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chronically-ghosted · 2 months

Text

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine

rating: teen

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

tags/warnings: pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day @toomanystoriessolittletime! I hope you receive and give all the love you need and want! I've had this idea for a while, but once I saw that Frankie was your fave, I knew I had to do it!

one day i’m gonna do the series of all of my favorite country songs with a Pedro boy. This is one of them: Singles You Up by Jordan Davis. Had thoughts of Me and My Kind by Cody Johnson for our ever-fantastic Jack Daniels and Hurricane by Luke Combs for Joel. One day, my loves, one day.

🤍Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Frankie Morales has a problem.

Given the life expectancy in his line of work – all things considered – it really wasn’t that bad of a problem. Sure, his knees were busted, his shoulder aches when it was cold out, and his ex keeps hounding him for money he doesn’t have. But on the flipside, his little family unit of friends and brothers united by combat are (mostly) all alive and healthy. He has a steady job and his little girl, whom he loves and adores, thinks the sun shines out of his ass. All things considered, there’s not much else he can ask for. He’s far better off than some of the men and women at Will’s talks, or in Santiago’s field teams.

So – really, truly, seriously – all things considered . . . he can’t classify this as a bad problem.

In fact, this is a problem he would willingly have. Gladly even. Not quite joyously, but if it’s a choice between this problem and not having the problem at all, he will choose having this consistent, thorny, kind-of-hurts-to-breathe-sometimes problem every single time.

And right now, it’s wearing a dress.

Uh, well, you’re wearing a dress. An off-white, hinging-on-cream, dress that sits above your knees, cuts flat and wide across your chest, and puffs out into cotton sleeves that remind him of those conchas his abuela used to make. Sweet, fluffy, and absolutely forbidden.

Until the time is right, at least. His abuela always made him wait to eat until the time was right.

He calls it – you – a problem, when in fact, it’s the opposite of a problem. There is nothing he would ever want to change about the warm, engulfing feeling that starts somewhere in his stomach and rises like conchas up his spine until it’s somewhere in his ribs, then under his breastbone, right by his –

He would kill anyone who tried to take that feeling away from him. It’s when he feels most alive, most present, most out of his head – like these things in the dark and sleeping corners of his mind that nip and bite at him can’t find him. He’s thrown them off his scent in his search for you and, even for a brief moment, he can step into the light.

There is no problem, in how you look tonight, how you look every night, with your bright shining smile, sweet-smelling hair, cowboy boots, glass of whiskey – you had such a fantastic taste in –

Wait.

That’s not whiskey. Not even a whiskey glass.

That’s –

“White wine?” Benny yelps as he leans forward and his chair legs clatter against the concrete floor. “If that’s Moscato, I’m calling the cops because you’ve been replaced by an equally hot body double.”

You roll your eyes as you sit down and take a long drink from your glass, as if to make a point. Frankie’s eyes are drawn to where your dress hangs over your crossed legs, exposing the curve of your thigh.

“It’s not fucking Moscato, Benjamin,” you say, eyes narrowed, completely side-stepping his compliment, like you always do. “It’s Chardonnay. Nick recognized the vineyard on the menu so he recommended it. Thought I’d give it a try, because I like trying something new, Benjamin.”

He rolls those beautiful blue eyes and leans forward towards you at the table, that grin that brings grown women to their knees plastered across his face. He knocks back his cowboy hat with a tap of his knuckle.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me.”

“The fuck outta you is excused.”

You tug his hat back down over his face, smirking back at him, just as Nick saunters over – with what looks to be a wine glass of his own.

Okay, in hindsight, you’re not the problem.

His real fucking problem is Nick.

Your boyfriend.

Frankie, who has decided to only drink beer around you since The Almost Incident, takes three long pulls so he doesn’t have to watch Nick and his stupid hands slide across your exposed back and sit down in Santi’s empty chair.

“Happy Birthday, man, thanks for inviting me out.” Nick says briefly, raising his glass to Benny. “But I gotta say, I was a little worried when my girl here said your party was gonna be at a country dance hall. I’ve never been to one of these. I had to buy cowboy boots just for the occasion.”

He sticks his leg out, and rotates his gator-skin boot back and forth as if to illustrate how important to him this whole thing is.

But Benny doesn’t look down, doesn’t approve the boots, or Nick’s attempt at fitting in. Instead, he just smirks, his smile growing fat and lazy, a bit of the warmth fading from his blue eyes.

“Your first time at a cowboy hoe-down? I had no idea.”

Nick grins, because he doesn’t know Benny well enough to see the dig for what it is. But you do. You know him and you know he’s ragging on your boyfriend. You narrow your eyes and shame coats Frankie’s chest. Because he knows also Benny and he knows why he’s giving Nick such a hard time.

See, the problem isn’t you, or even your boyfriend – not really.

Nick is actually a decent guy. He treats you right, if a little delicately, but he buys you drinks, takes you places Frankie could never afford, in a car Frankie could never ever afford. Sometimes, you’ll say something, or tell a story and it’s obvious Nick doesn’t really understand you or your jokes, but he smiles along anyway. He makes good money and supposedly he keeps in touch with his mom. Nick is the kind of guy any brother would want his sister to date.

So the problem isn’t that Nick is a bad boyfriend, but that he’s your boyfriend.

The problem that Frankie Morales has is that he is painfully, achingly, in love with you.

And he’s your friend.

Maybe that would change, if he ever could work up the guts to say something. For fuck’s sake, he’s killed people – asking you out can’t be that much worse (as Santi often reminds him). But if the guys you’re into are like Nick, or even Nick-adjacent, then what fucking chance does he have? He never thought money was important to you, but apparently it is and that’s something he definitely can’t give you.

Or maybe you like the stability of a high-paying job with fucking miraculous health-care. And that’s two things more he can’t offer: stability and health-care.

So, maybe, maybe his problem isn’t with you or Nick or the fact that Nick is your boyfriend. It’s that he never could be. He, with one failed marriage already behind him and a coke rap sheet, has nothing to give you . . .

And you deserve the world.

You deserve more than he can offer you. You deserve better than him.

That’s his real fucking problem. And one he can't ever fix.

Will couldn’t get off work to come to this, so he owed Benny a beer and a nice steak dinner – according to Benny. Santi, despite absolutely swearing up and down for a week he wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots and a hat, showed up tonight in full gear, belt-buckle included because he lost a bet with Benny over the Thursday night game. Santi, like everything else in his life, researched the hell out of the two teams, their past history, older statistics of both the players and the coach. He was confident, so confident, that he put his pride on the line.

Never a good idea with Benny Miller.

I don’t know, Benny said at the sports bar when his team was whooping Santi’s team’s ass, I just had a good feeling. Presumably, Santi did three shots before leaving and with another two in his system at the bar, all anger and frustration and embarrassment and inhibition had melted away and now Santi was doing what Santi did best, especially when drunk: dancing with beautiful women.

“The son of a bitch can dance, I’ll give him that. ” Benny muses as the three of you watch Santi, who despite having been taught the moves three minutes ago by two gorgeous blondes, complete a perfect line dance of Copperhead Road.

“Oh, shit, I could never do that.” Nick shakes his head. “Not even after a hundred classes.”

“Ah, I find that hard to believe, Nicky Boy. You seem like a natural,” Benny smirks over the lip of his beer bottle. He finds Frankie’s eyes and winks.

You are not amused. You glare at him over Nick’s shoulder for the second time tonight.

“It’s really not that hard,” you smile tightly and squeeze Nick’s shoulder. “I can teach you.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t you know your girl here?” Benny leans back in his chair, balancing against the rung of Nick’s chair by the ball of his foot. “She used to put all of us to shame. Dancing the night away, leading the crowd in line dancing. In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Frankie used to get into all sorts a-trouble on the dance floor. Isn’t that right, Frankie?”

Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie.

Don’t, man, just don’t.

Benny shrugs, swallowing his smirk with another sip of beer, hands raised. Just trying to help out.

Over the speakers, the song winds to a close and the crowd does their final spin. Across the dance floor, Santi bows, his hat sweeping the floor, to both of the girls who giggle like high schoolers.

“I’m gonna go get Boot Scootin’ Boogie over there some water before he up-chucks all over those nice ladies.” Benny stands and fixes his hat. “You guys want anything?”

Frankie shakes his head, his own hat that Benny insisted he wear, making the line of sweat across his forehead itch. You and Nick decline as well. You’ve barely even touched your drink, Frankie notes with a certain level of satisfaction.

As Benny walks towards the bar, the next song starts up and you let out a squeal. Bring on The Good Times has been one of your favorite songs since college. And Frankie should know – he introduced it to you.

“This one is the best! A classic!” You grab Nick’s forearm, but he almost immediately pulls it back.

“Ah, babe, my first line dance is not gonna be in front of strangers! I’ll embarrass you and me. Why don’t you ask Frankie?”

Fuck, why could Nick just be a raging, flaming asshole? This would be so much fucking easier.

Frankie swallows his beer empty, an excuse for a refill prepped. He hates cowboy hats, but he’d fucking set fire to the sky for Benny – he just hopes he immolates himself in the process. The giant brim makes him feel like he’s got a neon sign over his head that blinks, I Am A Giant Dork. Only further proven if he gets anywhere near that dance floor with his two left feet.

Your eyes are unreadable as he tries to coax your boyfriend into taking you dancing.

“Nah, man, you got this. Your girl’s a great teacher.” By some cowboy miracle, his voice is steady as he says those two words. On the table, your fingers curl in, your wine glass still untouched.

Nick makes a face, eyes flitting back and forth to the dancers as they start the dance.

“My feet are already killing me in these new boots. Besides, this isn’t really my song.”

Over his shoulder, you find Frankie’s eyes. He knows that look on you – he knows everything about you – and you’re trying to hide how hurt you are.

He’s on his feet before he knows what he’s doing.

You and Nick stare up at him, surprised by how he practically bounded to his feet.

The sweat at the ring of his hat runs down the back of his neck. Frankie does the only thing halfway-normal and extends his hand.

“Alright, princesa, I’ll fill out your dance card.”

He doesn’t care, or even really register, the darkly confused frown Nick sends him when you stand up, take his hand, and smile at him. He feels warm all the way up to his chest.

“Thanks, Frankie. Let’s boogie.”

That was a mistake.

This whole fucking night is a mistake. God help him, he loves Benny like a brother but he should have just said no and promised to take him out later like Will. He would have bought Benny any drink, any ridiculous chicken wing plate he wanted if Frankie didn’t have to be here, right now.

Because right now, right now, that wall of self-control that he uses to stem the reservoir, to stem the flow of whatever you cause to pour out of him, it’s leaking. It’s busted holes and now he’s drenched with it – with the scent of you, with the memory of hair down the length of your neck, the heat of your skin overworked and flushed, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth when you leaned forward, into his space, his senses, and whispered,

“C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this.”

But in his defense, he couldn’t feel his feet, much less make them move when he watched you with your skirt rucked up high in your fists, your cowboy boots kicking like fish in a stream, and that smile – that fucking smile – brighter and sweeter than all the whiskey in the world.

C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this

C’mon, Frankie, you’re better than this.

C’mon, Frankie, tell me you love me.

Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.

His restraint, his resolve that he will never, ever have you – he can feel it throb beneath his palms. Shudder and wobble under the thundering of his heart. It’s so close to breaking. Too close. This is why he doesn’t drink anything harder than beer around you. This is why he rarely drinks around you at all.

When Nick finally calls it a night because he’s already got a blister from the new boots, you don’t put up much of a fight. You’ve danced with Benny, you’ve danced with Santi and his gaggle of girls, Nick himself went up for a slow dance or two.

Frankie only ever asked for one.

He knows he disappointed you, has been disappointing you because you can feel him layering you away, brick by brick by brick. One of his oldest and longest friends, barely visible now, and he’s going over it with caulk to make sure you can’t touch this fragile, weak, emaciated thing he calls a heart.

The instant you walk out of the bar, Nick’s arm across your tense shoulders, he all but rushes for the bar.

“Six tequila shots, please.”

You wake up where you went to sleep: curled up on your couch, your giant Florida Gators blanket wrapped around you like a mentally-supportive straight-jacket, with Golden Girls reruns on the TV. The empty bottle of 19 Crimes explains the sticky, dry feeling in your mouth and the thundering headache accompanying swollen eyes and cheeks. You’d rather get hit by a train than have to move out of this position, but Nick has always been punctual.

Which, you assume, extends to picking up his stuff from your apartment first thing in the morning, his final threat that ended your conversation last night.

The sooner, the better, you mother fucker.

You blindly grab around for your phone, knowing that it’s most likely shoved into the deepest cracks of your couch, hoping against hope Panera delivers on a Saturday morning. There’s a distinct possibility you might start swinging if Nick shows up before you get a baguette and a coffee into your system.

The things he said about Benny and Santi last night on the drive home. This break up was a long time coming, but fuck, if this is what he’d been sitting on about your friends, what the fuck did he actually think of you?

And the things he implied about Frankie – how Frankie was in love with you and you were willingly not seeing it – ridiculous.

You fight the rancid taste of hope that anything Nick implied about Frankie might even remotely be true when you close your fingers around the shape of your phone at the far end of the couch.

22%

Just enough to order then yeet this fucking thing into another room because there is no way in hell you are answering Nick’s calls.

But, as you scroll through your notifications, maybe you should have answered Frankie’s.

He had called sporadically, starting about two hours after you and Nick had left the dance hall, all the way until four in the morning.

One text at 1AM: com e hang out wit us.i mis s you u

You smile, despite the obviously drunken text. Frankie rarely texted, only if it was dire need – and apparently, you continuing to party with the boys at 1AM was very, very dire. Judging by the eight missed calls.

Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail.

Like you’re about to settle down for some good TikTok scrolling, you lean back into the pillows, rubbing your eyes to clear the hazy fog, and press play.

First, there’s noise. Lots of it. Country music and people laughing and singing. Clearly still at the dance hall. You wish for a minute it is a video instead because you’d pay hand over fist to see those guys falling all over each other.

But then comes Santi. Over the years, you’d picked up some Spanish here and there, mostly enough not to embarrass yourself if you ever went to Miami.

But whatever Santi is saying, you’re not entirely sure it is Spanish, or any human language.

“Comotuamiga, teruegoqueselodigas porfavornopuedo hacerestopormucho mástiempo. Estaríasmásfeliz y ellaestaríamásfeliz. Nomemiresasí, sabesqueloúnico quequiereesqu labeses y la beses y luegohagasotrascosas – ¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste?”

There’s a shuffling, hushed voices, the music still far too loud to make anything out.

“Déjame en paz, dude.” Frankie. Frankie, very very very drunk. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna say – voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. She’ll get it. I know–,”

“Then say something now because you’re leaving a voicemail!”

“Ah, mierda – um, baby?”

In two words and two filler words, Frankie’s whole demeanor changes. You can almost picture him curled around the phone, his hand cradling the phone to his ear as he rests his head against a wall.

“Baby, listen – fuck, sorry, I’m starting all wrong. I shouldn’t even call you that – I shouldn’t call you ‘baby’ because you’re not mine. You’re not my baby or anyone else’s because you’re so fucking independent and I love that about you but I wish you were. Mine, I mean. Not a baby.”

You don’t even remember sitting up, but your feet are on the ground. You’ve dropped the phone onto the table in front of you, staring at it as if it’s been dripping poison into your ear. Your heart is pounding.

There’s silence from Frankie for a second, the music still loud, but it’s dampened. You can hear Frankie breathing, swallow, and start again.

“You looked so fuckin’ good tonight. You look good every night but fuck, baby, that dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Even for a second . . . he doesn’t tell you that you look so fucking good enough, you know? You should hear it all the time. I wanna tell you – tell you all the time – he didn’t say it once. Not once and that’s a fucking crime. He makes you drink white wine when I know you fucking hate it – I know you, baby. I know you more than I know myself because you’re all I fucking think about. You’re in here, all the time, all up in my chest, my throat, my gut – and you can have it. You can have it. You can have all of me, if you just . . .”

His voice breaks and your fingers clench around the edge of the cushion.

“If you just . . . look, I know this is so fucking outta line and I wanna say it to your face and I’m gonna but . . . when that fuckin’ moron forgets how good he has it, I’m gonna be there. Gonna be right there. Because –,”

And then like someone shoved a speaker right up against Frankie’s phone, as clear as day, you hear Benny yell:

“IF HE AIN’T HOLDING YOU TIGHT, IF HE AIN’T TREATIN’ YOU RIGHT, I’MA BE THE FIRST ONE CALLIN’ HIM CRAAAZY–,”

“Benny, fuck off!”

And then the call drops, along with it your stomach. In fact, it slides out of your body, slouches off the couch and melts into the floor.

Oh, Frankie, do you even mean a word of it?

The hangover rubbing your nerves raw, tears spring into your eyes, the silence and fear and terrible hope tightening like a band around your head and infinitely increasing the pressure in your temples. You want to cry but your eyes already feel too puffy.

You’re stuck, frozen by every single possible outcome or single next step spinning out like chaotic webbing you can easily catch yourself on.

This was a mistake, it had to be. He didn’t mean to call your phone. He had accidentally called you when he meant to call another girl . . . also with a boyfriend named Nick. Frankie, sweet Frankie, who you’ve all but outright begged to take an interest in you – said it with your eyes hundreds of times – Frankie couldn’t actually have feelings for you.

Not like you had for him. Not like the ones you’ve slowly plucked out of your ribs over the years because god, even just looking at him seared a scar across your heart.

Fuck. Fuck!

You snatch up your phone, wiping your teary eyes and frantically hoping he might have said a name or anything – he couldn’t possibly have meant you – when three loud bangs on your front door sends your phone into the air and your heart into your throat.

The way he calls your name is frantic, verging on hysterical. In a daze, you glance at the clock. 9:04. Frankie’s had about four hours of sleep, if any at all.

“Please, open the door! We gotta talk – there’s something – there’s something on your phone you shouldn’t hear – please, baby, open up –,”

You stare at the phone on your floor.

Don’t they always say you can’t tell the moments that irrevocably change your life until after they’re gone?

Not this time.

You open the door and either way, everything changes.

“C’mon, please, let me explain.” His voice has quieted, no longer shaking, softer as though wounded. “Just five minutes and I’m gone. I swear. We can forget the whole thing –,”

You open the door to a hungover Frankie Morales, still in the same outfit you saw him last in, but his eyes are rimmed with black circles, his patchy beard even more patchy as if he had rubbed the bristle clean off. He reeks of beer, peanuts, and cigarette smoke. His shirt is loose, wrinkled, his belt isn’t even on all the way, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“What if I don’t want to forget it, Frankie?”

You see the realization strike him through the eyes, the throat, the chest, his gut, his brown eyes swimming with shame and horror. He leans over as if kicked and presses a hand against your doorway. His thumb rubs the corner and he swallows.

“So you listened to it already?”

“Yeah, I did.” He closes his eyes briefly, hanging his head, every apology in every language he knows sitting right behind his teeth. “But did you hear what I said?”

He frowns at you through those thick eyebrows. “What?”

“When I opened the door, did you hear what I said?”

“You said –,” that beautiful bottom lip parts from its sensual top and Frankie blinks at you. The oily blackness of shame has evaporated from his eyes, but that stormy fear rages on.

You inhale, breath getting caught on every knot in your spine, and step back.

“We need to talk.”

He glances once over his shoulder, as if taking in the hallway to your apartment for the last time, and he steps inside. Immediately his height and broadness fill out every empty space in your tiny living room and you’re launched back into the memory of when the boys came over for Christmas and there was hardly enough room for anyone, but somehow you all made it work and after four rounds of DDR, everyone was so tired and drunk, you passed out pillows and blankets and you spent your first adult Christmas at what could have been mistaken for a thirteen year old’s slumber party. It was one of the happiest times of your life.

His thick fingers clench and unclench when Frankie spies your phone on the floor, like a bomb waiting to go off.

Your brain struggles to default to hostess mode because you can’t think of anything to say.

Do you want coffee?

Do you want some cereal?

Do you want to–

“Tell me what happened last night.” You surprise yourself, Frankie, and your whirring brain by cutting right to it. As with the first question when you opened the door to him, there’s something inside of you that has taken on wings, spread them wide, and threatens to soar out of your body. Frankie’s here, he’s here, and he said he wants you –

He called you baby.

You breathe in, trying to scrape up some courage from the bottom of your lungs, wishing in the back of your mind under everything else that you’d chosen literally anything else to go to bed in than your Tweedie Bird shirt from Six Flags.

“I don’t understand, Frankie. Please help me understand.”

With a monumental sigh, he rubs his wide hand across his face and up into his hair, his other hand lifting his cap up off his head so his fingers can dig into his curls. It’s only then that you realize Benny’s cowboy hat he wore last night is gone and his tried and true Standard Oil ball cap is back. Meaning he must have gone home at some point. When did he realize (or remember) that he’d left you that voicemail?

“I’m gonna get my ass kicked,” he murmurs, eyes darting like a fox to your bedroom door. “Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve.”

“He’s not here.” This great thing arcs between you, the emptiness a presence and clarity all at the same time.

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“We broke up.”

“When? Why?”

“Last night, after we left the bar. We got into an argument. He doesn’t like the way . . .”

Frankie – physically, mentally, emotionally, fundamentally – overwhelms you. He’s across the room in an instant, closer than you think he’s ever been before. But maybe this is the first and only time you’ve ever allowed yourself to enjoy it. Revel in his closeness and let this caged feeling in your chest break free. You touch his chest with the flat of your palm, the size of it, the breadth of him, staggering. You literally feel weak at the knees.

“He doesn’t like the way what?” His voice luxuriates in his throat – warm, deep. He sounds like what you imagine a hot spring feels like against your skin.

“He didn’t like the way I looked at you.” Your fingers make circles where they did into his shirt. His hands have found their way, after all this time, to your waist. “The way I always look at you, Frankie.”

His breath, subsequent to the ghost of his lips, across your forehead is so gentle it makes you close your eyes, to block out one sense to encourage another.

You feel him swallow even though he’s a foot away from you.

“Why –,” he stops, and starts again, just like on the phone call, “why do you look at me . . . when you have him?”

“Oh, Frankie.” His grip on your waist tightens as if you’re about to disappear forever. “I took him because I can’t have you.”

You blame the tears on the hangover, the headache, and the way he takes your chin between his thumb and knuckle.

Grateful.

He’s looking at you, eyes soft, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile, with gratitude.

“He’s the furthest thing from you because I tried to get you out of my system – I did – I promise. I can’t lose our friendship, Frankie, but it’s killing me . . . not having you. Nick said it was obvious the way I felt about you and that was a problem for our relationship, so he tried to make me choose between you and him and every time, without a doubt, I’ll always choose–,”

This is the right time, he supposes.

Hand over your cheek, he holds you still in silence to press his mouth to yours. The final word of your sentence dies on his tongue, muffled by a soft groan of surprise. Your breath is terrible, your skin is oily and damp, he knows he stinks like the bottom of a wet bar, but he can’t find himself to care. Your mouth opens to take him and the hand on your cheek sinks to your neck as you both move past the initial shock of I’m finally getting to do this and you’re not pulling away and into an actual, proper, deep kiss that sends sparks into his toes. Your tongue marks the bottom of his mouth, your arms going around his neck like you want more – you need more – and Frankie pulls back.

Not only because he’s slightly dizzy but because he a) won’t fuck you for the first time on your living room floor and b) absolutely will not do it hungover.

“Breakfast. Do you like . . . uhm, breakfast?” He can’t quite focus on a single spot on your face, eyes half-lidded and gaze blurred.

You giggle, letting his beard tickle your nose as you sneak your face into his neck. He sways a bit with you, his arms around your back, and you don’t think he’s even realizing what he’s doing.

“Yes, Frankie. I like breakfast. I eat it almost every day, in fact.”

He grunts, neck suddenly flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I mean –,”

“I know what you mean, baby.” You lean back and run your fingers through the thatch of curls at the back of his neck. Both of you are so grimy but you can’t care. “I’d love breakfast.”

Frankie smiles his Frankie smile and the thing in your chest is illuminated in gold.

“How do you feel about conchas?”

Translations:

Como tu amiga, te ruego que se lo digas. Por favor, no puedo hacer esto por mucho más tiempo. Estarías más feliz y ella estaría más feliz. No me mires así, sabes que lo único que quiere es que la beses y la beses y luego hagas otras cosas. = As your friend, I beg you to tell her. Please, I can't do this for much longer. You would be happier and she would be happier. Don't look at me like that, you know all she wants is for you to kiss her and kiss her and then do other things.

¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste? = Idiot! Did you call her?

Déjame en paz. Voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. = Leave me alone. I am going to tell her. She will know.

#SpaceSistersSecretValentine #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales #pedro pascal characters

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thesturniolos · 4 months

Text

tiny red dress pt 1

m.sturniolo x reader

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

warnings: nsfw/, alcohol, swearing, arguing, angst

this is for my fave @sturniolosstar 🤗🤗, merry christmas hun <3

summary: reader goes to a party in an outfit matt doesn’t approve of and things escalate prettyyyyy quickly..

tags: @strniohoeee @sturniolopepsi @kirby0strombolli @sturniolotripletsarehot @freshlovehacker @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @chrisdevora @christinarowie332 @mattslolita @mattsgirlforeva @chrisolivia4l @mattsturn @sturniolosluvv @sturnsclutter @sturnsblunt @sturnsbaby @sturnsreader @sturnsbae @byechristopher @bluesturniolo333 @recklesssturniolo @klarasmith @pr1ncessm1ng1 @oversturn @ilovemattsturn @thesturniolos @estelleswrld @strawberrysturniolo @struniolos @sturniolooooo @sturnsstar @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @cabincorematt @mattsturniolosgf

i can feel his gaze from half way across the room piercing through my burning hot skin, he’s been like it all night ever since he started an argument about my dress choice.

it’s a dark red dress with a lace detailing around the neck and at the rim, clearly too ‘revealing’ as matt begged for me to wear something else.

the dress fit perfectly against the curves of my body and i had the perfect pair of heels to go with it, it would make no sense for me to go and find another outfit.

it’s the famous christmas party of boston and it’s something everyone looks forward to, especially me. which is why i bought my outfit months prior, i just kept it a little secret from my boyfriend and for good reason as his reaction was very much not surprising.

when i walked out from our shared bathroom, he eyed me up and down before shaking his head and scoffing. was it not pretty? i’ve worn things like this before and he barely even cared.

“seriously, matt?” i walk over to him, adjusting the straps of the dress and reaching my hand out to touch his.

before i can get to him, he walks out of our room and down the stairs, slamming the door of our house.

getting that mad over a dress? come on.

driving to our friends house, he didn’t speak one word to me and when i tried to apologise he turned on the aux to blur my voice.

storming into the house party, i quickly found my way to the middle of the dance floor and soon forgot about our stupid argument once i got distracted with the boundless amounts of fun i was having with my friends.

dancing wasn’t really my thing but after a few drinks i was quite happily moving my hips to any song that came on the speaker, my friends jokingly pushing against me as we formed a small circle directly in the middle.

but peering from the kitchen island was matt and boy was he angry, his fist clenched against the cold marble, a red cup in the other pressed to his lip, staring directly at me.

as we make eye contact, a guy appears in front of me, blocking my view of matt.

he had blonde hair, slightly long and fluffy towards the front of his head, green eyes and was wearing a tracksuit, holding a drink in his hand.

he looks down to my legs and smirks, “hey pretty”

i turn around to face my friends but they’re nowhere in sight, “i have a boyfriend”

he looks around. “i can’t see him.”

“and?”

“well, you’re all alone and i can’t help but notice how good that dress looks on you.”

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed but every other girl in this place is wearing a dress nearly identical to mine and to be honest, you’re the only one sticking out here with your tracksuit. it’s not exactly party attire.”

“glad to know i stuck out to you.”

“that’s not what i mea-“

“nice to meet you, matt sturniolo.” suddenly, matt appears from behind him and holds out a hand to shake. “i don’t believe we’ve met.”

“i think you’re right, bud. can i help you?”

“yeah, back away from my girl.” he moves in front of him and pushes me back from him slightly.

i bump into my friend and she pulls a look upon seeing the heated situation.

“well if she was your girl, then what’s she doing talking to me?” matts jaw tenses and he looks behind him to face me and i shake my head. “a skimpy red dress and dancing like that, she’s kinda asking for it”

and with those words, matts fist collided with his face and he falls back, holding his nose and looking down to see blood dripping onto the floor.

“next time i see you, make sure you stay away from me and her and if we do cross, make sure you shut your fucking mouth.” matt pushes past the crowd, leaving me in the middle surrounded by my friends and the guy staring at me angrily.

before he can say something to me, i try and follow matt to where i can only assume he’s walking back to the car.

“matt! just wait!” i yell, desperately trying to get through the vast amounts of drunken people blocking my every move.

by the time i’m out of the house, he’s already slamming his door shut and i run to my side to open it.

his head is rested in his hand and his arm is perched onto the door, his knee is bouncing and the silence in the car is so loud that i can hear the cogs in my brain whirring.

“matt, i swear i wasn’t talking to him-“

“but you were.” he snaps back, still not looking at me. “i was watching you talk to him, do not try and bullshit me.”

“he came up to me, it’s not like i went up to him.”

“that’s not even the point. you knew he wanted you, why did you carry on talking to him? do you get some kind of thrill from knowing he liked you?” he’s staring at me now and he’s angry. his brows are furrowed and he’s thrown his hands in the air.

“what the hell? why would i- what’s wrong with you? why would you even think that, matt!”

“because you turn up to that stupid party in the shortest little dress that is literally guaranteed to make any guy look. i told you. i told you that i didn’t like it and you still went and wore it.”

“because you can’t control what i wear, matt. that’s my decision.”

“you promised that shit wouldn’t happen and hell, it did.” i’m angry now, how is it my fault boys can’t keep shit to themselves?

“don’t try and blame this on me, matthew. i didn’t ask for him to look at me or talk to me, i was dancing with my friends, enjoying myself. is it such a crime to wear a dress? a literal dress.”

he sits in silence and his hands are on the wheel in front of him, knuckles white from the pressure.

“you’re mine, do you know that?” his voice is gravely and hoarse, he doesn’t look at me but it’s the most assertive he’s ever sounded.

“what?”

“you belong to me. nobody can look at what’s mine.” his eyes are dark and his grip on the car loosens and he reaches over to grab my jaw.

“you understand that?” his hold on my face and the intense eye contact between the two of us creates a pool in between my legs as i squeeze my thighs together to relieve some of the tension.

i nod and he shakes his head before looking towards the road in front of him again. we were nearly home, thank god. i needed him and i could tell he needed me, this was about to be so good.

“i need words, not those pathetic responses- use your mouth, i know it’s capable.” i stare stunned, he’s not usually like this. in fact, this new attitude he’s suddenly picked up is working miracles on my heart as it beats in my chest a hundred to the dozen and the heat from my face travels down my body.

“i understand.”

a silence settles within the car and i shuffle around, quickly getting agitated from the throbbing feeling as my thighs fail to make me feel any better.

“keep moving those legs you slut, it’s the last time you’ll be able to for a while.”

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #vinnie hacker imagines #matt sturniolo fan fiction #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut

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sitp-recs · 1 year

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Happiest of birthdays to the one and only Crow! I won’t be tagging them since they’re currently on hiatus but this was a great excuse to finally do a (much) belated reclist. Crow has been on my radar since I first read The Other Cottage - I was immediately taken aback by its intriguing atmosphere, original plot and the mindblowing ending that had me gasping in delight. You can bet I did my due diligence and quickly devoured everything else from their catalogue, which was how I realized I had found another incredibly talented, another favorite author to hold close to my heart.

Crow explores the themes that fascinate me the most - life, time and mortality - and even their dark fics (a genre I don’t normally indulge) feel so thought-provoking and cathartic. There’s no best feeling that knowing you can trust that one author to tick all your boxes with every fic, no matter the story, trope or ending they go for. Crow has written a little bit of everything (and I tried my best to include different flavours here) but I’m not gonna lie, their poignant and aching angst is my ultimate jam. Some of these fics changed me in deep and lasting ways, and I’ve talked extensively about one or two of them. It was so hard to keep this short and not highlight all of Crow’s 27 works, but here are my top 10 favorites. As always this is a 100% personal rec list but there’s a bit of everything here so I hope everyone can find their thing and enjoy these just as much as I did. Don’t forget to leave them kudos and comments to celebrate Crow’s day!!

♦️ Magpie (E, 4k) - klepto Harry with a dark edge is everything we didn’t know we needed! Such a brutal - and brilliant - fic, I was completely enraptured by his charming characterization and the ending left me breathless

Potter doesn't steal because he needs anything, Draco quickly learns. He doesn't do it because it makes him feel anything. It isn't about power, and it isn't about control. Potter just does it because he can.

🥘 Mise en Place (T, 5.4k) - a tender and tasty treat, with lots of kitchen flirting and food porn. I live for sweet pining!Harry and their mutual obliviousness, it never gets old. Short and sweet as all good things are!

Draco needs to learn how to cook, and luckily, Harry knows his way around a kitchen. The fact that Draco is using his newfound cooking skills to impress another man... Well, Harry just tries not to think about that too much.

🔪 The Thousand Deaths (E, 6k) - yes yes yes suicidal vampire murder husbands bound to live eternally!!!! This is a genius concept that once again blows my mind, I love the dark humor and overall depressing tone, it’s so uniquely cathartic. Every murder husbands fan has to go read this now!

When the Kedavras don’t work, they try wooden stakes. When the stakes don’t work, they try blades. When the blades don’t work, the truth spills between them like the vast, churning ocean — eternity, inescapable.

🪞 The Other Cottage (T, 6.5k) - here’s your spooky treat for the day, this fic is so creepy and clever and atmospheric it will immediately lure you in. This is unlike anything I’ve read so far. Masterful pacing and a delicious pining Draco spiralling towards a breathtaking ending!

If Pansy wasn’t shagging Ginny Weasley, Draco would never have been dragged to Luna’s ridiculous Halloween party in the first place - meaning he wouldn't be sitting in the corner of the room with Harry Potter all night.

🌌 An Emerald In The Sky (M, 6.6k) - an all-time fave of mine, my whole heart belongs to this time travel masterpiece, achingly bittersweet and heart-wrenching. It’s impossible not to fall in love with Harry through Draco’s POV, it’s impossible to stop thinking about this love story once you’ve read it.

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone.

📱 With Hands Full of Dusk (E, 15k) - it’s a crime that this story is so low on kudos and comments but I hope this ends now because wow, I’ve never read something so quietly atmospheric like this. Intriguing plot and brilliant execution exploring the fascinating combo of mystery, excitement, frustration and loneliness surrounding a researcher’s life. Also: phone sex my beloved!!!!!!

Harry thought he'd found what he was searching for after the war. But as the quiet life he's earned begins to unravel at the seams, he finds himself searching instead for an elusive, mythical creature found only in lore and legend - with none other than Draco Malfoy as his companion.

🪢 The Seventh Life (E, 18k) - vampire Draco and mortal Harry as doomed lovers across lifetimes yes please!!! Is there anything more romantic - or devastating?? Another tender, haunting and bittersweet love story that left me in shambles and I thanked Crow for it. I am obsessed with this plot and the feels it gave me ugh how can I go on with my life now

If Draco had looked the other way, he may never have seen him again. But Draco turned, because he always would have turned. He found him, because he always would have found him - in life, in death, or in Paris.

🐍 In The Company Of Serpents (E, 25k) - love myself an intriguing case fic and this one is so creative and engaging! Fabulous setting, hot Parselmouth Harry and a brilliant take on Astoria, one of my favourites in fact. I adore the tentative Drarry dynamics and that bedroom sex scene is absolutely phenomenal, oof big smut rec here guys 🔥

There’s something wrong with the serpents at the Greengrass Ophidiarium. Luckily, a certain Parselmouth just might be able to help.

✉️ Twelve Moons (T, 27k) - cottagecore Drarry for skin cleansing, this soft slow burn mended my heart and it’s a great pick when you’re in need of comfort fics. It was a delight to follow this in real time too, v creative storytelling!

Harry Potter lives a quiet life, running an inn with his two best friends. Once a month, Draco Malfoy comes to stay. A real-time fic that takes place over the course of a year; updates every full moon.

🪴 Buds, Blooms, and Beards (E, 27k) - sex education fics are my jam, especially if it’s an experienced and sexy Draco guiding Harry through his bi discovery, yum! You’d think this is all about smut but it’s actually a gentle and comforting story about trust and friendship, one of the best portrayals of Harry & Ginny as friends and confidants, and a delightful “coming out” slow burn!

Harry and Ginny have built an easy, happy life for themselves after the war. They run a thriving plant shop together, they have a great relationship, and they're definitely not gay.

#happy bday crow!! 🎉🎉🎉#Drarry reclist

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chellesdump · 7 months

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Fluffy Days and Warm Feelings - JeongHyo

"Jeongyeon knew that Jihyo wouldn't go down without a fight since the girl just couldn't stay still for more than five minutes, so she devised a plan to get the toddler down for a much-needed nap. The main objective get her as comfy as possible to win the fight against the sleepy toddler "

word count ─ 1.5k

tags ─ little! jihyo, toddler hyo is my fave hyo, cg! jeongyeon, autumn, leaves, stubborn toddlers, cuteness

notes ─ This is for the Comfy prompt, i also want jeong to cuddle me to sleep i swear i won't be a pain in the butt and will go down easily. So please enjoy :3

The girls had just arrived from their latest schedule from Japan, they were tired after a month of constant work and were in dire need of some rest, so everyone was more than eager to get out of the airport and go home.

While they were waiting for their luggage Jihyo went toward Jeongyeon, she was so tired that she leaned against the older girl closing her eyes just for a moment (she swears it was just while her luggage came through the Baggage Carrousel), but was shaken into conscious by Jeong talking to her “Hyo wake up! We need to get moving or they are abandoning us” said Jeongyeon shaking her arm so Jihyo would straighten up and start walking.

“No, wait! My bags! I need to get them!” yelled Jihyo trying to walk back to the carousel but was stopped by some hands, “I already got your bags, they are with mine. So stop worrying and let go” assured her the elder before guiding her with a hand on her back. Throwing a glance at the cart Jeong was pushing and distinguishing her bags she started walking alongside Jeong, thankful for her shades so no one would see her drowsy eyes.

Once they had reached the vans that would take them home, Jihyo and Jeongyeon boarded the same one, they waved goodbye to all the onces that went to greet them back into the country and made their way home. As soon as the vans started moving Hyo reclined her seat and went back to sleep, sleeping all the way home was just what she needed for all the work she had just gone through.

Jihyo woke to a familiar voice, but it wasn’t one she was expecting to hear, she should have woken to a manager's voice but instead, the voice belonged to Jeongyeon, it was always nice to hear Jeongie’s voice when she was sleepy… BUT WHY WAS JEONGYEON AT HER HOUSE? The trip always meant that they left Jeong at her house and then they would take Jihyo to hers.

She let Jeong know about her train of thought and was just told that she wished to spend some time with her, that was a good enough answer and she accepted it, throwing her arms up signaling that she wanted to be picked up. Jeong gave in and picked Hyo up placing her on her hip, the manager helped them take all the luggage to the apartment and bid goodbye, Hyo was clearly regressed, that was apparent to anyone given that she was all snuggly with Jeong.

But the moment they got really into the place she demanded to be put down, “Put Hyo down p’ease. Needa do somethin’” said Jihyo wiggling her body to transmit her message even further, once Jeong let her down she was quick to grab her bags and rolled them to her room. Jeongyeon followed the regressed girl to see what she was doing and found her putting her dirty clothes away into the hamper and the clean on the closet, all with sluggish movements that demonstrated how tired she really was.

“Hyo leave that, you can do it another time, right now you are almost asleep sorting the clothes. How about we go and lay on your bed while watching some movie or show?” asked Jeong taking away the suitcases and pushing them away, trying to guide Hyo to her room but the little one escaped and went toward the kitchen. Between huffs, she said, “Jeongie no! Hyo busy, no bed! Me work, no tired. No need sleep” The last thing was said between yawns, showing the contrary to what was said.

Knowing how stubborn Jihyo is, in and out of her headspace, Jeong tried to come up with a plan to get her to relax and possibly fall asleep again, but she couldn’t think of anything until a wild idea struck her. She was not sure her idea would work out but she needed to try or else Hyo could hurt herself since she was doing diverse things without being fully aware of what she was doing or her surroundings.

The first step was to prepare some food so Jihyo would stop for a little, if just to eat that would give enough time to prepare the next steps of her plan and hopefully get the little girl down for a nap. Jeong made some kaljebi, rice, kimchi jjigae, and some mandu, she knew Jihyo wouldn’t be able to ignore the food and would come quickly at the smell of it, just like predicted once all the smells had combined and reached the little girl she came toddling into the room asking about them.

She sends the girl to wash her hands while she serves her a portion of everything, once both of them get their plates served they start eating, in the middle of the meal Jeong excused herself to the bathroom where the second step of her plan was going to start. This next step consisted of drawing a warm bubble bath, Hyo would certainly end up sticky from the meal combined with the work she had been doing before, and Jeong knew she would like the idea of the bath waiting for her, she let it fill slowly to have time to finish the meal and guide Hyo back there.

When Jihyo announced she was finished, Jeong turned to face her and faked surprise at finding her cheeks smeared with food, “Baby…” started saying but was interrupted by a “No a baby”, “Sorry my bad, Hyo why don’t you go and take a bath? You are all dirty and sticky, wouldn’t a bath be just perfect right now?” the elder said all this while taking Hyo’s hand and leading her to the bathroom.

Hyo made her Mommy go out of the room since she was big enough to bathe herself - Thank you so much -, this made the next step of Jeong’s plan be able to proceed, for this step, she laid down a fluffy pajama set that Jihyo loved wearing when she is tiny, some fluffy socks and a soft blanket - leaving a pull up on a side of the bed in case she felt tinier by the time she had got out of the bath-.

Hyo got frustrated around the halftime point of her bath since she couldn’t seem to latter her hair and she couldn’t scrub her body either, so she asked for help begrudgingly but remembered a moment later that her Mommy always told her that asking for help is a big girl thing, so she felt calmer. Jeongyeon reentered the bathroom at the sound of Hyo yelling, “Mommy p’ease help?”, she got scared thinking the little had fallen but thankfully only needed help getting clean, she was careful to do everything slowly and gently to help Hyo relax.

When she was out and clean, it was clear that Hyo had slipped just a little bit more into a younger toddler headspace and was clearly fighting to remain awake, so she let her Mommy guide her into the bedroom, wait a minute -when had she started referring to her as Mommy and not Jeong anymore? Who cares, Mommy is so soft and Jihyo likes that- thought the toddler getting on the bed to let her Mommy get her dressed.

“Hyo baby do you want to wear big girl underwear or a pull-up? It’s just in case, you don’t need to wear it if you don’t wanna do it.” said her Mommy while she was drying her and putting lotion on her tired body, she nodded it was just in case her bladder betrayed her when trying to reach the potty. When she was dressed Mommy told her to turn around on the bed and let her brush her hair to keep the tangles out, she did as told, asking for braids in her hair since Mommy was so great doing her hair ever so gently.

The repetitive motion of the brush and later the fingers of Jeongyeon was making the toddler ever so sleepy, she was nodding off but quickly shaking herself awake since she wasn’t supposed to fall asleep, she *yawn* needed to get back to work but Mommy’s fingers was lulling her and then Mommy started talking to her about how she needed her opinion about something.

This was the last step of Jeongyeon’s plan, talking about random things to Hyo since she was aware that her voice helped her fall asleep, she asked her for her opinion on a song she was writing. She made the toddler lay down beside her once her braids were done, since they were talking she knew Hyo wouldn’t object to laying down under a soft blanket holding her special owl plush that had been gifted to her by Nayeon.

The speaking and later singing voice of her Mommy’s voice made Hyo fall asleep cuddling on top of her Mommy’s chest. Her breathing, her calm heartbeats, and the calm voice that was humming and singing were so soothing that she let sleep win the battle against her, she let her thumb gravitate to her lips where it stayed for a couple of minutes until Mommy took it out, she was about to whine her protests but soon tha missing feeling was replaced by her pacifier, finally feeling as comfy as it could get.

#chellesdump #age regression #sfw littlespace #twice #jyp twice #twice agere #twice little space #cg jeongyeon #little jihyo #ageretober #ageretober day 11

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heytherejulietx · 2 years

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Could I request something where Steve cleans up/helps reader after they end up scrapping (maybe with Carol? Not sure!) please? I'm so soft for those things and your first aid fic is one of my all time faves 💛

thank you for the request my love! you are the sweetest i’m so glad you enjoyed first aid as much as you did. i hope you like this one too!

tw - minor injury, mentions of conflict

780 words

just a reminder that reblogs are seriously appreciated as it helps my work get seen by more people! <3

@eddie-darling @amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines @80strashbag @ilikefruitgummies @d22malfoys @ninuffi @eldriidd @icarus-star @demigirl-with-problems @alexxavicry @simplymurdock @savagejane1 @bradleybeachbabe @katsukis1wife @pastel-abyss-x @levylovegood @mayyvh @untitledarea @pr3ttycunt @wxndamxximoff join my tag list

Perched on the front of Steve’s BMW outside of the arcade was not where she had expected to spend her evening.

She should have been in the arcade winning Dustin a ton of tickets that she owed him through a bet, and then she was going over to Steve’s house to watch a movie.

But no. Instead, Steve was stood in front of her, gently dabbing at her split lip with an alcohol wipe.

She winced, eyes closing as another spark of pain shot across her skin, and for what must have been the thousandth time that evening, Steve’s thumb stroked over her cheek comfortingly as he held her face in place with his other fingers. He was close enough for her to smell his cologne and feel his warmth. Close enough for her to see just how tense he was when she opened her eyes again, jaw clenched and eyes stern.

But she couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad. Not one bit.

When she glanced towards the doors of the arcade, she could still see the plastic cup on the floor, next to the puddle of blue slushie that she had thrown over Carol, before she had been promptly shoved to the floor.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?”

She looked back towards Steve as he pulled the wipe away from her lip, though his other hand remained on her cheek, warm and comforting. Part of her wondered whether he was comforting her, or needed to touch her for himself.

“Um… my back hurts a little.”

Carol had shoved her over with a considerable amount of force, so much that it immediately made her lose her balance. She knew that if Steve had been there at the time that he would have stepped in way before that, so that it didn’t escalate. But by the time he had arrived Carol had already given her a busted lip and pulled her hair enough to give her a headache.

It was still worth it.

Steve frowned, swiped his thumb over her cheek again, and sighed. “I’ll get you some painkillers when we’re back at mine, okay? Then we can just go to bed,” his lips left a delicate kiss to her cheek — softer than usual, like he was scared that any amount of pressure would break her. “You’re lucky I started keeping a First-Aid kit in my car after Dustin fell over on his way to the store.”

When he leaned back to meet her eyes, she gave him a small sympathetic smile. “I’m okay, you know.”

A huff passed his lips, and the hand on her cheek slid down to her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. She could see how worried he was, he was practically letting it out in waves. And whilst she couldn’t blame him — she would’ve been just as worried if it had happened to him — she didn’t want him to worry over her when she really was fine. Her back would be better in the morning, and in a week her lip would probably be all healed. That blue slushie was never going to come out of Carol’s white shirt, though.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he told her, shaking her shoulder with the kind of gentleness that he possessed. “You could have just called me when she showed up asking for trouble.”

She frowned. “Steve, she wasn’t asking for trouble, she was saying awful things about you, and I wasn’t going to stand aside and just let her do that.”

Steve squeezed her shoulder, his thumb pressed to her pulse point. “I know, babe. But she just wanted a reaction out of you. And you ended up getting hurt.”

“Would you not have done the same if it was the other way around?” Steve stayed quiet and she smiled slightly, triumphant. “I’m not going to go around picking fights with her, I’m not stupid, but I don’t like her saying those things about you. Especially when they’re not true.”

Steve sighed, exasperated, and let his other hand rest on her other shoulder. “Call me next time.” He emphasised, with a squeeze of her shoulders that had her completely relaxed in his touch.

She nodded, smiling slightly. “Fine. I promise.”

He pressed a kiss to the uninjured corner of her mouth before he wrapped her up in his arms, which were crossed over her back as he tucked her head underneath his chin. Steve smelt like mint and old spice, and was comfortably warm compared to the cool evening air.

He stayed quiet for a moment, countless kisses pressed to her head, before he asked quietly, “Did you at least leave her worse off?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader blurb #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things x reader

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basicallyahedgehog · 1 year

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2022 In Fic

This is so late, but oh well! Big love and hugs to my faves @phoebe-delia (x) and @corvuscrowned (x) for the tags. Go and check theirs out too!

January

Harry’s Spiny Adventure (Wolfstar, toddler Harry)

“A ned-chog!” Harry was dancing on the spot now, unable to contain his excitement.

“Hedgehog, Harry,” Sirius sighed. So much for a normal day. “Why do you have a hedgehog in the house?”

Til The End Of The Night (Harry-centric, nil pairing)

Perhaps, he mused as he poured the boiling water into his mug, tremors causing the water to splash across the benchtop, the worst part wasn’t the words themselves, but the fact that the public was truly convinced of what they saw. All they could see was their Hero, their Saviour. The Boy Who Lived, who defeated the Dark Lord.

March

The Brightest Thing (drarry)

When I was young I expected my wedding to be stuffy, full of heavy vows. Yet here we are, your hands clasped in mine, giggling like two schoolboys.

April

The Evolution of Soup (Or, How Harry Learned To Be Loved) (Drarry)

As he succumbed once more to the ever-present fog at the edges of his brain, Harry felt a feather-light kiss in his hair, followed by another one on his temple. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, hand curling towards the one person who could make everything ok.

From The Shadows (Drarry)

I watch and I watch until one day; one day, I realise that you are watching back. How long, I wonder. How long were we watching each other without realising, caught in a never-ending dance?

May

Out Of The Darkness (Drarry)

I hate him, until he smiles. Before he smiles he is the saviour, he is the poster boy, he is the carrier of the weight of the world. But when he smiles he is Harry, my Harry.

With You Between My Arms (Drarry)

Trying to squash his hope - this isn’t what it looks like, he just wants to have a friendly dance, don’t be an idiot - Harry takes Draco’s hand, allowing himself to be led onto the dancefloor. He runs his free hand through his hair, trying in vain to tame his ever-messy curls.

“Don't,” Draco murmurs, grabbing Harry’s hand from his hair and placing it on his own shoulder. “The messy look suits you.”

The Strings That Weave Us (drarry)

The same tiny little shop where Draco worked.

Which is how Harry had found himself trying to make an appropriate amount of eye contact – look at his eyes, Harry, not his soft hair and just-right arms and the dimple in his left cheek and – as Draco explained how the thread worked.

June

Still Into You

They told me that it would fade, this feeling. That one day I would look at you and the butterflies wouldn’t come. But here you are, and here I am, joy bubbling in my stomach like champagne, hearts in my eyes.

All The Time In The World (drarry)

It was another week before Harry received the letter. Ginny was still screening his mail, but she was out with Luna. Besides, Harry knew that handwriting. He was sceptical as to whether Ginny would have let this letter through or not, but he knew that he definitely wanted to read it.

Why would Draco Malfoy be writing to him?

July

My Heart Was Unprepared (Darry)

My mind Healer told me to keep a journal, so here we are. I don’t see what the point is, really. Writing in this book isn’t going to magically erase the trauma of growing up in a cult, being forced to join said cult, having said cult live in your house… you get the picture.

I tried to point out that a diary actually caused quite a lot of trouble during the war, but Eugenia — my mind Healer — insisted.

August

Like This, My Beloved (Drarry)

What I didn’t picture was you walking into the room that first day of Auror training, your face still pale from two months in Azkaban. I didn’t picture the quiet, “it’s ok, I can convert the old janitors closet to a bunk. I know no one wants me.”

I think I already knew, in that moment. I just didn’t know it yet.

September

The Love You Find (Drarry)

They never talked about it, but Harry took to crawling into Draco’s bed during the night, until they just pushed their two beds together. Harry wondered if they should discuss it, but he didn’t know how he’d handle it if Draco wanted to stop.

Mads (Drarry)

“What did I do to deserve you?” Draco whispered against Harry’s lips, tears coursing down their cheeks once more.

“You don’t need to earn my love, Darling,” Harry said, pulling Draco against his chest. “It is freely given, for however long you want it. No matter what pronouns you use.”

October

I'll Be Loving You (Drarry)

“Loving someone doesn’t mean you endorse them,” Harry murmured, thinking of the hazy love for his aunt that had been squashed in his childhood, of the love he knew his mother had held for Snape even to her death, of the love he held for every version of the man in his arms, even the misguided teenager he had once been. Maybe especially that boy, fear a constant presence in his grey eyes.

November

The Threads That Bind Us (Drarry)

Every thought, they shared with each other. Every fear, every doubt, every self-recrimination. Every dream and hope and decision were shared and cradled and made together.

It was their greatest strength, and Draco’s greatest joy.

December

Them (pre-slash)

Draco turned away with a little hum, contemplating his gingerbread man — person — with his head tilted first one way then the next. Harry held his breath, feeling like he was witnessing something important.

Colour Outside The Lines (Harry-centric)

To be trans, Harry thinks, is to be alone in a crowded room. It’s learning a language too late, putting together a puzzle and discovering a missing piece.

The Brightest Star (pre-slash)

“Because I have a pretty awesome roommate,” Harry said. “And they just told me something about themself that I didn’t know, and I’m happy for them.” Draco shivered with each use of their pronouns, burying their face in Harry’s neck to hide their blush.

Tagging anyone who hasn't done this yet who wants to :)

#year in fic #my writing #drarry #wolfstar #harry potter #draco malfoy

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zutaralesbian · 10 months

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15 questions and 15 mutuals

I was tagged by @such-a-barbarian (love your UN btw)

This game is coming at a good time with me wanting to reintroduce myself more to tumblr with twitter dying lol. I’ll try to tag my new mutuals that migrated from twitter.

Were you named after anyone?

Yes. Unfortunately I was named after my father. His name is Daniel “Dan” and mine is Danielle. I was supposed to be Daniel jr if I’d been a boy. 😩

when was the last time you cried?

A couple weeks ago. My family is always going through a Time lately it seems.

do you have kids?

Nope. But I want to have at least one. I’m a lesbian and my partner already has three kiddos of her own, so my situation with that is a bit difficult. I’m probably going to go the sperm donor route once I��m more settled into my new career and am stable enough to have one.

do you use sarcasm a lot?

Eh. A decent amount.

whats the first thing you notice about people?

Hmmm…probably their eyes

what’s your eye color?

Light blue. Some people see them as grey

scary movies or happy endings?

Definitely happy endings. I’m a chicken so I very seldom watch horror. I’ve been meaning to get more into the genre after I braved the Fear Street trilogy for the lesbians in it, but it’ll probably never be my fave.

any special talents?

Hmmm….I’m super good at writing professional stuff like letters and essays. I used to BS my essays in high school all the time and always got good grades on them anyway lol. I’m better with my words on paper than I am in person lmao

where were you born?

Portland Oregon, USA

what are your hobbies?

Once in a blue moon I’ll write

have any pets?

Yep. I’m currently in a household with two cats and a dog

what sports do you play/have you played?

Me and sports? Lmao. Non-existent combo. When I was a kid I loved playing tether ball at recess but that’s about it.

how tall are you?

About 5’3

favorite subject in school?

English all the way!!! Writing and reading!! I also occasionally liked science depending on the specific subject. Biology was cool.

dream job?

In a world where I was born rich I would have loved to have gone into the creative arts. There was a period where I really wanted to write for television specifically. But because I wasn’t born into a wealthy family, I had to go for something more financially substantial. I eventually chose nursing. Right now I’m being trained to work as an LPN in a urology clinic. And I do like the field and helping people, even if it wasn’t necessarily my dream job.

I tag: @tridentarius @anniejanuarygf @dollsome-does-tumblr @whaticameherefor @mrs-n-uzumaki @whaticameherefor @draco-domesticus @girl-with-the-dragon-age-tattoo @azurempyreal @sonyarebecchi @melroesplace @darthdarcyy @tectonicduck @scorias @patrooclus @milkymickeyway @sweetsinginglittleredbird

#tag game #*#tagged more than 15 ppl but oh well lol

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neillesimstories · 1 year

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15 questions for 15 mutuals

I was tagged by: @simsdastra @hiddenspriings @uglynormie Thank you!! ❤️

1. Are you named after anyone? Yes! After polish singer Natalia Kukulska (she’s not popular anymore, but was in the 90s 😄)

2. When was the last time you cried? A few days ago but it wasn’t a big deal - when my period is getting closer, I get very emotional even about little things 😅

3. Do you have kids? Not yet

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? It depends on situation and people I’m around

5. What sports do you play/have you played? None since college years 😂. In college I played volleyball but it was only because it was required to pass the year 😅

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people? I’m not sure, maybe their vibe and if that vibe is compatible with mine 😄

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings!

8. Any special talents? Moving my ears, moving my elbows in a weird way 😂

9. Where were you born? Poland

10. What are your hobbies? Gaming, photography, drawing

11. Do you have any pets? Not at the moment, but we’re planning with my boyfriend to adopt a cat 🥰

12. How tall are you? 158 cm

13. Fave subject in school? Biology, English, IT

14. Dream job? I would love to work as a freelance illustrator, but I really like my current freelance job too - (I create documents in Word etc.) 15. Eye colour? Hazel

Tagging: (of course don't feel obligated to do this tag if you don’t want to! also forgive me if you’ve done this already 😄!) @desimetto @tragicpixel @brannewjoint @mystery-pixels @tsims @chojrak-making-things @erasabledinosaur @heldhram @hurricanesims @llamaheart@sim-songs @anamoon63 @camisulsul @amphoraeus @happy-lemon

#tag game #tag

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imagine-that-100 · 10 months

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Just an opinion but i feel like fans spread way to many rumors and think they have the right to judge people they only see on instagram. If we like the band and the music, i dont see why we would have to assume things about their partner’s personalities based on what people say on social media.

A very valid opinion to have. I guess in a way were all guilty of it, even with those in the bands because we just guess their personalities as well as we don’t actually know them. I would say on Instagram someone like Arielle for example, her personality shines through in her vids and stuff, however hyperbolic some of them are. Alexa sorta the same, she’s a fashion girlie can see the glimpses of her humour in what she’s like, especially in that one where she’s dressed up in one of the latest vids she’s posted.

Think the issue is with Amanda is that what we’ve all seen of her is that she’s in her 30s and is acting like a teenager with her first ever boyfriend (I won’t bring up what she did to that new fan who accidentally tagged her in a bre edit when she didn’t know Matt wasn’t with her anymore, but that proves a point in itself) . My issue with pauline is that she’s trying too hard to appear a certain way, I’ve only based my opinions on her with what I’ve seen on her Instagram and she just seems boring, which I think is what everyone else has seen too and is a reason why people don’t like her. And that is taking the whole cheating thing out of the equation entirely. For example, when Katie posted the video of pauline dancing and smiling at Glasto the other day, I thought it was nice because we were getting a glimpse of what she’s actually like. Not what she’s appearing to be on insta. If I saw more of that I would probably like her more.

Take Taylor even, since following her since the end of 2019 I haven’t had an issue with her. I think she’s quite cool, I love the cowboy vibes and I love that her fave film seems to be the same as mine. What I’ve been told about her in the past have shocked me, yes. But until I see screenshot proof of it, imma take things with a pinch of salt like I hope most people do when they hear rumours.

At the end of the day, me sharing my opinions on them isn’t going to change anyone else’s opinions in the long run. And everyone is more than welcome to disagree with them. Life would be boring otherwise. Let’s take for example the varying different opinions on Matty at the moment, I love him but manyyyy people out there don’t. And that’s fine, more chance of me getting a ticket to the next gig 😂 I wouldn’t personally say I’m spreading rumours, I’m just forming an opinion from their instas and sharing it to see it anyone else has the same thoughts. Turns out they do but if you don’t that’s more than fine💜

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wri0thesley · 2 years

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Hiiii Nat!! How are ya? Ive been following your blog for quite a while and I know you’re currently into genshin but I was hoping you could help me out 😭 sooo I’m re-watching vento aureo and the love and adoration i had for Bruno came in rushing to me once again sooo (naturally) i came to your blog to re-read some of my all time faves (honestly anything you write is a delight aaaaah) aaaand here’s where I’m facing trouble, idk if it was you who wrote it or you rebloged someone’s one-shot (or maybe I’m trippin balls and I read it in somewhere else💀 tho I doubt it bc you’re the only active jjba writer I follow) but I’m trying to find this nsfw drabble/one-shot of Bruno interrogating the reader (I think reader was part of a rival gang or something along those lines ?) I do remember the reader was all tied to a chair and at some point one of Bruno’s knees ended up pressing against the reader's crotch. I’m sorry but I remember that much and I scrolled all the way through your Bruno tag and couldn’t find it 🤧 then again sorry but in case it wasn’t you who wrote would you happen to know who did? Ty 😭💞

i THINK the only thing i've written like this is 'pumping for information', which is a dark content poly bruabba fic and other than interrogation doesn't feature almost anything else you mentioned dfnkjkjbfnvgd

but i am publishing in case any of my other followers can help!! i went through my 'not mine' tag and i didn't see it so i don't think i reblogged it but i am Confident In My Follower's Abilities, i believe in them!!!

#nat.txt #jojo postin

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ao3feed-newsies · 1 day

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my jealousy jealousy (started following me)

by, melancholyofmineown by melancholyofmineown David Jacobs would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t despise Jack for it, just a little bit. He put just as much work in yet got half the results of the other boy. He was so tired of being compared to him by people at the academy. It was fucking New York City, couldn’t they find a different tennis prodigy to compare him to? One that wasn’t the friend he almost had? David Jacobs has spent most of his tennis career so far jealous of Jack Kelly. And now he's dealing with the emotions that come with having to play him at a Grand Slam. Words: 663, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of painting the lines (newsies tennis au) Fandoms: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies: The Broadway Musical! (2017), Newsies (1992) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: David Jacobs, Jack Kelly (mentioned), Mayer Jacobs (mentioned) Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly (unrequited) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, Alternate Universe - Tennis, Gay David Jacobs, Jealous David Jacobs, David Jacobs-centric, Secret Crush, Australian Open, US Open, Title from an Olivia Rodrigo Song, My First AO3 Post, pls be nice to me thanks in advance, based more on the musical cast(s) than 92sies, i've been writing this au since october 2022, i just checked the date i started writing this, and i think this idea happened because two faves of mine were playing in a final together lol, this was originally part of a 5+1 fic, so if it feels short that's why, anyways mike faist in a tennis movie felt like the right time to finally start sharing this, am i using the additional tags section right read : https://ift.tt/PrsNZoY - April 28, 2024 at 12:03AM

#AO3feed #newsies #fanfic #newsies fanfic

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bornforbvrning · 7 months

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I was tagged by @blackccelebration - muito obrigada mais uma vez 🥰

Were you named after anyone? As far as I know, I wasn’t

When was the last time you cried? Two weeks ago

Do you have kids? No, and I don’t want to

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Some situations require sarcasm/ironic comments from me. I tend to use sarcasm with people whom I know well or with folks whose sense of humour is just as silly as mine. I’m probably the type of person who makes bad puns instead, though!

What's the first thing you notice about people? The energy/vibe they give off and how you feel around then, probably. But if it’s about appearance, it would probably be making eye contact and whether or not their smile is genuine or forced

What's your eye colour? Green

Scary movies or happy endings? Both! Depends entirely on my mood actually

Any special talents? I have good memory for details and can recognise people/faces VERY quickly. I’ve also been told that I’m pretty good with languages. And from totally random things, I can move my ears 😂

Where were you born? Poland, although I studied + then started working abroad

What are your hobbies? Whenever I can - my hobby’s going to concerts and festivals. Other than that, writing live reports from those events/album reviews and playing bass.

Still, once in a while I enjoy visiting cemeteries/ossuaries (tombstone tourism yay!) and abandoned places

Have any pets? I’ve adopted a cat in 2019! She’s currently living with my mother ‘cause I’ve been living on and off in Poland and abroad these last months

What sports do you play/have played? When it comes to “playing”, I actually hate team sports. I’ve always liked swimming though, and I’m trying to get back to boxing which has been my fave kind of workout so far

How tall are you? 1,65cm

Favourite subject in school? History & literature

Dream job? Anything in the music industry, really. Preferably a band manager or a booking agent/festival organiser.

Not tagging anyone ‘cause I know writing this can either feel too long or too personal. If anyone feels like sharing theirs, feel free to, if not, I hope that reading mine was at least entertaining :)

#tag game #thank you again!

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vanillaverses · 10 months

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AAAAAAAAAA HAPPY BIRTHDAY VANILLA!!!! :DDD i really really hope you have a great day!! you are. so so cool and you absolutely deserve to have an awesome day (NOT JUST NOW BUT EVERY DAY!!) I DID draw a peepaw for you but. i realised that most of the people givibg you a birthday drawing would probably draw peepaw and i honestly dont think that mine turned too good compared to. literally everyones art style i could imagine pv in (and also its traditional and a bit more doodley so yeah) can i please ask you if there are any other characters that you would like me to draw for you, because i really really want to give something for you /gen /nf (ill try drawing peepaw again digitally for you when i get home, hopefully it will turn out better than my last one)

(also if you want to see the pv drawing i mentioned before, i can sent it to you, since if i draw something else for you i think i could only give it to you tomorrow because its around 8 pm in my timezone and yeagh)

again, really happy birthday for you <333 /p /pos /lh :DDD

(also also i hope you can understand what i was trying to say KFKAKHE)

THANKUUUU SM!!! and I mean, I don’t really expect that many people to make me bday art? you don’t have to make me anything!!! I genuinely wasn’t expecting any1 to make anything really, so thanku so so much for even wanting to in the first place!!!!! :D if you do want to draw me something that isn’t pv, I think I have a list of a few of my oc tags linked in my pinned post if u wanna draw one of those :D I also have some of my fave characters listed in my carrd (also linked in my pinned post!!) if u wanna draw one of them :33 but like!! don’t feel pressured to make anything seriously!! I’m happy enough with your words alone :D thanku so so much for the ask!!! :DD

#vanillas rambles :]#asks!

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cafedanslanuit · 3 years

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- ̗̀ we don't have to rush when you're alone with me ̖́-

day eleven impact play ft. nanami kento [jujutsu kaisen]

☄ tags/warnings: +18, afab + no pronouns reader, impact play (smacks on bottom), teasing, edging, fingering (f receiving), use of safeword, aftercare + lots of fluff later, GOOD KINK PRACTICES

☄ words: 1.3k

☄ a/n: okay but this is one of my favourite fics so far... a dear friend of mine and i talked about good kink practices while i was preparing myself for kinktober and i promised them i would write a fic like that. and ofc i had to do it with one of their faves <3 hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

☄ masterlist

A harsh slap fell on your ass, the sound filling the room and bouncing off the walls. You cried as you squirmed on the bed, your wrists fumbling with the rope they were tied to the headboard. Your face was pressed against a pillow, while your knees were propped up on the mattress, ass up and on display for the man behind you.

“Now, we’re only halfway there. We agreed on ten before I fucked you, remember?” Nanami said, as his hands wandered from your ass to your soaking cunt. He slid two fingers across your folds, spreading your arousal. You whined at his touch, moving your hips as you tried to grind on his hand. “You can’t hide how much you’re enjoying this, can you?”

His hand fell on your ass again, your entire body shaking at the force. You could feel your skin burning right where his hand had hit. How you were going to endure four more of those, you weren’t quite sure. All you knew is the hit shot a bolt of pleasure right to your clit, your hips moving back as forth and craving for more attention.

“So needy,” he commented in a low voice as his fingers ghosted over your entrance that kept on clenching around nothing.

“Yeah, I— I do. I need you. Please, please— fuck me, Ken, I just— please,” you begged against the pillow. Your head was spinning, your thoughts messy and barely understandable the more he teased you. “Fuck me, pl—”

Once more, Nanami smacked his hand against your bottom. Your skin was no longer burning but also stinging, a tingly sensation that you hadn’t felt all the other times you had done this with him.

“You know the rules,” he reminded you. “Or do you think I’d break them just because of your pretty face?”

His fingers were back on your cunt again, now circling your clit slowly as you squirmed under his touch. The pillow on your face muffled your broken whimpers and pleas of more. It was good, his fingers felt so good against your neglected clit and yet it wasn’t enough. You needed Nanami to push his cock inside you, to bury his face against your soaking cunt, anything— you just knew you’d do anything for a little more of him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, pushing his fingers on your entrance enough for you to feel them, but not enough to get inside. He maintained his pace, pulling away every time your hips pushed back, making you crave for him. “Have you been counting?”

“Yeah,” you muffled, gripping the sheets underneath you. Your ass was still tingling and you knew another one was coming. Only three more and you’d feel him inside of you, you thought. Your eyes watered at the sole idea of your boyfriend finally fucking you dumb like you had been wanting the entire day. “I’m counting, I’m— yeah, I’m counting,” you babbled.

“Good,” Nanami said, pushing his fingers up to one knuckle and then quickly pulling his hand away.

His hand fell on your ass once more, only this time pleasure never reached your core. Instead, a sharp pang travelled all across your spine to your head, making you groan in pain.

“Apple, apple!” you muttered between gritted teeth, your head spinning as your eyes were squeezed shut.

In seconds, you felt Nanami’s big hands taking your thighs and carefully placing them on the mattress. It took him even less time to release your wrists from their restraints and soon he was easing your arms back to your sides and gently turning your body to the side. You were thankful he was turning you to the side that hadn’t been affected.

His fingers traced the side of your face, making you instantly lean on his touch.

“Talk to me, was it too hard? Or was it your wrists?”

You opened your eyes, Nanami’s dark ones hovering over you, filled with worry. You put your hand over his trying to ease his nerves.

“Yeah, a bit too hard for me,” you admitted. “I’m good, though, I—”

Your words died on your lips as Nanami quickly stood from the bed and left the bedroom. Knowing he wouldn’t just leave, you furrowed your eyebrows, confused as to where he had gone with such urgency. You put your hand over your ass, where he had hit and hissed at your touch. The skin was tender, probably red as well. You traced it again, this time much more gently. It wasn’t as painful now, maybe you just needed to sleep it off.

Nanami returned to the bedroom and sat by your side. You noticed he had put on his boxers somewhere along the way. He held an ice pack over your skin, making you yelp.

“Does it hurt that bad?” he asked, worried.

“No, it’s just very cold,” you chuckled, eliciting a soft smile from him. He moved the ice-pack constantly on the affected area so you wouldn’t get burnt with the ice. As he did so, he handed you a water bottle.

“Do you want a pill for the pain? I got a few in my cabinet,” he offered.

“No,” you shook your head. “Doesn’t hurt too much. The ice is already helping.”

It was true, you thought. The area felt numb and the pain had majorly decreased with the cold temperature. It was mostly an acute pain that, once it had ended, was starting to feel better by the minute.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you too hard,” he muttered in a soft voice. His eyes were full of regret, hardly meeting your gaze as he held the ice.

“Hey,” you said, placing your hand on his thigh and squeezing it softly. “We know these things happen sometimes. That’s why we have a safeword, right?”

“Are you sure you’re really okay?”

“Kento,” you said, your voice a little sterner to make him listen to you. “I am really okay. It hurt at the moment, sure, but it’s so much better now. And you stopped and now you’re holding some ice over it. What do I have to say for you to believe me when I say I’m okay?”

Nanami looked away but you patted on his thigh to make him look back at you again.

“I just worry,” he sighed.

“C’mon, could an injured person do this?” you said, as you tried to push yourself off the bed. However, Nanami gently pushed you back against the bed. You laughed at the way his eyes rolled.

“Don’t do that,” he warned as you laughed at his reaction. “Is there anything else you need? Do you want something from the kitchen or—”

“I do want something,” you interrupted him. His eyes finally set on yours, attentive to your next words. You grinned, your hand still on his thigh as you made your request. “Come cuddle with me.”

Nanami’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a small snort and a soft smile danced on his lips. “Of course,” he whispered.

The ice pack was left long-forgotten on the carpet, but you paid no mind to it. As Nanami fixed the bed sheet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, taking notice of his toned body and how he placed the bedsheets and the quilt over your body tenderly.

Soon, he joined you on the bed, carefully moving your body so you were resting on his chest as his arms circled around your body. A part of you wanted to tell him it wasn’t necessary, that the pain was almost gone and it was just on your bottom— but the warmth of his muscles and the smell of his cologne made the words die in your mouth. You snuggled next to him, draping your arm around his waist with a content smile.

“I love you,” he reminded you, voice muffled as he pressed his lips against your temple and left a kiss on your skin. “I’m really glad I met you in this life.”

“Love you too,” you dreamily sighed before you closed your eyes.

Whenever he was by your side, holding you like he was scared you’d slip through his fingers, it was never too difficult to fall asleep. After all, there was no one else that could make you feel this protected and secure.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento smut #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kinktober #kinktober 2021

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