room?" he asks with an edge to his tone. He puts his coffee down to stare at you pointedly.

"We slept together," you yawn, a little too disoriented to realise your wording.

"You…slept together?"

You hum and nod, brain clearly too tired to notice the tense way he holds himself.

Just then, Mingyu stumbles out of his room with a visible pout. You turn to look at him and see that he didn't bother to wear his shirt back.

"I can't believe you left me, Y/N!" he whines. "Do you know how cold I was without you?"

"Unbelievable," Wonwoo's scoff brings your attention back to him.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused at his irritation.

"You really are a slut aren't you?" he seethes.

"I'm sorry?" you sputter, your eyes widening as your brain fully wakes up. You're confused by his sudden change in attitude.

Did he just call you a slut?

"What do you mean slut?" your eyebrows furrow as your tone turns defensive.

"I said what I said," he growls.

"Wonwoo, what the hell is your problem?!" you fume; it's too early in the morning to be dealing with this.

"The hell man? You can't just call her a slut," Mingyu states with irritation.

"Shut the hell up, this doesn't involve you," Wonwoo snaps at Mingyu. Both you and Mingyu are taken aback by Wonwoo's attitude.

Wonwoo has always been so soft-spoken and calm around you, but seeing him act like this sends a shiver down your spine. He struts towards you, but you don't dare move from your place.

"How long have you been sleeping with him?" he growls.

Oh.

That's when it hits you. You're wearing Mingyu's shirt, Mingyu's topless; you both come out of his room; you said you slept together.

"W-Wait Wonwoo, that's not what-"

He grabs your face, and you let out a squeak.

"I asked you a question. Answer me," he growls, bringing your face closer to his.

Letting out a soft whimper, you squeeze your thighs together.

"It was only last night!" You defend.

"First, you pranced around in those little skirts. You're getting all cozy and romantic with my roommate without telling me, then you slept with him behind my back, and now you're lying to me?" he snaps. "You deserve to be punished, kitten."

"W-What?" you stutter, gulping hard. Never in a million years did you think Wonwoo would behave like this. You’ve always seen him as a soft-spoken gentleman, a nerdy gamer, and a cat lover. But seeing him like this makes your heart skip a beat, and not in a bad way.

Some lonely nights in bed were spent thinking of what type of man Wonwoo was in bed. You always thought of him as a soft lover based on his personality and demeanour. But now, seeing how he acts, you realise you couldn't have been more wrong.

His piercing gaze and harsh tone send shivers down your spine. Gulping, you glance past Wonwoo to see Mingyu, who offers you a reassuring smile that helps relax your body. You suck in a breath and look back at Wonwoo, your heart fluttering when you meet his piercing gaze yet again.

You can tell he’s waiting for your reaction. Even in this situation, he’s attentive to you. You respond with a small smile and a nod. In return, he gives you a gentle smile, lifts you up, and sets you on the kitchen counter.

"Is this okay with you?" he murmurs softly, his tough demeanour faltering momentarily. Your heart flutters at the gesture, and blushing deeply, you nod.

"Words, kitten."

"Y-Yes, it's okay," you mumble.

He gives you a soft smile before turning towards Mingyu, who's watching the both of you with a heated gaze.

"You. Sit and watch," Wonwoo orders.

Mingyu grabs a chair and Wonwoo's unfinished coffee, placing the chair opposite you both, giving himself the perfect view of what's about to unfold. Smirking, he sits down and sips the coffee, anticipating what's to come, like he was watching his favourite episode unfold after a whole season of build-up.

Turning his attention back to you, Wonwoo looks you up and down, causing you to squirm. He scrutinises the shirt you're wearing.

"I really want to take this off, but I don't want him to see what's mine, so I'll let it go—just this once."

Your heart jumps at the thought of him calling you 'his'. You're not sure if he truly meant it, but decided not to mull over it at the moment.

He traces his hands up your thighs and onto your torso, stopping at your breasts and squeezing them, causing you to moan.

"No bra? You're really going to get it," he growls.

You whimper at the feeling of him massaging your breasts through the shirt, making him smirk. You gasp when you suddenly feel his hand touch your bare skin. You arch your back and whine when you feel him tug on your nipples.

"That's right. Be as loud as you can; show him how good I make you feel," he purrs.

You can feel your core throb the more he plays with your breasts. He leans in and leaves wet kisses on your neck, each accompanied by a teasing bite.

"Wonwoo, please," you whine.

"Hm? What is it, kitten?"

"Need more, please," you whimper, blushing hard.

With a smirk, he drops to his knees and spreads your thighs. Blushing heavily, you try to close them, but his strong grip prevents you. He slowly peels your soaked panties off, making you squirm.

"Stop moving," he orders, and you instantly freeze in place.

He tosses your panties towards Mingyu, who pathetically stumbles for it. Before you can make any comment on it, Wonwoo licks a long stripe up your core, moaning at the taste. You gasp and whimper, legs automatically closing, but he keeps them open with his arms.

He dives in without warning, causing you to gasp and grab his hair. He expertly uses two fingers to separate your lips and dives his tongue into your core, lapping up all your juices. You moan his name and pull him in closer, but his glasses knock him back. With a growl, he tosses his glasses onto the counter and dives back in. Goosebumps riddle your skin as the cool air hits your warm body.

You catch a glimpse of Mingyu, who's stroking himself with your panties wrapped around his dick; his eyes are locked onto you as pants and groans escape his lips. You feel a jolt of pleasure course through you when you feel Wonwoo suck on your clit. His hands kneading your thighs, his hair tickling your skin, the sucking of your clit, the lewd scene of Mingyu stroking himself, it all becomes too much for you.

"Wonwoo, I'm cumming!" You squeal as you come undone on his tongue.

He continues to lap up all your juices unrelentingly. You whine and push him away, but he doesn't budge. A choked moan escapes your lips when he inserts two fingers into you. Tears prick your eyes as Wonwoo starts to fuck you with his fingers.

"W-Wonwoo! T-Too much!" You stutter out, feeling overwhelmed by the overstimulation.

He continues his brutal pace as his other hand snakes up and pinches your nipple. Your pleas are only met with unrelenting thrusts of his fingers and the sucking of your clit. Tears stream down your face as your brain becomes fuzzy due to the overwhelming pleasure. Your legs shake as you already feel yourself tipping over the edge again.

Before you know it, your vision whites out, and you're squirting all over him, making a mess all over the counter.

Your ears ring as he continues to lick up your juices. After a few more licks, Wonwoo finally lets you go and comes up. You blush hard when you see his face soaked with your juices. He picks up his glasses from the counter and smirks at your blushing face as he puts them on.

You peer over Wonwoo's shoulder to see Mingyu heaving with his head thrown back, cum painting his stomach. Somewhere in the middle of you cumming, he must've cum too.

"You sound so cute when you come undone for me," Wonwoo mumbles, returning your attention to him. He pulls you into a deep kiss, a sharp contrast to how he treated you just moments ago. The gesture makes your heart flutter, and you find yourself falling even deeper for him.

You taste yourself along with the coffee he had earlier on his tongue, a taste you find strangely addictive. Cupping your face, he sucks on your bottom lip. The both of you get lost in the kiss. You only separate when you run out of air, gasping. You look into his eyes, which hold a deep affection for you—more than just friendship. You can sense that he wants to say something, but he's holding himself back.

"He has a crush on you, you know," Mingyu's voice interrupts the silence.

The both of you look at Mingyu, who's looking back with a cheeky grin as he cleans himself up using your panties. You make a mental note to throw that pair away.

"He's always had a crush on you and gets jealous whenever we hang out. He's too much of a coward to confess his feelings, so I thought I'd give him a little push. That's why I've been flirting with you lately."

Shocked, you look back at Wonwoo. Never in a million years would you have thought that Wonwoo would have a crush on you. You have always found him attractive and harboured feelings for him but suppressed them as you didn't want to ruin your friendship. Wonwoo doesn't meet your gaze. Instead, he seems focused on the hem of your shirt.

"Wonwoo?" You prompt him for an explanation.

Sighing, he nods slightly.

"It's…true," he mumbles. "I've had a crush on you since the day we met. You're so sweet and kind, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship, so I tried distancing myself. I guess that's why you ended up spending more time with Mingyu than with me," he sighs.

"Seeing you come out of Mingyu's room today, I…I don't know, I just snapped," he mumbles. "I shouldn't have treated you that way. I'm sorry. And I understand if you hate me and want me out of your life now."

Smiling, you gently cup his face and force him to look at you. Your heart breaks when he looks at you with eyes filled with regret and fear.

"Wonwoo, I could never hate you; you're too cute for that," you whisper.

"Wha-"

"I have feelings for you too, Wonwoo," you giggle. His eyes widen before softening at your confession.

"Let me take you out on a proper date," he says before leaning in. The softness of his voice spreads warmth across your chest, but just as you're about to respond, his lips brush against your ear.

"And then I'll make sure to properly fuck you,"

You sputter, hitting his arm and then hiding your face in your hands.

"Deal," you mumble.

He chuckles and removes your hands from your face before leaning in for a tender kiss, sealing the deal.

"You're welcome, by the way," grins Mingyu.

"Shut up, Mingyu."

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fishfooddude · 7 months ago

Text

Would you still love me if I was a worm?

I put up a poll like two months ago about which WIP y'all wanted first and this was the winner by a landslide.

This may also be one of the sadder things I wrote. Part 1 MDNI 18+

Carmy Berzatto x Reader

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Carmy got home late that night, later than he’d like, especially knowing he’d only be home for a few hours before returning to The Bear. He kicked his shoes off and shed his backpack and jacket before locking his apartment door. He wandered into the kitchen to see a plate covered in plastic wrap. He looked at it for a second before removing it from the fridge to see a fluorescent sticky note with your loopy handwriting on it, ‘another attempt :)’ he chuckled and removed the plastic wrap and placed the plate in the microwave before pulling his phone out of his pocket to see you’d texted him hours ago.

‘I found another polenta recipe online!’

‘Imma bring a plate over for you, baby :)’

‘Miss you!!’

Carmy smiled and quickly texted you back. He was surprised to hear a text notification coming from his bedroom. He put his phone on the counter before lazily pushing a hand through his hair. He walked through the living room to his bedroom. You were in his bed, asleep and drooling slightly. He chuckled and quietly approached the edge of the bed.

He pushed a fallen lock of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear before kissing your forehead, “Thanks for dinner, baby…” he whispered before walking back out to the living room.

You stirred in bed when you felt the weight of the mattress shift. You shifted in your sleep and sighed softly, “Carmy?” you asked sleepily. “Hi, baby,” Carmy whispered in your ear as he pulled you flush against his body, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. He kissed your shoulder, “Good day?” you asked as you brought a hand to the back of his head to lace your fingers in his unruly greasy curls. Carmy grumbled in response and kissed your neck softly, “That bad?” you giggled.

“Just missed you,” Carmy mumbled before softly biting down where he’d been previously kissed. “I just need you- all fuckin’ day.” His hips subtly pressed against your ass, causing you to gasp at the sensation softly. “I need you, baby.” Carmy whispered, “Can I have you?”

You didn’t answer the question. Instead, you wiggled in his grip, trying to rotate yourself in his arms to face him. Carmy’s grip tightened, “No, just like this baby. I want you just like this…” he cooed as his hands began exploring your body through the oversized t-shirt you’d worn to bed. You felt yourself melt against his chest as he began to manhandle your breasts over the shirt. As Carmy rolled your nipples between his index and middle fingers, a needy moan escaped your lips; you needed him as much as he needed you.

Cooking had been Carmy’s passion for as long as he could remember. It was a way for him to express his creativity, intelligence, and love; he also despised it. Nothing was good enough. No matter how creative he tried to be or how hard he tried, it was never good enough. Taking over The Beef after Mikey passed and turning it into The Bear should have been a dream come true. The dream had turned into a nightmare, a constant stressor in his life because he wasn’t enough. Then you came into his life.

You’d sat next to him on the L one morning while he was doodling in his notebook. You didn’t want to be intrusive, but you couldn’t help but look at what he’d been drawing. When you complimented the drawing, Carmy looked up at you and felt the oxygen leave his lungs. He didn’t think that whole ‘love at first sight’ troupe had validity, but the moment his gaze met yours, he couldn’t imagine his life without you.

Carmy’s life changed when you entered it. He’d dedicated his every waking moment to ensuring the success of The Bear. He’d given up on so many aspects of his life, but a light bulb went off that morning on the L. You’d gotten off before he could work up the courage to say anything, but he knew he had to find you again.

Every morning, he’d board the train and scan the car for you. Weeks had gone by, and he was ready to give up on ever finding you again- then you were there. You sat there bundled up in some stylish black coat and a bright jade scarf, scrolling on your phone. Carmy swallowed his nerves and sat next to you despite the multiple free seats around the section. “Hey.” he greeted. You looked up, removing the headphones from your ears. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw your mystery man.

You had your face pressed into Carmy’s pillows as he thrust into you at a painstakingly slow pace as his calloused fingers rubbed tight circles against your clit. “So fuckin’ wet for me, baby,” Carmy whined lowly as he pulled his hand away from your clit. He brought both of his hands to your hips and started thrusting faster. Your moans became more ragged as you arched your back, desperate to feel him hit that one spot.

“Fuck Carmy!” you whimpered as you felt yourself coming undone. He had a similar sentiment as he bent over to kiss your shoulder.

“Just like that baby… cream on my cock, baby,” he growled into your ear.

The following day, Carmy woke up to an empty bed with a bright pink sticky note on his bedframe.

“You’re too cute to wake up sometimes <3

I have meetings all day. See you soon, baby.”

You and your sticky notes. Carmy chuckled as he got out of bed and quickly prepared himself for work. It would be another long day at the restaurant, and he hoped you’d be back in his bed tonight when he got home.

Carmy walked into the kitchen that morning to hear Richie and Syd arguing about nonsense. Ebra struggled to pile rolls by the sandwich prep station, and Marcus was tweezing tiny flowers onto some cream puff dessert he’d been working on the past few days. Carmy felt his shoulders tighten as the frustration of running a restaurant settled in.

Something felt off as your day went on, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “Y/N. You’re goin’ to Houston.” your boss announced as he entered your office with a manilla envelope in one hand and a stupid grin on his face. You laughed and shot him a confused look, “Okay, hear me out, Y/N. You’re one of my best and brightest editors, and I know you can show these newbies how to run a tight ship.” he explained further as he stepped closer to your desk to drop the envelope on your desk. “The details are in there. The company is excited to see how much more you can grow in this position.”

You thanked him as he walked out of your office. You leaned back in your desk chair and opened the envelope. Six weeks in Huston meant six weeks without Carmy would be hell, but looking at the itinerary your manager wrote, this would boost your career. It didn’t mean you’d have to like it, though.

Carmy sat on his couch that night and blankly stared at the TV. He’d put on some Danish cooking show as background noise while he waited for you to call him. He was growing impatient as the minutes ticked by; you had to be off work by now. Carmy put his head back on the couch and stared up at the off-white, almost grey stain on his ceiling. He always wondered what had happened, but the landlord claimed not to know.

When his phone rang, Carmy jumped at the sound and grabbed his phone from the coffee table. “Hey baby.” he greeted, “Okay… didn’t expect that one Cousin.” Carmy rolled his eyes as Richie’s voice came through his phone speaker. “What do you want?” he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Dam. You talk to your girl like this? I don’t get how you pulled-”

“Richie. What?” Carmy asked, cutting Richie off mid-riff. “Tyler called out- his wife is havin’ the baby. Need you to come in.” Richie hesitated to call Carmy in; he knew this was his first night off in almost a month. Carmy clicked his tongue before responding, “Okay.” he huffed and hung up his phone. He tossed it on the couch before getting up and walking toward his bedroom to quickly change into a pair of black Dickies and a white t-shirt. As he pushed his feet into a pair of sneakers, he heard his doorbell ring. “I swear to God…” he muttered as he pulled his jacket on before grabbing his backpack and leaving his room.

“Hey, ba—oh. I thought you were off tonight.” You cut yourself off when you noticed Carmy was in his work clothes.

Carmy frowned, noticing the disappointment in your voice. “Tyler called out last minute.” he clarified as he caught your face falling further into disappointment. He was going to kill Richie when he saw him. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You sighed, “It’s okay. I shoulda called, but I was packing.”

Your comment was met with a confused look from Carmy, “You goin’ somewhere?” he asked.

You nodded, “I’m going to Huston for like a month to help set up a new office.”

Carmy frowned at your reply; on one hand, he was proud of you for the work you’d been doing, but on the other, a month was a long time. “Oh shit.”

You laughed at his reaction, “I had the same reaction.” Carmy chuckled as he exited his apartment and threw an arm around your shoulders.

“When do you leave?” he asked as the two of you walked down the hall toward the elevator of his building.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I know it’s not a lot of warning, but I guess I can walk you to your car or something as a final in-person date until I return.”

“You better.” Carmy teased

“I’ll also FaceTime you as much as possible while I’m gone.”

“You better.” Carmy teased again, making you laugh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Carmy had been grumpy since you left. While the two of you called or Facetimed at least every other night and exchanged some Spicer messages and pictures throughout the weeks, it wasn’t the same. Neither of you were sleeping well, and the frustration of seeing you but not being able to touch you was getting to him.

And it was everybody’s problem.

“When the fuck is she comin’ back?” Richie scoffed at Natalie that night at The Bear. Carmy was getting into it with the new line cook, and Richie needed a break from him.

“Just a couple more days.” Natalie laughed without looking up from her computer. “He’ll be back to his usual level of chaos soon enough.”

“A couple more days? I don’t know Sugar. I might throw that kid through a damn wall. Fuck head is getting on my last goddamn nerve.” Richie huffed as he sat across from her. Natalie laughed and shot him a look that validated his growing frustration. She knew Carmy better than anyone else and understood the annoyance he’d been putting the staff through. “Kid needs to get laid…” Richie muttered before excusing himself back to the kitchen.

Carmy anxiously looked around the airport that morning. A month away from each other proved more difficult than either of you had anticipated. As you rode the escalator down to the main entrance where Carmy had been waiting, you couldn’t help but smile. “Carmy!” you squealed as you ran up to him, forgetting about your suitcase at the base of the escalator. Your excitement had caught him off guard, but when he’d realized it was you calling for him, he perked up.

“Hey,” he greeted as he pulled you into a tight hug, “Holy shit, I missed you,” he said with an exacerbated sigh. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I literally have so much to tell you about! I missed you so much, Carm!” you rattled off as you tried to drag him out of the airport. Carmy laughed and nudged his head to the bottom of the escalator where your suitcase sat. The two of you retrieved your bag and headed out of the airport toward his car. As the two of you walked through the parking lot, you rattled off about the work you’d done over the past weeks and told him about some places you’d gone to eat. Carmy smiled the entire time. None of it was new information. With the amount the two of you had been texting and calling, it was like he’d been down in Houston with you, but he listened to everything you had to say.

You led Carmy up to your apartment while you continued rattling off details of your trip. He stood back, watched you unlock the door to your place, and followed you as you walked in. He placed your suitcase by the door and watched as you went over to the neatly stacked pile of mail your mom must have brought in while she watered your plants.

“Wanna watch a movie and order food?” you asked as you put your mail back on the counter before returning your full attention to Carmy.

He nodded and leaned against the counter, “Whatever you want, baby.”

Your room was filled with your whimpers and the sound of skin slapping skin. Carmy had one of your legs hiked over his shoulder as he slowly pounded his against yours. “Fuckk- right there.” you gasped as Carmy’s thumb rubbed tight circles against your clit. He grunted as he leaned in, smashing his lips against yours. You moaned into his mouth as you felt the ever-familiar knot tightening in your stomach you’d missed while you were on your trip.

Carmy let your leg fall from his shoulder and his hand to your cheek. He rested his forehead against yours as his thrusts slowed to a painstakingly slow pace. You moaned softly and tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots as his chain tickled your chin. “Carmy.” you winced.

“So fuckin’ perfect baby… fuckin’ made for me…” Carmy groaned as he relished in the feeling of your pussy gripping around him. “I love you, Y/N.” the words left Carmy’s mouth without a second thought, and when he realized what he said, it was too late. You looked at him with wide eyes and let your hands drop to his shoulders.

“W-what did you say?”

“I love you…” Carmy softly trailed off, hoping he didn’t ruin what the two of you had built over the past eight months.

“I-I- Fuck, I love you too, Carmy.”

“Can you test me again? There’s no way.” you were bewildered when your doctor read your chart.

“We can, but blood tests are over 99% accurate,” he said as he wrote something down on your chart. You stared at him in disbelief. You couldn’t be pregnant. “With the pregnancy, I can’t give you a refill of your Paxil, but we can try a different anti-depressant. The safest option is going to be Zoloft. I can also set you up with an appointment to see Dr. Parks; she’s an OB who is taking new patients. Here is your prescription and a pamphlet that explains your options… Congratulations.” he grinned and handed you multiple pamphlets and your new prescription.

You nodded, not knowing how to react. You’d only been back in Chicago for a couple of weeks; there was no way you’d gotten pregnant. You had a period while you were in Houston; it was light, but it was there. You quickly shoved the papers into your bag and exited the doctor's office. This couldn’t be happening right now.

You’d been avoiding Carmy for about a week when he’d come knocking on your door. Telling your boyfriend of eight months, you were pregnant… you still couldn’t wrap your head around it- how would Carmy react? You swallowed and reluctantly opened the door, crossing your arms over your stomach.

“Break your phone?” Carmy chuckled as he stood in your doorway.

“Sorry, work has been crazy… Can you come in? We need to talk about something…”

Carmy’s face fell at the mention of needing to talk about something; this was the moment. You were going to break up with him. Why else would you avoid his calls and say you couldn’t come over? You were going to leave him like everyone else did. Carmy nodded silently and walked into your apartment.

“You’re breaking up with me?” Carmy asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels. You sighed and closed the door. You took a deep breath as you finally looked at Carmy. Unsure of what to say, you shook your head. “Then what is it, baby?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant, Carmy.”

“Holy shit.”

Carmy stood there in stunned silence. He brought a hand to his jaw and looked at you.

“I don’t want to keep it.”

Part 2

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear series #the bear hulu #the bear imagine

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vaginalvr · 1 month ago

Note

Spencer x fem!reader who grew up next to each other until she moved away. Both had a crush on e/o (still do) and they meet again (she aided as witness for their case or something) it’d be (s1-s2) Spencer just being oblivious to every move she makes on him that has his team cringing. + Morgan needing to step in and help.

Smut or not idc. It’s just be a funny situation. 😭

Also your work is AWESOME! ❤️🙇��‍♀️

I don't typically write fluff very well but I loveee a good challenge! lmk what you think :)

cw: light flirting, romantic tension, eventual kissing, lots of awkward cuteness

You didn’t expect to see him again — not in this life, not in this world.

You certainly didn’t expect to find him standing in a bulletproof vest and FBI windbreaker, glancing down at a tablet, muttering statistics under his breath like it was second nature.

You knew that profile anywhere, even from twenty feet away. The posture, the hair, the fact that he’d somehow grown into his limbs and out of those god-awful oversized hoodies.

“Spencer?” you called, half-laughing in disbelief.

He looked up sharply, brow furrowed. His mouth opened.

Then—recognition bloomed.

“…Y/N?”

He blinked once. Then again. “Oh my god. Y/N Y/L/N?”

You grinned and ran up to him without a second thought, throwing your arms around him.

He froze for a beat before hugging you back, his hand awkwardly finding the small of your back.

“You grew up,” you teased into his shoulder.

“You—uh. You too,” he said, pulling away with a flustered smile.

You were a witness, not a victim — a library tech who happened to see something crucial before the unsub fled. You weren’t supposed to be there long. But Garcia got excited about your background in archival science, Hotch appreciated your clarity, and Gideon seemed to actually smile when you talked about obscure bookbinding.

Still. It was Spencer you kept coming back to.

And Spencer?

Was dense as hell.

You sat beside him at the precinct’s temporary set-up, “accidentally” brushing your arm against his every few minutes, tucking your hair behind your ear with a soft laugh, complimenting the way he explained behavioral patterns like it was magic.

“God,” you sighed dreamily one afternoon. “I forgot how smart you are, Spence. I always loved listening to you ramble when we were kids.”

He glanced up. “Really? Most people thought I was annoying.”

You tilted your head. “I didn’t.”

He just blinked. “Oh. Well, thanks.”

In the corner of the room, Emily raised an eyebrow. Morgan groaned into his hand.

You brought him coffee the next day. With a heart doodled on the sleeve.

He handed it back without noticing.

“You must’ve grabbed mine by mistake,” he said politely. “I usually get plain drip, no sugar.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Spencer. That was for you.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Are you trying to increase my dopamine levels to combat case-related stress? That’s… thoughtful.”

Morgan choked on his water.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “I can’t watch this anymore.”

Later, Morgan cornered him in the hallway. Arms crossed. Serious face on.

“You do realize she’s into you, right?”

Spencer blinked. “Into… me?”

“Yes. You. With the hair and the five PhDs and the oblivious golden retriever energy. She’s been flirting with you nonstop.”

“That doesn’t seem accurate. She’s just… nice.”

Morgan gave him a look. “Reid. The other day she said ‘I bet you’re even smarter in bed’. And you said ‘I’ve never tested my IQ there, but technically intelligence is neurologically constant.’”

Spencer flushed beet red. “…I thought she was making a metaphor.”

“She was making a move.”

It wasn’t until that night, after the case closed and everyone headed out for drinks, that Spencer caught you alone on the patio outside the bar. You leaned against the railing, sipping a cocktail, your dress light in the warm breeze.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You smiled. “Hey, Spence.”

“I… I didn’t realize. Before. That you…”

Your gaze met his, hopeful.

“That I what?”

He swallowed. “That you liked me. Like that.”

You arched a brow. “What gave it away? The compliments, the coffee, or the borderline indecent daydream I narrated for you over lunch?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Morgan had to explain.”

You laughed. “Of course he did.”

Spencer took a tentative step forward. “Can I make up for it?”

You tilted your head. “How?”

He reached out, fingers brushing your cheek like he was still unsure he was allowed.

Then, softly, “Can I kiss you?”

You leaned in and answered with your lips.

It was gentle at first — all slow warmth and shared air — but when his hands slid around your waist and yours into his hair, the months and years of pining finally burst loose.

When you pulled back, breathless, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“You know,” he murmured, “I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids.”

You grinned.

“I know.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem reader

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vevobly · 19 days ago

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Yjs with drunk reader?

Yellowjackets With Drunk Reader! [Pre-crash] (1)

A/N: I made the girls crush on you secretly in this because I'm a bit tired of repeating some stuff. Anyways, devour and enjoy!

Jackie Taylor:

Jackie is the kind of girl who wants everything to look good, including the people she’s with. She’s not judgmental when she sees you tipsy, but she is concerned for you. “Do you maybe wanna sit down for a sec?” She asks with an unsure smile. The girl prides herself on being put together, and being around drunk you? It makes her feel like the designated adult even if she’s only half sure what to do. She isn't great with these types of things, but she tries. “You okay?” She forces a laugh, brushing some of your hair back. “You’re kind of… floppy right now.”

You tell her she's really, really pretty, and she plays it off. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk,” She chuckles. “But I don't mind it because it's kinda cute.” She doesn’t say anything about how you keep looking at her, how your hand reaches for hers when you guys talk, or how your compliments are clumsy but seem sincere. But later, when Shauna's driving her home, she quietly admits. “It felt nice. I just hope she doesn’t regret it tomorrow in the morning when she wakes up.” She chuckles.

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna freezes a little when you start leaning on her, clearly drunk and giggly. She's used to taking care of Jackie when she's drunk, but not you. But as always, her first instinct is to worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks quietly, holding onto your elbow like you might fall. When you tell her she’s smart, warm, and probably the prettiest girl no one pays attention to. She stares at you for a second too long.

“That’s… really nice of you,” She mumbles. “But you’re drunk, though..” You decide to compliment her writing and tell her you like how she talks in class. Then her eyes widen. “You actually… listen?” You nod frantically, chuckling. “I might be drunk, but my words are still what I think, Shipman.” You smiled at her. Shauna's cheeks turn red for a minute before she shakes her head. “You should drink some water,” She tells you softly, smiling unconsciously.

Taissa Turner:

Protective mode immediately activated. Tai steps up immediately when she sees you wobbling around. “Alright, come on” She says, taking your arm. “You’re sitting down before you break your ankle.” You giggle, before leaning in close to her ear. “You always look out for me,” You whisper. “And you're sooooo cool...” You slur, leaning against her. Tai tenses up but doesn't pull away. “You’re sweet,” She says it quietly. “But don’t flirt with me if you won’t remember it in the morning.”

And then Tai sits you down on a couch nearby. “You need water,” She tells you. “Also maybe stop talking because you’re gonna say something embarrassing.” Tai doesn’t say much after that but she stays next to you all night. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and just lets you rest there against her through it. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch with your head on her shoulder. And when you do, Tai looks away and smiles to herself.

Van Palmer:

Van teases you mercilessly but underneath it? She's kind of flustered. Not that she'd ever admit it. “Oh no, you’re one of those affectionate drunks” She laughs, holding your cup away. “Are you gonna tell me I’m pretty now?” You do, and her face goes blank for half a second before she recovers with a grin. “Well, thanks. You’re not bad yourself,” She replies. You look at her all starry eyed and say. “I like you.”

Van's whole expression flickers for a moment. “Yeah?” She asks, half joking. And you nod. “You have a huge crush on me, don’t you?” She teases you. You admit it, feeling a surge of braveness at the moment. “Wanna kiss me then? You look like you wanna kiss me.” You nod frantically in response and Van giggles. “Maybe when you're sober.” She replies. And later, when you're asleep on someone’s couch? She drapes a hoodie over you and quietly says “I like you too.”

Natalie Scatorccio:

Natalie stays cool on the surface, but you being drunk around her makes her nervous. Why? Because you're very affectionate when you're drunk. And Nat doesn't do those feelings well. But when it's you? She doesn’t walk away, even when she wants to. “Careful,” She says, keeping her voice low. “You’re kinda all over the place.” You smile at her, wide and stupid before saying “You’ve got the best laugh.”

She stares at you for a few minutes before rolling her eyes. “You’re drunk. You’ll forget this tomorrow.” She replies, and you shake your head. “You don't laugh that much, but when you do? I think... I'd spend forever trying to earn just one more of those laughs.” Nat doesn't know how to respond, but then she laughs and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear before quickly pulling away. “Tell me more about that when you're sober.”

Lottie Matthews:

When you're drunk, she just sort of stays near and makes sure you're comfortable with whatever you're doing. “I think you’ve had enough,” She tells you gently, taking the cup from your hands. “You look like you’re from a perfume ad,” You just blurt out randomly when she helps you sit down on a couch somewhere. And Lottie? She just laughs softly, not entirely sure what to do with that. “Is that a good thing?” She asks. “Yes,” You replied. “Because you're beautiful just like them.”

“You’re really sweet,” She smiles at you, tucking your sleeves up. “Tell me again tomorrow If you still mean it.” And for a moment, despite all the ruckus going on around you guys, it's like nothing else exists but you two. Eventually, Lottie stands up and reaches out her hand to you. “Let’s get some air, yeah?” She murmurs, helping you get up from the couch and keeping you steady in her arms. “You’re drunk,” She says. “But… thanks. That meant a lot.”

Laura Lee:

She's stressed, very stressed. But she doesn’t leave. Instead, she sits you down somewhere and tells you about how much you need to be careful when drinking. She says it while she's beside you and making sure you're warm. “You shouldn’t have done this,” She tells you, brows furrowed. “But I’m not mad. Just… worried.” Then you slur something like “you’re really kind, and I feel better when you’re here” and she freezes for a moment.

“That’s…” She stares at you. “You shouldn’t say that. You’re drunk.” You look at her confusedly before she continues. “But thank you.” For a few minutes, she stays seated beside you before standing up and bringing you a blanket. She doesn't know what else to do with you like this, but she knows she has to look after you. She holds your hand for a while before saying. “Sleep, I'll be here until you wake up later.”

Misty Quigley:

Misty doesn’t know how to handle being needed, but she lives for it. So when you lean on her and say she’s the nicest person here? She lights up like a Christmas tree. “You think so?” She asks, smiling too wide. And you nod in response. Misty stays by your side all night, eager to help you with whatever. She’ll fetch water, find your bag, and even defend you from any people making you uncomfortable or so. Anything compliment you tell her while you're drunk gets logged away in her brain.

She tries to help you sober up but she's secretly loving how dependent you are on her in this moment. “Do you want me to stay with you until you feel better?” She asks innocently. “You’re so funny, Misty” You tell her, smiling a little and leaning on her shoulder. “And you always know what to do. T-That’s coool.” She giggles at you slurring your words. “Oh. Um. Thank you,” She chirps. “You should drink water. Lots of it, actually.”

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman x you #taissa turner x reader #taissa turner x you #van palmer x reader #van palmer x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #laura lee x reader #laura lee x you #misty quigley x reader #misty quigley x you

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sugardollcurse · 26 days ago

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Could you please do something like Cynthia’s story of when she first saw John and went “ew, not my type”? :3 with all the buggy bois? :D

Also I love your writing!!! I look forward to it every day (๑>◡<๑)

𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔

𐙚 note ; GENIUS!! GENIUS!! i love this idea so much OUUGHH and thank you SO MUCH for the kind words MWAH! also.. i'll finally be going back to regularly posting.. yay!

𓆩🕊️ john 𓆪

“You look like you read too much.”

You saw him first in the hallway outside the art room, slouched against the wall like the building owed him something.

He had that classic greasy teddy boy look, hair slicked high, collar popped, eyes red-rimmed and mean like he’d smoked through lunch.

He was laughing too loud at something his mate said, already halfway through a pack of mints to cover the cigarette stink.

You thought oh god, he’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.

Cocky, mouthy, too tall for his desk and always tapping his bloody pen on the table.

Thought he was better than everyone, and made it your problem. He noticed you right away, because you didn’t fall over yourself to laugh at his jokes. That pissed him off, in a way that only made him try harder.

You had to work on a project together in art. He did none of the work and still criticized your brushwork.

You told him he had rat face. He looked you dead in the eye and said, “Bet you’d still let me snog you though.” The absolute audacity. You didn’t even know what to do with that! You hated that your ears went red.

He kept showing up wherever you were. Wouldn’t stop talking. Kept trying to make you laugh when you were clearly Not In The Mood.

It didn’t work, until it did. He caught you off guard once, impersonating a teacher so perfectly you snorted into your milk carton. He never let you forget it.

“Not your type,” you said, and yet you knew exactly what he smelled like by week four (cigarettes, poster paint, and gum). And when you saw him drawing once, hunched over his sketchbook with serious eyes and inky hands, you understood.

Beneath all the bullshit, he was lonely. Sharp-edged and desperate and terrified of being boring. And somehow, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

𓆩🕊️ paul 𓆪

“What, this old thing? Got it for a song.”

First time you met Paul, he was bragging about playing Eddie Cochran covers at some pub nobody believed let teens in.

He had nasty posture. Hair too perfect. Smile too practiced. Shirt wrinkled like he was in a fucking catalogue. And your gut reaction? Ugh. Absolutely not. He probably rehearses his winks in the mirror.

He sat behind you in class and had a way of correcting people that wasn’t mean, but still made you wanna throw a book at him.

But then he started humming in class. Under his breath. At first it was annoying, until it wasn’t.

Until it was beautiful. Effortless.

You told him to knock it off once and he just grinned and asked, “What, jealous?”

You got paired on a science lab and he was annoyingly competent. Charismatic. Teased you with that self-satisfied smirk, always trying to get under your skin.

Said things like, “Y’don’t smile enough. You’d look nicer if you did.” You told him to fuck off. He laughed like it was a compliment.

And the worst part? He remembered stuff.

Your favorite sweets. The book you’d mentioned once. That your mum was sick that one week and you’d been quiet.

He never made a thing of it, but it was there, tucked into the corners of his kindness.

It made you see him differently. Unfortunately.

“Too charming,” you said. “Too smug.”

And yet there you were, loitering near the music room to hear him play guitar. And he knew. God, he always knew.

𓆩🕊️ george 𓆪

“They’re all twats, y’know. ‘cept maybe me.”

You clocked him the first day of term, leaning against the stairwell railing with his hair done up like he was heading to a dance hall instead of algebra.

The collar of his jacket was flipped just for the look of it, not warmth. He was flicking a guitar pick between his fingers, chewing gum like it owed him something, and talking absolute shit to a second-year .

You watched him and thought: He’s cocky and stupid looking. Absolutely not.

But God, he was everywhere. Sat on tabletops instead of chairs, had too many opinions for someone who never brought a pencil.

Played chords on his desk with his knuckles when he was bored. Fast fingers. You noticed. Against your will.

He called you “mate” the first time he met you, then winked. The second time, he asked if you wanted to come see a skiffle group play in someone's mum's basement.

You told him he was too odd to flirt with you.

He gasped, clutched his heart, and said, “That’s rich, comin’ from someone who still can’t name a single Cochran tune.” The nerve.

He talked. Always had a story. Got real animated when he was on a tear!

And it wasn’t all noise, he listened, too. Made you feel like your words mattered. Asked you things no one else bothered to. Like what you’d name a band if you had one. Like what song you’d play at the end of the world.

And he played. God, he played. Had that stance and loose shoulders like the guitar weighed nothing. Would tune while talking. Would grin sideways when he caught you watching.

You said he was all ego and shiny shoes and overconfident swagger. He said you liked the attention. You didn’t deny it. And when he let you mess with his hair backstage once, you knew it was over. You were done for.

𓆩🕊️ ringo 𓆪

“I know a shortcut. It’s probably illegal.”

You didn’t meet him at school. You met him at the chemist, of all places. He was buying throat lozenges and whistling some obscure skiffle tune. You were trying to find something for a headache. He turned to you and said, completely unprompted, “You don’t strike me as the aspirin type.”

What the fuck does that mean, you thought.

You stared at him. He looked like he’d walked out of the back alley of a jazz club. Leather jacket too big, eyes crinkled at the corners like he’d laughed through the worst parts of his life. You didn’t know whether to be intrigued or concerned.

You thought: Definitely not my type.

Too weird. Too scruffy. Probably smelled like pub carpets and mouthwash. The sort who made up stupid nicknames for people and told jokes with no punchline. You were not into that.

He bumped into you again a week later, this time in a music shop. He remembered you. Remembered the brand of headache tablets you chose. Offered to buy you a record. Said it was for your recovery.

You told him he was weird. He took it as the highest compliment.

He made you laugh without trying. Gave you nicknames that were stupid and sweet. Took you to dodgy little gigs and made you dance in the rain with him.

You once said, “You’re not what I usually go for.” He just grinned and said, “Good.”

And yet it was his number you rang when you needed to be walked home. His laugh you waited for. His coat that stayed on your chair.

At some point , you had to admit it: Maybe not my type. But definitely my problem.

And you didn’t mind a bit.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee, @alanangels

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moonstruckme · 9 months ago

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Oh my god congrats on 7k!!! So so SO deserved in every way imaginable

Could I request apple pie prompt #28: dark lipstick smeared on a cheek with Sirius???

Thank you lovely!!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 731 words

It’s embarrassing, how much time you spend in front of the mirror before Sirius arrives. You fix and fiddle until you’re nearly unrecognizable to yourself, until your face is a word you’ve said too many times and it’s lost all meaning. You started out with more eyeshadow than you have on now, then you’d wiped that off and tried out a lip technique you’d seen in a tutorial online. You’ve used one makeup wipe already, front and back and all folded up to get to the clean corners, and you’re honestly still not sure if what you’ve ended up with is decent or if you just can’t look at it properly anymore. You hope your dress is enough to distract Sirius if it’s horrid.

You’re seriously considering wiping it all off and starting over again when the doorbell rings. Your heels click on the floor as you hurry to answer it.

Sirius looks surprised when you open the door, as if he hadn’t expected to find you on the other side. “Hi,” he says.

You smile anxiously. “Hi.”

He’s wearing a suit, which you’d been expecting but bowls you over nonetheless. Sirius manages to make it look both formal and relaxed, his dark hair tucked behind his ear on one side and his jacket unbuttoned suavely.

Remus claims it isn’t a big deal, this banquet his university is having, but it is. It is for Remus, because he’s receiving an award, but also (privately, selfishly) for you, because this is the first thing you’ve gone to with Sirius as his date. You’ve been on dates, and you’ve already met his friends, which he says was the important thing, but part of you is savoring the privilege of this. That he’d asked you to Remus’ event as his date.

“Hi,” Sirius says again. He blinks at you, slow and hard.

Shit.

“It’s too much, right?” You take a step back from the door, hand itching for a makeup wipe. “I can take it off quickly, we’ll still have time to make it. I’ll do something simpler.”

“No,” he says, “don’t change it, it’s…it’s nice.”

You cringe at the hesitation in his tone. You catch your reflection in the mirror by the door, panicked and overdone, as you turn back towards the bathroom. “I promise it won’t take long. I don’t know what I was thinking, the lips are way too much.”

Sirius’ fingers wrap harshly around your wrist, stopping you. “Don’t you fucking touch the lips,” he says.

His eyes catch yours in the mirror. You’re frozen. Once it’s clear you’re not reaching for the wipe anymore, Sirius loosens his grip, fingers skimming up to your shoulder and toying absently with the strap of your dress. He looks almost caught in a daze.

“Fuck.” He expels a breath. “I wish I could kiss you without fucking them up.” Your lips part in surprise, and Sirius closes his eyes like he can’t look at it. He compromises by dropping his lips to your shoulder. He kisses the bare skin reverently. “You look stunning.”

Your heart hiccups. “Really?”

You realize the second after you’ve asked that it sounds like you’re fishing for compliments, but Sirius doesn’t seem to care either way. He meets your gaze in the mirror again.

“Very,” he says. His brows bunch as if in distress. “You’re killing me, gorgeous. I can’t decide whether to go to Remus’ thing and show you off or keep you here to myself.”

You laugh. It dislodges some of your nerves. “We’re definitely going to Remus’ thing,” you say to him. “He’s winning an award.”

“He’ll win other awards, won’t he? He’s brainy.”

“I also didn’t get dressed up like this to stay in.”

“Much sounder reasoning,” Sirius admits. He sighs dramatically. “Okay, but do me a favor and give me a smacker so those pretentious shits know we’re together, yeah?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “A smacker?”

“A kiss, doll.”

“I know what you mean,” you laugh. “You want me to get lipstick on your face right before this posh dinner?”

“If it looks half as good on me as it does on you, sweetheart,” he gives a winsome crack of a smile, “no one will have a bad thing to say about it.”

You decide it’s not worth arguing with him. Your dark lipstick looks very pretty on his cheek all evening.

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hinge · 28 days ago

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Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

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cherryredstars · 1 year ago

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Hi cherry! First of all thank you for your work, your writing has permanently altered my brain chemistry 😳😳 I was wondering if u could write something where Miguel and his ex reunite after a bad breakup, perhaps a few months after (maybe they bump into each other during a party or smth) and as they finally talk both admit that they never managed to move on (like reader went on a few unsuccessful dates, since shes still obsessed with Miguel it has been pointless) they are still in love and they want to make it work this time!!! And since they are back together reader is rlly needy and touchstarved 🥴🥴 she missed him so so much and all,,,,

thx again for feeding my miguel’s hyperfixation!! you are one of my fave authors here ❤️❤️ you deserve the world!!

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Squirting

A/N: Hello and thank you, love 🫶🏼! Enjoy!!

Unedited

Well, this was another disaster.

You’re practically moping at your reflection in the bar’s bathroom. You’ve been hiding in there for more than ten minutes, but you would be surprised if your date- even if he’s not worthy of the small title- has even noticed your absence.

The whole night had been a disaster, right from the very start. Not only had your date been twenty minutes late, but he also failed to so much as greet you for more than 5 seconds before ordering himself a beer and turning his eyes to the small bar TV to watch the old sports rerun from the night before. You would cringe when he loudly reacted to the events on the screen as if it were happening in real time, making the people around you turn to him with perplexed and judgmental looks that made you want to crawl under the bar and out the door. Your attempts to distract him from the game with small talk only turned to him giving half-assed information about himself and him asking if you’re covering the tab for his beers.

What a stellar experience!

You stall in the bathroom a bit longer by being extra delicate in your lip reapplication, all the while whining to yourself in your head about how you could have saved your outfit for a better occasion. With another sigh and a planned excuse to end the night early, you hype yourself up to leave the bathroom and return to your date.

When you open the door, you almost stumble into someone’s chest. You blink in surprise, an apology forming on your lips as you slowly lift your head up. The words instantly shrivel up and die when you meet familiar red tinted eyes, the air in your lungs suspending.

Miguel, sporting his usual grumpy look, instantly softens as he meets your eyes. He seems to take you in, like your the first sign of water since taking a cruel journey through the desert. The look alone is enough for your heart to go into overdrive

Despite the sudden dryness in your throat, you manage a small smile, “Hi.”

The one word is soft, almost tentative. It makes something in Miguel crave more. He’s been wanting more the moment the two of you broke up, the reason stupid after a few months apart.

He returns the smile, hands going to his pockets to fight off the temptation to grab you and never let you go, “Hi, I like the dress.”

Your eyes instantly fall down to take in your outfit, cheeks blazing from the compliment. Your fingers play with the hem of the skirt, a bashful thank you bubbling from your lips. It makes Miguel’s smile just slightly larger as your eyes hesitantly meet his again.

A silence fills the space, both of you caught up on things you could- should- say to each other. The silence begins to grow awkward, and Miguel finds it to be the perfect opportunity to slowly reach his hand out.

He means to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but the pounding in his chest makes him miscalculate slightly and instead skims the apple of your cheek. The touch shoots rapid jolts of electricity down your spine, awakening your nerves from a long hibernation. Your hand desperately grabs at his wrist, trying to keep his hand in place. Then suddenly, everything is fast forwarded.

Your lips crash together in a hungry, desperate urge to be closer. Your bodies pushing against each other until your smaller body is pushed back through the bathroom door, the lock faintly clicking behind the two of you as you’re lifted up and placed onto the counter. Your hands exploring inches of skin that you still know like it’s your own. Refamilarising yourself with every bulge of muscle and every dip.

Despite the vicious need to have you naked against him, for your skin to press against his and swap a cycle of warmth, Miguel grits his teeth and restrains for ripping clothes off of your body. This place is filthy, and he doesn’t want to tarnish your skin. Instead, his hand slips under the hem of your dress, pressing into the soaked spot growing in the fabric of your panties.

Your body bristles from the contact, your sex burning hot and throbbing. You squirm, your body already begging for more. Miguel reads you instantly, slipping his fingers under the fabric until he grazes your twitchy clit and reaches your leaking hole. He circles his fingers around the wet entrance, lubricating his fingers with your arousal before slowly pushing them in.

A low whine escapes you, your walls clamping down hard around his fingers. Miguel hisses at the vice grip you have on him, his thumb attempting to relax you by circling your clit. It makes you whine more, practically squirming on his hand.

Miguel buries his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at the column of skin, “Fuck baby, you’re so sensitive.”

You can only sniffle in response, your mind zeroing in on the slow curling of Miguel’s fingers. Your eyes are half lidded and hazy, small moans leaving your lips as the tips of his fingers press into the gummy spot inside of you. The pleasure grows quickly, pent up sexual frustration from dates you wouldn’t even let into your home and late nights at work to distract yourself from the ache in your heart unleashing and flowing down Miguel’s wrist.

With a combination of thrusting and curling, your body spasms with a choked moan as you collapse against him. He can feel the gush of your release spray against his hand, creating wet squelches as he continues to work you through it. Clear drops landing on the counter eventually begin to form a small puddle under you as your panties become completely soaked through.

You’re fighting for breath once you come down from your high, mind foggy and stuck in a state of bliss. Miguel slowly pulls his fingers out, his entire palm soaked with clear arousal. A stray drop runs down his arm, and he’s quick to catch it with his tongue. He almost comes in his pants as the sweet taste explodes in his mouth, making him hungry for more. He fights the urge for now, promising himself it’ll come with time before grabbing napkins from the dispenser and cleaning the inside of your thighs and the puddle under you.

He slowly pulls your soaked underwear down, recognizing the flash of discomfort that comes over your face as you come back to earth, stuffing the fabric in his pocket before helping you down onto your shaky feet. You hold onto his arm tightly feeling as if you’re trying to balance on jello, and Miguel wraps an arm around your waist to stabilize you. Your breath is still slightly irregular, and you take the moment to close your eyes and lean your head against his chest. You can hear the pace of his heart, not a bit surprised that it mimics yours.

“Come home with me.”

You smile into his chest, humming.

Like he even had to ask.

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