#my shift for that starts at nine thirty in the morning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ssweeterthanfiction · 2 months ago

Text

La dolce vita

husband!harry castillo x wife!reader content warnings: none! summary: a random tuesday with your husband wc: 1.9k

masterlist.

The sun always hit your bedroom in gold.

Not the harsh kind that slapped you awake, but the soft, diffused kind that filtered through sheer curtains and painted warm streaks across expensive sheets. It crept along the marble floors, kissed the edge of the duvet, and finally reached the sliver of skin exposed where your shoulder slipped out of Harry’s t-shirt.

His t-shirt. Always his.

Harry was already awake, of course. He always was—one of those rare, infuriating men who didn’t seem to require more than five hours of sleep and somehow still looked like he walked out of a cologne ad. His arm was draped around your waist, thumb stroking lazy circles against your stomach.

He hadn’t moved for ten minutes. Not because he was particularly sentimental—though he'd deny being anything but—but because he liked mornings like this. Liked the way you curled into his chest in your sleep. Liked the quiet. Liked pretending you didn’t have anywhere to be.

But you had somewhere to be.

“Five more minutes,” you mumbled into his chest, voice thick with sleep. You hadn’t even opened your eyes yet, but your fingers tightened in his shirt like a warning. “Don’t tell me the time. Just… five more minutes.”

He chuckled, low and soft. “Didn’t say anything, sweetheart.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I was thinking about how cute you look when you threaten me before coffee.”

You groaned, half-heartedly elbowing him in the ribs.

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, letting his lips linger in your hair. “You’ve got a call at nine,” he murmured. “That client with the launch disaster. You told me yesterday you needed at least thirty minutes to prep.”

Another groan. You pulled the duvet over your face.

“You’re supposed to be my husband,” you grumbled. “Not my calendar.”

“I can be both. Multifunctional.”

You peeked out from beneath the covers just enough to meet his eyes—sleepy, annoyed, affectionate. “Remind me why I married you?”

He smiled, the cocky little tilt of it almost too smug for six in the morning. “Because I make really good coffee. And you liked the view.”

“The penthouse view?”

“No,” he said, tapping your nose. “This view.” He motioned to himself.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered.

“I know.”

In the kitchen, sunlight gleamed off the marble counters. He poured two mugs—yours with oat milk and cinnamon, his black—and you padded in behind him, still dressed in one of his hoodies and soft pajama shorts. You were already scrolling through emails, fingers moving fast.

“Put that down for a second,” Harry said, sliding your mug across the counter. “You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

You looked up, softening. “Sorry. My boss is being—”

“Kiss first. Crisis later.”

You rolled your eyes but crossed the kitchen anyway, placing your phone down beside the fruit bowl. He met you halfway, tugging you in by the waist.

“You’re clingy in the mornings,” you whispered against his mouth.

“Only with you.”

The kiss was slow, easy. Familiar in a way that still made your stomach flutter. His hands didn’t wander. He wasn’t trying to start anything. He just wanted you close. That was the thing about Harry—he didn’t need you to do anything other than be.

“Okay,” you said, breathless when you pulled away. “Now I can save a client’s entire career with grace and caffeine.”

He smiled, leaning against the counter. “That’s my girl.”

As you disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for the day, Harry sipped his coffee and watched the light shift across the skyline. It never got old, this view.

But you were still his favorite one.

By 1:12 PM, your coffee had gone cold, your patience was thinner than the straps on your heels, and your inbox looked like it was actively trying to ruin your life.

Another email. Another “urgent” crisis. Another client who couldn’t keep their mouth shut.

You didn’t groan aloud, you were far too composed for that, but your eyes fluttered closed as you pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a quiet sigh.

Your phone buzzed again.

Harry: Look up.

You frowned, glancing toward the glass wall of your office—and there he was.

Leaning against the receptionist’s desk like he was posing for a GQ shoot, in dark sunglasses and an open-collared navy button-down. He spotted you instantly, gave a lazy two-finger wave, and smiled like he had all the time in the world.

Your heart did a quiet little flip.

The door creaked open. “Your husband’s here,” your assistant said with a barely concealed grin. “He says he’s kidnapping you for lunch. Or longer. Should I…block your calendar?”

You blinked. “He said what?”

And then Harry strolled in, sunglasses perched in his hair and dimples loaded.

“You look like you haven’t exhaled since breakfast,” he said, crossing the room and kissing your cheek like this was a normal Tuesday occurrence. “I’m stealing you. Just for a bit.”

“I have a call at two.”

“You rescheduled it,” he replied easily. “Well…I rescheduled it. Told your assistant to say you had a ‘husband-related emergency.’”

You stared at him, half-shocked, half-swooning. “You can’t just—”

“Sure I can,” he said, lacing your fingers with his. “Come on. Play hooky with me.”

"You're lucky you're so handsome."

And just like that, you were both gone.

You ate lunch at a quiet Italian spot in Tribeca, tucked away from the noise of midtown. Not your usual networking lunch. No name-dropping, no clients, no industry chatter. Just fresh pasta, house wine, and Harry’s fingers brushing yours every so often just to feel your skin.

You tried to keep your work brain on. You really did. But he had that smug grin and a soft thumb brushing your wrist and the audacity to say things like, “You always relax after the second glass.”

Which was true.

You finished your tiramisu and reached for your bag.

But Harry didn’t move. He just leaned back in his chair, sipping the rest of his espresso like you had nowhere to be.

“What?” you asked, brow raised.

“We’re not done yet.”

“Harry…”

“I’m not taking you back just yet,” he said, standing and offering you his hand. “We’re going shopping.”

You blinked. “Shopping?”

“You’ve been running on fumes for days. You need something pretty. Preferably several pretty things. Let me spoil you.”

You gave him a look. “You’re spoiling me just by pulling me out of work.”

“Then let me overdo it.”

Two boutiques and a perfume counter later, you were carrying three glossy bags and smelling faintly of jasmine and something citrusy and expensive.

Harry trailed beside you like it was the best afternoon he’d had in weeks—offering opinions on dresses, joking with sales associates, slipping a hand around your waist anytime you leaned in to look at jewelry.

“You are dangerous when you’re bored,” you muttered, stepping out of the third shop with a new silk blouse and slightly flushed cheeks.

“I’m extremely charming when I’m in love,” he corrected.

“You know you can’t buy me things every time I get stressed, right?”

“Can’t I?”

You swatted him with your bag. “You married a PR manager, not a runway model.”

He stepped in front of you then, palms gently framing your face.

“No,” he said, voice low. “I married you. And when the world burns you out, I get to remind you what you look like when you’re adored.”

Your breath hitched.

A pause. Then:

“You really want to go for a fourth store?” you asked, voice quieter now.

Harry grinned. “That depends. You want shoes or some new skincare?”

By the time he dropped you back off at your office, nearly two hours later, you were glowing. He kissed your cheek and helped you out of the car like he was still courting you.

You waved him off with a laugh and a roll of your eyes, but as you stepped into the elevator, your fingers still tingled where his had laced with yours.

And when your assistant looked up and saw your flushed face and full hands, she just smiled knowingly.

“Good lunch?”

You gave a small, breathless laugh. “Yeah,” you said. “Best one I’ve had in a while.”

The penthouse smelled like garlic and butter by the time you kicked your heels off by the front door.

The lights were dimmed to a warm glow, jazz hummed softly from the speakers in the ceiling, and the windows spilled the city’s golden-hour skyline across the kitchen floor.

You padded in barefoot, one shopping bag still looped over your wrist. Harry stood at the stove barefoot, sleeves rolled up, stirring something in a pan with the kind of easy confidence that made you want to melt into the marble countertops.

“You’re cooking?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, without turning. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“I’ve seen you try to use the microwave.”

“I said many. Not all.”

You laughed, walking over and setting the bag on the kitchen island. “What are we having?”

“Scallops. Fresh from that market you like. Some lemon pasta too. Thought I’d balance out all the luxury with something... handmade.”

“You mean ‘last-minute,’” you teased, sliding your arms around his waist from behind.

He tilted his head back just enough to rest it against yours. “Exactly.”

You stood like that for a minute. your cheek pressed to his shoulder blade, your arms warm around him, the quiet bubbling of garlic butter filling the space between.

“I could get used to this,” you murmured.

“I would hope you are,” he said. “This is the rest of your life, sweetheart.”

Dinner was simple. And perfect.

The two of you sat at the long dining table that usually only saw use during holidays or when Harry’s clients came by for dinner parties. Tonight, there were no guests. Just candles flickering, the scent of lemon zest, two wine glasses, and the way Harry kept looking at you like you hung the moon.

You were halfway through your second helping when he leaned back in his chair, wine in hand, and said:

“Today was good.”

You smiled. “It really was.”

“I missed you.”

“I was right there this morning.”

“Yeah,” he said, tapping his glass. “But I missed you when you get to laugh and breathe and forget about everyone else’s fires for a second.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice.

“You really are too good to me,” you said, quiet.

Harry reached across the table, linking his fingers with yours.

“I’m just trying to keep up with how good you are to me.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him—this man who could ruin you with a smirk but still managed to love you in all the gentle, necessary ways.

“I love you,” you said finally, thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“Good,” he said, grinning. “Because I was thinking I could steal you again tomorrow.”

You laughed. “Harry.”

“Kidding. Kind of.”

You stood, collecting plates, but he was already on his feet before you could make it to the sink.

“I’ve got it,” he said, brushing your hip with his hand as he passed. “Go sit and relax for a while. I'll finish cleaning up here then I'll run a bath.”

You raised a brow. “You’re drawing me a bath and doing dishes?”

He gave you a wink. “Like I said, many talents.”

Later, you’d be wrapped in his arms again, your hair damp from the tub, skin warm and scented from rose oils he poured too much of into the water. You’d fall asleep with your head on his chest and your fingers curled against his heartbeat, wondering how a random Tuesday turned into your favorite kind of day.

And Harry?

Harry would kiss your temple in the dark and pull you closer, already planning what he’d do to spoil you next.

#isa’s thoughts #harry castillo fluff #harry castillo fanfiction #harry castillo fic #harry castillo materialists #harry castillo x you #harry castillo #harry castillo x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #Spotify

891 notes · View notes

formulafanfics13 · 1 month ago

Text

You'll Behave When He Walks In - LH44 🔥

Masterlist

Summary Lewis Hamilton punishes his 21-year-old girlfriend after a bratty morning, fucking her hard and rough on his living room sofa. Mid-act, Toto Wolff walks in for a meeting and sees everything — Lewis doesn’t stop. The power dynamic shifts completely as Lewis stares Toto down, claiming the girl as his and daring him to stay. What follows is one of the most chaotic, filthy, and emotionally intense encounters of Lewis’s private life, ending in unapologetic dominance and a glimpse into his possessive love.

Warnings age gap (21/39), dom/sub dynamic, degradation, spanking, choking, rough unprotected sex, power imbalance, voyeurism (Toto walks in and watches), possessiveness, verbal humiliation, exhibitionism, intense dirty talk, orgasm denial (brief), overstimulation, emotional manipulation, powerplay with boss/subordinate dynamic, mild D/s aftercare (softness post-intensity).

It started with a look. One second she was curled on Lewis's massive L-shaped sofa in nothing but a pair of his boxers and a baggy Mercedes tee, flipping through some fashion magazine like she hadn't spent the entire morning teasing him. The next second, Lewis was looming over her, calm, collected, hoodie unzipped, tattooed hands pressing into the cushion on either side of her thighs.

"You think you're grown, huh?" he asked, voice low, dangerous, warm with warning.

She blinked up at him, innocent eyes, a little pout. "I am."

He laughed once. Cold and quiet. "You're twenty-one."

"And?"

"I'm thirty-nine."

"Still fuck me like I'm yours though." And that's what did it. That's what snapped the thread.

He gripped her jaw hard, eyes dark, thumb against her lips. She opened her mouth automatically, tongue out, needy like she was made for him, and Lewis smirked, slow and sharp, like she had no idea what she'd just started. "You think you can act like a brat and not get punished?"

"I think you like it," she said, her voice half-defiant, half-breathless.

Wrong answer. He flipped her fast, dragging her to the edge of the sofa, chest down, ass up, and yanked the shorts down her thighs. No prep, no warning, no softness. Just fingers digging in, lining himself up and spitting on her before slamming inside in one brutal thrust that made her cry out and clutch the cushions.

"Say that shit again," he growled, already fucking into her with no rhythm, just punishment.

She moaned something unintelligible.

"What was that?" His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back. "Cat got your tongue now?"

"F-fuck, Lewis-"

"That's right. You say my name when you take it like this."

He slapped her ass hard, over and over, until it was bright red and she was drooling on the cushion, body trembling, legs spreading wider every time he drove into her. The sound of skin on skin was loud in the room, violent. Filthy. Like a warning. Like something dangerous was happening in the safety of those walls.

"You walk around this house like you're not just a little toy," he muttered in her ear. "Touching my stuff. Calling me daddy when you want something. Think I won't wreck you?"

"Please-"

"Oh, now you beg?" He pulled out and flipped her over in one brutal movement, dragging her shirt up and shoving her knees open. "Too late for that."

He drove back into her, deeper now, watching her face twist in pleasure and pain, one hand around her throat, the other gripping her thigh like a vice.

And then...The fucking door opened.

"Lewis?" Toto Wolff. Right on time for their 3:30 meeting.

Lewis didn't stop. Didn't fucking flinch.

Just looked over his shoulder at his team boss like this was the most normal thing in the world, like he wasn't mid-thrust, sweat dripping down his back, cock buried inside a much younger girl who was gasping for air with Lewis's hand tight around her throat.

"Toto," Lewis said smoothly, breath heavy, voice rough. "You're early."

Toto froze. "I- what the fuck, Lewis-"

"She's fine," Lewis said, hips still moving slow and deep, eyes flicking back down to her fucked-out expression. "Aren't you, baby?"

She nodded, whimpering, hips trying to meet his thrusts even as she flushed bright red beneath Toto's gaze.

"She's-" Toto blinked. "She's young, Lewis."

"She's twenty-one," Lewis snapped, hand sliding down to cup her jaw. "Legal. Mine."

"You're fucking her in your living room."

Lewis looked him dead in the eye. "You can sit in the kitchen and wait, or come back in ten. Either way, I'm gonna finish."

Toto's jaw clenched. "Unbelievable."

Lewis just smirked. "Shut the door on your way out."

Toto didn't shut it. He left it half open. Maybe to punish him. Maybe to test him. Maybe to see if Lewis would actually keep going. And he did.

"Oh my god," she whispered, hand over her mouth now, breath catching.

Lewis grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand away. "You cover that pretty mouth again and I'll fuck you louder."

"You're insane-"

He slammed into her harder now, lifting one leg over his shoulder, driving in deep enough to make her scream. Her nails raked down his back, leaving red lines. Her eyes rolled back. Her moans turned into sobs.

"You like being fucked while someone watches, don't you?" he whispered, voice like honey and ash. "Letting him see what I do to you."

"Lewis-please-fuck-"

"You're mine," he growled, biting her neck. "And he knows it now."

She came hard, thighs shaking, crying out his name like a prayer. Lewis didn't even slow down, kept going through it, chasing his own release, chasing the high of being caught and not caring.

When he came, it was with a filthy growl, cock deep inside her, body trembling with the force of it. He collapsed on top of her for a second, breath ragged.

And then...He pulled out. Grabbed her face. Kissed her softly. "Go take a shower," he whispered, brushing sweaty hair from her cheek. "I'll handle the meeting."

She nodded, dazed. Stood on wobbly legs, cum running down her thighs, his hoodie barely covering her as she disappeared down the hall. Lewis stood. Pulled his sweats back up. Grabbed a bottle of water and walked toward the kitchen like nothing happened.

Toto was standing at the counter, eyes wide, arms crossed. He was composed, suit jacket folded neatly over the barstool, white shirt still perfectly pressed, not a single hair out of place. But his eyes, they betrayed him. Wide. Haunted. Flicking across the apartment like they might land on some explanation for what the fuck had just happened.

Lewis strolled in slowly, like he hadn't just fucked his twenty-one-year-old girlfriend raw and made eye contact with Toto through the entire orgasm. Like he didn't have bruises on his neck from her mouth. Like her screams weren't still echoing off the high ceilings. Like he didn't give a single fuck.

He poured himself a glass of water with the casual ease of someone who could kill a man and still be early for brunch. Then he leaned against the island, across from Toto, and raised an eyebrow. "So."

Toto stared at him. Lewis took a sip. Nothing. No words. Just breathing. Just processing.

"She's legal," Lewis said finally, voice flat, controlled, dangerous in how little it tried to justify.

Toto didn't reply.

"She's mine. Has been for months. You just happened to walk in."

"You-" Toto started, then stopped. Swallowed. Pressed his fingers to his temple like he had a headache he couldn't name.

"You could've said 'ten minutes,' mate," Lewis added with a shrug. "Would've wrapped up faster."

"Ten minutes?" Toto echoed, his voice higher than usual. "Lewis, I walked into a porn scene."

Lewis tilted his head. "Then why didn't you leave?"

Toto blinked. Jaw clenched. That question landed a little too hard.

Lewis didn't let up. "You had the choice, boss. Door was open. You stayed."

"I was shocked."

"Were you?"

Toto looked up slowly. Lewis was smiling now. Not a cocky, media-trained grin. But something razor sharp. Measured. Like he knew exactly how much he could get away with. "I don't hide shit in my own house," Lewis said. "You know that. You've known me long enough to know when I'm soft and when I'm serious."

Toto still said nothing.

"She's not some random girl," Lewis added, softer now. "You think I'd risk all this for a fling?"

And that seemed to hit. Because Lewis didn't play when it came to loyalty. He was calculated. Controlled. Never reckless. If she was in his bed, in his house, in his life, then it meant something. It meant everything.

Toto ran a hand through his hair. Sat back. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Lewis laughed, short and humorless. "Oh, yeah, let me just drop that into the strategy debrief. 'By the way, I'm fucking someone your son's age and I'd murder for her.' Think that'd have gone over well?"

"She looked-"

"Beautiful," Lewis interrupted. "Powerful. Obedient. Happy."

Toto sighed. "She looked wrecked."

"She likes being ruined," Lewis said without flinching. "And I like doing it. But only because she trusts me."

The room fell quiet. Somewhere in the background, a door closed softly. The faint sound of the shower shutting off. Lewis's gaze flicked toward the hall for half a second — just long enough for Toto to see the way his whole face softened. Barely. But it was there.

Toto leaned forward. "You're in love with her."

Lewis didn't answer.

"You are," Toto said again. "That wasn't performance. That wasn't just a fuck."

"She doesn't need the world to know," Lewis said calmly. "She only needs me to know. And I do."

Toto blew out a breath. "Jesus, Lewis."

"You came for a meeting. You want to talk strategy or my sex life?"

Toto hesitated. And Lewis smiled. "Thought so."

He pulled his tablet over, opened the race simulations, and began scrolling like he hadn't just delivered the most chaotic emotional whiplash of Toto Wolff's career.

Eventually, Toto leaned in. Professional. Back to business. But every few seconds, his eyes drifted to the hallway. To where she might reappear. To where everything about Lewis had just shifted.

#f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lh44 x reader #lh44 #team lh44 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton one shot #formula 1

292 notes · View notes

theonlyonesora · 3 months ago

Text

The Third Rule

Lily x Oscar Piastri x You (Reader)

Chapter 4 - Early Departures, Lingering Looks

The morning was gentle. Warm light spilled across the floor, soft and honey-gold, slipping in through gauzy curtains. I was already dressed—hoodie, shorts, bare feet against cool tile—as I zipped the last of my overnight bag.

Lily was still curled up in bed, lost in that kind of sleep where you could tell the world couldn’t touch her. Oscar and I had both woken early—accidentally, maybe. Or not. I wasn’t sure anymore.

The kitchen smelled like coffee. Quiet clinks and the low hum of the kettle filled the silence.

Oscar handed me a mug without asking how I liked it. Somehow, he just knew.

"You're up early for someone who went to bed at 3 a.m.," I said, voice a little hoarse from sleep and salt air.

He gave a small smile. “You were louder than I expected.”

I groaned and covered my face. “Oh my God. You heard that?”

“Everyone heard that.” He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee. “Lily nearly suffocated herself laughing into a pillow.”

I buried my face in my hands, then peeked at him. “Do I get points for enthusiasm?”

Oscar’s eyes glinted. “You get full marks.”

We laughed, the kind of quiet laugh people share when the rest of the house is still asleep.

And then… a pause.

The kind that didn’t feel awkward. Just aware.

It was the first time we were truly alone. No Lily between us. Just me and him and the smell of coffee.

“You’re leaving today,” he said. Not a question.

“Yep. Train’s at nine.”

“You packed like someone escaping a scandal.”

“You never know when scandal will call.” I gave a wink over my mug. “Especially with you two around.”

Oscar’s eyes softened. “This weekend was… fun.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It was.”

Another pause. Another almost-something.

“I get why she loves you,” he said after a moment.

That caught me off guard. “You do?”

He nodded, his voice low. “You make her laugh. You protect her. You see parts of her I think even I miss sometimes.”

I looked down at my mug. “She saved me too, you know. When we met. She gave me a soft place to land.”

Oscar stepped closer. Just slightly. Still respectful. Still safe. But there was something in the air now, the kind of hum you feel under your skin.

“She told me you reminded her of me,” he said. “I never saw it before.”

“And now?”

“Now I think I get it.”

I looked up at him, eyes meeting, locked just long enough to wonder about things that had no names yet.

“I should go,” I whispered.

“Yeah.” He didn’t move.

But then I did. I reached out, fingers brushing his arm gently, just for a second. Not a flirt. Not a promise. Just… a thank you, maybe. Or something waiting.

“Take care of her,” I said softly.

He nodded, voice quiet. “I will.”

And as I walked out the door, bag slung over my shoulder, the morning suddenly felt a little heavier.

Like something had shifted. Like something had started. Or maybe just been acknowledged.

And I wasn’t sure what was next. But I knew it wasn’t over.

Lily woke up to the smell of coffee and the feel of sunlight dancing across the duvet. The bed felt strangely empty, and the apartment was too quiet.

(Y/N) was gone.

She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes and pulling one of Oscar’s shirts tighter around her frame. The morning had that particular stillness that only followed something. And her gut already told her… something had shifted.

She padded into the kitchen, where Oscar stood leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t been standing in the exact same spot for thirty minutes.

“Hey,” she said, voice groggy.

He looked up immediately. “Morning.”

She smiled sleepily and kissed his cheek, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Did she leave already?”

He nodded. “Train left a little after nine.”

“She didn’t even wake me.”

“She said you looked too peaceful.” He hesitated. “Didn’t want to ruin that.”

Lily leaned back, looking at him more closely now. “You okay?”

Oscar let out a soft exhale through his nose. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Her brows lifted gently. “About what?”

There was a beat of silence. A flicker of something in his eyes that wasn’t guilt. Wasn’t shame. Just… complication.

“She’s different in person,” he said finally.

Lily leaned against the island across from him, arms folded, expression unreadable. “Yeah. She is.”

Oscar nodded slowly. “I think I get it now. What you meant all those times you said I’d like her.”

A small, wry smile tugged at Lily’s lips. “Told you.”

Oscar met her gaze, searching her expression. “She’s magnetic. The way she laughs, how she makes everything a little more alive… It’s hard not to get pulled in.”

Lily didn’t flinch. “I know.”

Another silence. He was waiting for something. Maybe her jealousy. Maybe her anger. But Lily was never the kind to rage; she thought first. Always.

Lily nodded slowly. “She has that effect.”

There was a long pause. The kind that felt like a dare.

Then Lily tilted her head and asked, very carefully, “Would you tell me if you wanted her?”

Oscar looked stunned for a moment—not because of the question, but because of how calmly she asked it.

“I don’t think I want her like that. I just… I feel close to her now. And it’s new. But also not?”

Lily smiled, a little sad, a little warm. “Welcome to my world.”

Oscar’s eyes softened. “You’re not upset?”

“I think,” she said slowly, walking over to him and sliding her hands under his shirt, resting them on his waist,

“I just need to know what we’re doing. If we’re honest… if we trust each other… then I’m not afraid of her. Or you.”

Oscar pulled her into a quiet embrace, head resting against hers. “I love you.”

“I know.”

He pulled back to meet her gaze. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said honestly. “But I do know I want to find out with you. And with her, if she wants that too.”

Oscar exhaled. “This is insane.”

Lily smiled. “Yeah. But also kind of hot?”

Oscar chuckled and pulled her into a deeper hug. And somewhere, faintly—like the echo of laughter on a beach at midnight—they both felt (Y/N)’s name still lingering in the room.

Tag List:

@freyathehuntress, @mimisweetz, @aleatorio1234, @totallynotluluu, @rorabelle15, @prongslena, @linnygirl09, @mangotaitai, @forensicheart, @devilacot

215 notes · View notes

pixxievomit · 1 month ago

Text

[ deserving. ]

you woke to the lack of warmth and weight, eyebrows pulling together in groggy disappointment. waking up alone usually meant one of three things:

it was a special date and he was already trying to do something for it.

he was already gone, off to do some saving or destroying of some sort.

he was up because his thoughts weren't being kind.

you knew it wasn't a special occasion, that was for sure, and normally, he'd wake you up enough to let you know he'd be leaving. that left one option and it immediately brought a small frown to your features. it wasn't uncommon but he did have a habit of dealing with it elsewhere, like you seeing him in a bad headspace meant the end of the world.

shifting around to slide out of bed, you stretch your arms up and yawn, trying to shake the remaining sleep away before heading out the door. the hardwood is cold beneath your feet and you don't hear anything besides the usual white noise of the air conditioner being on. no tv, no radio, no self mumbling like he did when he was alone.

hal was in the middle of putting together what you could only describe as a sad, half assed sandwich when you walked in. he was still in pajama pants and a wrinkled tshirt, hair a mess and just existing. you could tell something was sitting heavy in his thoughts by the way his shoulders sagged and his hands moved slower than usual. he wasn't rushing to greet you, no bright smiles or lifting you up to annoy you.

you watched for a minute from the door way, noting another sign in the fact he didn't seem to notice you there. you took in the way the morning light spilled over him from the kitchen window, the way his brows pulled together just the slightest bit.

you smiled a little when he finally began to move from the counter to settle at the table. "morning, pretty boy," you greeted, tone careful, like anything too louder than a soft mumble would cause something to crack.

he looked up, eyebrow raising slowly. "...pretty boy?"

you nod and pad your way over to lean against his side, one hand coming up to push your fingers through his hair. "mhm.. something wrong with that?" you asked, nails gingerly scratching against his scalp.

he took a deep breath before letting it out, hand lifitng to go around you, settling at your hip. "you remember i'm thirty nine, tired and have been close to dead more than once, right?"

"okay, and?" you laughed, shifting to wrap your arms around his shoulders from the side, pressing a few kisses to his head. "that doesn't change anything."

he repeated it under his breath like it was some type of curse or joke you just hadn't revealed yet. like it was some wild thing despite the fact he'd been complimented dozens of times before. you wondered if, perhaps, he was having one of those mornings where it didn't feel real - where he was questioning when he started deserving good things.

bringing your hands around, you tipped his chin up and carefully cupped his cheeks, making him look at you. "you're my pretty boy, and i don't know what silly voice is telling you otherwise but it needs to hush."

he blinked at you a few times before softening, shifting in his chair to face you better just to hug around your waist, face hiding against you. "i love you," he sighed, shoulders relaxing, trying to get rid of that nasty sense of dread that seemed to weigh down on him.

"love you, too," you said, carefully hugging his head to you. "let's go get breakfast somewhere, yeah? don't even have to get dressed, pajamas all day."

[ taggies: @kitkatscabinet 🖤💚 ]

#dc comics #dc scenarios #green lantern x reader #green lantern #hal jordan x reader #hal jordan #dc x reader

165 notes · View notes

thatnightlamp · 2 months ago

Note

Hello!

Your characterization of Rogal Dorn is unparalleled. I love your Dorn work so much! I feel that he’s one of the more overlooked primarchs.

I also saw that your requests are currently open. I was wondering if we can please have some more. Literally anything with Dorn. It can be cute or spicy. Domesticity with the Praetorian of Terra.

I want to try something new with Modern Au. Dorn is a retired military in this Au but it not mentioned much. Multi scenario, I just write what comes to my mind.

The house was quiet.

Not empty—never empty, but full in a different way. There was the faint hiss of simmering water from the kitchen, the rustle of fabric as heavy hands folded laundry, the low growl of the floorboards beneath feet that moved deliberately, precisely, as if each step was a chosen command in an unspoken ritual of peace.

Rogal Dorn was folding your socks.

Each one laid perfectly, heel to toe, pressed flat. The basket beside him was nearly empty—of course it was, because he’d started at 5 am with the discipline of a man conducting a military inspection. He didn’t allow chaos. Not even among wayward laundry.

You emerged from the bedroom wearing one of his shirts—it hung loose off your shoulders, sleeves rolled up, and you were still rubbing sleep from your eyes. The sight of him, crouched by the couch with a stack of neatly folded towels arranged like military rations, made your heart ache in that too-tender way only he could cause.

"Morning," you murmured.

Dorn looked up. Something in his face softened instantly, the way it only ever did for you.

"Coffee is brewing," he said simply, rising to his full, imposing height. "Breakfast is thirty percent complete. The eggs are cooling; I’ll reheat them."

"You reheated eggs once, and now you talk like you’re preparing a field ration."

"They should not sit too long," he said, arching one perfect golden brow. "The texture is compromised."

You chuckled and padded over to press your face to his chest. He smelled like warmth and citrus and home. His arms wrapped around you automatically, enormous hands splayed across your back, and he let out a small exhale when you hugged him tighter.

"I like waking up to you," you whispered.

He didn’t answer for a long moment. Then, softly: "I like… being here for you to wake up to."

There was a weight behind the words. A subtle ache. The kind of thing only you would notice.

Because Rogal Dorn—architect, strategist, man of unshakable walls—was still learning how to live in a space that asked nothing of him except his love.

You tilted your head back to meet his eyes. "What’s that look?"

His jaw worked for a moment. "I was thinking about the groceries."

You blinked. "The groceries?"

"Yes. The delivery window is between nine and eleven. I requested ‘no substitutions’ in case they try to send those soft tomatoes again. I will not compromise your stew with inferior produce."

You stifled a laugh. "God, you’re intense."

"I am efficient," he said seriously. "And… attentive."

His hand drifted up your spine, anchoring you gently against his chest.

"Would you like your breakfast now?"

You smiled. "Yes, husband. Show me your tactical omelet."

He growled—quietly—and kissed your forehead with absurd delicacy.

Dorn kept a garden.

It was not dainty. Nothing he did ever was. But it was beautiful in its order: a raised-bed fortress of herbs, vegetables, and quietly thriving flowers, built with walls he had stacked by hand. The design was over engineered for a backyard plot, angled stones for drainage, reinforced edges, a clever irrigation line that ran through a pressure valve he’d custom built in the garage.

"Are you building a greenhouse or a planetary defense grid?" you had once joked.

He’d stared at you and said: "Both, if necessary."

Right now, he was kneeling in the soil, pale skin catching the sun, muscles shifting beneath a tank top, forearms dirt smudged in a way that was almost obscene. He was snipping rosemary with the seriousness of a man diffusing a bomb.

You brought out a pitcher of water and two glasses. "Want a break, sunshine?"

He looked up, and his eyes—those fierce, unreadable eyes, warmed the second they met yours.

"I was completing a task," he said. "But I will pause. For you."

You sat beside him, legs stretched out in the grass. He took the glass from your hand, his fingers brushing yours, and drank like it was a communion offering.

The stillness that settled between you was companionable, soft. You watched a bee land on one of his tomatoes. He didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch.

"They like you," you said.

"They are efficient," he said.

You nudged him with your knee. "You’re not so scary after all, huh?"

He didn’t answer—but the corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest echo of a smile.

It was always the same when packages arrived.

You’d hear the doorbell, move to answer it, and then, like some spirit of vengeance rising from the depths of domestic peace, Dorn would appear.

Today it was a poor kid in a red delivery uniform, barely out of college, holding a small parcel labeled "FRAGILE."

"Hi, uh, delivery for…" the kid began.

Dorn opened the door.

The boy went stock still.

All seven feet of him stood there, massive, shoulders squared like the doorway had been built to contain him and only barely managed it. He looked down at the package. Then at the delivery man. Then back at the package.

"Is it intact?" Dorn asked, voice cool and grave.

The kid swallowed. "Y-yeah?"

Dorn narrowed his eyes. "You are certain."

"Y-yes sir! Absolutely. I—uh—I carried it by hand."

Dorn reached forward, took the box with a kind of reverent suspicion, and turned it over in his hands like he was checking for explosives.

"…You have done well," he said finally.

The kid nodded like he’d been knighted. "T-thanks, sir. Have a good one."

You appeared just in time to catch the tail end of it. As Dorn shut the door with the precision of a vault, you leaned against the wall and gave him a look.

"You terrify them."

"They must be tested," he said simply.

"It’s a teacup set, Rogal."

"It was labeled fragile," he said flatly, as if the word had grave strategic importance. "Not optional."

He didn’t sleep like most people.

He didn’t spread out, or sprawl. He curled himself around you—massive, warm, still half-alert even in dreams, and held you like he was the only barrier between you and a chaotic world.

Tonight, it was raining. The kind of rain that wrapped the house in hush and heat. You lay together in bed, your head tucked under his chin, one leg tangled with his, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your hand.

"I never imagined this," he said quietly.

You blinked. "This?"

He nodded, cheek brushing your temple. "A quiet life. The absence of war. I did not believe it was for me."

You traced the scar over his ribs with your fingertip. "You deserve peace."

His arms tightened around you, slow and careful. "I did not know I deserved it… until you."

There it was again. That deep, trembling honesty that only you got to hear.

You turned in his arms, facing him fully, and kissed the center of his chest.

"Then stay. As long as you want."

"I will never leave," he said, voice a vow.

And you believed him.

Because if there was one thing Rogal Dorn never did, it was abandon what he had sworn to protect.

And now, that was you.

#primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #rogal dorn x reader #modern au

155 notes · View notes

lolasangelz · 4 months ago

Text

doubts

w/c: 794

a/n: send asks i love them and have no ideas!! also im obsessed w the black n white pictures like

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

the rain started at about 4 am.

georgia woke first. not from the storm, but from the familiar weight shifting beside her — rafe, always a restless sleeper when work crawled too deep into his bones.

he sighed, heavy, and she reached for him without thinking. hand on his chest. grounding.

“can’t sleep?” she murmured, voice scratchy.

he didn’t open his eyes. “just thinking.”

“about?”

he paused. then, softer than she expected, “grayson’s speech therapy. emerson’s field trip. whether or not maggie swallowed that button yesterday.”

georgia huffed a laugh. “it was a cheerio.”

“still looked suspicious.”

her fingers curled into his t-shirt. she didn’t say it, but she’d been thinking about the same things. the way emerson had clung to her shirt that morning, whispering he didn’t want to go. the way maddie had started drawing pictures of them with sad faces and too many clouds.

the house was full of noise during the day, but in the stillness of night, the quiet echoed louder.

“do you think we’re doing okay?” she asked.

he turned his head, finally looking at her.

“you mean as parents?”

she nodded. “as… us.”

rafe didn’t answer right away. just slipped his hand beneath the blanket, found hers, laced their fingers together. his thumb brushed her knuckle.

“we’ve got four kids under six, gee. a whole legacy on our backs. a marriage everyone’s still waiting to see fall apart.”

“comforting,” she deadpanned.

“my point is,” he said, lips brushing her hair, “we’re still here. still trying. i think that counts for something.”

georgia bit the inside of her cheek. let herself breathe that in.

they didn’t talk much about love — not out loud. not in words. but it was in the way he watched her when she wasn’t looking. in the way she ironed his shirts even when she was mad at him. in the way they met in the hallway outside the kids’ room every morning like clockwork, both half-asleep, both somehow in sync.

she shifted closer, her leg sliding over his. “you’re getting soft in your old age.”

“twenty-nine is ancient,” he agreed.

“ancient and annoying.”

he leaned in, pressed his lips to her jaw. “but still hot.”

“debatable.”

they were quiet for a beat. the kind of silence that didn’t need filling.

then —

“grayson’s probably going to wake up soon,” she whispered.

“maggie’ll be next.”

“we’ve got maybe an hour.”

rafe’s hand moved up, warm against her spine. “then let’s make it count.”

she smiled into his chest. “no sex if you’re thinking about buttons again.”

“no promises.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

by seven, the house was alive with sound. cereal hitting the floor. grayson crying over the wrong cup. maddie arguing with emerson about whether maggie could technically be considered her ‘baby’ if she didn’t do any of the work.

georgia handed rafe a coffee while balancing maggie on one hip and wiping banana off her sleeve.

“still think we’re doing okay?” she asked, raising a brow.

rafe looked around — at the mess, the noise, the absolute unraveling of any illusion of control.

then he looked at her. hair tied up, sleep still in her eyes, soft chaos curled into her like it belonged there.

“we’re doing perfect.”

and even with grayson screaming in the background, even with cheerios underfoot and a meeting in thirty minutes, georgia smiled.

because they were.

in their own way.

they really, really were.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

let me know if i should start a taglist or like nah?

reblogs are much appreciated :))

163 notes · View notes

meanderingwistera · 5 months ago

Text

Love, Magic and other things gone wrong

Summary - After trying multiple dating apps you give up and try to love yourself. A love potion should help with that. Nothing can go horribly wrong and drag the cute guy next door into it…right?

Pairing - Suguru Geto x Reader

Content - Fluff, smut, oral f receiving, p i v sex, mostly fluff tho, Witchy! Reader, magical accidents, love potions, artist! Geto, he has TATTOOS, pet names

Word count - 9k

A/N - This is my first full fic that I am posting on here from Ao3! If you prefer that format it is here!

Your love life is… horrendous, you are even being nice about it.

The last date you had gone on had told you that he just “wasn’t ready for anything serious”, only to turn around and change his status to in a relationship within two days after that. But he was the latest in the line of terrible dates you had gone on within the past two years.

You had tried almost everything but you had come to one conclusion-

“I am going to end up a lonely cat lady!” You whine and lay your head down on the cafe table. Utahime looks down at you over the rim of her mug. Her brown eyes look a bit amused at your horrible situation.

“I really doubt it,” She says and pats your head, “Men just suck.”

You want to argue but you remember one of your dates saying that “if you just lost some weight you would be so hot”, so you just groan instead of saying yes. Men do suck or maybe just the ones you match with on shitty dating apps are.

“What do I do?” You ask and shift your head to the side so you can look up at your friend.

“To be honest, you just need to be comfortable with yourself. Practice self love first, then good men will find you.” She explains and sips her tea.

“Maybe you are right.” You agree, still feeling defeated. “Do you have a quick fix for my self love?”

She snorts, “Are you asking for a love potion?”

“You said it, not me!” You remark with a laugh and sit up.

Utahime rolls her eyes good naturedly.

“Give me a few days and I will drop it off, but-” Her face turns serious, “only use a small amount. And I would suggest only drinking it when you are alone and infuse it into something so the effects are minimal. Otherwise you could fall in love with your reflection or someone random.”

You readily nod, how hard could that be?

After you take a little bit of that love potion for a week you see results. You feel better and as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. When you go out you don’t scrutinize yourself for your weight or how you look. Your deep set insecurities fade into the background as you look at yourself. It feels so good.

Today is a quiet day for you. Saturdays are one of your off days so you designated it as a chill day. No big agenda or anything to do, just basking in that fact that you don’t have to do anything, which is the best kind of day.

You wake up at nine-thirty but lay in bed for a half hour before getting up to make breakfast. The sun shines in through your sliding glass door out to the small balcony. It engulfs the morning in a warm glow as you start the coffee pot. Starting breakfast you crack a few eggs into a pan and turn on the stove.

While the coffee brews and you cook your eggs on a low heat, you pull out your tarot deck for a quick morning reading. You usually work mornings so when you have an opportunity for a morning read you feel giddy. The deck is familiar and comfortable in your hands as you shuffle the cards.

After you feel like they are sufficiently shuffled you pull out three cards and lay them face down. You flip the first card and wince. The tower glares up at you as you feel very uncomfortable at its presence.

So it looks like you will be having a crisis, delightful.

“Okay-” You say to yourself and take a deep breath, “let’s see what is going on.”

You flip over the next card to see the ace of cups. That is significantly better than the tower. A new emotional connection but is that before or after the crisis or is that the crisis? You sigh and already feel yourself overthinking.

The last card is flipped and you feel a bit better about all of this. The sun card shines like a beacon of hope in this reading. A calm after the storm, a peace after a time of crisis. It looks like the crisis will happen first, a new emotional connection will somehow be involved but happiness will come after.

You snap a picture of the reading and send it to the group chat with Utahime, Shoko and Yuki.

______

You

Guess who is going to

have a crisis?

Yuki

Don’t you have a crisis

every other week?

Shoko

Don’t be rude

Utahime

Yeah, it’s every two weeks Yuki

You

I don’t know why I am friends

with you guys

Yuki

Because you love us?

______

You roll your eyes at your friends and go back to your eggs.

The rest of your morning and early afternoon go well. You eat your breakfast, work on some personal projects and lay around watching tv. Occasionally you get a text from the group chat but it is mostly about things unrelated to your upcoming crisis.

You are sitting on your couch at about four o'clock, starting a book that you have been putting off reading, when you realize that you haven’t started on dinner yet. It is a bit early but you can feel hunger start to creep in. Putting a bookmark in your place you close the book and get up.

The cabinets are almost bear except for a lone box of spaghetti noodles. You grab it out of the cabinet and set it on the counter. Looking in the fridge you don’t see any sauce so you may have to settle for garlic butter pasta. You see some chicken that you can put in it.

“Score!”

Grabbing out the chicken you put it next to everything else and get to work on your makeshift dinner. You turn on the stove, put the pan on it and cut the chicken. You season the chicken well before put it on the pan to cook.

You are craving more coffee so you put on another pot. In addition to the water you put in a tablespoon of that love potion just for fun. You don’t plan on seeing anyone today so you want to mess with the dose a bit.

Once you have the coffee on you walk out to water your hoard of plants on your balcony. Most of them had been gifts but your favorite is the lavender plant you had been given as a housewarming gift.

You suspect you will have to replant her soon so she can grow better. She is one of the plants you use the most in your teas and recipes because of lavender’s calming qualities. Utahime also uses lavender in her witch stuff so you are technically her supplier.

The sound of another sliding door breaks you out of your thoughts. To your right the sliding door opens and a man steps out with a pack of cigarettes. Both of you look equally shocked to see each other. Then you remember that you are still in your pajamas.

He looks at you and you look back. Trying to break the awkward silence the man gives you a small wave. You quickly wave back before going back to watering your many plants.

Normally you would not care but this man is different. He and his friend had moved in about a year ago. You had immediately noticed him. Maybe it was the hair, tattoos or gauges; but no matter what it was you were hooked.

He was cleverly dubbed, “Hot neighbor guy” in your circle of friends. You kept them updated on all the small details you had picked up about him. Like that he really likes rock music and that his hands are usually stained with paint.

So now you try not to stare at his broad shoulders that are on full display in his black tank top. His side profile is accentuated by the evening sun behind him. You need to be normal, friendly but not too much-

“Why do you have so many plants?”

You immediately jump out of your skin at his sudden question, then smoothly respond,

“What?”

A blush tints your cheeks as you debate running away into the woods and never returning.

This man has the audacity to lean over the rail towards you with a cigarette between his teeth and repeat his question.

“Why do you have so many plants? I always wondered why you had so many.”

“Oh! Most of them were gifts in high school,” You say and stand up straight after you finish watering your last plant, “I had a phase and now feel obligated to keep them alive.”

He chuckles a bit and lights the cigarette, “I get that, I took in a stray once and now I am stuck living with him.”

“Your roommate?” You ask and he nods.

“He has little to no self preservation so I get to save him from himself.”

You laugh and he smiles, his snake bites becoming more prominent on his lips.

“How did you-” You start to say only to be cut off by the smoke alarm screaming at you.

Your chicken is burning.

Not wasting any time you fling open your door and turn off the burner. After you run to the smoke alarm to try to reset it. Only to find that it is too far up the wall for you to reach. Now you were not short but it is ridiculously high up on your wall.

Your quickly thought out plan B was to beat the alarm with a couch cushion. Whether it was to hopefully dislodge the thing from the wall or fan away the smoke you don’t know but what else can you do? Sadly your brilliant idea doesn’t work so you just beat your wall with a cushion and hope it stops soon.

A knock at your door makes you give up on your valiant attempt at stopping the shrieking alarm. With a sense of defeat you walk to the door. Couch cushion in hand you open the front door to see “Hot neighbor guy” at your door. This is probably his first impression of you, a woman who has too many plants and burns chicken, how great.

“Do you need help?” He asks, because of course he is still nice to you, with genuine concern on his face.

“If you don’t mind!” You say trying to be cheerful as your reputation with this guy lies tattered on the ground between you, “If not I will just wait for it to stop.”

The corners of his lips quirk up at your tone. You move aside to let him in, you are then immediately struck by the fact that you haven’t cleaned up your apartment enough for it to be prepared for someone to come over. But it is far too late as he walks to the alarm.

He reaches up, his shirt riding up, to grab the alarm. Your eyes, attracted by the movement, travel down to see a tiger tattoo on his hip. You don’t look at that and you won’t think about it later either. He pushes a button and the alarm goes blissfully silent. You sigh in relief and he chuckles.

“Well, at least you can take care of plants because your prospects of becoming a handyman are slim.” He says with a grin.

“The only thing holding me back is irritatingly high placed smoke alarms, other than that I would do great.” You say back then turn a bit shy as you continue, “Thank you though, is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Well now that the smoke is gone I can smell coffee, can I have some?” He asks you and reaches out his hand, “And I am Suguru by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Suguru,” You respond and take his outstretched hand. His palms are bit rough as he shakes your hand and you introduce yourself.

“And I am happy to share my coffee!” You agree with a smile and turn to go back to the kitchen. He follows you and waits by your island. You grab a mug out of the cupboard for him. “Do you like cream or sugar?”

“No, black will be just fine.” He says and sits on one of the stools.

After pouring the coffee you slide the cup over and he takes it gently. His hands are larger than yours and you see faint patches of dried purple paint.

“Let me go put back the cushion.” You say and walk into the living room. With a soft hum you arrange the cushions in their proper place.

Looking back you see that your work is good and begin to make your way to the kitchen. As you enter the kitchen you come to a halt as you look at the coffee pot. You then realize that you put the love potion into the water for the coffee.

Oh no.

Subtly you glance over at Geto who sips the coffee blissfully unaware of your fuck up. He looks fine? There isn’t any change in behavior so far. So you decide to make yourself some coffee and observe instead of doing anything irrational.

You reach up and get another mug only for Suguru to hand it down to you. His chest is almost against your back as he hands it to you. Your breath hitches slightly as he doesn’t move too far from you as you pour yourself coffee. His hands ghost your waist and you are ninety-nine percent sure that it has kicked in.

What the hell do you do?!

“Your really cute like this.” He says and it’s dangerously low. You shiver at the tone of his voice.

“Suguru?” You ask, trying to act nonchalant and not like you are having a crisis.

“I like the way you say my name.” He says and you turn so you can see him. That was a bad move because he puts his hands on the counter behind you, closing you in.

Your breath is short and your heart is pounding in your chest. Suguru’s eyes trail down from your eyes to your slightly parted lips. He isn’t even discreet about it.

Before you can come up with any semblance of a plan to get out of this predicament your brain shuts off.

Suguru leans in and kisses you. It starts off slow and sweet. His mouth moves against yours softly, like he is savoring the taste of you. You wonder what you taste like to him. He tastes like black coffee, you usually don’t like black coffee but you don’t mind it if Suguru is kissing you.

You lean in, chasing his kiss and his tongue enters your mouth. Moaning a bit you feel his head tilt so he can get further. He swallows up your moans greedily.

Suguru pulls back for just a second so he can turn you both around. You are a little confused about what he is doing until he picks you up and sets you on the island. In the heat of the moment you open your legs so he can slot himself between them.

His mouth crashes back into yours quickly after. You run a hand up into his hair, trying to find purchase as he kisses you like a man possessed. Accidentally you tug and he groans into your mouth. His hands grip your hips tightly as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

Suguru moves from your mouth to your neck. He nibbles on your neck and you jolt at the sudden sensation. You begin to grind down as he chuckles against your skin. The cold metal of his snake bites turn you on even more as he kisses where he was biting your skin like a peace offering.

His right hand moves from your hips to your tigh and you remember that you should be pushing him away. This isn’t really him, just a signifect of that potion. Still breathing heavily you push him back. He looks a little confused but doesn’t complain about you push him off.

“I- uh- don’t want to go that far yet!” You squeak out, both your hands on his shoulders. “Not that it is bad in any way-”

Suguru blinks a bit before nodding at your words, “Sorry, I was far too forward.”

“No! Your fine, it just me that is the problem.” You inwardly groan as you use that stupid line. “Are you free tomorrow?”

He seems to think about this before nodding.

“I am free about two if you want to go out?” You suggest to him.

He obviously isn’t in his right mind and you don’t want to take advantage of that. You would feel horrible if you caused him pain. Hopefully he will have snapped out of it by the time for your date rolls around or have forgotten this entirely.

Suguru smiles at you and your legs feel weak, “See you at two then.”

With a quick peck to your lips, and him putting his phone number in your phone, Suguru excuses himself from your apartment, leaving you reeling on your kitchen counter.

You sit there for a second absorbing what happened within the last fifteen minutes of your life. Reaching a hand up you feel your lips that Suguru was kissing just a minute ago.

Hoping down off the counter you feel that your legs are still weak from all that. But that doesn’t stop you from getting to your phone and frantically pressing on Utahime’s contact. She will hopefully know how to help you.

The phone rings three times before she picks up.

“Hey!” She says more excited then you are because of your current situation.

“Hey…” You say cautiously and you can practically hear her eyes narrow in suspicion.

“What happened?” Utahime asks you

“So I might have burnt my chicken talking to ‘Hot neighbor guy’,” Utahime snorts at your opening statement, “then he fixed my smoke alarm- which was so hot by the way- anyway as repayment I gave him a cup of coffee- which may have that love potion you gave to me infused in it.”

Dead silence.

“How much did he have?” She asks you slowly.

“Enough to furiously make out with me on my counter for five minutes.” You answer quickly.

Utahime groans, “How much did you put into the coffee?”

“Oh!” You say, understanding what she meant now, “I used about a tablespoon.”

“Okay so it should wear off in about a day.” Utahime says with relief.

You check the clock and it is just a bit before five. So you just have to wait until five for it to wear off. Your heart deflates a little at the idea of not going on a real date with him but love potions are cheating in the war that is modern dating.

“That’s good.” You answer, “Also do you think my black crop top looks better with my flare jeans or that cute slit skirt with stars on it?”

You hear a hum on the other end of the line as she thinks, “Skirt would be better since it is getting warmer but I would pair it with a sweater.”

“I agree, also tell Shoko Hi for me!”

“Good luck.” She says and you hang up the call.

Now you just need to survive this date and hopefully the potion will have worn off by then. As long as you play it cool you will past this crisis.

You can totally do that.

Suguru has always been a very calm and controlled person. He prides himself on his restraint and his patience. So he doesn’t understand what just happened. Not that he didn’t want to- but where did that come from?

Suguru had noticed you as soon as they moved in. You had passed by him in the hallway when he was moving his stuff in. He had been so distracted by you and your smile and bright eyes. Satoru laughed his ass off when he almost dropped the box he was carrying in because he was staring at you.

His eyes would always search the hallway for you when he would go to his classes or the studio where he painted most of the time. You would always just be entering your apartment as he would make his way up the stairs. He would always just miss you so when he managed to see you on your balcony he had internally cheered.

And when your smoke alarm went off he practically sprinted across the apartment, out his door and to yours to help you. Satoru had laughed at his mad dash but Suguru didn’t care. He found it endearing that you even offered him a chance to help you.

But after that cup of coffee he felt more desperate for you. Like there was a burning feeling under his skin and the only thing that could help was your touch. His overwhelming need for you and your attention seemed to override all his critical thinking.

Suguru debates pulling his own hair out at the fact he was so close to fucking you on your counter and you didn’t seem confident in pushing him off of you. You probably think he is some fuck-boy trying to get into your pants and he is really ashamed of that.

Slowly he opens the apartment door to an expectant Satoru. He sits on the couch with an amused expression. Debating whether or not to avoid this conversation altogether Suguru walks over to the coffee table where his pack of cigarettes are.

“Sooo” Satoru says with a grin, “when is the wedding?”

Suguru glares at him hard.

Satoru puts his hands up in a placating gesture, “Just asking! She did let you help her right?”

“Yep.” Suguru says, hoping that he doesn’t delve deeper.

But it is never that easy with Satoru.

“And?” He pushes leaning forward in his seat like he is watching a drama.

“I made out with her on her kitchen counter.”

There is a long pause as they stare at each other.

“And you came back, why?”

“I didn’t want her to think that I just want to fuck her.” Suguru says and puts his cigarettes in his pocket, “Most of us give the people we are pursuing a bit more space then you do.”

Satoru scoffs at his comment.

“I give Nanamin space! He seems to even be enjoying my company right now.” He defends himself.

“If that helps you sleep better at night.” Suguru says with a shrug.

“Don’t change the subject!” Satoru squawks.

Suguru sighes and sits down. His best friend’s interrogation will not end soon so he might as well make himself comfortable.

The morning of the date you can’t really settle down.

During the hours of six through nine you wake up five times. Eventually you give up and check your phone. Then for a while you check your phone obsessively for a text saying that the date is off or he is “sick”. But one never comes. Which might be more concerning now that you think about it.

You clean your whole apartment and do all the laundry you have put off for a week. The only thing you haven’t done is wash your windows, which you might do in a minute. Looking at the time you throw the washing the windows idea out the metaphorical window.

The clock reads one and you need to get ready.

Normally when you get ready for a date you feel like you are dressing for a wake. But as you get showered and dressed you feel an underlying giddiness. You listen to more upbeat music as you do your hair and makeup. It is such a 180 turn from usual.

It is probably because it’s Suguru. He seems to be a good person from what you know so far, plus he is an excellent kisser. You try to remind yourself that it might not really be him but you can let yourself just enjoy today and wear it takes you can’t you?

Humming to the random pop song you have on in the background you admire the outfit Utahime suggested and you like it. You are not fully covered up but still warm because of the tights and sweater. It is a tasteful mix of the two and perfect for a first date.

You leave your bathroom and make your way to the living room to put on a pair of small heels. Since he didn’t cancel you decided to take him to a cat cafe downtown, since you don’t have a car you will have to walk so you want to not have your feet hurt. The kitten heels complement both the black and silver of your skirt nicely.

Right on time at exactly two a knock comes at your front door. All the nervous energy hits you as you walk to the door. You take a deep breath before opening your door to see Suguru standing there.

He looks good. A loose band tee hangs off his frame along with an oversized jacket. But the thing that draws your attention is the skinniest skinny jeans known to man that he is wearing. You have seen men wear skinny jeans but not that tight. And you might be very into that.

His long black hair is tied up and away from his face and you can see an undercut. You really want to run your hand over it.

“Hi.” He greets you with a small smile.

“Hi.” You respond but it comes out a bit shyer than you want it too.

“Are you ready?” He asks you and leans an arm on the frame of your door.

“Yes, I just need to grab my purse.” You say a giddiness to your voice.

For a second you leave him there and disappear into your apartment to get your purse. When you return he has moved away from your door and is rocking back and forth on his feet. He immediately stops as you lock and close your door behind you.

“So where are we going?” Suguru asks you as you walk away from your door.

“It is a surprise!” You say and press the down button to summon the elevator.

“How mysterious.” He says with a grin as you enter the elevator.

“I have to keep you interested somehow.” You match his grin as you hit the ground floor button.

“My interest is peaked.”

In the few short minutes that you are leading him downtown Suguru decides he really likes walking behind you. There is something about how you carry yourself that makes him think that he would follow you anywhere. You could lead him into hell and he probably wouldn’t notice it.

Satoru would call him a dog on a leash but he doesn’t mind if it is you.

As the crowd gets more dense as you enter Shinjuku you reach back and grab his hand, “I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

“I think I could be easily found because of my height, you on the other hand are more at risk.” Suguru teases you and squeezes your hand.

“I could just leave you.” You grumble as he walks faster to catch up with you. And the faint blush on your cheeks doesn’t escape his vision.

The two of you walk hand in hand for a while before you pull him into a cafe. It is smaller than the other stores and restaurants on the streets of Shinjuku. The light brown and cream colored walls give the cafe a cozy feel. But the main attraction is the hoard of cats that are walking around.

He can feel your eyes looking at him, trying to see if he likes it.

“This is a cute place,” Suguru says and looks down at you, “I have never been here before.”

Your eyes light up and his heart stutters in his chest. Suguru feels like he could live on just that expression of yours. He has never been a romantic before, despite his inclination towards art, but you bring out a new side to him.

Suguru wants to paint this expression so he can look at it forever.

His trance is broken as a woman walks up to you. Her blonde hair is tied up and her eyes look at the both of you as if she is trying to decipher what is going on with the both of you. He sees you get nervous as she walks closer.

“Hi Yuki…” You say as if you are about to be scolded.

The woman, Yuki, raises an eyebrow, “Who is this?”

“This is Suguru,” You pause before continuing, “he lives next door.”

Yuki’s eyes light up with understanding and a smile spreads on her face.

“Suguru- I have heard a lot about you.” She says and reaches out a hand for him to shake.

Suguru, now self conscious, takes her hand and shakes it. What have you told her? Does she not approve of him? Is he making a good first impression?

“All good I hope.” He replies and tries to calm his nerves.

“Very good.” Yuki assures him, “You have the pick of any table and can I get you any drinks?”

“The strawberry boba sounds good, I haven’t gotten a chance to try it.” You say with a smile and squeeze his hand.

“I will just have a coffee.” Suguru says.

“Okay, I will have that out shortly.” She says and walks off.

As she leaves you relax and he looks at you in concern as you sigh.

“I forgot to tell her about our date,” You admit as you pull him by the hand to a corner table, “there will most likely be anarchy in our group chat soon.”

He snorts and sits down in the chair near the window. Suguru mourns the loss of not being able to hold your hand. You sit down across from him and a loud ping comes from your phone. The first ping is followed by many more before you eventually put your phone on vibrate.

“Good luck with your friend group, my best friend already interrogated me yesterday.” Suguru says with a grin.

“I will need it, Shoko will have my head for this.” You admit with a sigh.

“Shoko Ieri?” Suguru asks in disbelief.

“Yeah! Do you know her?” You ask.

“We went to high school together and we are in some of the same English classes now.” He says.

“Wow! I never knew how close we were to each other without ever meeting.” You hum as a small tabby waltzes up to you. Suguru watches you scoop the cat up into your arms and pet its head. It purrs at your touch and he feels a little jealous of the cat.

Conversation flows effortlessly between you two as you play with the cats and drink your drinks. The tabby stays close to you, it demands your attention and will flick its tail when you are trying to do other things. You indulge the little thing every time.

At one point you finish your drink and get up, “I am going to get another tea, do you want more coffee?”

“That would be great.” He says and you take the cups off the table and walk over to the counter where Yuki is standing looking bored.

He watches you talk to her when a set of claws enter his calf. Looking down the small tabby cat has it’s claws in his leg with narrowed eyes.

“She may indulge you but I won’t.” He says defiantly.

The cat sinks its claws in deeper.

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Suguru feels the claws puncture his skin.

“Fine!” He says picks up the tabby and scratches its little head.

It begins to purr and Suguru just sighs, resigned to being a servant for this cat until you both leave.

You come back to see Suguru holding the little tabby cat. It is the cutest thing you have ever seen. You set his coffee down on the table in front of him as he pets the cat’s head.

“It looks like Obi likes you.” You say and sit down in your seat.

“Obi is a small terror.” Suguru grumbles but continues to pet the cat.

“He takes after his mother,” You say and scratch under Obi’s chin. “Queenie fits her namesake.”

“Obi is a cute name for him,” Suguru says, “it doesn’t fit his personality.”

You laugh and take a sip of your drink, “His full name is Obadiah.”

“Obadiah?” Suguru asks in disbelief, “that’s his full name?”

“Yuki named him.” You smile at him as he tries to think of how Yuki thought that the name Obadiah would be a good name.

“I think I would be a terror if I was named Obadiah.” Suguru says and scratches the cat behind the ears, “I have misjudged you, I am sorry.”

More time passes and the two of you trade off so Suguru can drink his now lukewarm coffee. Obi is pleased to be in your arms and you hold him like a baby as he purrs. You had always wanted to adopt him since you saw him but raising him by yourself seemed like a daunting task so you talked yourself out of it.

A camera flash brings you out of your thoughts. Suguru has his phone up and is taking a picture of you and Obi. You blink in confusion at him.

“Why did you take a picture?” You ask him curiously.

He puts his phone down and clears his throat nervously, “I wanted to paint the two of you.”

Your jaw drops as he rubs the back of his neck, looking away from you. Your heart is in overdrive as you try to process that he wants to paint a picture of you. Taking a picture is one thing but painting someone takes a lot of work and time.

“I don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable!” He says quickly trying to make it better.

“No!” You say but it comes out a bit high pitched as you blush, “I- I don’t mind.”

Suguru relaxes and a grin spreads on his face, “I am happy that you are willing to be my muse.”

God help your poor heart.

After two hours you leave the cafe. Yuki waves as you leave and you know that you are in for it later. But you feel so love struck that you don’t care.

The walk back to your apartment building is filled with laughter and smiles. Suguru holds your hand all the way there and you let him lead you to the elevators. He runs a thumb over your knuckles and you feel like a dumb teenager on her first date.

When you make it to your door you hesitate. You don’t want this to end. Even if this is temporary and he may not want you later you want to bask in it now. You try to think of how to articulate it. And Suguru frowns as he looks at his phone.

“My roommate kicked me out for the night,” Suguru starts, “could I crash at your place? I will buy us dinner as payment.”

Fate seems to be in your favor today.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You say and let go of his hand to open the door. The door swings open and you lead him inside.

You settle on the couch as the two of you continue to talk. Suguru orders Chinese takeout and you talk about anything and everything. He tells you about his art classes and you tell him about your classes in kind.

“-I actually have a big project coming up soon so I will have to focus on that since it is a major portion of the grade.” He explains his hands moving around as he does.

“What do you have to do?” You ask him.

“So what the professor is asking for is a watercolor piece. I prefer oil based paints but it will be good to step out of my comfort zone for it.” Suguru tells you and you can tell that he is passionate about this by the way his eyes look as he talks.

“You seem really passionate about this.” You observe and he stops briefly.

“Sorry- I was rambling-” He starts to apologize but you grab his hand.

“Don’t apologize,” You smile at him reassuringly, “I like hearing you talk.”

It is quiet as the two of you stare at each other. The tension thick in the room as you trace his face with your eyes. His hair falls into his face from the beat bun it was in. You lean closer and-

The doorbell rings, breaking up the moment.

Internally groaning you get up from the couch, “I will get the food.”

“Thanks.” He responds a little heavy as you walk to the door.

The poor delivery man doesn’t deserve the irritated expression you give him but he looks too high to care. You take the food from his outstretched hands and thank him. He just tips his hat at you and teeters off down the hall. Hopefully he gets home safely.

You set the bag on the coffee table and grab some chopsticks from the kitchen. Suguru is dividing the food on the table. You hand him a set of chopsticks and sit down to eat.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You ask him as you open your container of food.

“Yeah,” He says, “What are you in the mood for?”

“A romcom would be good but I am okay with anything.” You admit and grab the last dumpling.

“Okay- what would you recommend?” Suguru asks you with a smile.

“So if you want a high school setting I would suggest 10 things I hate about you, if not how to lose a guy in ten days is a classic.” You explain and hand him the remote.

He sets down his food and takes it with a hum of amusement, “Which one do you recommend?”

You take a minute to weigh it out. 10 things I hate about you was always a favorite when you were younger, and Heath Ledger isn’t too bad looking. How to lose a guy in ten days is the funnier of the two but you think your heart is swaying towards 10 things I hate about you.

“I would recommend 10 things I hate about you.” You say and He turns on the TV.

The movie starts and you feel content to watch Suguru’s reactions to the movie. Before he had put it on he had told you that he had never seen the movie. Which was a crime. So now he gets to be subjected to this movie for the next hour and a half.

“And I thought I had restrictive parents.” He says with a cringe.

“It really makes you think huh?” You ask with a laugh.

“I mean, if I had daughters I would be protective but not like that.” Suguru explains to you and puts his empty take out container on the table.

“I could see you with daughters,” You admit, “You would make a good dad.”

Suguru blinks down at you in surprise. You realize what you said and go to fix the situation but he beats you to speaking.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Over the course of the movie your legs end up slung over Suguru’s lap. He runs his hand over your right leg, but only to your knee then stops. It is driving you a little insane at this point. If it wasn’t too forward you would grab his hand and put it under your skirt.

“He so deserved that.” Suguru says with approval as Joey gets punched in the face.

“He is such an asshole.” You agree with him, trying to not sound like you are worked up about his hand.

The main characters get together, the credits roll and the movie ends.

His hand is still there and you can’t stand it anymore. You reach your hand over to his and grab it. He startles but lets you guide his hand up your leg to your mid thigh. Suguru looks at you, his eyes darker than before. You give him a challenging look, daring him to touch you like he means it.

“Are you sure about this angel?” He asks you, his voice rough and breathy.

“More than any of the decisions I have made for the past month.” You respond.

Suguru chuckles and moves so his right knee is in between your legs, he hovers over you on the couch. You look up at him as he scans your face with his eyes as if he is trying to memorize what your face looks like in this exact moment. His lilac eyes lock on yours and you feel your heart rate pick up.

When he kisses you it is so slow, he takes his time as his hands move up your thighs. It is such a switch from yesterday where he did waste anytime and kissed you so hard you almost couldn’t breathe. You are sure that he wants to turn it around on, to make you need him just as bad. And he is definitely succeeding.

Your body feels so hot and he is barely touching you. It is maddening. His snake bites are cold against your lips and that only makes you want more. You run a hand up into his hair, pulling him down to kiss you deeper. His fingers ghost under your skirt and you gasp into his mouth.

“So needy angel.” He purrs as he pulls back to look down at you.

“I-” You begin and clench your thighs, “I need you so bad baby.”

That seems to be Suguru’s breaking point because he picks you up bridal style. You yelp in surprise at his sudden silence and him picking you up. Most of the men you have slept with hadn’t even tried to pick you when you hooked up. You can’t help the heat that curls in your core as he makes his way to your bedroom.

He lays you down gently with your head on your pillow. Suguru climbs onto the bed and parts your thighs. His rough hands pull down your skirt and tights, leaving you in only your underwear. He practically moans at the lacey lilac pair of panties you have on.

You grin at him and pull up your shirt to reveal a matching bra. It was pure coincidence that you had a set that was the color of his eyes. Even though you had not expected to hook up with Suguru, you thought that you would wear them just in case.

He matches your grin and hooks a finger under the elastic band, “All of this just for me?”

“Who else would it be for?” You ask him with an eyebrow raised, “I am not easy-”

You are cut off as he lowers himself between your thighs and licks your pussy through your panties.

“You were saying?” He says innocently as if he doesn’t have his head resting on your inner thighs.

“I am not- mhh!” You try again but he bites your inner thigh causing you to shiver.

“Hmmm?” Suguru hums in question as he pulls down your panties so he can see how wet you are already. “You seem to be having a hard time speaking angel, why don’t we let your pussy speak instead?”

You barely nod before two fingers are pumping in and out of your hole. It feels so good, his fingers are long enough to reach the spots you never can when you do this. He is knuckle deep in your pussy and you feel like you might cum soon.

“Fuck- mhh- I’m gonna cum-” You moan out as his fingers find your g-spot.

“I want you to come on my tongue first before I make you come again on my dick.” He says and removes his fingers.

A long drawn out whine comes out of your throat at the loss of something filling you. You try to rub your thighs together to make some friction but his hands hold your thighs apart. He wastes no time in eating you out.

Suguru knows what he is doing, you can tell because you can barely think straight. His tongue swirls around your clit and his fingers re-enter your hole. You have lost almost all control and are just a moaning mess.

“Your so beautiful like this- hah- so desperate for me.”

You grind down on his face as you get closer to the edge. Suguru hums happily as he gets you so close to an orgasm, the sound sends a shiver down your body. The heat that was rising in your core reaches a fever pitch as you cum.

As you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm he takes off his shirt and you see the tiger tattoo. He sees you eyeing it and smirks.

“See something you like pretty?” He asks as he continues to get undressed.

You nod, still high on your orgasm. If you didn’t have some restraint you might put your lips to it. He shivers under your touch,

“Fuck-” Suguru curses and you realize you said that out loud.

His voice breaks you out of the trance you are in and you get up to touch him. You run your hands over toned muscle and ink. The tiger tattoo isn’t his only one, he has a dragon on his back and a few smaller ones scattered along his forearms.

You push him back so he is laying down on the bed. He doesn’t stop you when you take all his clothes off. You marvel at his dick. It is thick and already dripping precum as you stare. But you don’t want to rush this, you have been thinking of this for two months so you want to savour this.

The kiss you press to his lips is soft and quick. You move on to his neck. A small possessive part of you wants you to give him very visible hickies. You want the woman three doors down who looks at him in the hall ways to see the bites you leave know that he is taken.

She can go back to her boring husband because this man is yours.

You try to push the thought out of your mind but you are already biting his neck. It brings you glee to know that these will last. Even if he doesn’t want you in the morning, you will have proof that you were there for a while. He groans as you lick and nibble the spot where you bit him.

It was hot, the push and pull of this new dynamic. You had never taken a chance on being more dominant or possessive with your past partners because you didn’t want to scare them off. But Suguru was different, he let you have free rein until he felt like taking over.

You can get on top of him and his hands rest on your hips. It takes a minute for you to adjust your position and sink down on his cock. You hiss slightly at the stretch as his rough hands guide you down.

“You're bigger than I imagined!” You say as you take all of him in.

This seems to pique his interest, “You thought about this?”

“Yeah-” You admit as he runs his hands over your torso. “Since I saw you for the first time I wondered-”

You are cut off as Suguru switches the position so you are under him.

“What are you-?”

What you were going to say is cut off by a whine as he begins to move. His thrusts are a bit wilder than you had expected. His dick hits all those spots inside you that make your legs feel like jelly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders to find something to ground you.

“I- hah- I have wanted this for so long.” Suguru admits in your ear, “Do you know how hard it was to not fuck you on your counter yesterday? How hard it was to not throw you over my shoulder and drag you to your bed earlier when I saw you?”

His words go straight to your core. You moan as he sucks on your neck. His confession makes your brain short circuit. It seems so out of the question that he would be into you. For a year you had talked yourself out of talking to him because you thought he didn’t want you.

“I would have let you-!” You answer his rhetorical questions.

That makes him pick up his pace and groan into your neck. You have a grip on his back as his dick hits your g-spot over and over and over again. You know that there are scratches left by your nails on his back.Your legs are trembling as your impending orgasm is about to hit.

“Can- fuck- can I cum inside?” Suguru asks you.

“Please-!” You whine out as you bury your face in his neck.

“Don’t hide from me angel- I want to see you.” He says and stares at you with nothing short of awe as you pull your head back to look him in the eyes. “Just like that, good girl-”

You can’t tell what makes you cum, his words or his repeated hitting of your g-spot but the coil in your stomach snaps and you feel so good. Suguru keeps going, fucking you through your orgasm as your legs tremble around him. You are on cloud nine as his hips stutter and he cums in you.

For a minute you two just breathe. The only sound in the room is your heart beat and laboured breathing. Suguru recovers first. He gets off you to get a towel to clean up and some water. You are sitting up when he gets back and you clean up.

“Stealing my clothes already?” He asks with a laugh as you pull on his band t-shirt.

“It smells like you.” You say with a shrug and crawl into bed with him.

“Do I smell good?” He asks with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” You cuddle up to him. “Like smoke with hints of lavender.”

“I guess I can’t change my shampoo then.” He says and rests his head on top of yours.

“Otherwise we might have a problem.” You say with a sleepy giggle.

“How scary angel.”

You don’t respond because you feel your eyes shut and sleep drags you under its waves.

When you wake up Suguru isn’t beside you. You look over at the side of bed he was sleeping on to see it empty. Sitting up abruptly you look around the room for any sign of him but his jeans aren’t on your floor anymore.

You scramble out of bed.

Did the potion somehow last longer than intended and it is just now wearing off?

The door to your room is open as you rush out of it. But you relax as you see Suguru standing on your balcony. He is visibly arguing with someone and has a cigarette in his hands which he is pointing at the person in question.

You walk to the sliding glass door.

“-you should have given me prior warning asshole!” Suguru says and lights up the cigarette.

Opening the door he blinks over at you.

“Suguru?” You ask and slip out onto the balcony.

“‘morning angel.” He says and wraps an arm around your waist pulling you closer to him.

You relax into his side and look over at the man on the balcony next to yours. He is tall with wild white hair and blue eyes. His eyes are bright and his smile is wide as he looks at you.

“Oh!” You say as you remember who this is, “You must be Suguru’s roommate!”

“The one and only!” He responds cheerfully.

“Satoru Gojo.” He introduces himself and stretches out a hand for you to shake.

You introduce yourself and shake his hand with a smile, “Nice to meet you Gojo.”

“Well-” Gojo says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I have to go check on my study buddy, have fun!”

Suguru just rolls his eyes as Gojo walks back into his apartment. You give him a little wave as he disappears. After he is gone you turn to Suguru who shakes his head at his friend.

“That poor TA, he will never hear the end of this.” Suguru says more to the air than you.

He catches your confused look and explains, “Satoru has been trying to get into the pants of our English classes TA for months now, poor guy must have finally agreed so Satoru kicked me out.”

“At least it was good for you that I let you stay over.” You say with a grin.

“You are very generous.” He responds, matching your grin.

“I do expect some repayment,” You tease, “people can’t think that I am a pushover.”

Suguru puts out his cigarette.

“Oh?” He asks and turns toward you, “and what may that be?”

You hum, pretending to think about it.

“Breakfast would be nice…” You suggest trailing off as you turn to walk back into your apartment, his hand in yours. “Unless you have a better idea?”

“I have many ideas.”

#blue’s fics <3 #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #chubby reader

190 notes · View notes

leilasletters · 21 days ago

Text

The Stranger in the Light

masterlist

You met him on the quietest day of your life.

It was the kind of morning where the city hadn’t quite woken up. The air still felt blue. Soft. Like the hush before a song. The streetlights blinked amber against the pale dawn, and the world held its breath.

You were running late for your shift at the Metropolis Museum gift shop. You’d spilled coffee on your only decent blouse and missed the early train, so you’d taken the long way through Centennial Park to clear your head.

That’s when you saw him.

At first, he was just a shape. A man sitting alone on a bench near the fountain, shoulders broad and still, hands folded in his lap like he had nowhere in particular to be. You might’ve walked right past him if you hadn’t looked up at that exact moment.

But you did.

And he looked up too.

He smiled.

That was the beginning.

There was something about the way he smiled—quiet, like he didn’t do it often. Like he wasn’t used to being seen.

You didn’t know then that his name was Kal-El. That the world knew him by another one. That he could hear your heartbeat change when your eyes met. That he already knew yours.

To you, he was just… him. A stranger in the light.

You felt it like static in the air. Something in your chest shifted.

He stood when you got closer, politely, like people don’t do anymore. His suit was simple—dark, fitted, and too well-tailored for anyone trying to blend in—but his glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose when he moved. He pushed them back up with a shy smile, and somehow, you smiled back.

“Beautiful morning,” he said.

His voice was low. Warm. Almost out of place in a world that moved too fast.

“Bit cold,” you said, adjusting your coat. “But yeah. Beautiful.”

You didn’t know why you stopped. Maybe it was the way he looked at you. Not the way men usually do—like they’re trying to figure out what they can take. No. He looked like he was trying to memorize you. Like your face meant something.

“I’m Clark,” he said, offering his hand.

You blinked. Then, cautiously, took it.

His palm was warm. Strong.

“…Hi,” you said. “I’m—”

“I know.”

You laughed, a little nervous. “I guess I must’ve been in the paper or something.”

“You’re always in my mornings,” he said, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

The world got very still.

You didn’t know how long you stood there—fingers still touching, your name barely hanging in the air—but something shifted after that. Something gentle but permanent, like the start of a season.

Over the next few weeks, you started seeing him everywhere.

He wasn’t pushy. Never forced anything. Just… showed up.

He'd be in line at the corner café at the same time as you. Or reading quietly on a bench near your work when you took your lunch. You weren’t sure if it was coincidence, fate, or some third thing the universe hadn’t named yet.

You learned that he worked at the Daily Planet.

He told you he wrote small columns now—things no one noticed, tucked deep in the back pages. He said he preferred it that way. When you asked why, he just smiled.

“I’ve spent too long being someone people look up to,” he said. “Now I just want to look across at someone.”

You didn’t understand what he meant then. Not really.

But you would.

The first time he held your hand, you were crossing the street and a car came too close.

He stepped in front of you—not dramatically, not with any show—just a firm, instinctive move. His arm brushed yours and your breath caught.

You didn’t say anything.

He didn’t let go.

He told you he was older than he looked.

You laughed. “Like how much older? Thirty-eight pretending to be twenty-nine?”

He tilted his head, thoughtful.

“…Give or take.”

It became a joke. You’d tease him about being a secret vampire or a timeless god. He’d smile, eyes heavy with something you didn’t understand yet, and let you.

You didn’t know, not then, that he was older. Not thirty. Not forty.

Centuries older.

You didn’t know that time didn’t touch him.

But you would.

That winter, Metropolis got its first real snow in years.

You were walking home in it when he appeared beside you, no coat, hair dusted with flakes like a dream come alive.

“You shouldn’t be out in the cold without gloves,” you said, chiding.

He held up his bare hands. “Doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re impossible,” you said.

He smiled.

You didn’t know it then, but he would never forget that moment. The snow in your hair. The way your cheeks flushed from the cold. The way you looked at him like he was just a man.

Not a god.

Not a legend.

Just… Clark.

You fell for him slowly.

Like rain soaking into dry earth.

He fell faster.

Like gravity had been waiting for you.

He kissed you on the museum steps after your late shift one night.

It was quiet. Soft. Not the kind of kiss that marks a beginning, but the kind that confirms something already growing.

“I’ve waited so long,” he murmured.

You didn’t ask what he meant. You only leaned closer.

If you’d known then what he was—who he was—maybe you would’ve hesitated. Maybe you would’ve feared the difference in your bones and the years between your heartbeats.

But you didn’t know.

All you knew was that he looked at you like you were sunlight in a world of shadows.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

…so did you.

You married him in spring.

It was a small ceremony beneath the old elm tree on the Kent farm in Smallville, where the wind always smelled like wheat and warmth. His hands trembled when he held yours, though you knew he could lift the world without blinking. That day, you made him human.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, right before your vows.

Clark looked at you like you were the last sunrise left on Earth.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said.

There were only a handful of guests—Martha’s locket was tied around your wrist, and Lois Lane wasn’t there. Neither was anyone from the Planet. He’d told you he wanted to keep it simple. Quiet. Just for the two of you.

And it was. It really, truly was.

You didn’t know how rare that was—how many decades he’d lived without this kind of peace.

Your first home together was a cottage tucked at the edge of town, surrounded by tall grass and windows that always caught the light. You picked the house. He fixed the roof with ease, even though you didn’t remember him bringing a ladder.

He made you tea every night, even though he didn’t drink it.

He drew you often. Quick sketches in the margins of the newspaper, sometimes half-finished—your mouth mid-laugh, the tilt of your eyes when you teased him.

“I’ll forget these details if I don’t,” he said once when you caught him.

“You have super memory.”

“Yes,” he said softly, “but I want to remember you like this.”

You didn’t ask what he meant.

You noticed it gradually—the way time touched you but not him.

At first, it was small. The fine line near your eyes. The gray in your hair. You laughed about it. Joked. Called him your Dorian Gray.

He always laughed, but it never quite reached his eyes.

You started wearing longer sleeves in the winter. He never got cold. Your bones ached. He never did. Still, he held you every night, like he could hold off the seasons just by keeping you warm.

He stayed the same.

You… didn’t.

You never had children. You tried once. When it didn’t happen, he never brought it up again.

“It’s okay,” you said once, when you found him quietly staring at a pair of baby shoes at the farmer’s market.

“I know,” he replied. But his voice cracked.

Instead, you built a life together in quiet details—shared books, hand-sewn curtains, morning walks. You taught him how to bake pies from scratch. He taught you how to fly, just once, on a warm summer night when no one was watching.

Your feet left the ground, and you felt like the stars were clapping just for you.

The sickness came quietly.

At first, you blamed the tiredness on age. Then the pain started. You ignored it. He didn’t.

You found him crying alone in the laundry room one night, face in his hands, shaking like a man breaking.

“Clark?”

He couldn’t look at you.

“You knew,” you said quietly. “Didn’t you?”

He nodded.

You held him that night. You held him. The strongest man in the world, brought to his knees by something he couldn’t fight.

The doctors said it was slow. That there were treatments. But you’d already made your decision.

You wanted to stay home. With him. With your garden, your teacups, the sketchbooks filled with versions of you.

He stayed by your side every second.

You never once saw him in the cape again.

Your last winter together, he started painting.

He used the upstairs room, the one you always meant to turn into a library. You could hear the strokes of the brush sometimes when the house was quiet.

He never let you see them.

On your final day, the snow fell again.

Just like that first morning in the park. He sat beside you, holding your hand like he had then. Not tight. Just enough.

Your voice was soft, thinner than you remembered it being.

“Don’t forget me,” you whispered.

Clark brought your hand to his lips.

“I never could.”

You touched his face, still young, still perfect, and smiled one last time.

“You were… my favorite life.”

And then the light in your eyes dimmed.

You were buried under the elm tree, where the wind still sang and the wildflowers kept growing each spring.

Clark didn’t speak at the service. He only stood beside your grave with the stillness of a storm held back by sheer will.

He didn’t cry. Not then.

He saved his grief for the paintings.

Years passed. Then decades.

He stayed in the house. Let the world think Clark Kent had retired. Superman disappeared for a while.

Sometimes, when the sky was red, you could see the window lit on the second floor.

Inside, he was painting you again.

From memory. From love.

Because it was all he had left.

#dc imagine #dc comics #dc fanfic #dc universe #leilawrites #leilafics #clark kent x reader #clark kent #clark kent x female reader #clark kent x you #fem reader #superman #superman x reader #superman x you #drama #romance #superman au

100 notes · View notes

callme-holly · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Wow, do I like your writing. It's really creative and honestly makes me so happy. I was wondering if I could request like what a sleepy morning with Dallas would look like? I just feel like he'd be super clingy when he's half awake, you know?

Anyways! Love your writing and keep doing you🤩

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - so sorry that this took me so long to get back to - I've been swamped with revision lately and stress levels have been high. I will try my best to get round to all the requests in my inbox but updates might be a little slow. As always my asks are still open for requests!! 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.2k words 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none

The room is surprisingly cool despite the fact that it is mid-summer; the temperature is already hovering on the borderline of unbearable as the sun slowly creeps up into view over the horizon.

At some point in the night, the thin sheet that Dallas keeps draped over your bodies has been lost, sitting in a crumpled heap on the hardwood floor below, forgotten and discarded, leaving you both exposed to the harsh rays of light seeping in through the window.

Dallas is lying on his side, curled towards you, one arm slung loosely around your waist in a protective gesture, his body radiating warmth against yours. His hair falls in light wisps, framing his face, and for once he looks peaceful, that wall he always puts between himself and everyone else falling away in sleep. It's a rare sight, indeed, to see his face wiped completely of that cocky smirk or that guarded expression that usually marres his features, but a welcome one nonetheless.

Shifting slightly, you push yourself up onto your elbows, stretching out your limbs and groaning quietly in protest. A grunt sounds from beside you, Dallas muttering something unintelligible as he shifts closer to where you are, wrapping both arms around your torso in an attempt to pull you back down next to him, though without success.

He seems oblivious to the time, seemingly not caring whether or not you’re late to your job, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching gently at his scalp, in an attempt to rouse him but only earning another discontented noise response.

“Dal,” you mumble, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. “I gotta get up.” But it seems that your attempts fall on deaf ears, and Dallas only pulls you closer to him, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, still refusing to budge. His lips press firmly against the bare skin of your collarbone, pecking repeatedly at the skin.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere today, doll,” he mumbles, his voice deep and muffled. “It’s too early.” He continues peppering kisses around your neck, his hand sliding lower, fingers teasing the hem of your shorts, and fingertips lightly dancing across your stomach.

You realise there's no point in arguing with him. He's far too stubborn for his own good, and once he’s got his mind set on something, you best believe he’s doing it. And right now, he’s decided that what he wants is you all to himself, and you aren’t going anywhere until he lets you go.

Your resolve wavers slightly when you feel his teeth graze against the skin of your throat, and a small involuntary shiver runs down your spine as a result.

“Dallas,” you try again, pushing at the arm wrapped around your waist in a weak attempt to pry him away, resulting only in him tightening his grip on you further.

“It’s only eight thirty,” he says, still not moving an inch from his position, his breath hot against your skin. “Your shift doesn’t start ‘til nine.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, kissing your teeth and trying yet again to pry his arms loose, determined to still be out the door on time. “I still have to get ready. If I’m late, I’ll be fired; you know that.”

He grunts again, looking entirely unamused as he raises his head slightly to glare at you. His eyes are still heavy, glazed over with sleep, and you can’t help but chuckle fondly at the sight.

“Just call in sick,” He mumbles, his tone almost petulant. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them." And with that, he turns over, pulling you along with him despite your feeble protests, effectively pinning you underneath him.

For a few moments, neither of you move, just lying silently together, staring out the window at the rising sun before it finally breaches over the horizon, bathing both of you in golden light. Dallas’ hair appears almost white in its hue, like a halo encircling his head. It’s funny, really, you think; he looks so angelic in that moment, but every soul who has ever laid eyes on him knows better. Dallas Winston is certainly no angel—far from it, in fact. He’s cold, tough, and mean—a guy who takes pride in his scars and imperfections.

You can’t help but wonder how you ended up with someone like him—someone so roughed up and hardened by the world. But then he smiles, flashing you that stupid, crooked grin that drives you crazy, making the butterflies flutter wildly in the bottom of your stomach.

“Enjoyin’ the view, doll?” He asks, his words a lazy drawl that sends a chill down your spine despite your warm cocoon beneath his strong chest.

Your cheeks flush pink, the colour standing stark against your skin, and you roll your eyes, unable to keep the smile off of your face.

“It’s alright,” You reply nonchalantly, not willing to make the greaser's head any bigger than it already is, trying your best to starve off his rapidly growing ego. The blonde gives you a wolfish grin, eyebrows raising as if waiting for you to go on.

“Just alright?” He challenges you, leaning closer so that his lips are practically brushing against your ear, his breath causing goosebumps to break out across your exposed skin.

“Mhmm... Just alright,” You hum, forcing yourself to meet his gaze evenly, trying your best to keep your voice steady. “Now let me go.”

You struggle to pull yourself free, but he holds fast, his grin widening and his hands sliding slowly downward, palms skimming across your sides, before coming to rest on your hips, hands rough against your soft skin. “No can do, dollface.” He offers you a helpless shrug, and if it weren’t for the smug look written all across his features, you would almost believe that he is being entirely sincere. However, you also know that he is just as troublesome as he is charming, and that being sincere is something Dallas Winston hardly ever does.

Still, your resistance wanes after he places gentle kisses along the column of your neck and shoulder, and you can't help but melt at his touch, closing your eyes as you lean into him, allowing your head to fall backwards and resting on his broad chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart.

“Just a couple more minutes,” he mumbles, his breath fanning across your skin as he trails open-mouthed kisses up your neck, nipping playfully at your throat and grinning wildly.

“Fine,” you concede. You don’t really want to get up yet anyway, not when you could just stay here with him. Sure, you’ve now only got roughly fifteen more minutes until you have to be leaving for work, but you can cross that bridge when you get there.

For now, you want to spend these last few fleeting moments wrapped up in the thin sheet Dallas keeps draped over the both of you, relishing in the hushed silence that hangs throughout the room, rare yet forever welcome, just like these soft moments.

They’re rare, but oh so precious, and even though this isn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your morning, you couldn't imagine having it any other way.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders preferences #the outsiders imagine #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston imagine #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #two bit mathews #steve randle

458 notes · View notes

slaymitchabernathy · 6 months ago

Text

Passing By

| in honor of tom turning 30, here’s coryo turning 30 :)) |

“Do you like it? Is it good?”

Coriolanus continues chewing the cake in his mouth, letting the flavors melt all over his tongue. It’s vanilla, a simple flavor but he’s a simple man.

Besides, he loves vanilla because she smells like vanilla.

He looks up from his plate and finds his girlfriend staring at him with such an intensity in her eyes. She wants this to be perfect for him, from the cake to the entire day even though it’s almost over.

Coriolanus has two hours left to enjoy his birthday.

It’s not really that special to him, never has been, never will be. Thirty is a basic number, it just means that he’s on track, nothing to celebrate. Forty is when he’ll start taking things more seriously.

But Soarynn cares. She cares about everything including his birthday. It’s a shame he had to work today. The office has been making him work longer hours and with rent going up, it’s not like he has a choice.

The bitter part of him mind wishes he were younger only so he could have more time to make a better life for himself, for her.

They should be living on the Corso, not in this tiny, cramped one bedroom apartment. The heat doesn’t always work, the water is always frigid and sometimes rats chew through the walls.

She still bought him cake though.

Only once slice since that’s all the bakery had left when she got off her own shift at work. Soarynn works as a seamstress, it’s hard on her hands but it brings home some money so she stays there and works hard.

He wishes she didn’t have to work at all.

“It’s very good,” he tells her, still chewing but Coriolanus knows the longer he takes the answer, the more anxious she’ll get. Soarynn sighs, sitting on her knees, “Good, I couldn’t find any candles, sorry.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, placing a hand on her knee, “No need to be sorry darling, the cake is more than enough.”

Soarynn gives him a soft but tired smile. He knows she’s as exhausted as he is when it comes to living this life.

He came home exhausted, ready to go straight to bed when he found Soarynn in their small bedroom, with the slice of cake and a card. He already read the card, it’s sweet, she’s so sweet to him.

“Still,” she mumbles, brushing her hair behind her ears, “wish I could’ve gotten you something else. Some new shoes maybe.”

His shoes started getting holes in them about a month ago. Coriolanus didn’t mention it to Soarynn, didn’t want to worry her. Looks like she still noticed.

“For your birthday we’ll go out for dinner,” he tells her, setting the plate down. Soarynn’s lips twitch into a frown, “No we won’t.”

Now they’re both frowning.

Coriolanus wishes more than anything that they could afford the smallest of luxuries. New shoes, a night out on the town, new clothes for Soarynn, fresh groceries.

He always liked to think that Snow landed on top but he seems to be stuck at the very bottom.

At least he has Soarynn. With her, he feels like he’s on top of the world.

“Yes we will,” he says gently, giving her knee a squeeze, “I know I’ve been working longer hours but that means a little extra spending money. Might even be able to get you some new dresses hmm?”

Soarynn shakes her head, “Coryo we won’t celebrate my birthday.”

“Yes we will darling, twenty-nine is a big thing to celebrate.”

“Coryo, I never got to turn twenty-eight.”

Coriolanus closes his eyes but it doesn’t help. Doesn’t help him forget that she’s not even here right now. That Soarynn died almost a year ago in a car accident when she was crossing the street to get to work one morning.

He didn’t even find out until he got off of work and realized that she never made it home.

And he never got to say goodbye.

When he opens his eyes, he’s alone in his room, in his tiny, crappy apartment with no Soarynn. No warmth. No laughter. No kisses.

Just him and the slice of cake he bought himself on the way home from work because he knew she’d want him to celebrate.

Even though he doesn’t want to.

There is nothing to celebrate now that she’s gone.

“We’ll still celebrate,” he decides, ignoring her.

He doesn’t talk to Soarynn often, it’s too painful. And she only comes to visit him every so often, like on days like this.

Just like time, she’s only passing by.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @kickmybark @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @evilmenarehot @erensrealgf @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead |

67 notes · View notes

fastcardotmp3 · 2 years ago

Text

future!steddie; long haul trucker Eddie; firefighter Steve ~1k words

It makes sense to Eddie, an obvious out when his world's gone to shit and he has to get away, that his escape route from Indiana is the same job his uncle left to settle down there and raise a kid with nowhere else to go.

Driving long haul means there's no one looking that close at a face that made it to the national news during his week on the run. It means living on the move, never stopping long enough to get stuck anywhere.

It means freedom.

It means loneliness.

He calls Wayne twice a week, coins in pay phones at rest stops while he's waiting for his hair to dry post-public shower, and that's enough for him.

Wayne has always been enough for him, and it would be hurtful to suggest otherwise; it would be disrespectful to the life Wayne helped him build, keeps helping him build with all that faith that had him never doubting an innocence questioned by everyone else in that God-forsaken town.

Twice a week. It's the only phone number he knows by heart.

Twice a week for weeks and then months and then years, driving cross-country and back again, it's freedom. He keeps telling himself it's freedom, that it's good, that he doesn't need anything more than that.

But driving long haul means there's a lot of time for thinking.

It means a lot of time for collecting thoughts up together and creating new meaning entirely.

It means that by the time he's twenty-one and twenty-five and thirty that he has tape after tape after tape where he's collected those thoughts aloud in the rumbling loud silence of an overnight drive.

Thoughts like who would I be if I'd stuck around? and thoughts like will they understand that this time running saved my life? and thoughts like I miss them, am I allowed to miss them, am I allowed to love them without ever really knowing them?

It means that when he stops for all but the first time in ten years, coming home to Wayne to find that Forest Hills is home to a couple more familiar faces than he expected, there's space for his words. His endless, looping thoughts.

Steve's got his own trailer these days, brings in Wayne's mail for him on the mornings he comes home from the night shift at the fire station and stays for coffee.

Steve's there across the way when Eddie drives up in a new-used flatbed truck he'd bought with his final paycheck on the day he hung up his hat and decided he'd been gone long enough.

Steve's there in stories Wayne only begins telling now that Eddie is home, endless retellings of a brand-new man who became a friend during a time when the name Munson was still a dangerous thing to carry.

Steve's there when Eddie starts transcribing all his dictated notes into something resembling narrative and character and prose and Eddie doesn't know the guy who jumped headfirst into another dimension, hasn't spoken to him since that week that forced Eddie to flee in the first place, but maybe he doesn't need to have those years under his belt.

Maybe it doesn't matter if Eddie knows a nineteen-year-old Steve Harrington, because he knows the twenty-nine-year-old one starting a matter of hours after he comes crawling back home, knows this grown and steady one who looked after Wayne when Eddie had to leave.

This Steve isn't stuck despite still living in the town that tried to kill him. He doesn't seem lost or without purpose.

He lives a simple life, working at the Hawkins FD and feeding stray dogs with the bowls he leaves out beside his porch. Robin comes and goes, seemingly dating her way through the Midwest's entire sapphic population and sleeping on Steve's couch in between live-in girlfriends.

There are old friends on the phone at near constant intervals in Steve's home, and there's that phone being pressed to Eddie's ear without giving him the chance to be terrified about what Erica or Dustin or Max might say to the guy who hasn't allowed anyone but Wayne access to him for a decade, what he might say back after so many years without proper human socialization.

Eddie has been moving for so long, stayed moving through the bulk of his acceptance of everything that happened to him, but there's a different sort of quiet here than what he found on the road, stillness, amongst the casual chaos.

There's similarities to life on his rig, sure, a certain routine to the comings and goings, only Eddie isn't hiding anymore and he's not thumbing through the same staticky stations anymore and he's not lonely anymore.

He doesn't know how to sit still yet, not really, but he stays up all night handwriting poetry on paper he once spoke onto tape on the porch of his uncle's trailer and sometimes when Steve gets home after dark, he'll sit with him.

He'll eat his dinner still in uniform and listen to the scratch of Eddie's pen and Eddie doesn't know him, Steve Harrington, but he's getting to know his neighbor Steve.

Ten years down the line and he's becoming solid right there in front of Eddie's eyes, becoming real, becoming something that can't possibly fit onto the tapes filled with nonsense and insights alike.

"You're never what I think you're going to be," Eddie admits to him one morning over coffee before Wayne or Robin have risen, before the phone has begun to ring, before the world wakes up and brings Eddie's life along with it, ready or not.

Steve smiles at him, amused and curious and cocky in the way he responds, "you're exactly who Wayne said you are."

It's an admission all its own, that Steve has thought about Eddie, spoken about him, in the time they've spent apart, even if it was only because he'd dared to keep Wayne Munson's company.

It's still an admission though, that in his absence, in his loneliness out on the road, Eddie wasn't forgotten by the watercolor skies over Hawkins, Indiana.

"Yeah?" Eddie breathes in those very skies, "and what did Wayne say I'd be?"

Ten years down the line and suddenly it makes sense to Eddie.

It makes sense in the morning dew on the lawn; it makes sense in the too-strong Harrington-brewed coffee; it makes sense in the wheels of his truck on a road that does end, eventually, and it makes sense in the collected thoughts and feelings, fears and dreams that he had to go away to decipher.

The freedom was in leaving, sure, but this? The coming home to Wayne and this porch and the man who lives across the way?

"Stick around, Munson," Steve Harrington dares on a morning like any other, "and maybe I'll just tell you."

Well. As it turns out, this might be the thing that saves him.

#dot post #dot fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #went looking for an incomplete draft to work the 'ole writing brain again and found a much shorter version of this #and now it's finished and yours!

433 notes · View notes

toastedpecans · 13 days ago

Text

wind and water six | do i wanna know? sung by hozier

pairing: joel miller x original female character

warnings: alcohol, drunkness, yearning like no other

Have you got colour in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift The type that sticks around like summat in your teeth? Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep

“Ellie, we just listened to the entirety of a third album. It’s midnight. I need to go home.”

“Sleep over.”

“I’m old, kid. I’m not sleeping on the floor just to get a hurt back in the morning.”

“You’re in your thirties. You’re not old.”

“I’m not ‘in my thirties’. I’m thirty-eight. Almost thirty-nine. I’m at the end.”

“Pft, whatever grandma. Get out of here before you break a hip.”

Phoebe and Ellie grin at each other. Both start laughing. Phoebe grabs a pillow off the bed and throws it at her bothersome pal. Ellie flips her off.

“Don’t forget to take care of that arm.”

“It’s been three weeks!”

“And yet I still had to come over today to help you with the pain because you knocked it into the wall.”

“‘And yet I still-’”

“Goodbye child!” Phoebe shouts and shuts the door behind her. Ellie faintly yells something about being almost being fifteen. She laughs a little to herself as she heads for the sidewalk. She notices a light on in Joel’s house. He’s leaning over something away from her. She picks up a pebble and throws it at his window. He jumps and turns around. She waves. He’s wearing glasses and her stomach does a flip.

Joel comes over and opens the window. He sticks his head out and Phoebe gets closer to him.

“You know it’s midnight, right?” He asks and rests his arm on the windowsill.

“I do. The chaos in your garage in the shape of a human does not.” Phoebe shrugs. Joel rolls his eyes.

“She’ll be grumpy in the morning when I wake her up for school.”

“That’s Ellie for you.”

“Yeah…it is.” Joel changes the weight from one leg to another. “Do you want to come in? For, I don’t know, a drink or something?”

She can see the hope in his eyes. She thinks he must not invite people into his house often. She so badly wants to say yes.

“I have the clinic in the morning. Rain check?”

Joel clears his throat and straightens his stance.

“Rain check, yeah.”

“Bye, Joel.”

“Bye, Phoebe.”

The snow has almost entirely melted. Phoebe walks down the street in a long sleeved shirt and no jacket. There are no street lights but a few string lights illuminate the area. She takes a chance to look at her hand. She studies the red skin and rough lines. She traces the scar on her forehead with the same hand.

She thinks back to three months ago. How she almost died. How she’s still scared Milo will find her. How cruel and gruesome her death would be if he did. But, she also thinks about how she had every right to murder that man. After the years he stole and the pain he produced. After leaving her with no hope of finding her brother. She clenches her burned hand in a fist.

Phoebe lays awake in bed. She stares at the ceiling with clasped hands. She can’t bring herself to close her eyes and sleep. Her blink is spare and her eyes become dry. She isn’t sure when the stars became sunlight. Light creeps in an unsuspecting way.

She hears a knock on her front door. Her eyes finally cease whatever battle they are having and her lids flutter.

Standing on the other side of her door is Georgia with coffee and a muffin. Phoebe lets her in and Georgia jumps into rambling.

“The coffee is from my house but the muffin is from the kitchen and I even had them warm it for you even though they kind were rude about it but I said it was for you and they changed their mind which is good because I-”

“Georgia,” Phoebe laughs, “What is going on?”

The two of them sit at her table. Phoebe splits the muffin and hands half to Georgia. Her friend gives her a thankful smile.

“I’m going to say something kind of crazy and I'm hoping you’ll say yes.”

Phoebe frowns with weariness.

“Go on…”

“Liam asked me to ask you to go on a double date with us and Brett,” Georgia squeaks out and shuts her eyes and leans away.

“What?” Phoebe laughs, again, and bites into the muffin. Washes it down with coffee. “I didn’t even know double dates were still done in this new life.”

“I’m glad you didn’t hit me for saying that. You’re kind of scary,” Georgia lets out a breath of relief.

“I’m scary?”

“Was scary. You came into Jackson looking like you just killed an entire town with only a few scrapes on you. Most people were terrified of you when you arrived.”

Phoebe did not know this. She tilts her head a little.

“You also do that. It freaks people out.”

“I do what?”

“Tilt your head. It looks like you're plotting out a person’s death.”

“I’ll try to stop doing that,” Phoebe leans against her chair and crosses her arms.

“Don’t. It’s so…you,” Georgia replies and takes the first bite of her muffin. “Back to the double date! Will you do it?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m not looking for someone to date right now.”

“Come on, Phoebe! Brett really likes you.”

“How does he even know me?”

“You checked out an accidental knife cut from training last week.”

“I do not remember that.”

“But he does! He’s half in love with you already. Pleaseee? For me?” Georgia begs and juts out her bottom lip. Her big brown eyes turn into puppy eyes. Phoebe rolls her eyes.

“Fine, but you’re lucky I love you.”

Georgia hugs Phoebe, awkwardly, over the table. The women spend the rest of their morning together talking about soaps, candles, and horses. About Liam and how patrol is going and how Ellie is a spitfire in class. How Joel has been looking different lately but Phoebe is quick to change the subject that time. Georgia leaves Phoebe with a new scented soap and the plan to meet at The Tipsy Bison this evening.

Phoebe gets ready for her shift at the clinic right as Georgia leaves. It only takes her about ten minutes before she’s out the door.

Her shift at the clinic becomes semi exciting. No major injuries, thankfully, but Denise tells Phoebe she thinks she’s ready to start learning more advanced healing practices. She hands her some notes about lacerations, burns, and serious infections.

Denise had commended Phoebe when she took care of Ellie but still told her she wasn’t ready for that kind of intensive care. Phoebe agreed considering the only reason she knew anything about burns was because of her own.

This probably would be considered a promotion before the outbreak. It fills Phoebe with some satisfaction. The rest of her time at the clinic is spent reading and asking Denise endless questions.

The sun hasn’t begun setting when Denise lets Phoebe off work. She’s thankful to have time to kill before going out tonight. Her walk home can be looked at as more of a run. She has things she wants to do before tonight.

Phoebe pulls out the yarn and makeshift needles from the coffee table in her living room. She stifles a yawn and sits on the couch. The mix of colors she has in front of her presents a challenge for her. She doesn’t know if she’s ever made an article of clothing before, and if she has it would have only been one color. But this is just a hat. Can’t be too hard, right?

Wrong. She restarts the hat three times. Has a mini mental breakdown the second time. Drinks lots of tea. Contemplates the point of life halfway through the third time. Lays on her couch for a good while. She groans, stretches, and hears her shoulder pop.

“Goddamn fucking bullshit little fucking stupid hat fucking stupid present don’t even know why I’m…” She huffs and kicks at the yarn. It rolls onto the floor and under the couch.

She sits up and crosses her legs. She decides to give up on the hat. She’d already spent three hours on it.

She figures she should continue to torture herself and get ready for the double date.

Her shower won’t get hot enough, her hair is full of knots, and her favorite jeans are dirty. She pulls her hair back into a bun before she flips out and cancels the whole thing. Eventually, she lands on a grey long sleeve shirt and too tight jeans. A bit of her stomach shows but she can’t bring herself to care. She yanks her boots on and pulls back the strands of hair that have already fallen from her updo.

If this is foreshadowing, she is not going to have a good night.

Phoebe arrives at the bar right as her friends - and Brett - are being served beer. Georgia spots her at the entrance and holds up a full beer meant for Phoebe. A smile spreads across her face.

“Brett! I wanted to formally introduce you to Phoebe,” Georgia nods from the man to her friend. Liam waves. Actually seeing Brett’s face brings back a faint memory of blood and crying to Phoebe.

“Phoebe, hey! Good to see you again,” Brett brings her in for a hug and she tenses. She doesn’t hug back. Brett doesn’t seem to notice due to the smile he still has when he pulls away.

“Hey,” She replies and drinks half her beer in a few big gulps. Georgia elbows her lightly.

Phoebe takes the bar stool next to Brett. Georgia winks and turns to Liam.

“How’s your injury?” Phoebe asks but not really remembering where he got stabbed. Brett lifts up his shirt and she sees abs and a bandage. Her jaw drops in surprise.

“It’s lookin’ good. Dr. Lee checked on it today. Must’ve been when you already left or I woulda said hi.”

She downs the rest of her drink and calls over Seth for another one. He refills it while Brett continues to blab about the incident. He continues to hold his shirt up.

“Usually, I don’t get hurt. I’m actually really good at fighting. And I’m strong. But Tara was the one in charge of training that day and she’s a real fighter. I think she used to be a firefly or something. She has these really pretty blue eyes. Reminds me of the sky. Not that your eyes aren’t pretty! Brown is a good color. Reminds me of…mud.”

Phoebe tries to hold herself back. She fails and throws her head back, laughing loudly. Brett’s face turns bright red and he chuckles awkwardly. Phoebe has to catch her breath before she can say anything.

“Thank…thank you for saying my eyes remind you of mud. Truly. Best compliment I’ve ever received.” Phoebe’s eyes have a glint of humor in them.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Noooo, definitely not.” Phoebe exaggerates her words and drinks some beer. Brett seems to catch on but unexpectedly changes the subject when he sees something behind her.

“Georgia was telling me you went on patrol with Joel Miller. How the hell was that? Man is like a brick wall.”

Phoebe feels like she could get whiplash from the change in his tone. It’s more serious now.

“He’s fine. Takes it seriously like everyone should.”

“Right right right…he doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” She leaves out the part about when she first heard Joel talking in the woods - about how he specifically did not want to work with Brett.

“Tell that to his face,” Brett nods towards the other end of the bar. She looks over her shoulder and finds Joel sitting alone with whiskey in hand. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is tight. She turns back to Brett.

“That’s just…his face?” She doesn’t know why Joel dislikes Brett but she does feel bad for the guy. He isn’t outwardly rude. Just oblivious. And kind of dumb, in a sweet way.

“Right.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Phoebe finishes her second drink. The sun is gone and night has engulfed the area. Light from lamps and candles fill the room and casts a warm glow. Seth refills the glass before she can ask. Thanks him quietly.

“Tell me more about this Tara girl,” Phoebe does her best to distract him. It seems to work.

While Brett dives into what Tara does during her training, Phoebe can’t help but feel like someone is watching her. She can feel someone’s stare burning into her back. She can’t help herself. She looks back.

Joel is watching them still. He has a death-like grip on his empty glass. She does her best to refocus on Brett. She crosses and uncrosses her legs. Leans against the bar but then straightens her back. Twirls a piece of hair.

The two of them talk - well, Brett talks - for another thirty minutes. He seems to have forgotten Phoebe was making fun of him originally. Georgia and Liam said goodbye about fifteen minutes prior. Georgia squeezed Phoebe’s arm on the way out. She could have strangled her.

“So I told the guy I wasn’t going to buy that particular shirt and I wanted the green one-”

“Brett.”

“Yeah?”

“This has been great. Really. An amazing time. But I have work in the morning so I should probably get going.”

Brett’s face falls. He recuperates quickly. He downs his drink and jumps off his stool. He knocks into Phoebe and she instinctively puts her arms out to steady him.

“How many drinks have you had?” Phoebe scoffs a little. Brett looks embarrassed.

“I was nervous so I may have had a couple of drinks before you got here,” He admits and runs a hand through his hair. Of course he did.

“Let’s get you home, bud.” Phoebe puts his arm over her shoulders. He leans against her as they walk to the exit.

“No, let’s get you home. You’re a lady and I’m a gentleman. I have to defend your honor.”

“While you're drunk out of your mind?”

“Slightly out of my mind.”

“Is everything okay over here?” Joel startles Phoebe and she stumbles back a little. Brett goes with her and she has to catch his weight.

“Yeah, just getting good ol’ Brett home.”

“I’m getting you home!” Brett exclaims. A few people look over at them. Phoebe’s face has a tinge of red.

“Let me help.” Joel doesn’t wait for a response before he throws Brett’s other arm over his shoulders.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.”

All three of them head towards where they think Brett lives. He wasn’t exactly clear on his directions. All he told them was that it was “next to Tara’s pretty blue house, like her eyes.”.

He continues to ramble and fill the silence on the five minute walk. Phoebe keeps her eyes on the path so she doesn’t trip and end up with two large men on top of her.

It turns out his house is four doors down from Tara’s house. So, not next door. Phoebe and Joel get him on his bed and take his shoes off. Phoebe reminds him to lay on his side so he doesn’t choke on his own vomit.

A gust of cool air hits Phoebe as they reach the outdoors. She shivers and rubs her arms with her hands. Joel takes off his jacket and offers it to her. She takes it. It’s bigger on her, reaching her upper thighs, and it’s soft.

“Thank you,” Phoebe throws her arms up to specify she means the jacket. He nods and each the end of Brett’s road. Their houses are in opposite directions. “Well…guess I’ll be seeing you.”

“Phoebe, I’m walking you home.” He doesn’t say it in a condescending way but like it is what was always going to happen. Like it’s what he does when it concerns her.

“Okay, then.”

Phoebe and Joel wait until they’re half to her house before talking. Phoebe does a side glance and stuffs her hands in the jacket pockets.

“You scare Brett shitless.”

Joel looks at Phoebe. She can’t tell what he’s thinking due to the darkness. He faces back to the way they’re walking.

“Not my problem.”

“Why don’t you like him?”

“Why do you care that I don’t like him?”

“I don’t. Just wondering.”

He hums in response but doesn’t give her an answer. She bumps his shoulder.

“He’s immature and careless. He doesn't understand the responsibility it takes to protect the people of Jackson. I don’t know how he’s gotten this far.”

“I could see that, yeah.”

“You’re not going to see him again?” Joel queries and Phoebe tilts her head.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

When the duo reaches her home, she steps over a slowly growing mud puddle. She turns slightly to tell Joel to watch it.

“Oh, watch out for-”

Joel slips and crashes into Phoebe. They fall back and land in half the muddle puddle. The water splatters and Phoebe feels some of it land on her face. She groans and looks down at Joel. His head landed on her chest.

“Damn, old man. You’re heavy,” Phoebe huffs out. Joel looks up at her.

“Who’re you calling old?” He grunts and pulls himself up a little to hover over her.

Phoebe, honest to God, giggles. She looks up at him. One of his curls has fallen in front of his forehead. It might be the alcohol or it might be the way Joel is looking at her right now - like she holds the answers to the world - but she can’t stop herself from thinking about how beautiful he is. She bites her lip. His breath hitches. She almost closes her eyes. She almost pulls him down on top of her. But she doesn’t.

“At least the rest of my body matches my eyes.”

“What?” Joel’s brows knit together.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Get off me before you suffocate me.” She pats his shoulders. He awkwardly stands to his feet. He holds out his hand for her to take. She wraps her hand in his. She can’t help but think they fit together well.

Half of her hair was out of the bun and in muddy clumps. Her back is covered and she tries to shake some of it off but fails. Her jeans feel stuck to her.

“I’ll get this cleaned and back to you as soon as possible.” She peels the jacket off of her. She catches his eyes looking at her legs for a split second.

“No rush,” He clears his throat. He stays in his spot. She opens her front door. Holds onto the door knob as she looks back at him.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

#sorry for fluff and filler but the next one is good imo #tlou fanfic #tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #joelmiller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller x original character #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us game #the last of us #windandwater

12 notes · View notes

gallawitchxx · 1 year ago

Note

29 for the kisses, please!

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#29: ...as a promise

The digital clock on the wall is a goddamn tease.

How is it only three-thirty?

It’s not the worst job in the world, working the reception desk at an auto repair shop. It’s mostly just answering phones and handing out intake forms. Running credit cards upon drop-off and pick-up, and using what little knowledge he has about cars to field basic questions. Ian’s a little surprised that his parole officer had stuck him in a place that was clearly running some kind of illegal chop shop after hours, but whatever.

Southside is as Southside does.

But today has been fucking dragging. A shipping delay had pushed a ton of work back a week or two, so there was only one pick-up on the books, and it had already happened. At nine a.m., right at the beginning of his eight-hour shift. One can only clean a desk so many times before starting to feel a little buzzed off cleaning spray fumes, so for the past couple of hours, Ian’s been supremely bored, his mind bouncing from one topic to another, trying to keep him occupied, but away from the mechanical sounds coming from the belly of the shop.

The ones coming from the only mechanic on duty today—Mickey.

Jesus, Ian’s got it bad for the guy.

Between Mickey’s filthy fucking mouth, greased-up knuckle tattoos, and the way his ass looks in a pair of coveralls, Ian never really stood a chance. But then he had to go and be funny and smart and secretly sweet with the kids who come in with their parents, and in no time at all, Ian was halfway to being fully in love.

The way Mickey looks at him doesn’t help the situation either, nor does the coffee and Kind bar combo he drops at Ian’s desk every shift, which means Mickey heard and remembered an off-the-cuff comment Ian made one morning when discussing break room snacks with the shop owner.

But what’s really making things hard—literally—is what happened the last time he saw Mickey…

A few nights back, a freak downpour had collided with a blocked drainpipe and flooded the shop’s main floor. They’d had to shut the whole place down so that the mechanics could instead work on pumping rainwater back outside where it belonged. When the worst of it was over, Mickey promised to take care of the rest, shooing the other guys out the door and home to their families. Ian, who didn’t have anywhere to be, and was a bit distracted by the way Mickey’s wet tank top was clinging to his cut chest, offered to stay and help finish the job.

Help Mickey out with another job, too...

But that was days ago, and even though Ian’s knees still ache from where he’d knelt on damp concrete, they haven’t talked since. Not even when Mickey had dropped off his breakfast! Ian had been on the phone, the timing of which felt suspect.

By the time four-o-clock crawls around, Ian’s worked up the nerve to go say something. But then the chime on the door alerts him to someone coming in, and before he can even say hello, some asshole is screaming at him about promised timelines and demanding a refund.

Ian puts on his best customer service smile and tries to smooth things out, but it doesn’t work. More yelling ensues.

“Ey, there a problem up here?” Mickey’s voice cuts through the noise.

“Yeah, there is,” spits the douchebag. “My car was supposed to be ready a fucking week ago, and this idiot here can’t seem to make that happen.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mickey says, taking a step forward. “Imma stop you right there.” He looks at Ian for the first time (since he came down his throat). “Gallagher, can you head to the back and grab me the project file? Should be somewhere on my station.”

Ian blinks. “But the files aren’t—“

“Now, Ian,” Mickey commands, his blue eyes blazing. “Go.”

“Sure thing,” he says, rising from his chair.

The rage-red moron has the nerve to fucking smirk at him, and fuck, Ian doesn’t fight anymore—swore to his court-ordered therapist he was done with that shit—but this asshole just might get him back in the ring. His hands itch as he passes, clenching and un-clenching as his jaw clicks.

Mickey avoids his gaze, which pisses him off even further.

Ian forces himself onto the shop floor, closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Mickey joins him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Ian scans him for signs of a struggle, but he looks good. Great, even, his cheeks pinked. “You?”

“Course. Forget that dick. Caved quick and left. It’s a fuckin’ shipping issue, ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.”

Ian nods, unsure what to do or how to proceed. After a beat, he mutters a weak thanks.

Fuck, it’s awkward.

Then,

“Didn’t know—”

“Listen, man, I—”

They both stop talking, laughing nervously, the tension breaking just enough for some of their natural chemistry to seep back into the situation. Ian’s hands now itch with a wholly new desire to touch and caress instead of maim.

“I coulda handled him, you know,” Ian mutters.

Mickey chuckles. “Don’t doubt that for a second. Thought you were gonna fuckin’ deck that dude.”

“I was—I would have…” Ian shrugs. “But if I went back to prison, we couldn’t finish what we started the other night.”

And well, that gets Mickey’s attention.

“Guess that makes me a hero or somethin’ then, huh?” His voice is like gravel as he steps into Ian’s space.

Ian stares at his mouth. “Or something.”

“Tell ya what…” Mickey stares back. “He comes back, we’ll kick his ass together. Can pin it on me if the pigs show up.”

“Promise?”

Mickey answers with his lips, his teeth, and his sinful fucking tongue.

By the time they leave for the night, their knees have matching bruises.

#I LOVE YOU BESTIE #i hope you like this lil ditty #i just think they should always hook-up in their place of work #no matter the universe or circumstances #also please know that this was inspired by my desire for you to be done with work as quickly as possible #& also by howl who yelled at me to just WRITE A KISS ALREADY #thanks howl love you howl #anywhooo i failed to write another full kiss but at least there was tongue this time!#LOVE YOU JUJUBEE!#shameless #shameless fanfiction #prompt fill #ian x mickey

52 notes · View notes

idontplaytrack · 1 year ago

Text

✧ My Girl

AJ Campos x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, some coarse language, making out turned smut.

In which AJ makes a move and officially asks reader to be her girlfriend.

Requested? Yes / No

[Part 2 to Wait For You ]

Spacing is horrid, pls forgive me lol😭 it’s also lengthy bc I didn’t want to split it into another part🫠

Your eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the surroundings. Hit with the initial confusion of not being in your own bedroom, you were quickly snapped out of it when you felt a pair of arms wrapped around you.

“Good morning.” AJ spoke, the sleep still evident in her voice. Pressing a kiss onto your shoulder, she snuggles closer and rested her chin there. You still couldn’t believe you were here with AJ…even after a month of dating later. A smile creeps onto your face as you replied, “Morning.” Even then, the both of you fell back asleep. And when you woke up again, you had your arms around her and were laying on her chest. AJ was combing her fingers through your hair as she had her phone in her hand. You looked up at her, eyes barely open. She realised you were awake, “Hi, sleepyhead.” AJ put her phone down, and smiled at you. “What time is it?”

“A little after nine-thirty.” She answers, her hand now trailing down to your back.

“Oh.”

“Mhm.” AJ confirmed with a small nod, leaning down to kiss you on the head, “Are you okay?”

“Mm, yeah why?”

“You just seem awfully sleepy.” She chuckled.

“It’s Saturday after all.” You responded.

“You would so sleep all day if no one was there to wake you up.” She shifted herself and she was now face to face with you, capturing your lips into her own.

“That is correct.” You giggled, kissing her back, your nearly-nude body softly pressing up against hers. AJ happily carried on kissing you for awhile, cupping your cheek. “Wouldn’t want to start something we can’t finish, would we?” You joked.

“Hey.” She broke away, looking at you in feigned offence, “What was last night then? Need I remind you, we both…finished?”

You snorted a laugh, pulling her back in, “That we did. Thank you, baby.”

AJ’s cheeks began to form a light pink hue, blushing, “And what are we doing now?”

“You? You’re blushing.” You teased, breaking away from the contact briefly. AJ eagerly kisses you again, letting you know all you needed to know.

She’d never done anything like that before last night. And you too, so you were both just taking the time to explore. Teaching each other what to do and what felt good. Especially with no one else home, you and AJ were all the more, relaxed. You were currently on top, straddling her as you held her face in both your hands and kissed her over and over. She reciprocated with the same energy, her hands lazily clung onto your back. But they roamed after awhile, down to your ass and she rests a hand there which she eventually used to massage the muscle. Your lips ventured down along her jaw next and then her neck, now knowing that she had a sensitive spot there that would rile her up a little. A quiet moan falls from her mouth which you’d anticipated so you kept at it for a little bit.

“I want to kiss you, honey.” AJ says while her head involuntarily tilted back as a result of your actions. Her ring-clad fingers brushed through your hair as you continued to kiss and suck at her neck, just enough to elicit those little sounds you’ve quickly grown to love hearing. “Baby, please.” She requests, her voice even softer this time around. You could never say no to this girl. Biting back a grin, you moved yourself back up so she could kiss you like she’d asked. With one of her hands now comfortably in your hair to keep your face from moving away, the other was still trailing up and down between your back and ass- the feeling of her fingertips over the fabric makes you squirm because it tickles. And AJ seems to have figured that out and smoothly slid her hand under the fabric, gently squeezing your ass cheek. You laughed softly into the kiss, but she intermittently kept repeating her actions and resulted in a whine to come out from your mouth. Her teeth grazes your lip and her tongue attempted to slide itself into your mouth like a silent invitation. Which you’d accepted, and then started to do the same. Hearing each other start moaning turned you on as much as it does her.

AJ’s hand on your ass slid to your front, and her other hand that was initially in your hair was now on your upper back. She pulls away from the kiss to search your eyes for approval to do what she was about to do next. A strained incoherent sound and a nod swiftly came from you as you attacked her lips, needing the attention back. And so, her hand dips into your underwear and her fingers began to rub your clit in a slow, steady motion. She carefully bent a knee so you had another form of stimulation available. You instinctively shifted yourself over to that leg of hers and started grinding against it, going along with her actions. Her hand falls to your hip, “You’re so beautiful, honey.” She says, a sweet smile on her face and her eyes filled with so much warmth and love, it made you feel a crazy swarm of butterflies in your chest. Her leg straightens again, worried that you might fall off. You whined, frustrated. AJ remains calm and laid you on your back then joined you, laying down beside you.

————

As your hand clung to her back, you fiddled with the clip on her bra while you asked if you could remove it. She was doing most of the work now and you felt bad about it so…here goes. Holding her peaked pink nipple between your fingers, you gave it a little pinch. She chuckles into the kiss and gave you a nod of approval. You kept at it, alternating between massaging her breast and pinching her nipple. AJ’s fingers on your clit started going harder, with the sole purpose of building up your pleasure. And it worked, you were soon feeling the need to plead for more. But of course, AJ being AJ, she loved giving you whatever you pleased and you didn’t have to even actually ask. AJ just went for it to let you feel good.

Last night’s bit of awkwardness was quickly forgotten as the two of you got more familiar with everything little thing about the other person, until she asks you a completely unexpected question, “Baby…” You broke away from the kiss completely to look at her, “Yeah?”

“Can I…taste you?”

You shot her a look of bewilderment and gulped, chuckling, “Oh- you wanna-”

“Only if you’re okay with it, alright?” She laughs softly, licking her lips, “I don’t want you to say yes just because you feel like you should-”

“It’s fine.” You answered, “We can give that a try.”

“Are you sure?” AJ asks, caressing your cheek as she spoke, her gaze worried.

“Yeah.” You nodded decisively, “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” She smooches you on the lips before making her way down to the juncture between your thighs and slowly pushed your legs open. And my god did you feel vulnerable as hell with her face looking right at your cunt for the first time. You looked down at her at she almost seemed intrigued- she was eager to find out more about what makes you feel good. AJ’s left hand was on your inner thigh and the right was holding her own hair to keep it out of the way as she got closer and closer to the area.

Her tongue flicked your clit gently and you gasped, realising that you liked that. AJ proceeded to do that for a good couple of minutes before trying to lick a stripe up from your entrance to your sensitive nub. You whined, watching her. And when she heard you, she looked up- making eye contact with you. “Does that feel good?” She asks for confirmation. “Yeah, yeah it does.” You told her. So AJ kept going- licking, kiss and even sucking your sensitive area, getting to hear more and more sweet sounds of pleasure from you as the minutes went on. Her hand got back to massaging your ass which she already knew you liked, so it drove you even closer to the edge. Eventually, your hips bucked against your will so she held you down, continuing to lap up your juices as you were practically fighting for your life not to sound like a needy little girl under her touch. “Hey, hey…” She detaches herself from you, “It’s alright, honey. Make all the noise you want.”

Oh, God. Those eyes, the warmth of her touch and her tongue. You were getting giddy, and dangerously close to the peak.

Suddenly, you feel her fingers ghosting the mound, “Yes, please. AJ, do it.” You wanted to try that, so she added her finger to the mix with no resistance. AJ thought that it must’ve been wrong…having her face buried in your heat and her fingers so deep inside you, right?Feeling the coldness from her ring, you seethed right as she poked you in the sensitive area inside. It snaps her out of that thought that was quickly abandoned. You whined, and loudly, “Fuck. God, AJ that feels so damn good- keep going.” Getting a little cocky now, she went a whole lot faster hoping you let you have your release soon. With her sucking and finger-fucking you while her hand groped your breast, the combination made you clench- your pleasure was near the brink of unraveling. Of course, she could feel it all being actually inside of you. She may not very experience, but she was a quick learner. “Come on, baby.” She cooed, “Give me one. Let go.” And you did, as if on her command while your back arched off the mattress. You’d creamed her two fingers completely with your slick as your body trembled from the intensity of your high. She pulls them out, clambering back up to kiss you. “I love you, y/n.”

You smiled giddily, “I love you, too.” Brushing the hair out of her face, you ask, “You wanna have a go?”

She laughs, “Mm, sure.” Kissing you again, you were now laid on your side before she slid yourself down slightly to hold her nipple in your mouth for a beat. You licked and sucked it, while fondling with the other. She moans, biting down on her lip. “Don’t hold back, AJ.” You coaxed, “If it feels good let me hear it, okay?”

When she was under your touch, she was the one who got shy. Just like she did yesterday, but it seemed a little better today now that she was obviously more familiar with you and absolutely comfortable and needy. “Okay.” She agrees, and moans quickly chased her response, “Ah, ah- shit. Shit.”

Smugly, you start to tease her folds with a finger and she almost instantly whined. You pulled your finger away while moving yourself back up to meet her face just so you could witness the change in her expression. Gosh, she needed you to touch her so bad. But you wanted her to tell you. “What do you want, sweetie?” Your fingers danced along the side of her body as you gazed into her eyes expecting a specific answer.

“Baby, I need you to touch me.” AJ spat out hurriedly, hiding her face behind her hand. You pushed it aside, “I want to see your face, pretty girl, hmm? You need me to touch you, babe?” “Yes. Please.” She nodded, licking her lips.

“Okay.” Your finger returned to its position, sliding downwards just slightly then you start to rub her clit to see and hear what she thought of that. “You like that, babe?” You weren’t expecting a verbal response, but she tells you yes anyway. So you picked up your pace as a reward for her as she clung onto you for dear life, her leg now rested on your hip for extra support. Unlike you, the rougher you went, the more she wanted. AJ seems to like it a little more aggressive. And so be it, she let you feel good and it was now her turn.

Pretty soon, you slipped two fingers inside her easily, curling them so you could locate and hit her g-spot. AJ grew increasingly vulgar as you continued to ram your fingers into her, your actions and her noises matched up- one for one. It also wasn’t long before you felt her walls tightening around your fingers, you decidedly got ahold of her nipple again and twisted it in between your fingers will your other hand continued with the push-and-pull in her cunt. “Oh, fuck!” She cried out with a pant, and she came, just as you were hoping she would. Satisfied, both your hands detached from her. “Fucking hell, that was something else. Holy shit.”

————

A little later, you and AJ found yourselves in the kitchen to fix up some lunch. You were wearing one of her t-shirts that she’d picked out for you to change into after your shower, AJ was in a cute little camisole top and shorts. “Do you want the same one so I can just dump it in the same pot?” She asks you, referring to the two packets of instant ramen in her hands.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” You shrugged.

AJ squinted at you, “Are you okay? Please don’t tell me I hurt you.”

“Oh, you definitely didn’t.” You assured, “Don’t worry. I was just- spacing out a little.”

“Alright.” She smiled, relieved as she opened up the packets of noodles then dumped them into the pot on the stove. You hugged her from behind, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade. She chuckles, “Yes, honey?”

“Nothin’.” You said back, “Just wanted to hug you.”

“Cute.” She commented, “Hey, what do you say we go out for a drive tonight? Maybe get some takeout on the way and head to Broadway to see a show?”

“Sounds great.” You agreed, “I kinda wanna go to Times Square.”

“You do?” She knew you typically would stay away from a ‘touristy area’ since you didn’t like crowds that much.

“Yeah, but I kinda miss it. Just wanna do a little walk through. Then maybe we can stop by an observation deck for sunset first.”

“Sure, honey.” AJ answers while stirring the food in the pot and turning down the heat. You unwrapped your arms, loosening your grip around her and just stood by her as she portioned the noodles into two bowls. After lunch, you and AJ lazed on the couch watching reruns of old sitcoms on TV for a couple hours before going out for a walk.

On your walk, you bought tickets for AJ and yourself to The Edge in Hudson Yards- it was the cheapest option. Once the both of you got back home, you got dressed and ready for the evening. It was a two-hour drive into the city, but AJ thought you two should leave a little earlier just to be safe. She drove, you sit in front with her. Before you knew it, the familiar hustle and bustle of the city filled your senses. “We’re gonna go to the deck, dinner, show, Times Square then drive home.” AJ listed.

“Yep.”

“Alright, let’s park this car and get upstairs.” AJ grins, glancing at you.

Being 100-storeys up, you got a breathtaking view of pretty much the whole of Manhattan. You haven’t been to the city in ages and this had you in awe. AJ took you by the hand and led you to sit down with her at the steps after taking a few laps around the deck to look at the view and take some pictures. AJ tilted your face to face her own, “Are you sleepy already, honey?” She plants a kiss on your forehead and you rest your head on her shoulder, basking in her company and the gorgeous view in front of your eyes as the setting sun painted the sky golden hue. “I’m not.” You chuckled, “This view is gorgeous.”

“Just like you.” She mumbles, laughing to herself as she held your hand. Her free hand took her phone out to get pictures of you — which you didn’t realise, and the sunset.

“Hm?” You sat back up, looking at her now.

“Nothing.” AJ avoided eye contact. “AJ, no- please talk to me. It’s okay.”

You took in a deep breath, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, anything.” You nodded and smiled, intertwining your fingers with hers.

“We’ve been dating for about a month and I’ve been thinking…I want you to be my girlfriend. You know, like- officially? So I um-” She began, reaching into her purse. You watched her, concerned, honestly. Purely because she seemed so nervous. “I made you- this. Here.” She hands you a small package wrapped in what seemed like paper from a sketchbook. You untied the bow, carefully unfolding the paper. There was a bracelet in there, but the drawing on the paper caught your eye first- it was a Hello name sticker that said ‘I love you’ in the blank.

“Oh, my God. AJ. I love this.” You slid the bracelet onto your wrist and took a closer look at the little drawing she did, “I am totally framing this.”

She smiles, squeezing your hand even tighter.

You freed your hand from her grip and grabbed her face with both hands, crashing your lips onto hers, “Fuck, I love you so much, my girl.”

AJ chuckles and smiled into the kiss, “I love you.”

#auli’i cravalho #aj campos #crush #hulu crush #lgbtqia #queer fiction #sfw wlw #wlw #wlw fluff #romance #Spotify #reader insert #x reader #female reader

36 notes · View notes