#megs writes
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Spec Fic for vague S6 spoilers (or something??? I dunno, if was supposed to be asleep an hour ago. I blame all of you but mostly @aa-lionheart for that delicious thought about Eddie thinking Buck got hit by the car)
“LAFD! Stop the car!”
There is a screech of tires on slick pavement and Eddie’s head snaps up so hard he’s going to feel it later. He’s on his feet and moving before anyone else even knows what’s happening.
Here’s the thing though, he knows this moment. Knows it inside and out. Has imagined it in 4k detail thousands of times. He’s examined it from every angle, tried to unspool every outcome. So. It’s not shocking when the car can’t stop in time and he sees Buck and the bike go down. It’s not a surprise because he’s been here before.
“Buck!”
It takes him a minute to understand that it’s his own voice that’s making that broken sound. In his head everything is calm, numb, clinical. He knows the pressure per pound of a car moving at 50 mph as it impacts the human body. Can calculate the damage that must be happening in real time. The car strikes the body and the legs shatter on impact. The shockwave begins to rupture the internal organs. The spine cracks as it hits the asphalt, the damage traveling up to the brain stem. The body is rendered useless within seconds. It will take the brain minutes to catch up.
“Buck!!”
He’s running. When did he start running? It’s not like he can stop what’s happening. He couldn’t then—bright yellow splashed with red, a clear blue sky, perfect above him. He can’t now—rain slicked pavement, dark clouds above them pressing down. It’s so heavy. He can’t breathe. He can’t—
I’d love…a little more time.
“Buck.”
Buck is—fine. He’s rising to his feet, his eyes wide but a slightly hysterical laugh twisting his mouth up at the corners.
“Woah!” He says, grinning as he tries to dust some of the rain water off his turnouts, an unconscious gesture to steady his own nerves. “That was close huh?”
The man behind the wheel is yelling now. Somehow Bobby has materialized beside the driver’s side window and is speaking in a voice so normal Eddie can’t even begin to comprehend what is being said.
One of the most common injuries when a pedestrian is struck by a car is pelvic fractures. Shannon’s had been broken in six places. It would be impossible for a victim with that kind of structural damage to be standing, let alone heaving a bike up off the ground from where it must have toppled. The bike should have absorbed some of the impact, it might have even twisted itself around the body of the person who had been struck. That’s odd. He doesn’t have the stats on that.
“Eddie?”
He blinks and Buck is standing in front of him, brow furrowed in concern. There’s a red mark blooming across his left cheekbone. Eddie reaches up to try and investigate but his hand is shaking so badly he can’t even react when Buck reaches up and snags it with both his own.
“Hey.” He says, and his mouth is twisted up in worry now “Are you ok?”
And that’s just silly, because Eddie’s not the one who almost got hit by the car, he’s fine. He’s always fine. He always makes it out. It’s the people around him who die, over and over and over again.
Brain function remains active for six full minutes after the heart stops beating.
“Eddie.” Buck says again, his hands curling into Eddie’s turnout, shaking him gently. “Hey.”
Hey. Are you here?
Someone makes a choked sort of sound, and it’s not until Buck reels him in by his coat, pulling him into a tight embrace—not until he is clinging to his partner…his best friend…the love of his life, that Eddie realizes he’s the one who’s got tears running down his face.
His partner. His best friend. The…the…oh fuck.
Fuck.
“It’s ok.” Buck is saying, his hands running up the planes of Eddie’s back like they were always meant to be there. “I’m ok. It’s not that day Eddie. It’s ok.”
Except it’s not. It’s not ok, because Eddie is still caught halfway between that sunny day at an LA crosswalk and the rain slicked pavement of this moment. He’s shaking and sick.
And he’s in love with his best friend.
He’s in love with Evan Buckley.
Fuck.
He’s so screwed.
#911 on fox#911 spoilers#911 spec fic#eddie diaz#evan buckley#911 fox#megs writes#what even is this?#i don’t know#but i had to get it out of my system#oh well 🤷♀️#god i’m going to get no sleep#this time isn’t remotely edited#it’s barely written
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Chapter 4
Ron Weasley/Harry Potter | E | Amnesia Fic WIP
"No one's making you stay! The door's right there!" Harry yells, pointing towards it.
Ron looks about to be sick, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Then he lets out a growl, his forearm slamming against the wall. The picture frames rattle on their nails, and one falls to the floor, the glass shattering at Harry's feet.
"You said you always would!" Ron bellows. "You said you'd never let me leave again!"
"When did I say that?!" Harry yells back.
"I leave! That's what I'm good at! And you make me stay!"
"Why the hell is that my job? You're an adult! If you want to leave, leave! That's got nothing to do with me!"
"It has everything to do with you!"
-
Read more on AO3
@stonedregulus
#fic: until you’re in my arms again (remember me)#megs writes#rarry#ronarry#ron weasley#harry potter#amnesia#trans ron weasley#wip
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birds of a feather
Fandom: Stranger Things | Pairing: Nancy Wheeler/Robin Buckley
Word Count: 288 | Rating: Gen
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff
Inspired by @fluffbruary 's prompt "pigeon" & @rollisicarisi 's Femslash February prompt "kitchen"
Summary:
There’s a pigeon trapped in their kitchen.
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It’s been a year but it feels like a lifetime. Some days I feel like I’m better, like it’s easier and then other days I feel like it’s happened all over again. I miss him every day. I think about him every day. Sometimes I feel like I died with him. Sometimes I wish I did. Maybe next year I’ll have something more uplifting to say, something comforting about moving on. But for today, I miss my brother.
#megs writes#and misses her brother#normal posting will resume momentarily#I just need a minute to be sad
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Aftercare
Artist cred: Lxstari_
Description: A soft moment with Nerd!Miguel.
Nerd!Miguel masterlist
You look beautiful. He always thinks that, but especially now as you fit yourself into his side, watching as he flips through Netflix for something to watch.
It wasn’t like this before, with Ava she would leave when it was done, put her clothes back on without sparing him a second look. But not you, you stayed, slipped his t-shirt on, climbed back into bed with him, clinging to him like a teddy bear.
“Do you want any more water?” Miguel asks, turning his head to you.
You shake your head then rest it on his chest. “No, I just want to stay right here for a bit.”
He’s pretty sure you can hear his heart pounding against his chest, his face burns, and he wants to melt into the mattress, his affection for you overflowing. “Yeah, no problem, you know you can stay as long as you like.”
You hum in response and place your hand on his chest, right over his heart.
“How about this movie? I’ve heard it’s good.” He suggests, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat.
“Whatever you think is best, I trust you.” You say sleepily, curling further into him.
I trust you. Is he dead? Is this heaven?
He clicks the movie and settles in, pulling a blanket up from the end of the bed and draping it over the both of you.
You and Miguel chat back and forth for a while pointing out inaccuracies in the movies, laughing at the jokes, cringing at the cheesy acting then fall silent, absorbed in the movie playing on the screen mounted to the wall.
Miguel gently trails his fingers up and down your back, the TV casting a soft glow across the floor, rain tapping against the window, the fuzzy blanket arranged haphazardly, your head still resting on his chest, flooding his senses with the scent of your perfume.
“As if you could splice DNA that quickly.” He snorts, eyes still locked on the screen.
When you don’t respond, he glances down. Your eyes are closed, your face half-buried in his sweatshirt, your fingers gently curled around the fabric keeping hold of him, your breathing soft and even.
Miguel smiles, warmth flooding through him, his heart skipping a beat as he takes in the sight. He never thought he would be here, with you, the pretty popular girl from his lab, the one every guy wanted, every guy fantasied about. But here you are, in his room, wearing his t-shirt, curled up and sound asleep on his chest.
How did he get this lucky? You could have anyone you wanted, he’s seen the way guys on campus look at you, but you never seem to notice. You say it’s because you’re always looking at him, and maybe you’re right. It’s intoxicating, the way you look at him. All pretty and perfect, looking up at him through your lashes, a smile toying at your lips. Or when you’re concerned, the emotion brimming in your eyes, the way you latch onto him, cling to him.
He bites the inside of his cheek as images from earlier make their way center stage. The feeling of your nails digging into his skin, the warmth of your walls desperately trying to coax him deeper, the hunger in your eyes as they met his. Of course, you’re tired, he did everything he could to pull climax after climax from you until you begged him to stop.
He pushes the memories away, wanting to soak in this peaceful moment. The sound of your breathing, the way you sigh softly and bury more of your face in his chest.
You’re so beautiful, so perfect, he wants to freeze time, wants to never let you go, wants to live in this moment forever.
An explosion lights up the TV screen, the sound rousing you from your slumber, and you lift your head blinking at him blearily. “What’s going on?”
He brushes his lips across your forehead, already missing the comforting weight of your body resting on his. “It’s just the movie, I can turn it down.”
“Oh no, the movie, Miguel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You tell him, smoothing your hair down with your fingers, now wide awake.
Miguel shakes his head, his voice dipping low. “Don’t worry about it, you obviously needed the sleep.” A catlike smile spread across his face at your flustered expression.
You smack his shoulder playfully. “Perv.”
“You like it.” He teases, slipping his hands under your bare thighs and pulling you closer.
You yelp at the sudden movement, but soon relax into him, tracing his facial features with the tip of your finger. “I guess I do.”
He marvels at you, at the beauty of you. Even with smudged makeup, and your hair a bit tangled, you’re still breathtaking.
“What?” You ask, smiling down at him, radiant as the sun.
“You’re just so…beautiful.”
“Miguel.” You drag out his name, smiling embarrassedly, turning your face from his.
“Y/N.” He mimics, turning your face back towards his, and kissing you.
You melt into him, like you always do, as if he’s the only one who knows how to kiss you, the only one who should ever kiss you.
“You’re really handsome, you know? Insanely so.” You say between kisses, wanting to return his compliment, unable to just accept his praise.
“Oh really?” He asks. He can feel himself blushing, so he presses his lips to the corner of your lips.
You nod the best you can, eyes fluttering shut when Miguel’s lips drift lower, tilting your head instinctually, allowing him more access to your already marked skin. “Yeah, it’s not fair.”
“Dulzura, dulzura, dulzura, have you not heard the saying all is fair in love and war?” He presses the words into your skin, preening at the sight of his earlier marks. Later you’ll chide him for leaving such obvious hickeys, but right now he knows you don’t care.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just kiss me.” You say, cupping his cheek and bringing his lips back to yours.
He does so happily, humming against you, endorphins and dopamine blooming, traveling across his synapses with unparalleled speed. “As you wish.”
TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425, @amberpanda99, @marshhbs, @queerponcho, @chooalvina
#meg's writing#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#college!miguel#college au#college!reader#sorority!reader#nerd!miguel#nerd!miguel o'hara#nerd miguel
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When Macaque can take his relationship with Sun Wukong falling apart better than Megatron does with Optimus.
why cant you be more like macaque, he just beat some people up and put on plays until he felt better
anyway enjoy this niche crossover
#lego monkie kid#monkie kid#six eared macaque#transformers#megatron#tfp megatron#tfp#tf#mk#mk art#transformers prime#i was gonna draw maq and then i was like wait them robots is huge#and then i brainwaved so smoke monster macaque it is#if you asked me about whose fault the transformers wars are in general i could write you a multiple page essay#i could talk for hours and hours about different continueties blaming different things and how the war fell on both autobots and decepticon#but in tfp megs is pretty assuredly largely at fault and simply unable to entertain the idea of peace#i vow not to get into that essay here but his motivations were coming from a different place than for eg. tfa where hes much more justified#tfp was assured destruction#plus its for the joke so thats why im placing blame on him here#the joke needed it#sometimes salf care is obliterating your whole species#my art
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!this is a repost because something was wrong with the original!
Thank you so much! I had a lot of fun with this. Already looking forward to all the other imagines lined up 🥰
Secret Relationship (Bingo Game)
!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!
BuckyBarnes x Female!Avenger!Reader
word count: 1.4k
warnings: fluffy af, little angst
Your eyes stared over the coffee mug at him from across the room. He was stealing glances over to the kitchen in which you sat as Sam and Tony tried to convince him to meet the smoking hot yoga teacher bachelorette the two of them had found for him this week.
You felt a little bad for him, to be honest. Bucky seemed exhausted from their constant nagging. It was weird to see the two men together like this. Normally, Tony and Sam would just pass in the hallway with subtle nods. But when it came to finding a woman for Bucky, the two could be mistaken for best friends.
“Her name is Ronda and she is hot.”
“Mhm. Gives hot yoga a whole new meaning.”
“That’s right. And she’s willing to meet you!”
“Well, I’m not willing.”
“Why are you always like this, Bucky? We go out and we find you a nice girl and you decline every time.”
“Maybe he’s like this because Dr. No over here isn’t getting laid. Which is why you should go on this date.”
“I don’t need to get laid to be in a good mood, Tony.”
“We don’t know that. You’re always grumpy and you’re most certainly not getting laid. Doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me.”
“Oh, that definitely isn’t a coincidence.”
“I’m a scientist I know that stuff.”
“Yeah, he’s a scientist. Listen to him.”
“Shut up, Sam.”
But Bucky was panicking, you could see it in his eyes. He wanted to say it, that he didn’t want to go on dates because was already dating you. But you had forbidden him from doing so. It was better this way, and he had not spoken up when you suggested keeping your relationship a secret for now.
With a small smirk, you got off your chair.
“Have you two geniuses ever thought about your annoying banter being the reason for his bad mood?” You sauntered past the men with your mug still in hand, the other slightly grazing Bucky’s back on your way to the door. You could feel his muscles relax just from the small touch.
“How are we being annoying? We are literally helping him get some.”
“I don’t need to get any!”
That was the last thing you heard Bucky shout frustratedly when you entered the hallway, a small chuckle leaving your lips before you went to your room to finish the report you had yet to hand in.
-❁-
It wasn’t long before Bucky entered your room with an exhausted sigh. He leaned against the closed door when you looked up and then proceeded to approach you at your desk, where he leaned over your shoulder, arms caging you to his chest and chin nuzzling in your neck.
“They’re the worst,” he mumbled into your sweater before placing small kisses along your neck.
“I know, baby.” You stroked his arms. “For the geniuses, they claim to be, they’re really hardheaded.”
“I feel like it’s just me they’re bothering with this. For all they know, you are single too.”
Another pang went through your chest. Bucky had not been part of the team for long. And you had spared him all of the details about most members that Steve hadn’t already told him about.
There was a reason why Tony and Sam didn’t suggest eligible partners to you, and that was because you had multiple suitors amongst the team and beyond already. If you wanted to have someone, they just assumed you would get them. Not to mention the total embarrassment they had witnessed when you had rejected Pietro in front of the team during movie night. You hadn’t meant to, but he had sprung it upon you without warning, and you hadn’t wanted to lead him on.
Then there was Peter, the intern, that harbored a silly schoolboy crush on you since he had gotten his first action figure of you, and letting him down gently was harder than you had thought. Tony and Sam, especially, had gotten amusement from the frequent serenades and suggestive fan mail you received. They even suggested an “open mail + wine night” for their personal entertainment one time. And, well, you didn’t say no to wine and gossip.
But despite all this, it wasn’t the reason why you wanted to keep your relationship a secret. Bucky had been closed up from the very first time Steve introduced him to the team. It had taken two months for him to reply to simple questions such as if he wanted coffee, too. But somehow, you had the honor of being the first person he trusted after Steve. And once you had gotten to know him better, he was the sweetest person ever. Caring, funny, charming - very touchy. But you were scared this would go away once everyone started teasing him about it. So yes, it might have been to protect Bucky, but it felt more and more like personal gain to you.
“I want you to know that I don’t need Yoga Brenda, or Coffeeshop Mandy, or anyone else. I just wanna tell them that I’m already dating the most gorgeous woman they could ever find.”
“You are wonderful, do you know that?” Your head leaned against his shoulder when you felt Bucky smile into the crook of your neck. “And I guess I could deal with a little more PDA - warm the team up to it slowly.”
“Sounds like a great plan.” And with that Bucky turned your chair and pulled you up and towards the bed. “Until then,” he patted his lap once he sat down, “I demand a kiss for every time I had to vouch for us.”
You smirked before straddling him. “Oh, I’ll gladly pay up, then.”
-❁-
You knew Bucky was touchy, but now that he had permission to do so outside your rooms, it lit a whole new fire within you. You couldn’t reach the cupboard? He would press up against you with a hand on your hip and get whatever item you needed. You walked through a door? You bet he would hold that thing open until you were all the way through.
But those were just the, in his way, subtle approaches for when everyone was around. When the two of you happened to catch a quiet moment, he wouldn’t hesitate to hug and kiss you in every common area of the compound.
You didn’t mind it too much - Bucky was a great lover all around. But you were still a little nervous as to what the team’s reaction would be. You had already gotten glimpses of it. A raised brow from Natasha, who really was just surprised it had gone past her for so long. A double take from Pietro when Bucky brushed an eyelash from your face. And a knowing smile from Wanda, who to be honest, had probably known all along - your thoughts weren’t exactly subtle... or PG.
Though you had yet to see Sam or Tony react to the increase in affection Bucky gave you. It wasn’t unusual that he asked you to train or make a joke - you were friends in everyone’s eyes. But it would become obvious if he kept up the thing he was doing right now.
Bucky had just swiped some chocolate from your face in the kitchen, and when Clint had left the room, Bucky’s hand just lingered on your face. You were staring at him. And every time those eyes gazed into yours, it was hard to remember that there was a world around you.
“I like this,” Bucky smirked when his thumb grazed over your cheek. His mouth followed shortly and soon he was stealing pecks from your soft lips.
“It is very nice,” you admitted flustered from the kisses, your hands now grabbing at his shirt.
“See, it’s not so bad.”
You just hummed in response when Bucky patted your ass affectionately.
“Ahhh! What did I just see?” Sam’s eyes were wide, his head immediately snapping to Tony. You just sighed as you leaned against Bucky’s chest. It had to happen sooner or later...
“Holy smokes, Barnes. Had we known you got Miss Unattainable, we would have shut up a long time ago.” Tony whistled in acknowledgment before he approached the fridge and retrieved a water bottle.
Bucky just looked at you with a lazy smile, his hands rubbing up and down your back. It was nice not to hide anymore.
“What can I say?” He was looking into your eyes when he spoke. “She likes to keep me to herself.” And when you responded with a smile, he leaned in and kissed you shamelessly.
“Geez, get a room,” you heard Sam mumble gruffly.
But all you could do was giggle as Bucky hid his smile in the crook of your neck, his scruff tickling your skin and the weight of the secret falling from your shoulders.
Wanna be added to the Taglist?
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#1k follower celebration#writing challenge#megs imagines#bucky imagine#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky barnes#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier imagine#bucky x f!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky fanfic
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i find it funny that in tfp, megatron is such a big intimidating guy, he looks down on every one (either metaphorically or also physically) and it gives him an air of being powerful and unmovable
and than every once in awhile he’ll lean down to get a better look at soundwave’s mask, like a mom trying to read a meme ur showing her, i just think it’s funny that soundwave gets this dumbass to practically kneel too see what hes saying. doesn’t even tilt the visor up just feels salty like “no u tall mfer, get down here!”
#ignore me#i was looking for some good refs and i saw a couple of the scenes and couldn’t get it off my mind#my fav kinds of writing is sassy soundwave but also the fica where they show the decline of megs and soundwaves relationship#whether it’s romantic or platonic big sad to see friend lose his mind then take purple space crack#tfp#tfp soundwave#tfp megatron
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— the warmth of a home | satoru gojo x reader
jjk0 setting w/ coparent teen megumi
wc: 2.2k
cw: petnames, established relationship, ur megs mother figure, reader is referred to as they but u wear perfume
not proofread!!
this was just meant to be a weekday blurb like the last but oops it turned into a full fic mb
"i'm home!"
your voice rings out as you step through the threshold of your shared home, a gentle evening breeze ushering you in as you slip your shoes off sore feet and hang your well-worn jacket up, scented flowery perfume and sweet smelling cologne mingling on the thick fabric.
it's cold out; autumn is setting in, the crisp leaves that signal the arrival of fall collecting outside your doorstep as the late weeks of october wave goodbye and usher in the first days of november, followed by a drop in temperature and thin ice that begins to crust over any wet surface.
the small hallway leads into a wide, open living room, with a corner of couches and a worn tv that hasn't screened anything in ages. there's a fuzzy throw blanket hanging over one of the couch arms, knit with patterns of cute little dogs, stuck with tongues lolling happily from their mouths. a potted plant that's clinging on to a thin thread of life you can barely sustain on the days you remember to water it sits on the coffee table, bits of soil speckling the edge of the warm clay pot as the lights overhead cast a soft glow upon the ceramic. there's a pair of black socks strewn across the tabletop- you make a mental note to give their owner a good scolding and maybe a physical touch fast for the night once you find him.
you set your bag down by the door, stepping onto the wooden floor as your feet make soft thumping noises when you cross. two pairs of keen ears pick the sounds up almost instantly, coupled by two, equally loud voices that compete for your attention.
"ah, they're back! hope they brought takeou— ow! megumi, don't yank so hard." satoru's voice comes from the bathroom, a little ways down the hall decorated with polaroids and doodles. it's promptly followed by a curt, "sorry." the words bring a smile to your face; that irritatingly singsong voice you love so much coupled by megumi's aloof and quiet.
you make your way to the door, a warm glow flooding out of the crack before you push it open wide enough to peek your head, catching a glimpse of the scene unfolding on the other side as you stifle a laugh.
satoru is propped on the edge of the bathtub, hunched to make his frame somewhat smaller and the top of his head accessible to megumi as he faces the wall, while the latter fastens a section of loosely-trimmed cream bandages over satoru's eyes, all too tight that it begins to cut into his smooth skin. there's a grimace twisting his soft lips (you know they are from constantly running a thumb over them) pink glistening from moisture under the soft daisy yellow light. megumi's hands are far too tight as they grip the strip of bandage, forcing satoru's tufts of white hair into a disheveled mess.
at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, both of them whip their heads toward the door, megumi all but ditching the task before him as satoru hooks the bandages beneath his chin with one finger, expression softening into that lovesick grin that makes your heart pump faster against your ribcage.
"welcome back." megumi hums, straightening up to brush past you. a silent agreement passes between the two of you— you'll finish tying the bandages for satoru, while he gets some homework done.
"thank you, megs." you laughed, giving him a quick ruffle of his smooth dark hair as he bumps shoulders with you, slipping past and walking into the hallway with a disgruntled mumble at the touch. "go easy on this old man next time. i don't want to deal. with a child for the whole night," you called, stifling a laugh when you see the exaggerated hurt expression that finds its way onto satoru's face almost instantly.
a distant sound of acknowledgement from megumi finds your ears as you turn around to face your very mature and handsome husband, who's still hunched over the edge of the bathtub with his arms folded over his chest and a faux crossed expression on his face. you take a few steps towards him before you sit down on the tub beside him, legs turned out to make use of the space as you turn your head to get a good look. there's a pout on his lips, not giving an ounce of thought towards being subtle in a way that's so very him. his sparkling blue irises peek out from beneath his long lashes, the color of the clouds in the sky that slowly begin to paint pale under the shine of the setting sun.
"hey, satoru. what's got you looking so down?" you chuckled, scooting closer on the cold rim of the tub to reach out. your fingers card through his hair and you almost swoon at the way he leans into your touch, like a cat chasing for chin scratches. you push the mess of hair from his eyes to press a lazy, slow kiss to his forehead, bumping into his side. as soon as your fingers touch the first square inch of hair on his head, his arms find their way around your waist, pulling you close like he's done so many times before.
"you're so mean to me, pretty. did you call me old?" he whines, the corner of his lips downturned as he buried his head in your shoulder for a moment before pulling away to stare down at you imposingly. you only sighed, stroking his hair as you watch his lips curve up in a poorly smothered grin, cocky and smug in a way that he knows makes you want to kiss away until only a little awestruck gape remains in its wake.
"of course not, 'toru. you know i love you too much to curse you with wrinkles." you hummed, taking in the sweet look on his face dusted rosy as he looks at you.
"i should hope so," he grins, and in one swift motion, you find yourself tucked flush to his chest on his lap, one of his hands snaking up your arm to pull you close as he catches your lips with his in a sweet motion he's been anticipating since the last clingy smooch this morning. he tastes like the candy you hid away in the cabinet in an attempt to stop his sweet tooth from plowing through the time before his next dentist appointment, and you add it to your mental list of things to reprimand him for.
for now, though, you let yourself indulge- let your hand trail up his chest and around his neck, feeling his pulse beneath your thumb as you lean into him with a sigh of contentment. he's warm, familiar, and stable in a way that you've only ever found comfort in, and he's fully aware of the effect he has on you when he pulls away, puckered lips pecking your cheeks with unrestrained affection as you laugh and bat him away.
he soaks in the moment for a bit until he speaks again, with a heave and a sigh that makes him seem far too worn out for a 27 year old. "help me out, love." he sighs, motioning toward the loose bandage around his neck that threatens to slip any moment. your hands are already moving when he speaks, taking up the bunch of fabric in your fingers to push his hair back and fasten it around his eyes. you mourn a little over the loss of the sight-- his pretty blue eyes tucked away behind a wall of necessity, hidden away from the world. your shoulders sink a little and you melt into him some as you finish tying the knot, making sure it's securely fasten before you move your hands away.
you're caught mid-motion, though- his hand shoots up to grab your wrist gently, thumb gently prodding at your pulse as he tilts his head into your other hand.
"'toru? what are you doing?" you asked softly, staring down at him from your vantage point in his lap.
"baby," he starts slowly, other hand snaking around your waist to press against the small of your back, warm and steady as he presses you close to him. "do you love me?"
you're surprised. most of the time, he never broaches the area of emotions out of the blue—it's an area of vulnerability he's still not quite ready for; not quite healed enough to approach. and you understand, so you never push him to talk.
"of course i do. that's why i'm here." you reminded him, gaze snagging on the way his teeth catch his lip and chew nervously. a fleeting thought enters your mind, and for a second you almost think he might put up infinity.
it's quiet for a moment, then, and you take the moment to size him up, appraising as the light from the window above filters in, framing his face in some sort of angelic light. he really looks ethereal, you think to yourself.
then, the silence is broken.
"enough to buy me takeout?" he offers sheepishly, all apprehension vanishing as that easy smile creeps over his lips again and he clasps your hands in his, lithe and calloused fingers enveloping yours to dot your wrist and knuckles with little kisses.
you blinked, before rolling your eyes, laughing that sweet laugh he only ever teased to hear from you as you wriggled free from his grasp, sliding off his lap and standing up again before he could trap you in a hug again.
"no, satoru. but i'll make dinner with megumi and save some for when you get back. does that sound good?" you offered, looking down at him expectantly.
he smiles at that, swinging his legs over the tub to stand as well. he's tall, almost comically so— looking quite out of place under the fluorescent lights amidst pastel shampoo bottles. your eyes drift to the sink, where two bristly toothbrushes are tucked in the same cup, and you smile.
"anything made by you is great, sweetheart." he says with a cheeky grin, reveling in the soft flush that stains your face as he walks closer, cupping your face in one hand and leaning down to kiss the side of your head affectionately. he catches a whiff of your perfume, and his smirk only widens. before he can do further, though, someone clears their throat from the other side of the door, and you turn around to catch sight of a head of spiky black hair, an unamused look on his face as megumi eyes the two of you.
"why are you still here?" he sniffs, peering up at satoru with a frown. the latter just chuckles, reaching over to aggressively mess with his hair, leaving it even more disheveled and out of place as an angry protest leaves megumi. satoru skirts just out of reach of an irritated jab, throwing what you think is some sort of charming wink from beneath his white bandages at the two of you.
"seeya, love. hold the fort down while i'm gone." he calls, already halfway to the door. his steps echo in your ear as you just smile, opening the bathroom door and stepping into the hallway as megumi slides up to your side, a sour expression tugging at his lips. "don't let the rascal upset our haven." said rascal makes a face.
"be safe," you said softly, hoping he caught your unspoken wishes in those two words. judging by the way he paused at the door before hurrying back to your side to pepper you with four departing kisses— one on either cheek, the tip of your flushed nose, and on your lips-- he took the caution to heart.
"you're so cute when you worry, love." he chuckled, his laugh like a spring of rejuvenating running water that filled you with life. he took a moment to take you in again— hair slightly messy from the wind whistling outside, the tips of your ears a pleasant red and a look in your eyes he could only describe as adoration.
"don't worry. i'll always come back to you."
and with that, he was gone.
not for long, though. eventually, he'd return home to a lone kitchen light flicked on, spreading warmth onto the table below. he'd come home to the same heart-warming scene he had so many times before— slipping his bandages down his face, taking his jacket off to spread it from one of your shoulders to megumi's— you'd fallen asleep together with the window open, a chilling evening breeze filtering in as the pages of megumi's homework fluttered in the wind, frustrated scribbles smudged against the crinkled paper underneath his elbows as he slept. you were by his side, too— cozy and exhausted, soft little breaths leaving your lips every now and then. times like this brought him a simple joy; the happiness of having a home to come back to, a family with handmade dinner gone cold on the table as it waited for him, a trio who could support one another and provide the love that each person had been missing.
there would never be anything he'd want more than this simplicity.
he ends up dumping megumi on the couch before carrying you bridal style towards your shared bedroom.
extra: u and megumi cook pasta tgt :3
my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize!
#in other news furina banner drops today#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#jjk fluff#I DID NOT WRITE THIS WHILE LISTENING TO CHRISTMAS MUSIC WDYM >:#i dont know how to write for winter stuff bc i live south#im officially tired of writing gojo cus i cant get him right. megs n geto next!!#gojo fluff#billet-doux#this probably won’t be the last of jjk0 gojo cus that bandage blindfold is growing on md#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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It’s funny how you can go for a long time in life not needing someone, and then you meet them and you suddenly need them all the time.
Meg Wolitzer, Belzhar
#Meg Wolitzer#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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the devils we keep | j. miller x f!reader
summary: After a messy end to things, you feel the only option left is to leave Jackson. For good. [wc: 1.6k]
a/n: this is part one of a series of standalones; they all follow Joel x same f!reader but at totally different points in their relationship.. they don't have to be read together or in any order.
content warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST with a side of ANGST, no use of y/n, established (and end of relationship), break up, post-outbreak!Joel, afab!reader, talks about loss and death, lack of communication, morning sex (blink and you'll miss it), graphic depictions of darkness, poorly edited, lmk if I missed anything <3
previous part | next part | masterlist
They always used to say that if you loved something, set it free, if it loved you back, it will return. Sometimes when you set someone free, they’ll still love you, and they’ll run as far away as they can.
The night offers some release, the darkness that surrounds you also understands you. It wraps its arms around you in a cold and unforgiving embrace, numbing your heart and soul. Momentarily releasing you from the ache that sits in where your chest meets your stomach. You thought that a “sinking heart” was just an expression, you have quickly learned, it’s a symptom.
You were not ignorant to heartbreak and pain, but previously it had come in exchange of survival. You didn’t have time to feel your heartbreak in the moment, you needed to keep moving and survive. The pain had always come later and your desire to survive always took president. So the dull ache in your chest was just a part of your daily routine.
“Movimiento es vida” your best friends voice rang in your head, movement is life. So you moved on from your grief, and moved forward to survive.
So you’ll take this pain, and you’ll push on, find somewhere new and start over.
Jackson had become so comfortable this past year you resided there. In all truthfulness, Joel had become so comfortable and he made it easy to forget a world beyond Jackson. He was someone you connected with so easily; he understood your best parts and forgave your worst.
You weren’t someone who was very good at connecting with others. Ever since you had lost your brother and best friend, you had become closed off. Maria, one of your only friends here, would describe you as a wallflower.
“Stoic and unreadable,” she would joke.
You would always roll your eyes at her. Jackson was safe but for the first few weeks you weren't convinced it was where you wanted to call home.
That was until you met Joel. He was arguably more closed off than you, but his scars matched yours. It was almost ironic how your pain matched his. You connected over the foals at the stables. Well, you and Ellie had connected over Shimmer. Joel came as a part of a package deal.
You had taught her all you could remember about horses and the equine world before the outbreak. It was what began to thaw your frozen heart; teaching Ellie how to ride, tack and untack, groom and even the different feeding protocols for the different horses. She wanted it all, and for the first time in so long you cared to share.
Your connection brought you closer to Joel, and proximity was all you needed to know that your heart matched his perfectly. You had originally planned on being two ships that had passed in the night, but life had other plans. Life with a little help from Tommy and Ellie.
None of that mattered anymore, the fondness that once sat in the memory of Joel had been buried beneath a field of darkness. Your whole life you could never seemed to pick up on when you had overstayed your welcome. Joel made it very clear that you had.
It can as a shock and surprise as you had always found yourselves talking about the future you had together. As you reflected, it was you who always brought up the future, he merely nodded along with you. Recently he had been more distant and cold, but in the moment this was a blind side.
“I think it’s time we both move on,” Joel said but wouldn’t look you in the eyes.
“What?” you whispered.
“We had a good thing goin’, something comfortable…” he paused, “But we want… no, we need, different things.”
His gaze was on the ground.
“If you’re going sit here and tell me you need a change. And that change is to let go of me… then I want you to look me in the eye as you break what you promised to keep safe,” you seethed.
His gaze met yours, his eyes were cold as the day you had met. Secrets, pain, and distance that you couldn’t tap into were all that you were left with.
He bore into your soul as he ripped it from your body.
“We’re done here. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. You deserve more than that, but it’s all I can give.”
“Fuck you, Joel. Fuck this and fuck you,” you spat.
In some other world, you handled things more gently, but you’re certain that world beat and berate you with heartbreak after heartbreak.
So here you are, surrounded by darkness, letting the burning pain in your chest turn to numbness.
You laid in bed for a week, with only the memory of Joel to hold onto.
The way it felt to wake up late with him, when Ellie stayed with a friend and Joel stayed with you.
The way he would kiss the nape of your neck and trace his hands down the curve of your side from the swell of your breast to the top of your thigh. He would pull you in close pushing your ass against himself. Knowing exactly where to put his hands and lips to ignite a fire within you. Then he would move into you slowly, softly fucking you in then morning light. Whispering sweet nothings about how you could live in those moments forever.
All of those stolen touches, kisses, slow mornings and heated midnights. They were all ghosts of loves watermark. They drowned you, plagued your thoughts. You couldn’t escape them in this bed, this house, this city. Joel had infiltrated every corner, nook and cranny of your existence in Jackson, it made it impossible to breathe.
You hadn’t slept much since that night, because at least the darkness veiled the details of Joel the light seemed to amplify. It provided short moments where you could process half of a coherent thought. Those thoughts always brought you to the same place. Washington. You swore you wouldn’t go back after the QZ fell, but it is the only place you know you’ll find safety. Safety and ghosts from your past that wouldn't haunt you leaving you feeling cold and lifeless.
So in the darkness you packed what you would need for a few weeks travel. As the morning sun peeked over the mountains you knew what you had to do.
With your small pack over your shoulder and a backpack of food that would last a week or two if you rationed correctly, you headed up the hill to a house that was all too familiar.
You knocked gently on the door and it had opened a few moments later revealing a man, that you thought would be easy to say goodbye to. You were wrong.
“Tommy,” you whispered.
“Fuck,” he said, “I thought you were Joel.”
“I know you have patrol soon I won’t be long. Just had something I needed from you,”
“What is it?” He asked, dreading what the response might be.
“I need a gun and horse, to get me to Washington,”
“I was worried you might say that,” He raked his hand through his hair.
“I have to go. I can’t stay here any longer. Please Tommy, I can’t take it,” your voice broke as you pleaded.
"C'mon now is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?"
"I can't keep feeling this way Tommy. I've lost so much so quickly and had no choice in whether or not they left. This though? It's almost worse, he chose me and kept choosing me. Until one day he didn't anymore and I still have to face him. To face this town, it's tearing me apart. He chose this, he chose to lose me, and now it is my choice to keep moving, keep living." Tears threatened to break and you could barely speak above a whisper without your voice cracking.
“I understand,” he said putting his hands on your shoulders and pulling you into an unexpected hug.
“Let me get something for you and get you on your way,” he said.
“Thank y-“
“Under one condition,” he said.
“Anything,” you said.
“You find a way to tell me you’ve landed somewhere safe,”
“Promise.”
So you went to the stable to tack your horse, Blues, and secure your cargo. Tommy followed a few minutes later with a shotgun, ammo and hunting blade to get you through to Seattle.
“Thank you, Tommy,” you said offering him a smile.
“Hey, be safe out there, alright?” He pulled you in for one final hug.
“Tommy, uh, one more thing?”
“Shoot,” he said.
You pulled a clip from your hair. It was a tulip hair clip that Joel had found for you. The gold of the metal clip began rusting over at parts and the pink wasn’t as bright as you’re sure it had once been. Joel had found it for you when he learned how much you loved tulips and their sign of new life in the spring. How they came and went before all the other flowers and their was beauty in their brevity.
“Can you give this to Ellie? She won’t wear it it’s way too girly, but I just need her to know I’ll be with her aways,” you placed the clip in Tommy’s palm and he put it in his pocket.
“Go on now, before everyone’s up and tryna stop you,” Tommy nodded toward the door.
You mounted Blues and off you went through the gates of Jackson for what you were sure would be the last time. Not even a glance over your shoulder, if you looked back you’re not sure you would’ve made it past the tree line.
next part
comments, likes and rbs are so greatly appreciated
tags: @undrthelights @pedgeitopascal @tightjeansjavi @joelsversion & lmk if you would like to be added or removed in future <3
#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller angst#joel miller x y/n#meg writes things#devils we keep: series
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One Line Any Fic
Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line, and share it! Then tag you’re it!
Tagged by @spotsandsocks, @elvensorceress, and @thekristen999! Thanks beloveds!
my heart gets lost (like a message)
“I missed a lot of this.” Eddie says, turning his attention to where Jee’s fingers have found the chain of his St. Christopher medal.
“When Chris was little I was halfway around the world for most of it.” he continues, gently untangling her fist from the necklace. “I told myself it was the only way I could provide for my family, and maybe that was true. But…” He trails off with a sigh. “I missed so much. I can’t get that back.” He looks up, meets Chimney’s gaze.
“Talk to me Chim.”
calling out a mayday (is anybody there?)
“God. Eddie.” He breaths, clutching the sooty bomber jacket in his hands so tight his fingers start to go numb. He’s shaking so hard he’s not sure how he’s still standing. Eddie is shaking too, and for a moment cold fear spikes through Buck’s chest. He tries to pull away, afraid that something is really wrong after all, but Eddie refuses to loosen his grip. The shuddering in his shoulders increases and he hides his face against Buck’s neck. That’s when Buck realizes. Eddie isn’t crying.
He’s laughing.
the beating of our hearts (is the only sound)
“Eddie.” Buck sighs, “I want to be here.” And there’s something so tender in his expression that Eddie feels his breath stutter in his chest. Behind him the heart monitor makes an unhappy wail as his pulse picks up. There’s no mistaking the sound of smothered amusement coming from the corner of the room this time but Eddie can’t take time to glare in its direction because Buck has zeroed in on the traitorous machine hanging above Eddie’s head (like the sword of fucking Damocles).
i'll be there in the summer ('cause you're heart isn't safe)
“What’s going on kid?” He asks, “Are you hurt?”
“No. No I’m ok.” He says, and while Bobby suspects ok might be a stretch, he’s sounding better than he was. “I uh, I need to take tomorrow off, maybe Thursday too. I’m sorry, I know it's late notice, but I–I need–” He trails off again and Bobby shoots his wife a look.
“Where are you Buck?” Bobby asks, “Do I need to come get you?”
“No.” Buck says, “No, I’m at Eddie’s.” And oh. Oh fuck.
“Is Eddie ok?” It's the question he has to ask, but it's the one he absolutely doesn't want to hear the answer to because he already knows–
“Uh. No.” Buck’s voice is thick and Bobby is shoving his feet into shoes before he even has time to think.
Dreamin' of the West Coast
On stage Evan Buckley exudes a sexy ‘boy next door’ sort of charm, playing into it by making his bandmates laugh in the middle of musical breaks (much to the fond exasperation of Hen, who is most often with in line of sight whenever the camera is trained on him), and his easy banter with the audience that always somehow seems smooth as glass and totally natural at the same time. Eddie had watched a handful of interviews early this morning when he couldn’t sleep, trying to get a feel for how the band interacted, and even off stage Evan had always seemed to be the social center of the group, his laugh warm and his expression open. And yes, Eddie's noticed the square line of his jaw, the bright blue of his eyes, the distinctive birthmark splashed over one eye. But seeing that on his 13 inch computer screen is a far cry from seeing it in person, and for one horrible second Eddie is sure he’s about to do something stupid like reach out and run his fingers over the arch of Evan’s brow. He could do it. He’d get kicked out of the theater and maybe arrested, but he could do it. It's a little bit like seeing a master painting in person for the first time. Eddie finds himself bowled over by the sheer aesthetics of it all.
crash (into me)
Buck is—fine. He’s rising to his feet, his eyes wide but a slightly hysterical laugh twisting his mouth up at the corners.
“Woah!” He says, grinning as he tries to dust some of the rain water off his turnouts, an unconscious gesture to steady his own nerves. “That was close huh?”
The man behind the wheel is yelling now. Somehow Bobby has materialized beside the driver’s side window and is speaking in a voice so normal Eddie can’t even begin to comprehend what is being said.
One of the most common injuries when a pedestrian is struck by a car is pelvic fractures. Shannon’s had been broken in six places. It would be impossible for a victim with that kind of structural damage to be standing, let alone heaving a bike up off the ground from where it must have toppled. The bike should have absorbed some of the impact, it might have even twisted itself around the body of the person who had been struck. That’s odd. He doesn’t have the stats on that.
disgrace, give me a break (trying to die happy someday)
“Eat that,” Eddie says, settling into the seat just around the corner of the bar. “Then you can go to bed.”
“Probably shouldn’t have had all that coffee.” Buck says, the first bite of soft bread and savory cheese reminding him exactly how long its been since he last ate.
“Please.” scoffs Eddie, “Like I would give you caffeine right now.” Buck eyes the coffee cup with an offended pout.
“I could taste it was off.” he says, and Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and pushes away from the counter.
“Sure you did bud.”
i accepted i need you now (i need you now)
“That’s it.” Someone is saying, there are still hands on his back, others on his heaving ribs trying to help him force up all the gunk he’s just swallowed. “Get it all up Eddie, you’re ok.” It's another full minute before he can even think about doing anything but choke, but at last it feels like he’s gotten most of the water out, even if his stomach is churning and his lungs feel like they’re full of glass. The rest of him is going pleasantly numb, which a distant part of him knows is probably not great. He tries to sit back on his heels, wants to reassure the anxious hands still solid on his back that he’s ok, just waterlogged, but he can’t seem to make his body behave. When he tips sideways there’s nothing he can do to stop it.
do you wanna die alone (or watch it all burn down together)
That little speck, the tiny seed of hope and want and Buck…had blossomed. He’s been tending it for a while now, quietly content to run his fingers over the delicate green shoots and pale petals in the still hours of the night. And it had felt like enough, it really had. To know he can love, that he’s still capable of something he’d once thought lost to him, that he is loved, whatever that love might look like, whatever shape it takes. He has loved Buck since he brought Carla into Eddie and Christopher’s lives. He has been in love with Buck since that quiet Tuesday in May when they were decorating the living room for Chris’s birthday party and Buck had glanced up at him over a tangle of stars and planets garland and Eddie had felt the entire world shift on its axis.
the subtle grace of gravity (the heavy weight of stone)
The sky is dark now, the dim crimson light of the fully eclipsed moon just a smudge against the sky, too weak to compete with the ever present lights of the city. Eddie shivers despite the warmth of the night air.
Behind him the screen door clicks softly shut.
“Hey.” Buck says, sliding into the space beside him, he smells like the ginger body wash he keeps in their shared locker at work. Eddie wants to turn to him, wants to see his face, to kiss the soft skin of his cheek, but he can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the place where the last sliver of golden light has winked out. Not forever, he tries to remind himself, not for good. He feels heavy and afraid.
These are laughably not one line. I'll tag @onward--upward, @ajunerose, @confetti-cupcake, @messyhairdiaz, @gaydisasterdiaz, and @djdangerlove. Forgive me if you've already done this, I'm so behind on my dash!
#megs writes#one line any fic#911 fic#sorry this got so loooooong#this was really fun to do though#i don't usually go back through my work like this
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on the radio
An HP Fic for @hpshipuary & @fluffbruary 's prompt word "radio"!
Pairing: Hugo Granger-Weasley/Lorcan Scamander, Background Lily Luna Potter/Lysander Scamander
Word Count: 713 | Rating: Teen
Additional Tags: Fluff, Friendship, Getting Together, Band AU, Epilogue Compliant
Summary:
Smiling to himself, Hugo walked over and turned down the radio. It wasn’t as if they were going to pay any attention to it while they were still riding the high of hearing their own song. It felt like electricity was dancing under his skin, like he could do anything and he’d come out on top.
#hp shipuary 2023#fluffbruary#hugo weasley/lorcan scamander#hp fic#hp fanfic#hp next gen#hp next gen fanfic#megs writes#hugo granger weasley#lorcan scamander#hugo x lorcan#harry potter fanfiction
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“No one can take writing away from you, but no one can give it to you, either.” — Meg Wolitzer
#writers#creative writing#on writing#meg wolitzer#author quote#writing#writing community#writers of tumblr#creative writers#writing inspiration#writeblr#writerblr#writing tips#author#authors of tumblr#writer#book writing#writing advice#writing resources#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#writing life#author quotes#let's write#inspirational quotes
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Sidewalk Kisses
Art cred: mia_bobrhia
“No, so then we get to the next chapter, the one we were supposed to read before class, right? And this dumbass goes wait, who’s Ophelia again? We’re literally reading Hamlet; the book cover is that super famous painting of Ophelia, and he doesn’t even know who she is.” You rant, waving your hands wildly in frustration, recounting the drama from your last class as you and Miguel take the back way to your next classes. You’re walking down the cracked sidewalk, the large looming trees above, birds singing in their branches, it’s quiet, no one else is around.
Miguel hums in halfhearted acknowledgment, and you look over at him, slowing your pace.
“Sorry, I know I’m being dramatic, but it just pisses me off.” You say, and Miguel can see you curling in on yourself.
“Don’t apologize, I’m just enjoying listening.” He says, trying to blink himself out of the trace your beauty has put him in. “And looking at you.”
You look so pretty, your hair tied up, a few strands falling perfectly, framing your face, the sun on your skin, the flowers blooming on the trees and bushes behind you.
You give him a shy smile, looking up at him through your mascara adorned lashes. “You’re so sweet.”
It’s his turn to be shy, and he ducks his head. “It’s easy to be sweet to you, you deserve it.”
You smack his arm playfully, full on beaming at him now. “Shut up, I adore you.”
I love you. The words sit on the tip of his tongue, poised, ready for action, but he chokes them down. “Now who’s being too sweet?”
You giggle, and it’s like music, like bells, like everything he’s ever wanted to hear. He loves to hear you laugh.
Miguel wants to kiss you, but he knows once he starts, he won’t be able to stop, and you both have classes to get to.
“Yeah, yeah, but anyways, so Dr. Wrinkler is like young man she is the very reason we’re reading this book. And dumbass just says I thought we were reading Hamlet because of Hamlet. Literally starts arguing with the professor! And I’m just sitting there dumbfounded, but also happy because I didn’t actually read the chapter before class, so I don’t mind him wasting class time.” You admit, giving Miguel an impish smile.
“My girlfriend, the ever-diligent student, is secretly a rule breaker, who would’ve known?” He jokes, glancing over at you when you stop dead in your tracks. “What’s wrong?”
You smile and go up on your toes, pressing your lips against his cheek. “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me your girlfriend before; I like it.”
His cheeks warm and he ducks his head. “I…I like it too.”
You coo at him and smother his face with quick kisses, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down to your height, angling your lips against his in a way that feels both romantic and wildly inappropriate. His head spins and he can’t stop a whimper from escaping when your nails graze against the nape of his neck, and your tongue traces the seam of his lips.
You smile against him, tangling your hands in his hair, manicured nails massaging his scalp, his glasses digging into the bridge of his nose a bit. He doesn’t care, you could devour him, break him into tiny pieces, melt him down, mold him into something new, whatever you want as long as you keep kissing him.
His hands go to your waist, pulling you closer, instinct taking over as he explores every inch of your mouth, the tip of his tongue running across yours, his grip tightening when he feels your breathing speed up.
You break away, breathing harshly, leaning into him like your knees are weak. “You’re um—you’re really good at that.”
“Only with you, mi dulce.” He says, and it’s not a lie, it’s the truest thing he knows. He likes kissing you, it comes naturally, everything he does you like and vice versa, there’s no wrong moves with you. “You inspire greatness in me.”
“Who knew you had such a silver tongue?” You tease, looking up at him with your pupils blown wide, your hands trailing lower, caressing his broad back.
Maybe he could convince you to skip class?
“If you would let me, I could show you more of it.” The words are honeyed, far smoother than he thought they would be, and Miguel holds his breath as he waits for your response.
Your breath catches in your throat and blink at him, stunned, flustered, lips parted in shock, or maybe anticipation? It’s an intoxicating expression, one that fuels him, fills him with courage.
“Déjame mostrarte cómo me has inspirado, mi musa, déjame arrodillarme ante ti, pintarte, tocarte, adorarte.” He whispers, drunk on your reaction, on the feeling of all your attention focused solely on him. Trsl: Let me show you how you have inspired me, my muse, let me kneel before you, paint you, touch you, worship you.
“Oh…” You breathe out, as you tilt your head subconsciously, your eyes flickering down to his lips.
He doesn’t need any other instruction, and he closes the distance, humming at the way you melt into him. He could do this forever, just you and him in the quiet of the day, sheltered by the shadow of the trees.
A sharp wolf whistle breaks you two apart.
“Damn, y/n, is that Honor Council approved?” Kelsy, one of your sisters’ calls, making you turn on your heel.
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me, Ms. Honor Council Chairman?” You call back, rolling your eyes playfully.
“It’s not, but we’re going to be late for class, so I’ll excuse it.” Kelsy says, linking her arm with yours and pulling you towards the direction of your class, casting a sympathetic look over her shoulder towards Miguel. “Sorry lover boy, gotta steal your girl, good grades and all that.”
He just nods, feeling back in that daze from before. It’s only the sight of you blowing him a kiss that breaks the trance, and he forces himself to head to his own class, the feeling of your lips on his still lingering.
I KNOW THIS ONE IS SHORT BUT I'M TRAINING THE NEW GIRL AT WORK SO I'VE HAD ZERO TIME TO WRITE + EDIT, SO THIS IS ALL I'VE GOT TILL SHE CAN STAND ON HER OWN SO SORRYYYY
TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425, @amberpanda99, @marshhbs, @queerponcho
#meg's writing#nerd miguel#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#nerd!miguel#college au#college!miguel#college!reader#sorority!reader#nerd!miguel o'hara
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The term "forgive and forget" doesn't make sense to me. Forgiving does allow us to stop dwelling on an issue, which isn't always healthy. But if we forget, we don't learn from our mistakes.
Abandon by Meg Cabot
#Abandon by Meg Cabot#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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