#I was really tempted to give him sunglasses | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freedomfireflies · 6 months ago

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The Playboy*

Summary: The one where you're a Playboy Bunny and Harry is Hugh's assistant. The one person you aren't allowed to love.

Word Count: 8.9k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, exhibitionsim, multiple orgasms, brief choking, overstimulation

Harry's cum is dripping down your thigh.

You can see it, glistening beneath the sunlight, making it almost impossible to look away. You’re completely and utterly mesmerized by the sight of it, but Harry pretends as though he has no clue.

After all, he has to pretend. You know he’s done this on purpose. Know that he wanted to mark you right before your photoshoot with Hugh and the other Bunnies. He's sending a message, making a statement.

And really, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry fucked you right and you both know it. And he can pretend all he wants that it means nothing, but you’re the best lover he’s ever had. He told you himself. And perhaps that’s why he’s done this. Why he insisted that you weren’t allowed to wipe it off or hide it. Because he wants them to see. To know who you really belong to.

No matter how hard you squeeze your thighs together or attempt to brush the sticky stain away, it remains. And Harry’s proud smirk is rather obvious even from over on the grass where he observes.

You try not to look at him. To acknowledge that sadistic glee as you keep your gaze on the camera. Because if you look at him…it’s over. You won’t be able to hide your infatuation and the last thing either of you want is for Hugh to find out.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice. Then again, he has too many people around him at once to pay attention to you and your wet thighs. But you know he’d be furious if he knew what his precious Bunny was doing, one of the many reasons you and Harry are forced to keep your meetings a secret.

But you know Harry likes being your secret. Perhaps just as much as you like being his. Besides, it’s only sex. No strings attached. He’s Hugh’s assistant and you’re one of the beloved Bunnies. It’s against every rule in the book for the two of you to be together, much less sleep together.

Yet here you are.

You sometimes wonder if Harry would even give you the time of day outside of your secret rendezvous. Or if he’d avoid you altogether. You want to believe it goes deeper than just sex, but truth be told, you’re too afraid to ask.

"Your lemonade, Sir."

You watch as Harry nods his thanks and takes the cold glass from the waiter. He’s far too smug for your liking, and you’d chastise him if it were any other moment.

Still, you watch him take a rather long sip as his eyes follow you from behind those dark sunglasses.

He knows you like to be watched. That you thrive off his attention. So, he gives it to you anytime he can. Even when you’re sitting on the lap of the man that employs him.

But you like to watch him, too. And the way he looks right now, with those dark curls pushed back, now slightly disheveled from when you had your hands running through them, is rather delicious.

He leans back in his seat, strong thighs spreading as he takes another sip. It’s almost criminal, and you can practically hear the sighs of the other girls as they notice, too.

He pops the first couple buttons of his shirt free, allowing for a glimpse of his tan, sweaty skin, and you feel your stomach clench. He’s taunting you now. Reminding you who’s really in charge, and you’re nearly tempted to march right over and prove him wrong.

But you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Remembering just a few moments ago when he had you bent over a chair as he fucked you from behind.

"Tell me how good I feel."

"Fuck you."

"Tell me how deep—"

"Not deep enough. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy."

The second he saw you in your signature bowtie, he snatched your hand and dragged you away. And you let him, because how could you not? Even if it meant you were late for the shoot and that you’d earn a very firm frown from Hugh. It was worth it, and the evidence has been painted all over your leg.

Suddenly struck with inspiration, you give a big beam to the camera before you subtly drop your hand to your thigh and swipe your finger through the mess.

You notice Harry’s eyes widen as he straightens up, wildly intrigued. But you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking, instead keeping your eyes on the lens as suck your middle finger into your mouth.

Harry knows what coats that finger and you let your lashes flutter as though to tell him how much you enjoy the taste.

Hugh laughs, thinking it's just a clever pose for the photos, but Harry knows this show is just for him and him alone.

He slides his sunglasses a bit further down his nose, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store.

Yet your eyes never leave the camera, your smile wide, and your glee unmeasurable. You enjoy teasing him when you know he can’t do anything about it.

And it works, if the way he begins to shift in his seat is any indication. You can practically see his erection from here, and you have to swallow a laugh as he clenches his jaw.

Finally, you decide to put him out of his misery, and steal one glance for yourself.

The moment your eyes meet, your chest nearly caves in. The tension is thick, and it feels as though the whole world has gone quiet. It’s just you and Harry, and when he bites his lip and leans back in his seat, you about lose it.

Thankfully, almost as though heaven heard your silent plea, Hugh suddenly claps his hands together and declares the shoot through. He thanks you all for your patience and time before everyone begins to part and the camera crew packs up.

You’re off his lap in seconds, moving for the refreshments so you can grab a glass of lemonade for yourself. And hopefully encourage Harry’s attention to follow you.

You feel him behind you before you even have a chance to turn around. You recognize his cologne and the soft hum in his throat and you bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning.

“Bunny,” he murmurs, and even though it’s only been a few minutes, you’ve missed the sound of his voice. Low and raspy with just a hint of an accent.

“Harold,” you return, tossing a quick look over your shoulder before moving across the yard.

However, he’s hot on your tail, giving you absolutely no room or personal space. “That was quite a show,” he says, jogging around you to catch your eye.

You only bat your lashes as you take a sip of your drink, watching as his attention zeroes in on the way your lips wrap around the straw.

He smirks.

“Enjoyed yourself, did you?” you retort innocently, attempting to brush past him again when he suddenly grabs onto your upper arm and drags you back to him.

He dips down, mouth ghosting the side of your ear as he murmurs, “I believe you owe me a taste.”

Your eyebrow quirks. “Is that so?”

“It is.” His grip tightens. “And you know it.”

You take a quick glance around the backyard just to make sure Hugh isn’t watching before you pull yourself free and turn to Harry. “Who said you deserve to taste me?”

“I believe you did. When you were coming around my cock and begging me to do it again.”

You scoff, feigning annoyance as you attempt to walk away. However, Harry is much quicker, and he snatches hold of your wrist in order to drag you across the grass and toward the pool shed in the corner of the yard.

Thankfully nobody seems to notice, and you feel your cunt throb as he gently slams you against the wall, away from any prying eyes. And he cages you there, arms on either side of your head as you bite your lip and peer up at him.

“You’ve been quite the brat, haven’t you, little one?” he nearly purrs, wedging his knee between your clenched thighs. “Trying to tease me…embarrass me. Get me in trouble.”

You blink. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“No?” He squeezes your chin. “Show me your tongue.”

Slowly, you concede. Parting your lips and extending your tongue as he tilts your head back and stares down your throat.

“Good girl. Swallowed every drop, didn’t you?”

You nod.

“S’it feel good in your tummy, baby? Hm? Did it taste as good as you imagined?”

Another nod. Quicker and more excited.

He smiles. “Then I think it’s only fair you return the favor, hm?”

You aren’t afforded the chance to answer before he’s dropping to his knees and prying your legs apart.

“Harry—”

“Shh. I’m busy,” he murmurs, flicking the button on your costume undone until he can reach your stockings and tear them down. “S’been too long.”

“It’s been twenty minutes.”

“Exactly.”

He runs his hands along your body, enjoying the way you shiver, that wicked grin is enough to ruin you. He places your foot on his shoulder while you steady yourself against the shed, your fingers already returning to his hair.

And he watches you. So desperate and eager to please. You know he’d bury himself in your cunt with no hesitation if he could, but for now…this is all you get.

It’s one of the things you adore most about him. His need to please you, even despite his ego. In fact, from the moment you met him, he’s put your pleasure first. Demanding that you sit on his face nearly every hour of the day just so he can get a small taste. Savor you on his tongue, go home with you still smeared across his chin.

Some people do drugs. Harry does pussy.

His hands slowly smooth up your leg, taking his time to appreciate your skin while admiring the way it glistens underneath the summer sun. He begins to kiss his way along your ankle and up toward your knee.

And you work to bite back a heavy sigh. You don’t tend to trip up too often, but when it comes to Harry, you find that you can never stay quiet. And you don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because he knows how to draw out every possible noise and sensation. Somehow, even his kisses leave you whining.

Either way, you know you can’t make a noise today. Because no matter how loud the group out by the pool are, it’s not nearly loud enough to drown out your pleasured whines.

And he knows it, too.

He pauses his kisses once he reaches your inner thigh and glances up through those thick lashes of his. "You think you can stay quiet, little one?" he asks, lips brushing against your skin with every word.

You force a smile. “Do it right and we’ll see.”

It’s a challenge he’s more than eager to accept. He’s been waiting far too long to get a taste of what he left behind and wastes no more time in dragging his flattened tongue along your leg to collect the salty remnants from before.

The feeling itself isn't much but watching him...you can feel your knees growing weak. Harry knows what you like to see. Knows you adore his pink lips and the rings on his fingers. Knows you like to run your hands through his gelled hair and leave your lipstick on his shirt.

He hums, rather satisfied with himself. But before he can truly have you, you both catch the sound of commotion happening near the mansion.

You have a rather hard time tearing yourself away, but you know that if you don’t check, Hugh will coming looking for you.

So, regretfully, you drop your leg from Harry’s shoulder and peer around the shed.

Hugh is standing on one of the staircases, pipe in his mouth as he claps his hands to get everyone's attention. "All right, my dears, gather 'round. You've all been doing such good work this week, and I felt it was only right to honor you. So, for the first Saturday of the summer, I've decided we must celebrate.”

The other girls cheer as you toss Harry a curious look.

He only shrugs.

"You know the rules," Hefner continues. "But I want you to have fun and just relax tonight. The real work starts next week.”

With that, he gives his adoring audience a wink before heading back inside, leaving you to sigh to yourself.

Hugh is a stickler for rules and regulations. Curfews, no outside relationships, and absolutely no visitors. He wants to keep his girls to himself, and you know that applies to you more than anyone else.

Harry is watching you closely as you finally turn back around. “He wants me there tonight,” he tells you.

You nod. You expected nothing less. “I imagine so.”

“We won’t have as much time.”

“I know.” You readjust your outfit and attempt to wipe the lustful look from your face. “I should go.”

You get ready to slip back out into the open before Harry grabs your arm for a third time.

"I'll find you," he murmurs, more so a promise than a threat. "And I will get my taste."

You can’t help but smirk as you pat his cheek lightly. “Mm. Good luck, Playboy."

There are very few times in life when you find yourself completely and utterly breathless. Transfixed beyond doubt, mesmerized by one singular moment in time when you can't move or speak.

For you, that happened when you saw Harry enter the room for the very first time.

And then it happened again…when he slid inside you later that same night.

Two moments, one man.

One incredibly ethereal, divine, godlike man.

You hadn't expected Hugh's party to be all that exciting, but it was one of Harry’s first parties as Hugh’s assistant. Turns out…that meant something.

You had specific instructions to stay close to Hugh throughout the evening, as his favorite Bunny, and Harry had instructions to stay close as the assistant. But unlike you, Harry was instructed to follow from behind. Not to interact with any of the guests. And definitely not to be seen or heard.

But from the moment he entered the room, you knew it would be nearly impossible for anyone to keep their eyes off him.

He walked in as though surrounded by light, drawing everyone’s attention to those dark curls and that charming smile.

You couldn’t look away, so spellbound by his presence that you didn’t even realize Hugh was right beside him.

Instantly, you knew that would complicate things.

Still, you liked the challenge. And as it turned out, Harry did, too. Because while you were busy seeing him, he was busy seeing you.

Your eyes met through the crowd, even despite the many bodies and loud music. You felt yourself being drawn closer as you pushed your way toward the center of the room in a desperate attempt just to be close.

Harry did the same.

You wondered if Hugh knew what a threat Harry posed to his brand. After all, Hugh loved being the center of attention and Harry was so effortlessly stealing the attention for himself.

But it didn’t matter in that moment because Harry’s attention was yours, and once you both found your way to the center of the living room…everything changed.

You did your best to study him. Those gorgeous, textured curls. The unusual shade of green in his eye. That strong jaw that seemed to accentuate his sharp but handsome features.

He was wearing a white t-shirt that hugged each of his muscles in a way that left little to the imagination. He looked clean. Put together. So refined that all you wanted to do was trail your hands down his chiseled chest before you tore is shirt off.

And that’s when it happened.

The Moment.

Ever since that night, the two of you have been inseparable. Fucking any chance you get. In the kitchen, in the car, in the closet. His hand over your mouth, forcing you to stay silent in case Hugh might be somewhere in the mansion—which he always is.

In fact, there’s never a moment when you aren't the focus of each other's attention. Day or night, all you can think about is when you’ll see him next. Creating moments to run into each other. Planning meetings. Making excuses to find time alone.

And as it turns out, tonight is no different.

You know Hugh will be around. And even worse, he’ll be making his favorite Bunny the center of attention.

Which just means you’ll have to try a little harder to get Harry alone.

Most of the crowd will be desperate to talk to you. They always are, after all. They’ll follow you around, ask you questions, want to be in your presence.

And Harry will be somewhere hidden, keeping to himself so he’s neither seen nor heard. Although the rest of the Bunnies make that quite difficult.

For some reason, Hugh doesn’t mind if the others pay Harry a bit of attention. He only seems to mind if you do. And even though Harry will never admit it, Hugh’s possession over you makes him quite jealous.

He doesn’t enjoy the idea of having to share you, much less with a whole crowd of people and greedy men. They’ll take up all of your time. Time that should be reserved for him.

Truth be told, you find it rather cute.

So, you try to make it worth it. You sway your hips to a song just because he’s watching.

You run your hands down your body, smoothing them over each and every one of his favorite curves.

You dangle a cherry over your tongue before taking it between your lips, your cheeks hollowing as you suck the sweet fruit into your mouth.

It drives him absolutely mad, and you can already see him fighting the temptation to stride over to you right now.

You’re sitting by the pool, legs dangling over the side as you chat with Paul Newman. He’s leaning his body closer and closer toward yours, inviting himself into your space as you laugh and throw your head back with glee just to give Harry a proper show.

You do your best to flirt with the handsome man—which isn’t all that difficult, really—before you notice Harry march himself over to the drink stand.

Instantly, he begins chatting up Sophia Loren. One of the most stunning women you think you’ve ever seen and immediately, your eyes narrow.

So that’s how he wants to play it.

He’s not subtle about the way he stares at her, raking his eyes up and down her figure rather shamelessly. And she smiles, eating up his attention until you nearly chip a tooth from how hard you’re gritting your teeth.

It’s rather cute, all things considered. He’s really trying to make you jealous. But why should you be? Paul Newman is every bit as handsome, if not more, and happens to be someone you can actually sit and have a conversation with.

In fact, Hugh was the one who set it up. He introduced the two of you and insisted you get to know each other.

You knew what he really wanted from the interaction, but neither you nor Paul will be entertaining such an idea. After all, he is happily married. And you just enjoy getting to know him.

Paul is still chatting away as you both swing you legs through the warm water, and even though you can’t help feeling rather starstruck by those gorgeous blue eyes…you’re remind of a pair of green ones that are currently still checking out someone else.

So, you gently put your hand on Paul’s chest in a subtle signal for him to wind his story down. You tell him that you’re going to go grab a drink and he nods before helping you stand from the pool.

You make your way for the bar—rather aware of the number of eyes on you as you walk—yet Harry still seems to be rather immersed in his conversation with the starlet. And now you aren’t sure if this really is just for show or if she truly has caught his eye.

Either way, you decide a little eavesdropping can’t hurt. So, you subtly make your way around the pool and toward the back of the drink station, just out of sight. Close enough to hear, but not so close as to be seen.

“Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” Harry is asking, and you catch just a glimpse of those dimples.

Sophia hums, looking around the large backyard that seems to sparkle underneath such a dark sky. "Oh, yes. Hugh always throws the best parties."

"He does. Are you here with someone?"

You suck in a quiet breath while Sophia laughs, shaking out her perfectly styled curls. “No, not at all. I like to…come alone. Window shop.”

“Window shop?” Harry repeats with a smirk.

“Yes. I like to see what’s to be seen. To decide if I’ll be leaving alone as well.”

Harry chuckles, and the sound of it makes your stomach flutter. “I see. Well, I have to admit, that does sound like an excellent plan.”

Sophia studies him. “And…you? Will you be leaving alone?”

Harry runs his tongue over his lip before glancing toward the spot near the pool where you once were. But once he notices you’re missing, his eyebrow raises. “I hope not.”

She smiles. “Come,” she says, taking his hand. “We dance.”

With that, she leads him toward the middle of the yard where a few people are already swaying to the music.

You watch them dance with a rather wounded expression, doing your best to remind yourself what this really is.

You don’t imagine Sophia will be taking him home tonight—he’s handsome, but she’s far out of his league—yet you can’t help that spark of jealousy that finally burns in your chest.

What Harry lacks in brains he makes up for in charisma. And he looks rather breathtaking out there, moving his hips to the melody and grabbing at her waist while she laughs and swings her arms around his neck.

For a moment, you almost wish that you could dance with him like that. So open and uninhibited. But you know that this arrangement only lasts for the summer. Once fall comes, the two of you will part ways, and the fun will be through.

Eventually, the two of them return to the bar for more drinks, and you’re forced to scurry back out of sight just in time to ear the rest of their conversation.

"She is...stunning,” Sophia says as they approach.

Harry’s head tilts. “Who?”

“The woman you keep looking for.”

Harry grins as he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hm.” She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him. “One cannot win a game if the other player doesn’t know they are playing.”

"Maybe. But I’m not playing any games.”

She scoffs. “Aren’t you? Talking to me but wanting her?”

Harry seems rather surprised by this, and you feel yourself grin as you finally breeze your way around the corner in full view of them both.

“A scotch, please, darling,” you call to the bartender before glancing to your left. “Oh! Hi, Sophia. Harold.”

Sophia laughs. “Hello, dear. Fantastic party. You look beautiful.”

“As do you,” you return. “So happy you made it, despite your current choice in companion.”

Harry’s eyes roll.

“Oh, he’s not so bad,” she says, reaching up to wipe her thumb across his bottom lip. “Rather…sweet.”

Harry feigns a smug smirk even though you can tell he’s rather surprised by the action.

Still, you refuse to play along. “I suppose he can be when Hugh isn’t around.”

She chuckles to herself before offering you a quick kiss to the cheek before bidding the two of you goodbye so she can make the rounds.

Rather satisfied, you give Harry a proud look of your own before grabbing your drink and turning on your heel.

But, true to form, he’s chasing after you and taking a handful of your hip in order to bring you to a stop.

“Bunny,” he warns beneath a raspy breath. “I thought I made myself clear—”

“I don’t know what you mean, I was only chatting,” you retort, pulling yourself from his hand with a huff.

“No, you were not. You were being a brat and I’d like you to stop.”

“Stop what? Being delightful?”

“No. Stop toying with me.” He regards you carefully. “I know what you’re doing.”

"I'm talking. After all, that is my job—"

"No, your job is to be a good little Bunny, and do as you're told," he argues, straightening up so he has the advantage of height. "And I’m telling you that I will not play these games with you any longer.”

“What games?”

“The game where you try to rub my nose in that,” he says, gesturing angrily toward Paul.

“It’s not a game. He’s quite delightful. And I don’t believe I’m quite through with him yet—”

“Enough,” he seethes, suddenly yanking you back to him. “You know you don't want to talk to him. Or entertain his sad attempts at flirting. So, give it up, and come with me—"

"Beg me."

He leans back. “Excuse me?”

“Beg me,” you repeat calmly, even though your pussy is just about throbbing from the possessive tone of voice.

His head cocks. “I said end this—"

"Beg me, and maybe I will.”

He looks at you for another moment more before his eyes flick toward the mansion in search of Hugh. Having this conversation in such an open space is rather reckless, especially with so many witnesses. But you just can’t help it. He never seems to listen.

Harry knows his time is running out, as well as his patience, so he runs a hand through his hair and releases a strained exhale.

“Fine,” he concedes darkly. “Fine. Please…end this. And come with me.”

You bite back a smile. "Hm... I don't know, Paul and I were just having such a good time—"

"Please," he repeats, almost viciously. "Fucking end this. Now.”

By now, you know exactly what Harry's last straw looks like. What it sounds like. His voice, twisted with need and lust, becomes hoarser the closer he creeps to desperation. His grip becomes tighter, and his pupils nearly blow-out with desperation.

It happens when he's fucking into you so hard that you see stars. When his tongue is so far inside you that neither of you can breathe. And when you’re taking him so well down your throat that you think you’ll sink right through the floor.

It's the same voice. The same urgency. And you can’t help but feel a little intrigued.

You nod. “Fine.”

"Good. Meet me in the coat closet," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "Five minutes."

"Harry—"

“Go,” he repeats, before releasing you so he can slip inside the mansion.

You don’t need to be told twice. You immediately make your way for the door, weaving your way through the crowd in search of that familiar closet.

The inside of the house is packed with people. It’s loud and chaotic and there are more celebrities here than you can name.

But right now, you couldn’t care less. There’s only one person on your mind. One beautiful body that you can’t wait to run your hands down and it’s only five minutes away.

Once you’ve hidden yourself away in the small, dark space, you imagine all the things he might do. One of his favorites is watching the way he disappears inside you. The way your pussy stretches open to take his cock until you’re both a rather wet mess. You don’t doubt that he’ll find a way to do so tonight, and the thought makes you giddy.

Or perhaps he’ll blindfold you. Cut off all your senses until he’s all you know. Maybe you’ll blindfold him, another favorite.

Truthfully, it doesn’t really matter what he does as long as he does it. Because even the thought leaves you breathless.

The door swings open exactly two minutes later. Harry is quick to lock you both in and turn on the light, twisting the bulb between his fingers until you can see everything you couldn’t before. Mostly coats and hats, but then…him. Somehow just as stunning as he was a few minutes ago, and smiling in a way that makes you want to drag him to his knees.

“You obeyed,” he whispers, stepping up to you until he can softly run his palm along your cheek. “You are a good little bunny after all, aren’t you?”

You pull your lip between your teeth. “Only when I think you deserve it.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

He leans closer, nose brushing against yours. “And do I still deserve that taste?”

Your lashes flutter before you forcefully push him away and point to his belt. “Take off your pants.”

You don’t want to have to rush, but you know Hugh will be looking for you soon so you can be by his side for his grand speech. Which means you’ll have to save the sensual looks and teasing touches for another day.

He starts with his shirt instead of his pants (just to spite you), grabbing at his collar before slipping the fabric over his head. Then he reaches for his zipper and drags it down, as slowly as he can all while keeping his eyes on yours.

With a rather unamused huff, you finally swat his hands out of the way in order to do it yourself.

You yank the dark material down his legs, taking note of the boxers around his hips that practically call to you. You allow your fingers to slowly trail along his thighs. Higher and higher, groping at the strong flesh as he sighs and watches you with flushed cheeks.

Finally, you move for the band at his waist, pulling on it until it snaps back against his stomach, making him grunt.

He drops his head back with a curse, but once you start to drag your tongue along his abs…it’s game over.

His hand is instantly in your hair, tugging at the scalp as though to remind you who’s really in charge. But you can feel his muscles quivering beneath your tongue and you hum when you hear him exhale your name.

You reach his pecs, taking a moment to brush your lips over his hardened nipple. He doesn’t seem to understand why this feels so good, but he enjoys it, and he certainly enjoys watching you do it, too.

You never leave him unsatisfied. You don’t think you could even if you tried. Sometimes, all you have to do is kiss him, and he’s nearly coming in his shorts as he grinds you against his lap.

He knows his pleasure isn’t nearly as important as yours, but he enjoys the time you dedicate to him, nonetheless.

You graze the nipple with your teeth, pulling it ever so slightly until he hisses, head dipping as your foreheads meet.

He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck with a firm squeeze before he’s pulling you up and kissing you hard. He starts with his tongue, exploring your mouth like it’s the first time, and honestly…it almost feels like it is.

Teeth clash, noses brush, breaths are stolen. You devour each other, greedy hands roaming freely, tangling in each other's hair.

"Can’t fucking stand you," he nearly groans against your mouth, his hips knocking into yours as he keeps you trapped against his chest. "Teasing me all night. Playing with me."

"You love it," you pant. "Love it when I play with you."

He grins. “Maybe I do.”

His hand moves to your one-piece until he finds the apex of your thighs. He smooths his palm along your cunt, cupping you harshly as you reel. He wants to feel how warm you are—how wet and desperate.

And you want him to feel it, too.

You swallow a needy sigh, almost as though you can’t let him hear. He can’t know how good this really feels. How depraved you really are of his touch. How starved.

But he knows. You know he knows, even through one little kiss.

It’s maddening.

He grabs onto the corset, ready to rip it down and reveal your chest to his hungry eyes, but you quickly snatch his wrist.

“No,” you exhale, shaking your head slightly. “Can’t rip it. Gentle.”

He scoffs, almost as though the thought of being gentle with you is absurd. Still, he knows Hugh would notice if your outfit has been torn, so he obeys, and unzips you instead.

The suit falls away, finally allowing him a good look at what you’ve been hiding from him all night.

Instantly, he’s got your tits in his hands, pulling at the tender flesh with a lewd grunt.

“Pretty,” he murmurs before sucking one into his mouth. “Fucking killing me, Bunny.”

Like a starved wolf, he starts to leave a trail of kisses wherever he can. Sloppy kisses that make you shiver as you fist his curls and laugh at the feel of your nipple between his teeth.

He swirls his tongue just the way you did, then flicks it gently while you sigh in his ear. Eventually, his fingers make their way to their previous spot, brushing at your inner thighs as though to warn you. And you’re given only a few seconds to prepare before he’s slipping the middle one inside and making you gasp.

The noise is covered by the loud music outside of the door, but Harry still hears it, and he beams as he starts to pump you slowly.

Your body invites him in the way it always does, squeezing him gently and clenching as though to keep him close.

“Shit,” he curses, once again pressing his mouth to yours. “Missed this pretty pussy, baby.”

His large digit suddenly curls upward, motioning a moan from your lips and there it is. That’s what you needed.

You hold onto him for dear life, already lost in the feel. He's always been rather exceptional at touching you. At knowing your body better than anyone else does.

You’ve tried to replicate his actions on yourself, tried to make yourself cum as hard as he makes you when he’s the one doing it. But it's never the same. It feels like a waste of time to even try. It'll be weak and short. Pitiful. And trying again never works because it's just as disappointing as the first time.

But Harry…with his long fingers, his firm hand, his ravenous lips. Nothing will ever compare.

"Feel so good, sweetheart," he praises, lips staining your skin as he kisses the hollow of your neck. "Good girl. Lift for me, yeah?"

You obey, offering him your leg which he's quick to hook around his waist, spreading your open a bit further so he can slide himself deeper inside.

Another finger, another curl, another pinch. His thumb presses into your clit, circling it rapidly, making you whine into his shoulder. You can feel the coil already ready to snap, hardly surprised by how quickly you got here, but you know he’ll make sure to drag it on for as long as possible.

And as if to prove this, he slips his fingers out, and raises them to his lips. You nearly wilt right then and there, but you manage to hold your impatient fa��ade as you cock your eyebrow upward before yanking his hand out and kissing him.

You can taste yourself on his lips, something you always seem to enjoy. The mix of you both together.

And this is when he decides to ruin you, plunging his fingers back in with vigor until he hits that perfect spot. The one that has you gasping for air and moaning his name.

Your chest heaves with deep breaths. You’re close and you know it won’t be long until your cunt is fluttering around his hand and you’re dripping down his wrist. But you need more than that. Especially because this is the last time you’ll be with him for a while.

So, you grab onto his jaw and forcefully bring his eyes to yours.

“No,” you hiss. “Not like this. Fuck me like you mean it, Playboy.”

He hums, all without slowing his rhythm. “Impatient, little one?”

“Obviously.”

He makes an amused noise, but he doesn’t stop his thrusts. He plans to make you cum just like this before he fucks you and you don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.

You move your hand to his throat, squeezing the sides gently as you feel him swallow. His pulse is pounding beneath your fingertips, blown-out pupils glued to yours as you add just the slightest bit of pressure.

His soft inhale makes your stomach flutter. You happen to adore him like this, on the verge of complete submission. Merciless at your feet.

But you know it won’t last long. And once his eyelids begin to flutter, you yank him down for another kiss. Stealing the only breath he has left.

You can practically feel his cock twitching against your thigh as you tug his curls and suck on his tongue. But he’s not one to be outdone, and he continues rubbing your clit as quickly as he can, sweeping his fingers in a circle while you roll your hips against his hand.

"Gentle, sweetheart," he warns, throwing your own instruction back at you.

You want to retort with a quippy remark of your own but choose instead to lick a stripe along his jaw. That suffices as your reply.

You don't have a lot of time, at least not for games. You’re playing against the clock, and you know Hugh will be calling for you any second.

Any other night, Harry would most likely edge you all the way to the brink. But tonight, he knows better, and he does everything he can to make you cum.

And when you do, you nearly lose your balance. It’s one of the most blinding and toe-curling orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. So much better than when you do it alone and you’re so grateful for his cocky attitude for the first time all summer.

Your body melts into his as you start to come down from your high. You almost wish it would never end. The way his lips feel on your cheek. The sound of his soft, proud praises in your ear. It’s everything.

But you know that’s not what he’s good for. So, instead, you push him away and step back. “Down.”

He looks at you. “Down?”

You nod toward the floor. “You wanted a taste. So take a taste, sweetheart.”

He crosses his arms. “Mm. Ask me nicely.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ask me nicely to eat you out and maybe I will.”

Your expression falls flat. “Take the goddamn taste, Harold, or I will go out there and find somebody who will.”

He’s amused, but you know he’s also nervous. He doesn’t like the idea that you’d take yourself from him, so, he clears his throat and slowly lowers to his knees.

Exactly where he belongs.

His head bows, something he doesn’t do quite that often, and your heart soars. He looks beautiful like this. Submissive and good. Everything you know he’s not.

You brush your fingers through the curls draping across his forehead and he seems to settle into your touch before you’re hooking your finger under his chin and lifting his head.

Your eyes meet, a look of utter reverence written across his face as he gazes at you with awe and respect. And your stomach nearly twists as you whisper, “You know what to do.”

And he does. His mouth turns up in a gentle smile as he slowly reaches for your ankle. He resumes his earlier position, the bottom of your heel on top of his shoulder for access, and his other hand reaching to grab your hip and pull you towards his face.

You immediately bite your lip, anticipating the noises that are about to follow.

Similar to this afternoon, he starts gentle, pressing kisses into your thighs ever so slowly. You know you’re soaking him. Can hear it and see it, even in the dim closet light.

He drags his tongue up your leg, collecting every drop that’s at his disposal, while you continue pushing back his hair so you can see him clearly.

Finally, he reaches your swollen clit, still sensitive from his last assault, before he’s eagerly tracing it with the tip of his tongue.

You writhe in his hands, head turning to the side as you open your mouth to exhale a curse. And this seems to feed his ego because he repeats the action again, nose pressing into your hip as he inhales you like you’re fresh air on a spring day. Like you’re the only thing he wants in his lungs—the only breath he wants to take.

You pull his head closer as though to encourage him, and your name falls from his lips like rain.

“My sweet Bunny,” he nearly groans. “Can never get enough of you.”

“Good,” is all you can say. “We don’t have a lot of time, though. You need to be quick.”

“Who says I’m through? You owe me, sweetheart.”

You give his curls a sharp yank. “No. Get up and fuck me.”

He pouts, feigning a tantrum, but you know his cock is throbbing rather pitifully for you. So, he obliges, standing to his feet while you gather yourself in wait.

He tugs down his boxers, the only fabric left between you, and you try not to stare as you grab onto his shoulders and prepare to sink down.

“Five minutes,” you instruct softly. “Make it count.”

However, before you can feel that glorious tip pushing its way through, he’s suddenly grabbing onto your hips and spinning you around. Shoving you against the coat closet wall as you gasp.

Instantly, his hand comes up to slap against your lips. “Hush now," he hisses against your ear. "Unless you want Hugh to know what I'm really doing to his pretty girl?"

You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t feel his hips knocking into yours, giving you just a taste of what’s to come. Instead, you glance over your shoulder in an attempt to see him, and nod once.

But this isn’t good enough. So, he reaches for the bowtie around your neck, pulling on it until it snaps off into his hand. He holds it as though it were a prize he won in battle before he’s slipping it over your head and into your mouth.

You take it between your teeth and bite down obediently.

“Good,” he hums, giving your ass a quick spank. The sound echoes between the small walls. “That’s much better, hm?”

You feel him drag his cock through your dripping folds while his other hand ghosts down the curve of your spine. He’s gentle with you, despite his cruel taunting, and you’re almost impressed. Infatuated, even.

His warm body feels so good against yours. Luring you into a sense of security you can’t seem to find anywhere else. And you rather enjoy it as you feel the thickness of him starting to stretch you open.

You moan around the tie while Harry grunts in your ear. Just like the first time the two of you found yourselves in this position.

And exactly like every other time before, he doesn’t rush you. He lets you feel—lets you enjoy—every inch and every second. Any other time, he’d make you beg. Beg him to go harder, go deeper. But tonight, you can’t, and it’s almost a shame he won’t get to hear it.

Instead, you offer a muffled whimper that seems to do the trick, and he chuckles to himself. “Need more, don’t you?”

You nod quickly, and he wraps his arms around your stomach in order to tug you back and guide you along his cock the way he wants.

He goes faster. His five minutes is now down to four, and he knows he’ll have to make this quicker than usual. Sharp, hard thrusts that make your legs shake and your heart race. But somehow, it’s still not enough.

“You like to play with me, don’t you, hm?” he begins to taunt. An angrier tone than before. “Make me watch you? With him?”

Your eyes nearly roll back, and you whine against the fabric on your tongue.

"Think I don't know?" he scoffs. "Think I don't know who this pussy belongs to?"

He starts to slow. A rather achingly languid pace that’s meant to make you scream, and you nearly do.

“I do,” he promises in a dark whisper. “I know exactly who you belong to.”

You arch your back and reach for his hair. Pulling his face into your neck as he leaves a trail of wet kisses all the way down to your shoulder.

“So stay,” he murmurs. “Stay with me. Don’t go back to him. Don’t make me jealous, Bunny. Don’t make me watch him touch you. Please.”

Please.

A word he rarely uses, even when you instruct him to. But it sounds so beautiful between his lips, and you nearly tell him you’ll never leave him again.

But you know he doesn’t mean it. It’s just what you say in a moment like this. So, you whimper, and tug on him harder. Pretending to agree until he smiles.

The small coat room has become a sauna, your naked bodies now writhing together as the rest of the world continues on around you.

You can hear the music, the people, the party. A constant reminder that while you’ve disappeared into your own little world within this closet...the two of you will never truly be alone.

But you don’t get a chance to focus on that when his hand suddenly reaches around to take hold of your chest. Plucking your nipple between his large, rough fingertips. You brace your forehead against the wall as you push yourself into his palm. Anxious for more, which he happily gives you.

The two of you move like the tide, one fluid motion of your bodies in rhythmic harmony. He leaves your tit to focus on your clit. Forcing you closer to a second orgasm that already feels much stronger than the first.

"Here," he breathes. “Give me your hand. Want you to touch yourself for me, okay? So I can watch you.”

Your arm trembles as you move it toward your thighs, where he easily takes your fingers and places them against your pussy exactly the way his had been.

“Just like that. Good. Rub it for me, sweetheart. Yeah…there you go. Attagirl. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You feel his eyes over your shoulder as you pinch and rub the swollen nerves as your legs shake. After a moment, he grabs your thigh and lifts your knee to the wall. Giving himself a different and deeper angle as you nearly cry out around the bowtie in your mouth.

Everything feels wet. And warm. And perfect. And you know you’re moments away from coming around his cock for the second time today.

“How you doing, baby?” he chuckles when he notices the fucked-out expression on your face. “You all right?”

You nod as best you can and clench down on his cock for confirmation. And he makes a rather animalistic noise before he’s grabbing onto your tit again and groping it in his palm.

“Good. You gonna cum for me, little one? Milk me like I know you can?”

Another nod. You can hear the party growing louder, which means it’s almost midnight. And that means Hugh’s speech will be any second now.

You’re squirming harder, unable to fight such intense pleasure as it comes from his cock and your fingertips. But he catches you, grip tightening around your thigh as he squeezes so hard, you know you’ll see bruises in the shape of his name tomorrow.

But you don’t mind. You know you’ll be able to touch them in the shower and remember this—remember him.

“Cum,” he instructs, almost viciously. “Right now, Bunny. Fucking cum. Let me feel you. Gotta feel you, honey, please.”

You roll yourself back onto his cock just to feel full while he kisses your jaw and begs you to let go.

You’re so close you can nearly taste it. And he’s even closer than you, doing his best to hold out but you know it’s rather hard with the watch you’re squeezing him.

And when you feel him start to buck and twitch, you can’t help but smile.

He spills inside you as he bottoms out. He hates coming first, and always tries incredibly hard not to. But tonight, you can’t exactly fault him, and as it turns out, the feel of him inside you—so warm it makes your head spin—is what you need to follow.

The orgasm nearly explodes behind your eyelids as you scream into the tie, forcing Harry to slap his hand back over your mouth to silence you.

“Quiet,” he hisses, nose pressed against your cheek. “Shut up.”

Yet you don’t even try. You don’t care that you might get caught or that someone could hear. Perhaps you will once the consequences catch up to you, but right now? Right now, you moan into his hand and allow every moment of this pleasure to take control of you.

Your sweaty bodies melt together, damp hair clinging to your skin as Harry finally lets go and steps back.

But instead of pulling his clothes back on, the sadistic man drops back down to his knees, and spins you around.

He brushes your hand away from your clit in order to do the work himself. Resuming his previous pace on your rather abused nerves until you nearly crumble to the floor.

It’s almost too much. Your eyes roll back and your head drops against the wall. You can’t stand it, yet you can’t get enough.

“One more,” is all he says before diving forward for a lick. “Just one more, baby.”

You’re too sensitive. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you watch him through the blissful haze as he closes his eyes to savor the taste.

It’s a mix of you and him, and watching him lap at you like a thirsty man desperate for a drink is sinful. He’s so good. So beautiful like this. Devoted just to you the way no other man ever has been before.

Outside, you can hear the sound of Hugh calling for everyone’s attention. Your heart leaps into your throat. He’ll be furious if you’re not there. If he has to find you. And if he finds you with Harry?

You don’t have any more time. You have to go. Right now. But you’re so close, and Harry isn’t stopping, and you just need to finish, you just need…need—

You cum for the third and final time with a rather lewd and anguished moan.

Instantly, you start to slump forward as Harry leaps to his feet in order to keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. “There you go. I’ve got you. S’okay.”

Your vision is fuzzy as you grip onto his shoulders for balance, the taste of the orgasm still bleeding along your tongue.

But you can’t bid him goodbye just yet. So, you rip the tie from your mouth and kiss him. Drowning in the taste of him and you together. And nothing else really matters except his hands and the way they hold you close.

“Good boy,” you exhale after you’ve pulled apart.“Knew you could do it.”

He only grins.

The two of you quickly work to redress, pulling on your clothes and shoes while Harry’s cum continues to streak down your thighs. It seems he didn’t get it all, and the realization that you’ll have to go out there with him still snug inside your cunt makes your stomach flutter.

When Harry notices your surprised expression, he winks. “Wanna make sure you’re thinking of me when you’re standing next to him.”

You scoff. But deep down, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry helps you secure the tie back around your neck, effectively covering the hickeys he so generously left for you to find later. And you make sure to brush back his curls so they look a little more tame before swiping your thumb across his chin to collect what’s left of you.

And once you’ve finally gathered yourself, you move for the door, only stopping to give him one last glance.

“This was nice,” you tell him honestly. “Just make me a deal, okay?”

His eyebrow raises.

“Next time? Don’t wait so long.”

With that, you’re out the door. Leaving the breathless man behind. But you know it certainly isn’t the last time you’ll see him. After all, the summer is far from over.

And you’re just getting started.

HI!!! I just wanted to say that even though we have a Hugh Hefner in this story, I don't consider it to be the same one as the real one! I used his name because he's so famously associated with Playboy but I do not agree with or condone anything that he's done or how he treated people!

I am only using his name, but please imagine anyone you'd like! 💞

~ Main Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin

@justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda

@vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach

@lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana

@dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@laelamarley @idkkkkkkk123lgb

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yueebby · 1 year ago

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hii omg I love ur fics sooo much they're really helping me recover from.. gege. I was wondering if I could request gojo x drunk!reader. like maybe they come back from partying with geto and shoko and are just completely tipsy. but they're reallyyyyy affectionate and flirty and gojo literally goes insane like his heart can't take it . bonus points if reader won't stop peppering him in kisses.

"you're sooooo hot.. and- and strong! ohmigosh are you single?" AND MANS IS JUST BRIGHT RED.

preferably fem-reader thanks ^__^ <333

drunk in love — gojo satoru

contents. fluff, established relationship, alcohol (drunk!reader), gojo being gojo, youre drunk and in love but gojo loves you more

notes. anon your request was so cute i just had to write it TT i kind of got carried away from the original prompt.. but enjoy this as a form of therapy from that one eyed cat!! ps i hate drinking so idek if this is accurate :>

the night had been long, and shoko is starting to regret letting you consume what felt like half your body weight in drinks during your night out in roppongi. impatiently, she checked her phone, hoping for a response from gojo to her text message. huffing in frustration, she turned to geto, “i thought you called him. where is that idio–”

"shoko, who is that?" in your drunken stupor, you shamelessly ogled the stranger approaching the entrance of the bar. shoko facepalmed as she watched your intoxicated heart eyes for the snow-haired man.

"she's all yours now."

gojo chuckled when he saw your inebriated state, "what did they do to you?" he had just returned from a tiring mission, but seeing you was enough to lighten the weight on his shoulders.

you shifted your gaze between shoko and the handsome stranger, causing mental whiplash. a mumbled apology escaped your lips before you left shoko's side to get a closer look at the man.

amusement danced in satoru's eyes as he observed you stumbling toward him. as the loving boyfriend he was, satoru wrapped a strong arm around your waist to prevent you from tripping.

you placed a hand on his chest to steady yourself, and couldn't help but notice the firmness of his physique. "so strong," you hiccuped, running your finger down his chest, "and handsome... are you single?" you blinked up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes.

suguru, watching from the sidelines, struggled to stifle his laughter as he observed his best friend's face growing increasingly red. the way you were looking up at him was driving him crazy. satoru cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to regain his composure though it was hard with the way his heart was beating so erratically.

"do you not remember me, sweetheart? your strong and handsome boyfriend?" satoru's glossy lips turned down in an exaggerated pout, and you gasped, confused on how you'd forgotten a face so beautiful. it was dangerous, how tempting the man in front of you looked.

giving in to your impulsive thoughts, you grabbed his face with one hand, squishing his cheeks together. satoru’s eyes widened as he noticed your intent on his puckered lips.

with an impish grin, you planted a series of quick kisses on his cheeks, then moved to his lips.“how,” kiss. “could i,” another kiss, “forget,” kiss, “such,” kiss, “a handsome face?”.

suguru and shoko watched in mild horror, as you showered gojo with affection. a dopey grin spread across his flushed face as he allowed you to have your way with him. he's afraid he might implode from the how adorable you were.

“i’m the most handsome man in the world, yeah?” he asks you with a grin, encouraging you to answer as he pulls you closer by the waist. satoru couldn't fathom what he had done to deserve this, but he would gladly repeat it tenfold if he could relive this moment once more.

you nod happily. “the most!”

“well aren’t you lucky to have me as your boyfriend.” satoru flashes his cerulean eyes at you above those dark sunglasses of his. just when you think he can’t get any hotter, he proves you wrong.

your friends' silent presence is suddenly shattered by laughter, jolting you back into the awareness of their company. satoru’s grin dissipates into a frown when he sees that your attention is taken off of him.

"'[name] is lucky to date him,' so he says," shoko giggles. "suguru, do you remember that one time satoru pretended to be a waiter at the restaurant [name] was on a date?" shoko not-so-secretly says to geto. "he got all drunk and then started rhapsodizing about how he was going to marry her."

satoru gasps at the memory of his awkward pining days. his attention quickly diverted back to you, anticipating your reaction.

suguru hums, “ah, or that one time he got distracted and nearly got us killed on a mission all because [name] sent a selfie.”

you pull away from satoru’s hold and he swears he feels all the warmth leaving his soul. his hands instinctively reach out to you, but you’re one step ahead, already making your way to the evil pair in front of him.

“really?” you ask the two, eyes shining eagerly.

shoko nods, an evil grin growing on her face, “you seriously never noticed that stupid dazed look he has when he sees you? even yaga has noticed it.”

gojo’s jaw drops at the sound of his best friends’ attempt to embarrass him. in his defense, he was just a man in love! satoru's infamous pout returns, and he’s trying to pull you back into his embrace and away from those traitors. to his dismay, you ignore him. did you even know that he was dying by the second without your affection?

“tell me more!” you gush, entranced with the idea that your boyfriend was just a lovesick puppy.

“is that really necessary?” satoru mumbles under his breath, though the telltale reddening of his ears betrays his indifferent facade.

“toru i didn’t know that you were obsessed with me,” a giggle erupts from you. to show your adoration, you turn back to cup your boyfriend’s face. he leans into your touch immediately.

“i still am y’know,” his gaze softened. your heart melts at the way he lowers his voice.

“i can’t watch this any longer,” the short haired female gags, searching her coat pocket for a much needed cigarette. suguru agrees silently, tearing his eyes away from the cloying display of affection.

you don’t notice your friends leaving while you’re too engrossed doting on satoru.

“baby– heh– we should head home now,” he groans softly, shivering upon your fingers tracing his undercut. if you continue this any longer, satoru's brain will be fried to the point that no reversed curse energy could fix. the effect you had on him was undeniably unjust.

“can you run me a bath when we’re home?” you pleaded, your voice tinged with weariness. after a night of drinking in roppongi, you felt the weight of the celebrations clinging to your skin.

satoru's lips curled into a playful smirk as he recognized the opportunity presented before him. "only if you'll let me hop in~"

a mischievous agreement danced in your eyes as you responded, "hm okay." you leaned in to place a tender kiss on the corner of his lips. satoru, his affection intensifying by the moment, gently gripped the back of your head and guided your lips back to his. gosh, he was so in love.

i was going to post all mine but im currently rewriting it so bear with me please !!!!

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #gojou x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader

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capricornlevi · 1 month ago

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"you've got an eyelash on your cheek."

the statement is delivered in a direct yet cheery tone as if you were expecting to hear it, even though the person saying it is a complete and utter stranger to you.

"excuse me?"

"you've got an eyelash on your cheek," the white-haired guy repeats with a beaming grin, tapping his finger against a spot on his own cheekbone that you figure mirrors the location of this alleged eyelash.

from the few but notable stories you've heard from the host of this party, your coworker-turned-nearly-friend shoko, you'd guess this is satoru gojo.

you brush your fingers against your cheek, hoping it won't smudge your carefully-applied Halloween makeup.

you were conflicted about attending this party in the first place, given that shoko has been working with you for all of three weeks. the bar you call a workplace is more of a 'we're all family' sort of establishment, so you felt your attendance was expected instead of anticipated.

you'd even been talked into putting on some pink and blue detailing on your face, tacking on a pair of dollar store wings over your black dress to go as a very low-effort butterfly.

still, as last-minute as your costume choice was, you hope you haven't destroyed the minimal makeup on your cheekbones.

"did i get it?" you ask, deciding to trust this assertive stranger's judgment.

you give him a once-over, still unsure how he even noticed an eyelash on your cheek from several feet away.

he's wearing all black -- dark jeans and a loose black button-up, sunglasses that he's wearing even though the only light sources in shoko's apartment are a few lamps and a disco ball in the corner. though, to be fair, he's mostly looking at you over them, his eyes almost fully visible over the rims.

"nope," he answers in a tone nothing short of perky.

a pause. you attempt again.

"now?"

"nope," he repeats, grin reaching his icy blue eyes. "want me to get it?"

you open your mouth to object, but find no reason to. he's a stranger, a bit over-confident, sure, but no reason to distrust him.

"please don't smudge my makeup," you answer by way of confirmation.

somehow his smile grows, and he closes the distance between you, reaching up a hand to graze his thumb across your cheek.

he lingers, the pad of his thumb trailing soft enough to not disturb any of the blue-pink streaks but you can still feel it, a trail of soft heat following the movement of his hand.

goosebumps prickle on the back of your neck and you step back, surprised at how close he'd gotten --

-- or was it you who had bridged the gap?

"so who are you supposed to be?" you blurt to fill the silence, "your ... costume."

as soon as the words leave your mouth, you're not even sure it is a costume. there's nothing particularly distinctive about it, except for the parts that are entirely him -- the hair, the eyes.

the personality.

he steps closer again, and you don't move back.

"not a costume, really," he grins. "last minute invite since i just got back into town."

"that's not very festive," you mumble, barely audible.

he hears you.

"you'll have to forgive me, 'because you still need to make a wish."

"hm?"

he holds out his thumb.

"eyelash, you gotta make a wish," he insists.

against your better judgment, you dip your head in and blow, soft gusts of breath blowing the invisible eyelash into the stuffy party air.

"excellent," he beams. "what did you wish for?"

and maybe it's because he's mere inches away, maybe it's you getting caught up in the festivities, but you feel very tempted to tell him.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #may tries to write #ack!#i loev halloween can you tell

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moonlit-imagines · 11 months ago

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Headcanons for dating Wally West

Wally West x reader

warnings:

a/n: i was debating whether or not y/n is on the team or not n for this im going for y/n being a regular civilian but now im debating making dating hcs for a hero too 🤭

prompt: anonymous: “But if you're still taking requests (and speaking of fast haha), I would absolutely love if you could do a lil' something about Wally West ♡. I love that track star to bits and we're entering my favorite season ever : spooky season (or autumn for people who aren't chronically online like me). So if you'd be tempted to write some fluff/domestic stuff in autumn with Wally, I would be over the moon! 🦊”

wally is so annoying (in the best way!!)

you aren’t too used to the whole idea of dating a metahuman, every day is like an adventure

and for a speedster? you’d be surprised how hard it is for him to find the time

but he makes time

*doorbell rings*

“you’re twenty minutes late” -you

“in flash-time that’s early” -wally, holding a half-eaten box of chocolates “i got a little hungry”

on his “days off,” you could usually find the two of you on the couch with a variety of snacks scattered across the coffee table and crumbs peppering the cushions and floor

“the dog will get them” -wally

“hate to break it to you, but i don’t have a dog” -you

“should i get you a dog?” -wally

he was always so goofy

and affectionate, very affectionate!

he loved to give you cheek and forehead kisses, so many so fast

“how many was that?” -you after noticing repeated pressure on your cheeks

“going on a hundred. i’m trying to beat my record!” -wally

it always ended up tickling and you’d laugh until you fell over

“wally!! wally, come on!!” -you

you’d always get bummed whenever he got called for a mission

especially because it always happened in the middle of something (dinner, a movie, study date, etc.)

then when he came home he’d be a wreck and then you’d be a wreck because you’d see him like that

then he’d have to calm you down and you’d have to help him feel better

“you dont have to do that, im fine! i swear!” -wally while you panic and try to take care of him

being invited to the cave!

meeting the team!

“just because youre meeting a half-kryptonian clone, a martian, an atlantean, some girl with a bow and arrow, and batman’s sidekick doesn’t mean you get to think any of them are cooler than me, kapeesh?” -wally

“oh yes, i know you’re the coolest” -you

the team loves you!!!

“wow, wally, thanks for proving your s/o isn’t imaginary” -artemis

“youre welcome” -wally

“do you want to come bake with me?!” -m’gaan

“please say yes, y/n. i’m so hungry. so so hungry” -wally

“let’s do it!” -you

starting to camp out at the cave while wally is on missions

also once some more dangerous people figured out wally’s identity, you got your own access code to the cave. EMERGENCIES ONLY

you used it to surprise wally once and got a stern talking to from batman. never again

you dont really spend too much time with the team, but you get invited to most of their friendly outings!

and you talk up a storm with the others trying to learn about their lives, which sometimes makes wally a liiiittle jealous

but you want to live vicariously through these interesting people bc ur life is a liiiittle boring

“can you tell me what atlantis is like? what it feels like to be underwater and how your fighting style differs on land?” “what’s your favorite dish to make on mars? do you like communicating this way or the telepathic way more?” “why do you always wear sunglasses, man?” (you know this one dick is like wally’s bestie) -all you

seeing wally less than usual when things start to heat up in his hero life :(

causes some strain and you get so so sad :(

but he always calls you when he can and tries to make up for it

and somewhere down the road when he retires you’re able to spend all your time with him and he makes up for lost time like he promised

ok i’ll stop there. happily ever after.

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ravenstrueluv // @cicatraize // @captainshazamerica // @bad4amficideas // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @jade-178 //

#wally west imagine #wally west #wally west x reader #kid flash x reader #kid flash #kid flash imagine #young justice x reader #young justice #young justice imagine #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine

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stevie-petey · 11 months ago

Text

episode one: MADMAX

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him. “I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual. It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything.

Summary: what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, descriptions of PTSD (slightly), swearing, and general angst and exhaustion

Words: 5.2k

Before you swing in: hello ! welcome back to the rewrite, hope yall are well :) heres chapter 1 of season 2 !!! so so so excited and ready to dive into this new season. things get a bit darker, feelings get even MORE complicated, and poor reader just really needs to take a fat nap and maybe some reassuring words. shes more angsty this season, so buckle up

October 29th, 1984

You originally gave Dustin the phone number to Bookstrordinary in case of any emergencies.

Now, you’re really starting to regret it.

For the fifth time this week, Dustin calls you at work to beg for money. Him and the boys recently started going to an arcade that’s opened up in town and have spent practically every day after school there this year. Sure, you don’t mind loaning your brother a few quarters, but at the rate he’s going he’s gonna drain your next paycheck.

Just as you’re thinking this, the phone rings.

Right on cue.

Alex, your coworker, smirks. “How much do you think he’ll ask for this time?”

“If I’m lucky, only a dollar.”

“Will asked me for three tonight, so I wouldn’t jinx anything.”

You gape at Jonathan, who has started hanging around your job after school just to have something to do. “No fucking way.”

“Way,” he laughs, pointing towards the phone on the counter. “Answer before Dustin sends a drone our way.”

You sigh and pick up the phone, which is on its second round of calling, and put on your best customer service voice. “You’ve reached Bookstrordinary, may I ask who is calling?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

“Aw, I’m doing well tonight. Thanks for asking, Dustin.”

“I need five dollars.”

“Ya know, ‘please’ has such a nice ring to it.”

“... if I say please, will you give me the money?”

“No.”

Silence fills the other end. Alex and Jonathan are hunched together, trying to stifle their laughs. You send them a thumbs up, and they give you one back.

“You’re a horrible sister.”

“What!” You scoff at Dustin. “I think you owe me like, at least ten bucks now. Yet you don’t see me complaining.”

A loud groan, then an obnoxious scream. “I promise I’ll clean Mews’ litter box for a week straight if you just give me the money.”

“Tempting, and honestly I’d take you up on that offer, but I already spent my last paycheck on my Halloween costume. You’re outta luck.”

Dustin gasps. “You were gonna say no this whole time? You just wasted like, at least five minutes of my time! I could’ve been digging through the couch for coins by now!”

“Jesus,” you pull the phone away from your face as Dustin continues to shout. Jonathan lets out a loud cackle and Alex just shakes his head. “I can give you some money next week–”

The line cuts off. Dustin has hung up.

What a little shit.

“You remind me why I’m grateful I’m an only child.” Alex says, now walking from behind the counter to begin stacking some books. Technically your shift ended almost thirty minutes ago, but you and Jonathan prefer to hang around for a while. It’s rare to have some time with just the two of you (even if Alex is there as an unfortunate third wheel).

“Glad I can help.” You respond. Once he’s gone, you turn to Jonathan. “And you were right, Dustin indeed wanted more than Will’s measly three bucks.”

He laughs. “Figured as much. The look on your face was genuine disbelief when he asked.”

“Mhm, I’m scared these boys will turn into horrendous teens. The lack of gentlemen in Hawkins these days is astounding.”

“C’mon, I’d say I’m a gentleman. I mean, I’m riding on your bike pegs tonight to keep you safe.” Jonathan says, waving an arm in front of his body as if to present all his gentleman-ness to you.

“Sure, bee.” Although, he has a point. Joyce has the car tonight so she can drive Will to the arcade and Jonathan doesn’t like you biking home in the dark. After what happened last year, none of the Byers are particularly keen on letting their loved ones go off alone at night. So, to ensure your safety, Jonathan has started riding on your bike pegs all the way home.

It’s endearing really, wholly unnecessary, but endearing.

Jonathan flicks your nose. “Who else would be such a gentleman to you? Steve?”

Hearing Steve’s name sends a wave of varying emotions through you. Guilt, shame, remorse, longing. You miss him. You really, really miss him.

“I thought we agreed to stop talking about Steve.” You mumble, now busying yourself with a piece of paper on the counter.

After Will was found last year, you and Steve had gotten really close. He’d spend hours bugging you at work, he’d gotten you such a lovely Christmas gift that still hangs on your wall, and you’d grown close with him in a way you haven’t before with anyone else. He would’ve done anything for you, he cared about you with such genuineness, and you couldn’t handle it.

Summer came and the heat that came with it scared you.

You’d pushed Steve away, severed any connection you had to him. It was easier when you didn’t have to see him every day at school, but ever since junior year started, you’ve been in your own personal hell.

Steve walks past you in the halls without batting an eye. He doesn’t look your way, like the months you spent learning every inch of his wonderfully unique brain and the moles scattered along his face never happened; he doesn’t give you that smile that makes your knees weak. He’s avoided you like the fucking plague, which you can’t blame him for, but it’s only made things more awkward between him, Jonathan, Nancy, and you.

Jonathan sighs. “I’m sorry, bug. I just… he seemed good for you, ya know? I was actually starting to like the guy before you suddenly stopped hanging around him.”

You play with the piece of paper, hoping that if you don’t respond then Jonathan will just drop the subject, but a thought seems to cross his mind.

“Wait a minute. Steve didn’t like, hurt you or anything, right?” You don’t respond again and now he’s starting to get worried. “Y/N, I’m serious. Did he do something to you?”

The irony of the situation is so comical you want to laugh. Here Jonathan is, demanding to know if Steve hurt you and if that’s why you’ve stopped being his friend, when in reality it’d been Jonathan who hurt you. Jonathan, your oldest and dearest friend, is the reason you’re so fucking terrified of letting Steve in. Of falling in love with him.

You’re already in love with Jonathan, you can’t put yourself through any more hurt.

But fuck, you miss Steve. You’d come to rely on him and his obnoxious sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. The way he so effortlessly filled the room with warmth.

“Relax, bee. He didn’t do anything. I just wanted to focus on Will and the boys more.” You lie through your teeth.

He gives you a funny look. “I know you care about the boys, but you know they’d want you to have some other friends.”

“I have you, that’s all I need.”

It’s all I can afford.

“Bug, I’m worried about you. You’ve all but thrown yourself into school, you work non stop here, and when you finally have some free time you’re spending it researching child psych for Will–”

“Just drop it, Jonathan!” You finally snap at your friend.

He stops, surprised by your outburst. He can see the angry flush in your cheeks now and the slight heavy breathing you do to try and calm yourself down. Jonathan drops his shoulders, defeated. He’s been worried about you ever since junior year started. You’re more withdrawn, you look like you haven’t slept at all, and now you don’t even feel comfortable telling him what’s been bothering you.

All Jonathan knows is that one day you were glowing while telling him a story about Steve and his stupid jokes, then the next day you looked frail and sickly as you told him that Steve was no longer visiting you at work.

Something happened between you two, he’s just not sure what or how to even help.

For once, Jonathan is at a loss.

��

“And then she chased Mike all the way down the street for her money! He got away!” Jonathan finishes his story with a grand flourish, laughing and hitting his steering wheel as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

You let out a weak laugh, exhausted from the night before. It’s early morning and you’re in the school parking lot, hanging in Jonathan’s car as always, and you feel like utter shit. You stayed up late last night reading this journal you’d found in the school library about acute trauma in children. It had been fascinating and there were some things you thought could apply to Will. Before you knew it, it had been three in the morning and you needed to be up soon for school.

Which leads you to now: slouched in the passenger seat, sunglasses over your eyes to block out the annoying sun, tiredly listening to Jonathan’s recounting of his phone call with Nancy from last night. Apparently they’ve progressed to nightly phone calls now.

Lovely.

Without meaning to, your eyes start to drift shut. The car is the perfect cozy kind of warm and the late October air wraps around you as if to lull you to sleep. Jonathan notices you’ve gone quiet and pokes your cheek.

“If you fell asleep I’ll tell your mom and she’ll put you back on house arrest.”

You slap his hand away. “Don’t do that, then she’ll just ban me from your house.”

“You were up all night researching again, weren’t you.”

“If you have to ask, then that’s probably your answer.”

“Y/N–”

You put a finger up, using your other hand to rub at your temples. A headache is forming and you’re three seconds away from just skipping first period to nap in the car. “We aren’t doing this again. Drop it.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “I’m your best friend, it’s my job to worry about you–”

“And it’s my job to tell you to fuck off whenever you’re getting on my nerves–”

Suddenly a loud blue camaro comes speeding into the school parking lot, effectively drowning out whatever you’d been saying to Jonathan. The car revs its engine and almost hits a few students as it jerks its tires and then screeches to a halt, parking right next to you guys.

You and Jonathan look at each other.

“What the fuck?” You look out your window and are greeted with the sight of an attractive blond guy staring at you. His music is blasting so loud you can hear it through Jonathan’s windows.

“Jonathan,” you whisper, getting his attention. “Am I really tired or is there a guy with a god awful mullet staring at me right now?”

“He’s real.”

“Cool.” You continue to stare at the guy, unsure what to do. You’ve never seen him before, there’s no way you’d forget a face like that in Hawkins. He’s attractive, almost unappealingly attractive, and there’s a coldness to his beauty that makes you uncomfortable. He looks dangerous, like he knows how much power his beauty brings him.

The boy winks at you, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and then gets out of the car, slamming his door rather harshly. It’s then that you notice the redhead girl, much younger than him, possibly around Dustin’s age, getting out of the car as well. She slams her own door and doesn’t even spare the guy a glance as she drops her skateboard down and rides towards the middle school across the parking lot.

Meanwhile the boy saunters inside, a lazy pace in his step that also holds immense confidence. He’s cocky, cool and collected, and he takes one last look around, as if to survey his new claimed battleground. You notice a few of your classmates gazing at him with interest, which you don’t really understand. He’s hot, but his attitude alone tells you everything you need to know about him.

Once he’s gone, Jonathan finally speaks. “Who was that guy?”

“No clue,” your eyes linger on the doors he’s just walked through. There’s something off about him. “But I don’t think we want to know… C’mon, if we don’t head in now we’ll be late for our first class.”

–

During your lunch period everyone’s buzzing about some upcoming Halloween party. As you’re walking towards your locker with Jonathan, you notice a few pieces of orange paper being passed around. You don’t pay much attention to them, but when Nancy joins you two she eagerly takes a few from the girl passing them out.

Nancy playfully shoves the papers at you and Jonathan. “You guys are totally coming to this.”

“We are?” You ask, eyeing the flyer wearily. You have nothing against parties, but the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of drunk teenagers in horrible costumes is frankly terrifying to you.

“You sure are, Y/N.”

“But Nancy–”

“‘Come and get sheet faced’.” Jonathan reads aloud. “Yeah, Nance. I think we’ll pass.”

Nancy groans. “I can’t let you guys sit all alone on Halloween. That’s just not acceptable.”

“Actually,” you correct her, annoyed by the assumption, “we have a tradition with the boys. We take them out every year to trick or treat and it’s always been fun. We won’t be ‘alone’.”

“No offense, Y/N, but spending Halloween with a bunch of middle schoolers isn’t much better.”

You make a face and look over at Jonathan for help, but he shrugs. “You gotta admit, it is kinda lame.”

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like this–”

Nancy smiles at this. “See? Plus, I doubt trick or treating with the boys will take all night. You’ll be home by 8:00, and Jonathan will be listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something, while you, my dear Y/N, will be baking a fresh batch of cookies and throwing away all the candy corn you find.”

“Sounds like a nice night.” Jonathan responds, and you nudge your shoulder with his. It does sound like a nice night, one you’re looking forward to.

“I forgive you for your earlier betrayal.”

“Guys!” Nancy stops at her locker now, slight frustration in her voice. “Just… Come on! I mean, who knows? You guys might meet someone and–”

Her words are cut off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted in the air and spun around, Steve having snuck up behind her. Nancy now puts all her attention on him, he has his arms wrapped low on her waist and he’s wearing sunglasses inside like some idiot, and your heart hurts. He looks good, too good.

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.

“I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.

It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything.

Steve, as if sensing what you’re thinking, risks a look at you. Your eyes meet his and for a brief second no one else exists anymore. It’s just you and him in the small Hawkins high school hallway, where he’s yours again in a way that’s clouded with “almost” and “not enough”, and you want to tell him how lovely he is and how horrible you feel for hurting him, but then he diverts his gaze and focuses back on Nancy and you’re thrown back into reality.

He isn’t yours. Hell, he isn’t even your friend anymore, and you’re the one to blame.

Once Nancy and Steve start kissing, you share a disgusted look with Jonathan and silently agree to leave.

“Young love, huh?” Jonathan jokes bitterly when you’ve left them behind.

“I hate it.”

And you do.

You’re really starting to hate this whole “love” thing.

–

The only highlight so far this school year has been you and Will growing even closer. When Jonathan told you that Will started seeing the Hawkins Lab people for treatment and to see how he’s been recovering, you pulled Joyce aside later that night to ask if it’d be okay if you spoke with Will yourself. Since everything that happened last year, you’ve only become more interested in psychology, and you’d be lying if you said Will wasn’t an interesting case study.

You told Joyce that you’d been doing your own research, reading journals upon journals, and she made you a deal. You could help Will as long as you also took care of yourself, that you wouldn’t place an even heavier burden upon yourself. Of course you agreed, promising her you wouldn’t, and that’s how your weekly chats with Will began.

Jonathan had been against it at first, telling you that you didn’t have to worry about Will because you already do everything else for the kids. You told him you could handle it, and secretly you liked helping Will because you were able to pour all your anxiety and complex feelings for Steve into research and studying. It was a win-win in your eyes.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Waters had been extremely understanding when you asked for Wednesdays off. After all, you’d been working at Bookstrordinary for almost three years now, so she was quick to make the accommodation.

Now here you are, another Wednesday spent at the Byers’ home. You’re sitting with Will in his bed, the both of you quietly scribbling with his crayons. You’ve learned that he’s more receptive if you draw with him, if you take your time.

“How was Dr. Owens today?”

Will pauses mid-scribble. “Fine.”

“Just ‘fine’? Nothing else?” Your head is down so he doesn’t think you’re studying his reactions, but you keep an eye on him anyways.

“Yeah. I told him about my latest episode.”

“You had another one? Would you like to tell me when?”

Will thinks for a moment, and you tell him that he of course doesn’t have to say anything if he doesn’t want to.

“Last night. I was back in the Upside Down… and there was this… this thing.”

Now you stop drawing. “Like the monster we killed last year?”

“Different,” he shakes his head. “This thing was evil.”

Will’s eyes are darting everywhere around the room, and you can see his growing unease, so you decide to put the topic to rest for now. Clearly the episodes are getting worse, scaring him more, so you shift gears.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry for the episodes, but besides them how have you been feeling? Is school getting any better?” Earlier this month Will had confessed to you about the kids in school calling him “zombie boy” and treating him like a freak. You did your best to comfort him, and once you finished your chat with the boy you’d gone to Joyce to let her know.

Will sighs. “School is… school.”

You reach out and move some hair out of Will’s face. “I’m sorry, little bee. Middle schoolers are idiots, they’ll never understand how much you went through. I mean, I had to face that monster for only about twenty minutes. You had to hide from it for days, so you’re honestly incredibly braver than me.”

This gets a smile out of Will, which you’re relieved by. He’s been quiet lately, more closed off, and you’re worried that with the one year anniversary coming up, his episodes will only get worse.

A knock on the door, and then Jonathan pokes his head in. “Hey, guys. Mind if I join?”

“Actually, I think I should go. Bob’s been begging me for my cookie recipe, so I’ll leave you two alone.” You send a look Will’s way, a you better talk to your brother about this look, and he weakly nods his head.

As you walk past Jonathan out the door, you lean in close to Jonathan and whisper, “he’s struggling at school. Be gentle, kids can be fucking awful.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, silently thanking you, and you close the door behind you. While you want to help Will, make sure he’s adapting well, you also recognize your limits. He’s not your brother, Jonathan is, and you know he’ll be more open with him.

Joyce is in the kitchen with Bob, making some popcorn over the stove. He’s filming her with his ridiculously large camera and you can’t help but smile as you watch them. Joyce looks so happy around the guy, laughing more than she’s laughed in the last five or so years you’ve known her. She deserves this, she deserves a guy like Bob. Sweet, slightly silly, but good.

When Joyce sees you lingering in the doorway, she waves you in. “Hey, honey. Any luck with Will tonight?”

“A bit, he told me some of what’s happening at school. He still seems… off, but at least he was opening up. It’s a good sign.”

Joyce hums, but you can sense that there’s more on her mind. You look around to make sure Bob isn’t near, he’s busy digging through a cabinet to find a clean bowl, so you move closer to the woman and lower your voice. “What did Dr. Owens say this time?”

“Claims we need to just pretend everything is okay, despite the fact that it’s getting worse.”

There’s an edge in Joyce’s voice, so you’re careful with your words. “Well… I think he’s right.”

“You do?” Joyce turns to you, her voice loud with surprise, before she quickly remembers Bob is near and lowers it again. “Why do you think that?”

“I was up late reading a new journal I found about acute trauma in children. It’s been almost a year since Will disappeared, he spent days in complete fear, almost died… I mean, it makes sense that his body is remembering those traumatic effects.”

“So you think we should just leave Will alone, let him suffer through his episodes without any help?” There’s more confusion and fear than anger in Joyce’s voice, and you rest your hand against her arm.

“I know it seems counterintuitive, but the best studies we have all show that we have to let those who suffer from post-traumatic stress adapt at their own pace, through their own ways. They hate feeling pitied, and I have a feeling Will is starting to as well.”

Joyce turns the stove off and shakes her head at you. “You sound like Hop. I thought you hated the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” you chuckle, now helping the woman peel off the foil and sprinkle some salt onto the popcorn. “He just reminds me too much of my dad, and we all know how that ends.”

“Well if you ask me, I think it’s because you two are so similar.”

You gasp. “How dare you!”

Joyce laughs and the seriousness from the previous conversation dissipates. Bob finds a clean bowl and together you and him pour the fresh popcorn in as Joyce prepares the drinks. They’re having a movie night together, and you want to cry because of how adorable it all is. Joyce deserves this.

“You know you’re welcome to join us tonight, Y/N. It’s Will’s turn to choose the movie.” Joyce tells you, but you politely decline.

“Normally I’d love to, but I should get going. I have some homework and I promised Dustin I’d bake him some Halloween treats.”

“Oh!” Bob turns to you. “Speaking of, you promised you’d give me that recipe of yours!”

You and Joyce share an amused look. “You caught me, I did. I’ll write it down right now and you have to swear that no one else will look at this. Deal?”

Bob nods, ecstatic, and you grab a piece of paper and quickly scribble down all the ingredients he’ll need and how to make the cookies. Joyce watches fondly, and you fill with warmth having pleased her. When you’re done, you hand the paper over to Bob and make him cross his heart, just to be extra sure he won’t reveal all your secrets.

“Scout’s honor!”

“Very good then, soldier.” You salute him, and then pull Joyce into a hug. “I really gotta go now. Can you tell Jonathan I said goodbye?”

“Of course, bike home safe, alright?”

You wink at her. “Scout’s honor.”

Bob lets out a loud cackle and you can’t believe that this guy is real, but Joyce is laughing along with him and you’re pleased she’s found someone as endearing and kind as him.

–

As soon as you get home you throw down your backpack and bunker down at the kitchen table. Your mom isn’t back from work yet and Dustin seems to be off somewhere doing god knows what, so it’s just you and Mews for now.

Mews plops herself on the table next to an essay you’ve been working on and you scratch her head as you work. You get lost in your writing, humming softly to yourself, enjoying this small moment of peace.

You won’t admit this to Jonathan, but he’s right. You’ve been overworking yourself, your body aches and your eyes droop with exhaustion almost every day now. But keeping yourself busy is what’s helping you stay afloat. The more you pile onto yourself, the less time you have to think about Steve and his stupid smile and stupid hair and stupid face.

In the middle of one of your sentences, Dustin flings the front door open and scares you. “Jesus, dude!”

He doesn’t spare you a glance, but when he sees Mews on the table with you he suddenly looks a bit alarmed. “Mews is here?”

“Yeah…? She’s helping me with this english essay.” You respond, confused.

“Huh,” Dustin thinks for a second, but seems to shrug it off. “Anyways, I’m home.”

“I can see that.”

“Are you gonna ask about my day?”

“How was your day, my dear brother.”

Dustin hops onto the table and shimmies his shoulders. “I met a girl.”

“What?” You drop your pencil in shock and Mews scatters, your exclaim having frightened her.

“Don’t act too surprised, geesh.” Your brother rolls his eyes, but then he frowns. “Actually, technically speaking I haven’t met her yet, but–”

“You have a crush?” You’re in shock. In your eyes, Dustin is still a baby, no older than six years old. And yet here is he, thirteen and talking to you about a girl.

“Yes, Y/N. Her name is Max, she has red hair and is new, and she’s totally awesome.”

Red hair? You remember seeing that girl in the parking lot earlier today. “Was she with that weird new guy, the one with a mullet?”

Dustin nods, so you poke him in the stomach and ooh at him. “I saw her this morning, she was prettyyyy.”

He shoves your finger away and blushes, which you find adorable. Dustin’s first ever crush, you can’t believe how old he is now.

“Yeah, she’s pretty, but she’s also just awesome. I think she’s the one with the new high score on Dig Dug.”

“Dig Dug?”

Your brother scoffs. “The arcade game the party always plays? Honestly, do you not listen when I tell you about my days?”

“Alright, fine. If you can remember what I told you I did yesterday, then I’ll apologize for not listening better.”

Dustin closes his mouth, unable to recall a thing.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick his hat. “Anyways, since you officially like girls now, I’ve been dying to give you some girl advice.”

“Y/N–” Dustin groans, but you shush him.

“First things first, always be a gentleman. Max does indeed seem cool, but I’m sure she’d appreciate a nice and polite young man like yourself.”

Dustin nods. “Okay, be kind. Got it.”

“Good. Now secondly, we Hendersons are charming people, so just be yourself.”

“Duh,”

“Lastly, if she shows interest, tell her how you feel. Better you’re honest and true about how you feel rather than hide it and sulk.”

Dustin snorts. “Says you.”

You look away from him, slightly hurt. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“C’mon, Y/N. When are you gonna tell Jonathan you love him? I mean, everyone knows you do, it’s about time you confess.” Dustin drones on, unaware of your hurt feelings. “And he’s obviously in love with you, you guys are disgusting to be around–”

“He doesn’t love me back.” You whisper, looking down at your paper. You feel pathetic, confessing this to your little brother.

Dustin freezes, now realizing you’ve gone quiet. He can feel your mood darken and he feels like shit for not noticing it sooner. He’s upset you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought he did, I mean the party and I all assumed…”

His words fade off, and you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. It’s embarrassing, you shouldn’t be pitied like this by your brother. “It’s okay, I know what you meant.”

“Y/N–”

You get up from the table and gather your things, shoving them into your backpack. “I’m gonna finish up this essay in my room, then I promise I’ll start baking those marshmallow puffs you like–”

Dustin jumps down from the table and blocks you from leaving the kitchen. “Jonathan is an ass–”

“Language–”

He doesn’t let you interrupt. “You’re cool, he’s stupid, and I’m here for you. Alright? Don’t make me pull a code blue on you.”

You wrap your brother into your arms, something he hadn’t been expecting, and allow yourself a small laugh. “No need for a code blue, I promise. Just, give me like an hour to sulk and then I’ll be as good as new. Okay?”

When you pull away, Dustin eyes you, but understands he won’t win this argument. The two of you handle your emotions the same way: alone, in solitude, away from prying eyes. He knows you just need some time to yourself, but he still feels like a jerk for upsetting you in the first place. “Fine, but if you’re sulking later I’ll flick your nose.”

You flick his nose and then quickly flee to your room, Dustin not far behind you. “Flicked you first!”

“Not fair!”

You slam your bedroom door and giggle as you lock it. Dustin bangs on the door, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. You tell him you’ll be out as soon as you’re done with your essay, and then go and sit down at your desk. Sighing, you dig into your bag and pull out what you need. Without meaning to, you look up and see your Spider-Man poster, your wonderful Christmas gift from Steve, hanging in front of you.

The small joy you’d been feeling vanishes.

The poster stares back at you, you can almost hear it calling you a pathetic coward, and you feel guilt claw at your throat. You close your eyes, remembering the cold from that winter day, and you can almost smell the cologne Steve had been wearing when you’d thrown yourself into his warmth. Sometimes, if you sit still enough, you think you can feel the ghost of his embrace.

You open your eyes.

Steve isn’t here.

Of course he isn’t here.

You exhale, feeling the familiar ache and exhaustion within you; junior year is looking quite grim.

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tropicalszns · 4 months ago

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BIKINI SET

⋆˚⟡˖° 𐙚 - gojo satoru x black!fem reader

about

you and gojo are heading on a trip, an sitting in first class, expensive hotel was booked before, and sweet time alone with each other. as you guys were preparing to head to the beach, gojo couldn’t help but let his urges take over when he sees you in your new bikini that you showed to him.

contains

dry humping, neck kisses, praise, marking, name callings; baby, sweets, sweetheart, honey, princess, slight possession and aggression, gojo really liking your ass, pussy eating.

w.c

2.4k (2,426)

a/n

first smut of gojo and overall, hope you enjoy <3 reblogs and likes r appreciated

As you both landed in Miami, the hot sun glazed on your skin. You put on your sunglasses and your sun hat since you didn’t want to take your sunscreen out your suitcase this minute. You glanced over at Gojo who was on his phone, barely paying attention to his surroundings. You furrowed your brows with a pout, taking his phone. “Hey!-” He was about to say, until he saw you. “We need to catch a cab, it’s hot here. I don’t wanna walk to a train station in these weather, or walk anywhere for that matter! I just wanna go to the hotel.” You complained, the hot heat making you sticky and annoyed.

Gojo kissed your temple, one hand rubbing your shoulders to distract you as he took his phone from your hand. “Yeah, yeah.. it’ll be fine. We will get to the hotel in just a minute, sweets.” He says as he went back to texting on his phone. “I’m just gonna tell Suguru and ‘em that I’ll talk to them later..” He bit his lips for a moment as he typed. “Okay— hold on..” he stretches his words out more as he types a bit more aggressively. You only crossed your arms and leaned against the suitcase.

“Okay! I’m done, let’s find us a cab.” He finally said, putting his phone in his pocket. He glanced at your pouty expression and only awed. “Baby, c’mon!” He excitedly tried to amp you up. He gave you a hug from behind, kissing on your cheek repeatedly. “We are in Miami! Aren’t you excited? You’ve been bothering me about this damn trip for longer than I can remember, now you’re so grumpy.” But you continue to be annoyed, as you should since it was blazing hot and you had no time to deal with his behavior. You side eyed him, scrunching up your lips a bit more as he kissed your cheek.

“You’re noo funnn.. I know it’s hot but you’re just being mean now, no fair.” Satoru huffs, letting go of you and holding your hand. “Let’s find a taxi then, maybe you’ll fix your face when you get to the hotel.”

Once you both got into your rooms for the hotel, the fresh smell of the spacious and luxurious room made you feel like you were floating. You took your hand off the suitcase and plopped yourself onto the bed. You groaned in exhausted yet relief. You sniffed the sheets, they smelt so clean— freshly washed. Gojo came into the room, closing the door and placing the suitcases to a corner of the room. “Isn’t this nice? I feel so relieved, wanna sleep all that exhaustion away.” Gojo announced, he saw how you were plopped on the bed and he was tempted to just smack your ass right there.

So he did, Gojo smacked your ass swiftly, seeing your jolting made him snicker. “Couldn’t help it, was the perfect moment. Didn’t wanna seize that opportunity!” He continued to laugh, exploring his way around the hotel room. You grumbled as up lifted your head up. “You’re not funny!” You huffed, putting your head back into bed.

Later that day, you both decided to head to the beach since that was the first thing you guys wanted to do when you got here. You rummaged through your suitcase to find your new bikini that you bought a while ago. You didn’t show it to Gojo yet, and now you’re planning to. You quickly put on the bikini and headed to the bathroom to knock. “Eh? Give me a minute.” Gojo said, his voice slightly raising in the air. “‘Toru! I wanna show you my bikini, I don’t know if it’s good—”

Before you can finish your sentence, the door automatically opened. His hand on his swimming trunks as he adjusted the straps. He wore a red long sleeved hoodie and some black trunks. You raised your eyebrow at the hoodie. “Why are you wearing a hoodie..?” You questioned, humming with confusion. “Ca-” Gojo was about to speak but he looked at the way your bikini fit so perfectly on your body. His eyes were practically bulging out of his eyeballs. “You’re wearing that?!” He asks, his hands tempting to squeeze your boobs.

“Yes? Is that an issue? You don’t like it?” You pouted, crossing your arms as you were about to complain but Gojo spoke up quickly. “No! No— Fuck, I love it. I love it so much, baby.” He put his hands on your arms, unfolding your arms. “Don’t pout, I love this. Where’d you get this from? You never showed this to me whenever we went swimming.” You shrugged, “I dunno, I got a while ago. I just never thought I could wear it, they weren’t special occasions.”

“You need to wear it more often, fuck a special occasion. Turn around for me, princess.” A smirk crawled on his face, watching you turn around he couldn’t help his thoughts about ruining you in that bikini. “Shit, yeah..” He bit his lip, giving your ass another slap. You were gonna complain but you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pleasure in your body. You let out a little giggle with a smile as you turned back around, “Words can’t explain how much this is my favorite bikini you’ve bought, I just kinda wanna ruin you in it, not gonna lie.” He said smugly, kissing the crook of your neck.

You put your hands on his shoulders and let his hands slide down your sides. “Well, too bad you can’t.” You tease, feeling his plump lips kiss on your neck, his hands still roaming on your body. One hand sliding down to your ass to give a squeeze. Gojo raised a brow, looking at you for a minute. “Who said I can’t? It’s my vacation too, ya’know?” He furrows his brows, looking at you with dissatisfaction. “I think I deserve something, and plus we can always find a new bikini for you! So even if it.. does happen to get messed up, I could buy you more.” You looked at him, batting your lashes as you didn’t respond.

“Please? I’m hard for you, like so hard right now. When I saw you I think I felt my dick jump,” His eyes sparkled with desperate anticipation and excitement. “Please, sweets?! I promise I won’t go overboard okay? I promise! Please!” He begs, kissing your cheek every word. You sighed, giving into his cuteness and pleads. “Fine, fine!”

As you got on the bed, Gojo immediately kissed on your skin, his hands sliding down to your stomach, then to your thighs, softly biting on your flesh. You squirmed a little, whining from the bites. “Yeah? Does that feel good, princess?” I teased, knowing the obvious answer. He glanced at your pussy, a damp spot already seeping. He kissed back to your heat, licking your cunt through your bikini. You felt your toes curl, your head pressed back against the soft pillows, your chest heaving up and down at a steady pace. “So wet already, did my biting turn you on? Mm, maybe I should bite you more.” He slid your bottom to the side, licking your clit, sucking on it like his life depended on it. “Fuck! ‘Toru!” You moaned, one hand gripping the sheets another gripping his fluffy white hair. The fact he was still trying to eat you out with his glasses on made it kind of difficult to concentrate. He was so sexy with them on, he was sexy without them either but the way he looked so cheeky like with them on and so cocky made you turned on more than you can imagine.

He licked your walls, slurping up your juices like it was some water. He looked up at you through those glasses, making you clench over nothing, it was just the sight of him turning you on much. It made your body warm, you looked away from him, gulping thickly. “Nuh uhh, don’t do that!” Satoru pout, moving his lips from your wet pussy. “I wanna see your pretty face while I get to eat this pretty pussy.” He sat up a little, kissing your cheek then your lips. You melted into the kiss, your stomach bubbling with emotions. He slid two fingers inside so swiftly since you were already so wet. You clenched around his fingers, moaning as he thrusted his fingers in and out.

He kissed your chin and throat a little, sliding his face back down to your pussy, licking your pussy and clit as he fingered you slowly yet deeply. You tried to sit up, squirming and shivering around. You were such a moaning mess around his fingers and tongue, your eyes rolling back into your skull at how easily his finger tips were able to reach your g-spot, over and over again. You let your jaw drop, little to no sounds coming out of your mouth as he kept hitting your spot. “Want’chu to cum around my fingers, can you do that for me princess?” He asked, seeing how you were barely able to compute what was going on.

“It’d be really nice if you say something to me.” He snickered a little, fingering you a little faster. Your moans began to roll in, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your orgasm bubble and knot into your stomach. “I’m gonna cum, fuck! Oh my—” you practically squealed, your toes curling more, gripping onto his hair harder. “Yeah? Fuck you’re so sexy, cum f’me sweetheart. Cum all over my fingers,” he encouraged, going faster as he bit his lip. Soft groans leaving his mouth, his dick twitching in his pants as he uses his free hand to rub himself. You creamed all over his fingers, his fingers still thrusting into your pussy for that euphoric moment to linger a bit longer.

He licked his fingers, looking at you with a smile. “Did that feel good?” He asked, looking at your panting lips, you narrowed your eyes and rolled them. “Don’t ask me that.” You let the grip of his hair go, holding onto the sheets. “Just wanna feed my ego a lil’, nothings wrong with that!” He snickered, pressing his erection against you. “You’re annoying.” You replied, your words quickly diminishing as he grinds his hips against yours. “Really, m’annoying? You don’t ever say that when I’m so deep inside you though? Isn’t that a little weird?” He teased, gently biting on your neck making small marks. “Satoru, quit it.. I don’t want markss.." you whined, allowing his hand to pick up your waist, moaning a little louder than usual. “Do I give a fuck?” He grunted, his erection pressing against you so much, he couldn’t hold it in much longer.

“If I was that mean I didn’t wanna let you go out in that sexy bikini, you should say thank you.” He groaned, sliding his trunks down to reveal his hard dick. “I need to slide this dick into you baby, need to show you who you belong to for a second..” he slides his pink tip against your pussy lips, your wetness already coaxing his tip. You both synced up as you moaned, looking down at how he teased you by sliding the tip in and out slowly. “Stop fucking teasing me!” You groaned, “So demanding, princess. But then when I put it in, you’re gonna beg for me to slow down right?” He slid his dick in all the way, almost bottoming out before you held his arm for him to wait. He let out soft moans, kissing your neck. “Mm, tell me when I can move then.”

A couple moments of adjusting he didn’t thrust at his normal steady pace, he thrusted at a fast speed, his balls hitting against your ass. You didn’t have enough time before your brain short circuited. His hand wrapped around your neck firmly. “Want me to stop fucking teasing right? Want me to fuck you deep in this cute bikini? Huh?” He asked, practically getting a little aggressive as he bit on your neck. “T-Toru.. Toru! Fuck, please.. slow down!” You felt tears form from his aggression, your head back against the pillows as he continued to thrust. “No.. No teasing right, you’re such in a rush to go to the beach, eh? M’gonna put my cum so deep into you, messing up this bikini..” he was so lost in fucking your sweet pussy he forgot he couldn’t mess up your bikini. But it didn’t even matter cause you kind of forgot too.

“Such a good fucking girl, taking my dick so well,” he whispered against your ear, growling softly as he thrusted harder. Your orgasm already about to reach and it hasn’t even been a minute. “You’re so good f’me, take it. Fucking take it!” You clenched around him tightly, your arms wrapping his neck, your teeth grazing on your bottom lip as you chewed on it. The overwhelming feeling of the lust and pleasure in the moment made you so hot. You put your lips onto his, and he passionately kissed onto your plump lips, sliding his tongue inside you throat as he continued to fuck you at that same pace.

You moaned and groaned, whining as you felt your orgasm washing over you. “I’m cum— ah, I’m gonna cum ‘Toru..” you whined, your mind so fogged with lust you whined louder. “Yeah? Cum all over this dick, you deserve it.. Mm, I’m gonna cum too baby, lemme cum inside that sweet fuckin’ pussy..” he felt his thrust falter and become sloppy as he was on the brink of orgasm. Your soft babbles of his name made you go insane. Beads of sweat running down Gojos forehead, finally receiving one last thrust to cum deep inside you. You came around his shaft, moaning loudly as you do it. The people outside the door could probably hear but you didn’t care enough to actually care. His cum filing you up, feeling so warm inside.

You both were panting heavily, Gojo taking his hand off your throat and seeing a light make of his hand. “Are you okay—” He was about to ask until he looked down, pulling out his dick, earning a soft groan from you to see his cum mixed with yours leaking out. You grumbled some curses as you tried to gain some consciousness from that intense and heated moment.

“Uh- you know what princess? Let’s just.. not go to the beach today?”

made by; tropicalszns! don’t steal, plagiarize, copy, or repost w/o perms..

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thebestofoneshots · 10 months ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.5 K Warnings: None Prompt: Who said potions class was meant to be boring? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 32: Come A Little Bit Closer

You groaned the second your alarm went off, placing a pillow over your eyes as you winced from the light being extremely harsh to your rather sensible senses. You checked the clock, you were pretty sure you had half threatened Sirius with making his life miserable through Moony last night and blinked a couple of times to force yourself awake.

After checking the time one last time, trying to convince yourself that the clock said 4:30 instead of 5:30 so you could sleep another hour, only to realize it wasn’t, you raised yourself until you were sitting on your bed “fuck,” you whispered as you felt the ache on your legs and back. You had rolled yourself into a ball, and while initially, the pain had been drawn out by the stress of the water spirit and the euphoria from the party, it wasn’t anymore. Just when I had started to feel fine, you thought.

You yawned and went to change, rolling your shoulders a couple of times, at least the shoulder wound was a lot better now, and the painkiller potion for that one would also help for the fall, which meant, by the time you were ready, and the meds had kicked in you felt a lot better, except for the fact that you were half tempted to wear a pair of sunglasses even if it was cloudy outside. When you walked down, Sirius and James were already there.

Sirius gave you a look, taking in your demeanour in an instant and smirking, “You sure you still want to fly, Vix?”

You gave him a look and huffed, “Very.”

He chuckled as he walked towards you and placed his arm around your shoulder, “If you say so then.”

James, who had no idea you had threatened Pads but had gotten a threat of his own in the morning from Sirius, to not go hard on you because of the fall –that he still had to speak his mind to you about– was a little confused with the interaction, but decided that it was probably something to do with being in a relationship. And since he had barely gotten Lily to go on one date with him, he really wouldn’t know.

Once you got to the pitch Sirius pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and opened it, handing it over to you, “Memorise this.”

You frowned, trying to figure out why Sirius would give you a notebook, but then you read some of the words and understood, it was the counterspell he had mentioned the previous night. You smiled, at how neatly he had written it down, at how he’d separated his cursive more than normal and paid attention to adding the extra dots and lines he sometimes left out.

Sirius had written it for you, and he wanted you to pay attention so he had been extra careful with it. And you, being as naturally curious as a fox, decided to snoop around the notebook a little more. There were a few silly doodles and for a minute you worried that he had given you his sketchbook, but it was definitely not it, that one was a little wider, and the cover was black, this one, on the other hand, had a wine red cover, a very Gryffindor notebook.

There were lists of songs, with names for mixtapes at the top on some pages, and a few movies some muggle friends had recommended, including some you and Remus had told him about. On some of the pages you spotted your name written on the edges, and you smiled, you didn’t know boys did that too.

“You done?” He asked as he turned to you, he had been pulling out some stuff from the shed with James. You quickly changed the page to the one you had to be on and smiled.

“Almost,” you said before trying to fully focus on the page and the words. They weren’t tricky, in fact, it was kind of a combination of protection spells you already knew, but it was rather long. His thick and delicate handwriting occupies the entire page and then some of the next one.

After a few more minutes you took a deep breath and nodded “I think I’m ready.”

“Good,” Sirius said, “Take your broom and hover for a bit.” You did as told. “Not so high silly, what if you fall?” he asked as he saw you float a few feet above his head.

“I won’t fall,” you said confidently.

“Vix, lower,” James said rather sternly, it was his captain’s voice. You were a little angry at his demanding tone but after a huff, you did as told. They were right anyway, you weren’t looking forward to falling again. You had enough bruising and soreness for the rest of the fucking year. Scratch that, for the rest of this one and the next one, you only had like thirty days left of 1976 anyway.

“Ready?” Sirius asked, you nodded. And then he started mumbling something, at first, there was nothing, you just continued hoovering peacefully, but then you felt it, a soft yank to the side. Slowly the movements got worse and worse and you felt like you were on a mechanical bull. Sirius looked at you concentrated, a small frown on his soft features as he did. Like he didn’t want to push too hard, but he knew whoever kept trying to push you off your broom –Barty– wouldn’t be merciful so he pushed on.

That’s when you started muttering the counterspell, tightening your grip on the handle and focusing your magic on your palms, letting it flow through your body and onto the item that was being jinxed. It wasn’t easy, wandless magic always held a small degree of complication, especially the more advanced it was, and counterspells were no easy feat.

Eventually, you lost the battle and ended up on the floor. Sirius rushed to help but you shook your head, raising your hand to indicate that he stayed in place, and then took a deep breath, “Again.”

“But…”

“Again,” you insisted “I have to master this one,” you added as you mounted your broom and nodded for Sirius to start again. James was watching attentively and allowed it to continue. Even after you fell over the second time, gritting your teeth and whispering “again.”

After a couple more times, it was James the one that stepped in. “How about we call it for today and continue trying tomorrow?” he suggested. You had just fallen from your broom and were sitting on the floor looking impossibly tired.

“But the spell…”

“James is right, we can practise more tomorrow, we’re not playing until next year anyway, we’ve got enough time to master it.”

You sighed but nodded, not even attempting to move from the floor for a bit while James and Sirius batted the bludger over each other a couple of times. You took Sirius’ notebook out of your pocket and went over the spell again, recalling if perhaps you had missed some words on the incantation or maybe it was the execution that wasn’t working properly. So you went over the words, reading them in your head and practising the spell as many times as you could.

“Hey Vix, let that go and come over, I need you to practise this,” James said when he noticed your overly concentrated stance.

It took you a second to pull your gaze from the paper but you nodded, feeling thankful that you’d get a distraction and then guilty for feeling thankful over it. Either way you pocketed the notebook, grabbed one of the beater bats and mounted your broom, flying towards them. After a while of beating the iron ball with as much force as you could muster, and using exclusively your good arm, you felt a lot better.

When you were done, you helped the boys with the equipment and walked alongside them all the way to the common room, where you parted ways to change into your respective uniforms. The entire day went by rather uneventfully, McGonagall had paired you with Remus on the transfiguration project and you were still going over crystal ball reading on divinations, although a bit boring, at least it was something you hadn’t any particular talents with.

Although, and you didn’t want to think much about it, there was definitely something dark surrounding the Ravenclaw tower. You decided that maybe you’d ask Sybil about it later, she had been taking extra classes with Spellman, so she’d probably know if something was up. You considered asking Spellman directly, but you were scared he’d end up blowing it off proportion and decided to just pretend you had seen a field with colourful flowers.

“What colour?”

“All the colours,” you said, knowing that if you said a particular one he might end up finding a deeper meaning behind your lie.

November 30th, 1976

The following day, you also woke up in time for morning practice, this time around you managed to stay on the broom for longer, but fell either way, and James didn’t allow you to practise as much as the previous day since he wanted to focus on dodging that morning, which had ended up on a very fun practice.

Sirius had almost gotten a bludger in the shoulder before you pulled him to the side and James barely managed to dodge one that had flown straight to his head. You were all laughing merrily by the time you were meant to go back to the dorms for breakfast.

Once you reached the common room you spotted Remus on one of the couches and plopped beside him, Sirius doing the same on the other side. “Ugh, you’re both sweaty,” he complained.

You pouted, “It’s magically cleaned,” you said dismissively as you sank a little deeper, neither you nor Sirius were actually sweaty since outside was so freezing cold. Well, perhaps just slightly. And Remus wasn’t bothered by you sitting next to him either, if anything, he loved it, he had to keep up appearances regardless.

“The couch is, I’m not!”

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder, “Aww come on Moony, you’ll smell like your two favourite people all day. What’s there to complain about?”

Remus almost pushed the boy off him when Prongs intervened, “What do you mean his two favourite people, where does that leave me?”

Remus frowned at James, clearly interested in where the conversation was going, but it was Sirius who spoke, “On the armchair.”

James gasped, “Yeah, I don’t think you’d fit in here,” you teased further, a tiny smile spreading on your lips while you pointed at the little space of couch there was left. Now, if you and Sirius had been sitting like normal people, and Remus hadn’t had his legs spread wide, perhaps you could’ve found a way to fit Prongs in, but none of you seemed interested in changing position.

“I refuse to be left out!” he said with a frown.

“So what? You’ll use engorgio on the couch?”

“Too much trouble,” James said as he walked towards you and let himself fall on top of the three as if laying on the couch but using your legs instead.

“Oi, watch where that elbow goes,” Sirius complained.

“When was the last time you washed those?” you said with a frown as you stared at his murky-looking socks.

“They get washed every day!” James complained, “That’s their original colour.”

“No way in hell.”

“No,” Remus said as he shook his head. “that really is their original colour, we’ve been teasing him about them since he got them.”

You leaned over to look at James’ face, it was lying on top of Sirius’ legs “Why did you keep them?”

James went red, and Sirius responded, “Lily gave them to him, last Christmas I believe.”

“Yeah,” James said proudly. “They arrived at my house by owl mail. She even wrote a note that said they reminded her of me.”

You threw a side glance at Remus, clearly seeing the irony in Lily’s note, that seemed to completely slip past James, back then and even now.

“We’ve got potions,” you sighed, leaning back just a little and allowing James to accommodate his feet better. They were a bit heavy, but at least they weren’t crashing against any bruises.

“Thought you liked potions,” Sirius said.

“I like hanging out with Rem at potions, but the potion we’re working on is so tedious I swear you need to add another gram of something new every couple of minutes.”

“At least it hasn’t blown up on your face,” James said with a shrug, remembering the way it had exploded on Tom the previous class, and Tom was actually good at potions. Thought, perhaps he had been a little distracted that day.

“We could skip…” Sirius offered.

“No, we can’t!” Remus said, “She’s lost enough classes with last week’s drama!” He then turned to you. “And don’t you dare leave me alone with the veritaserum!”

You took a deep breath and nodded “I wasn’t thinking of skipping,” you defended. “I was merely informing.”

“James Fleamont Potter!” You heard Lily’s reprimanding voice from the stairs. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

James seemed a little confused, leaning up just a little to try and spot the redhead, “uh… Resting?”

“On top of your two freshly injured friends?!”

Both you and Remus started a chorus of “I’m fine” and “Oh… It’s okay Lily, I’m healed now, it doesn’t hurt anymore” but she took none of it. Walking all the way to the couch and forcing James to roll off of it. He fell on the floor and turned, looking at the kneeling figure with his charming little smile, like she was the only witch in the world.

You could tell Lily was fazed by it, especially when a little bit of red started to spread over her cheeks, you smiled, raising an eyebrow towards Remus who clearly had noticed too.

“Enough of that!” She told him with a slap on the arm. “Let’s get some breakfast, you must all be starving.”

“I second that,” you said with a nod.

“Yeah, me too,” Remus agreed.

“Hungry beasts, that’s the kind of people I surround myself with,” Sirius joked.

“If anyone’s a hungry beast here Sirius…” you started and threw him a look that had him gasp “Anyway… breakfast.”

All of you stood up and started walking towards the Great Hall, Peter was fast to catch up with you and Lily told you the girls were already there. Breakfast was as delicious as always, and you were so hungry you even took an extra slice of toast with jam and peanut butter to munch on on your way to potions.

“Pass me the Stewed Mandrake Root, would you? Sweetheart?” Remus asked as he stared at the cauldron with a bit of a frown.

“We’ve already added that,” you responded, leaning forward to look as well, the potion was a weird murky brown colour, not the mossy green that the book described it would be. “Did we measure wrong?”

“Maybe we spun it the wrong way around?” Remus said, just as puzzled as you, “You measured that one, you never measure wrong.”

“Yeah, I checked twice,” you agreed, that was something you had learned from Remus near the beginning of the year. And you were especially careful with longer and more tedious potions like this one.

You saw Snape snigger from the side as he stared at your cauldron, and you were about to flip him off with two fingers when Remus placed a hand over your forearm and gave you a look. You gave him a reproachful stare in response but he just raised an eyebrow at you and tilted his head a little. You huffed in response but held back the insults you had in store for Snivelus. You understood why Remus did it, getting in petty fights with the Slytherins had already gotten you almost killed once.

You sighed and went back to look at your potion, suddenly remembering, “There’s a troubleshooting guide at the end of each chapter, perhaps we can find something there?” you suggested and the two of you went straight to look through the book.

“I think… the only thing that could’ve happened is someone sabotaging the potion…” Remus said with a frown, “If we had added too much of any ingredient the result would be different colours. It would be red with too much Mandrake root, blue if we had undercooked the Syrup of Hellebore, and purple if it were because of the Bicorn Horn powder, but none of these mention brown.”

You bit your lip as you analysed the situation and looked around, if someone had actually sabotaged your potion, you’d have to figure out exactly what they had used to do it, to attempt and revert it, if it was even possible.

You started looking at people’s tables and the ingredients they had placed on them, Alison Prewet and Archie McMillan had a few ingredients that didn’t go in the recipe but neither of them was particularly good at potions so you couldn’t be sure it had been them.

Tim Klum also had some suspicious-looking ingredients, but by his nervous stance and recent rash, you assumed he was trying to brew something to counter it instead of sabotaging anyone else. Besides, you had barely crossed words with him, and you were certain he didn’t have anything against Remus, regardless you wrote down all the ingredients he had on his stable, identifying them by texture and looks.

Then you spotted something mysterious by Sirius’ table. Of course, Sirius would never sabotage you or Rem, but Severus? You wouldn’t put it past him, he could be a jealous little snake, although he had never done such a thing, and you weren’t sure why he would be sabotaging you now, the fact that he had Shivelfig, which was normally used for draught of living dеath made no sense. Unless he wanted to steal it for himself that is.

You turned to Remus “I have a hunch of who might have done it,” you mumbled, almost inaudibly, but he heard, and you knew he’d be able to hear it. He gave you an attentive look, “But I want to test my theory before we make a mistake.”

“What do you need?”

“Just a bit of someone else’s potion, that’s at the same stage as ours.”

Remus nodded, “I can do that, you?”

“I’ll get some Shivelfig.”

Both you and Remus nodded as you looked attentively at the other, he grabbed a small vial and started walking towards James and Lilly while you walked towards Sirius’ table.

“Hi Pups,” you said with a smile.

“Sod off,” Snape said when he spotted you.

“You do it.”

“This is my table.”

“Argh, c'est un idiot, comment tu le supportes?” You asked, looking at your boyfriend.

“I’m intelligent enough to know you’re calling me an idiot,” Severus said impassively.

"Très bien, casse-toi alors."

Sirius laughed at your crassness and Severus just rolled his eyes, not understanding what you said but figuring out you were either telling him to fuck off or piss off, which wasn’t that far from the real thing. “How come you’ve come to visit, Kit?” Sirius asked.

“Missed you,” you said simply, Sirius saw the mischievous smile you gave him and knew instantly you were up to something.

“Aww, you did?” he asked as he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you slightly closer to him, Slughorn was near the back of the classroom helping some Slytherins with a fire they had accidentally caused, which was enough distraction for you to be able to be all over Sirius at that moment.

“Oh, please, I’m going to puke…” Severus said as he rolled his eyes and turned to the side.

You forced yourself to hold back a laugh, Sirius, whose back was turned to Severus, and who had the least serious face you’d ever seen, wasn’t helping. “Devrions-nous lui donner un spectacle?” You asked in a low voice, trying to make it sound like you were flirting rather than just asking Sirius if you should annoy Severus further.

Sirius bit his lip, looking at you with a small frown before nodding, “Mh-hum,” he replied before leaning in to give you a kiss.

“Ugh please, we’re in class!”

“Go be jealous elsewhere, Snivelus,” Sirius pulled himself from the kiss just for a second to say that, going back and deepening the kiss a second after. Severus looked at the two of you in disbelief and then back at Slughorn, but he was way too busy with the fire in the back. Who would have thought adding a little bit of dragon breath to the potion would cause such a complicated mess?

You deepened the kiss, pushing Sirius back just a little and his back crashed against Snape’s shoulder, Snape pushed back and Sirius had to tighten his grip on you so you wouldn’t fall. You could feel he was about to laugh because of Severus’ reaction and you squeezed his arm just a little to get him to focus and he did, even let out a small, rather performative grunt, just to piss Severus further.

Severus was about ready to go get the teacher, or a prefect, or someone to get you to stop snogging in front of his face when you leaned in again, this time pushing Sirius’ arm strategically so it pushed their leftover Syrup of Hellebore, it wouldn’t do any harm to him since it had been cooked, but it would make his uniform stink after a couple of hours, and you knew he knew about it.

“Ugh!” he complained, “You pair of dimwitted animals!”

You pulled back from the kiss, just to give him a side glance, looking only mildly apologetic “Oops, sorry…”

Snape gave you a disgusted glance and stood up. “I’m off to clean this up, Black,” he glared at the boy, Sirius turned to him with an uninterested glance. “Please, for the sake of our passing grade, make sure our potion stays boiling at a steady temperature while I’m gone.”

“Sure Snivelus, I’ll make sure,” Sirius said with a rather indifferent shrug just to piss Severus off a bit more. Severus gave him an untrustful glance, but stood up and left. While he was leaving you went back to kissing, which seemed to piss Severus off even further, which made both you and Sirius smile in the kiss, you were half still kissing, half using each other’s mouths to hold back a laugh.

When you finally stopped, Sirius was biting his lip to hold back a grin while you were looking at him with lips pursed, still trying to hold back a laugh.

Sirius cleared his throat “Now that the crow’s gone, would you care telling me why you’re really here?”

“What? Kissing you passionately in the middle of class is no good excuse?”

Sirius raised his eyebrow “Oh no, I think it’s an excellent excuse, but I’m waaay more likely to use it than you are.”

You gave him a small smile, “I think Severus might have sabotaged my potion,” you admitted, “and I think he used this,” you took a hold of the jar with Shivelfig , “to do it.”

“We should ruin his potion then,” Sirius said instantly. You gave him a look, he raised an eyebrow “What?”

“Sirius, he’s your partner. If we ruin his potion…”

Sirius frowned, “Well, it’s not fair if he gets out scot-free.”

“Remus and I are trying to fix it.”

“And you can do it?”

You shrugged, “If he really did use shivelfig, we could try and find a way to counter its effect, or at least neutralise it.”

“So you came to get some.”

You nodded, “The kisses were a great bonus though.”

“I can give you many more bonuses, darling,” he said and leaned in again, but you felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around to see who was there, thankfully, it wasn’t Slughorn.

“You got that?” Remus asked.

“Yeah,” you said as you pulled a small flask with shivelfig from your cloak.

“Hold up! When did you even…?” Sirius asked, confused.

“I’m a girl of many talents,” you told him with a wink. “See you around, Puppy!” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and walked back to your table alongside Remus. “You got the potion?” You asked Remus, who seemed tense for some reason. He had seen the whole thing happen, and his head had started going haywire with so many thoughts running through his head.

“Yeah,” he responded, “James and Lily.”

Once you were both on your table, he poured half of his little flask on a crystal vase and you used a pair of tweezers to add the tiniest bit of shivelfig to the potion. Nothing happened and you frowned. “Maybe it wasn’t Snivelus in the end…”

“No wait,” Remus said, placing a hand on your forearm and taking a small stick, sipping it in the flask and turning clockwise three times, the potion turned the same murky brown as yours in an instant.

“Remus, that’s brilliant!” you said with a smile “The potion didn’t go brown until we spun it, and Severus probably knew, he could have added the shivelfig a while ago, that way we wouldn’t have noticed, and we would have just assumed we did something wrong.”

Remus nodded, “He’s an asshole, but he’s a competent one.”

“So now we know what he used, how do we neutralise it?”

“I’m not sure,” Remus said as he bit his lip.

“Sopophorous bean?” you asked. “Isn’t it used on draught of living dеath to neutralise the shivelfig’s poisonous nature?”

Remus shook his head “Yeah, but combined with Mandrake Root it can be dеadly, our veritaserum would end up being Baneberry Potion instead.”

“Shit, you’re right,” you said almost in a whisper. You frowned, racking your brain trying to find a solution only for it to clash against the rest of the ingredients. Your face started to fall when you started running out of ideas. No matter how much you thought about it, it seemed like there was no solution, which left you dejected since even if you had figured out exactly how they had sabotaged you, you wouldn’t be able to fix it.

“I might have an idea,” Remus said then, he had the same face he made when he was focused on a task, preparing a complicated potion or working on the details of a plan, it was that of absolute concentration. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his lips pressed tightly against the other, causing one of his scars to move along with his mouth. He looked cute.

“Wait… really? How?”

“I’ll go get some Moonstone… Do you have the charms book with you?” He asked.

“We… don’t have charms today…” you said. You used to carry it around all the time but after your shoulder wound carrying as little as possible was a lot more manageable, even with the floating spell you had placed on your bag.

“It’s fine, it’s somewhere in my bag, look for it, will you? Find the magnetism spell.”

“The magnetism…” you started with a slightly questioning look and then gasped. “Remus, that’s… has it even been tested before?”

Remus shrugged in response, “It’s either that or we do it over. Besides, we could test it with this,” he said as he pointed at the little vial that you had used to see if it really had been shivelfig what they had used to ruin your potion. He then leaned down and placed his bag –that he had carelessly thrown on the floor– on the table right in front of you. “Just be careful, there’s an extending spell inside so I can keep all my stuff. Might take you a while to find it,” he added right before he walked towards the ingredients cabinet.

He hadn’t been exaggerating, his bag was absolutely filled with things. You dug inside and could feel several books, you pulled them out, one by one, he had some books for classes, some library books that had gone overdue, the copy of The Godfather he had been reading you and Sirius, the copy you had given him of The Portrait of Dorian Grey when you discovered he was a Werewolf.

You’d told him he could keep it one time he mentioned he wanted to get a copy to annotate, which made you wonder if he had annotated the sides and you opened it, you had written some notes on the pages, notes he hadn’t erased, writing around the edges and under your own handwriting. And on ink, it was absolutely clear who had written what, and he’d even responded to some of the things you had annotated. You smiled, you’d have to ask him to borrow it to you one day, just so you could see what he wrote.

As you flipped the pages, something called your attention. Sirius’ name was written on one of the corners of the book, you frowned and looked at the page, there were a few highlighted quotes here and there, but there was something about Sybil calling Dorian prince charming and you chuckled. Yeah, you too would have considered Sirius a Prince Charming. You closed the book and placed it back on his bag, completely missing how Sirius’ name repeated over and over through the pages, how your name was doodled alongside his too.

How in one of the quotes from Basil, he had pointed out that Basil was just like him, fallen in love with the impossible, but that Basil had been lucky enough to only find one of those people rather than two, how miserable would Basil be if he had loved not only Dorian, but Sybil too? Perhaps half as miserable as Remus felt sometimes.

You continued to rummage through Remus’ bag, and you felt a small plastic bag, you assumed it was chocolate and took a hold of some of them out to ask him for one when he came back, you knew he would say yes anyway, but when you pulled your hand out, you were met with a strip of condoms instead. You quickly put them back in, trying not to think of the fact that they were size L or the fact that he had so many of them. Does he not know about the potion? No, he definitely knows about the potion, I mentioned it at the Quidditch party. You swallowed thickly, you were sure you had flushed at least a little when you felt a hand on your back.

“You found it?” Remus asked. You were startled, and had to cough a couple of times to compose, Remus felt a lot taller to you at that minute, as if the size of the… nevermind, erase that thought, erase that thought.

“No, I– you keep a lot of stuff in your bag, Rem.”

“You didn’t find anything weird, did you?”

“Weird?!” you were sure your voice had gone an octave higher by that point. “No,” you coughed again, “Nothing.”

He looked at you as if he wasn’t convinced, “Cause if you did it was probably Sirius’ he leaves a lot of stuff in my bag.”

The idea of them being Sirius’ instead of Remus’ made you gulp, you were sure your cheeks would warm if you didn’t change the subject immediately, so that’s exactly what you did, “Found the moonstone?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “back pocket,” he added as he dug his hand through his bag, “On the left, my left,” he added then, “where you’re standing.”

“Oi! I know where the left is!” you argued as you went for it.

“You didn’t know last time.”

“Though we settled on the fact that I just wanted to grab your ass.”

He chuckled, “You really can’t lose, can you?”

“I jumped off my broom to get the snitch, what did you expect?”

Finally, he pulled out the book, one of the condoms falling on the floor. He looked at it, and then at you, you were also looking at it “That’s…”

“I know what that is,” you said. “Spent last summer on muggle London, remember?” It had been pretty hard to forget the safe sex campaigns all over the bus stops near the biggest schools as you walked past them. And of course you, being naturally curious, had gone and read all the details they offered. At least you had learned a few things in the end.

“Alice gave them to me,” he said as he leaned down and grabbed it, placing it back in his bag as fast as possible.

Remus seemed genuinely flustered about it, which is why you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him. “Oh, so you’re definitely having fun,” you said with a teasing smile.

“What?! That’s–”

“Hey! I don’t judge,” you added with a shrug, “I told you when I found your stash.”

“That wasn’t–”

“It’s fine Rem,” you said as you placed a hand on his arm. “You deserve to relax every now and then, if anything, you should use them up before they go bad… Although you do know the potion exists, right?”

“Please stop,” Remus said as he placed both hands over his face and leaned down on the table. He was flustered over you insinuating such things, more because he always thought about you when he did them with Alice than because you insisted on teasing him about her. If only you knew, heck, you would probably break off your friendship with him. As if anything Remus did would make that happen.

You only laughed and placed a hand on his back “All right big boy,” you didn’t say that on purpose, but it did make you think back on the size of the… no. “Back to the potion…”

“Yes,” Remus stood, the flush on his cheeks fading away slightly. Although the bits of red still made him look adorable, you almost wanted to get a picture of it. And then you wondered what he would look like if he were looking at a person he liked, little did you know that was exactly what he was doing.

All the while, Remus was flipping through the pages. “Here!” he said and pointed at the page, leaning closer to you so you could see the book, “So… the idea is to use the spell on the moonstone, but somehow make it attract just the shivelfig.”

“We could do it by combining it with a locating spell?”

“It was my idea too, but… how?”

“Hold up,” you said as you pulled a parchment from your bag, he pulled the quill closer to your hand and you dipped it in some ink before drawing some runes inside a small triangle. It looked a lot like what the muggles thought whichcraft looked like, and it was a little archaic, inexperienced wizards would say it was dark arts -it wasn’t- and regardless, it was still the easiest way to combine spells.

“Are you drawing a Nimueh diagram?”

You nodded, and he stared as you continued to add symbols and runes and lines around your paper. Once it was done you placed the stone on top. “You’re better with location spells, how about you say that one and I go for the magnetism one?”

“Have you ever done it?”

You shook your head “But I haven’t done a location spell either, you have,” you added with a shrug.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Remus said with a nod and offered his hand. You gently placed your hand over his and gave it a soft squeeze. “In three… two… one…”

Little did you know that while you chanted the spell, and almost with the whole previous interaction, Sirius had been looking at the two of you with absolute fascination. At the incredible team you made, at how cute Remus looked flushed and at how much fun you seemed to have around him, teasing him. It was in those genuine, carefree smiles that you managed to pull out of his best friend, your best friend too, he remembered. It was in the chuckles he pulled out of you, in the way you moved around the table to get the ingredients, in the way you grabbed your parchment and he passed you a quill.

Sirius was so enthralled by the two of you that he didn’t notice Severus returning to his sit right next to him, “I told you to check on the potion you stu-”

Sirius turned around to look at the boy, annoyed. “The potion’s fine,” he said carelessly. “No one messed around with it while you were gone. Vix would never stump as low as that.” He said that last bit with venom, looking straight at Severus who narrowed his eyes. There was no way Sirius could’ve known, and yet…

“Do you think it’ll work?” You asked Remus, you had just finished chanting the spells, your hands sliding off each other a little too fast for his taste and the moonstone -that shone as you infused it with magic- seemed to be slowly fading into its natural state.

“There’s only one way to know,” Remus said as he took the small milky stone and dropped it straight onto your cauldron. You peered in, and slowly, the murky water took back the mossy green colour it should have had initially. Both you and Remus smiled relieved.

“You did it!” you said almost jumping in joy, placing your hand over his arm and squeezing lightly, “You’re absolutely fantastic!”

Remus turned to you, his expression mirroring your own, “We did it,” he remarked “It was a team effort, you guessed what they’d used to sabotage us.”

You were both smiling brightly at each other when Professor Slughorn approached the two of you, “Are you finished with your potion?” he asked, “You seem rather thrilled.”

“We had a bit of a setback,” you admitted, “but we’ve managed to fix it, the veritaserum should be finished before the class.”

“A setback? Of what kind?”

“We got sabotaged, Professor,” Remus explained.

“Outrageous! Who would dare do such a thing, to such brilliant students?”

You were about to speak but Remus intervened “We do not know, but (Y/N) managed to figure out what they had used shivelfig, we used the knowledge for a spell on the moonstone and magnetised the unrequired ingredient to it.”

You gave Remus a look but decided to follow along, whatever reason he had not to rat Snape out, must have been good. You used your wand to pull the moonstone out of your cauldron, it was no longer white and seemed to be covered with a murky slippery substance. The shivelfig clearly had reacted with some of the other ingredients. You levitated it closer to your face to give it a look before letting it fall back down on the table.

“And you used a Nimueh diagram so that the shivelfig would adhere to the moonstone, clever!” He said as he pulled out the paper from the table and inspected it. He could see it was your handwriting, which is why he looked at you when he said it.

“Thank you, sir,” you responded, “But it was a team effort.”

He turned back to Remus as if just remembering he was there too, you narrowed your eyes at him, “Of course, of course,” he said dismissively, which pissed you off a little bit too much. “Please stay after class is over, I need to have a word with you.”

You looked at him, frown deepening but nodded. “Of course, Professor.”

“Excellent, so.. get on with it. I want to see how your potion comes out in the end,” And with that, he was gone, off to talk to some other students.

“The hell was he going on about?”

“It’s probably about the slug party,” Remus said with a shrug.

“The what?”

“His exclusive Christmas dinner, he only invites the best students.”

“You must have gone several times then,” you concluded.

Remus tensed, “No. Never been invited.”

You turned to him with a frown, “What but that doesn’t–”

You were cut off by James, “You done, kids?”

“Almost,” Remus said, you passed him the last ingredient you had to measure and he placed it on the cauldron, stirring the potion three times to the right, finally the colour was transparent.

“You think it worked?”

You shrugged, “Only one way to find out,” you said as you grabbed a pipette, dipping it in the liquid and placing your finger on the hole at the top, moving it to your mouth and releasing your finger, allowing just a drop to fall on your mouth. You didn’t want the effect to last overly long. “Go on then, ask me something.”

“How many fingers do I have up?” James asked, raising his hand.

“Six,” you responded, “that was a stupid question, Prongs.”

James gasped at your reply “Rude.”

“What did you get on your transfiguration mock quiz?” Remus asked with a teasing smirk.

You groaned, not wanting to respond to this one. “I got a Dreadful,” you said, despite yourself.

“Wait, really?! Is that why you wouldn’t show it to me?” James asked as he leaned a little closer to the two of you.

You nodded, “I couldn’t transform the pot into a swan, I made something close to a chicken.”

“Close to a chicken?” James pressed.

“That was actually a dreadful animal,” you replied, trying to find a bit of humour in the situation.

“Well, our trickery worked, the potion’s great,” Remus said pleased as he pulled out a vial to place it in and hand it over to be graded. Pulling out a tag he had previously prepared and lacing some string on it to attach it to the top of the potion. It had “Veritasetum” and then both of your names at the bottom. All in a perfectly elegant-looking handwriting, he’d used caligraphicus to make it extra neat. He always did like the way your names looked beside each other.

You pulled a flask from your bag and also served some inside. “In case it comes in handy,” you told the boys, who both looked at you with rather impressed expressions as you placed it back inside your bag, now filled.

Lily called for James and it was you and Remus alone again, he leaned over, you might be pissed after what he was about to do, “Hey little witch,” he said softly. You were cleaning things around but turned to look at him, his expression unreadable. “Are you really not scared of me?”

You gave him a look, something between a frown and a comprehensive sigh. You took the pipette and let a few other drops fall in your mouth, more than you had done initially, “In case you thought that perhaps it had already worn off,” you said. “And no, Remus, I’m not scared of you, or Moony for that matter.” The boy seemed apprehensive, “Must I drink the entire cauldron for you to believe me?”

Remus sighed, a relieved chuckle escaped from his mouth. He knew you weren’t, you had been reassuring enough at the infirmary when you cuddled him as Vixen, but he needed to make sure. To make sure you weren’t lying just for his sake like he had discussed with Sirius the night before the prank. He smiled, diverted and decided to tease further, “So you definitely still want to be friends?”

You smiled. “Best friends,” you replied, “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”

“I have, it didn’t work, remember?” You hummed in response. And then he looked at your shoulder, biting his lip, the next question might actually piss you off, “Does it still hurt?”

You thought your answer through, “Less than before,” you replied eventually, it was true.

“But it does hurt.”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

You looked at the side, not wanting to answer, closing your eyes and sighing when you realised you wouldn’t be able to hold back. “I don’t know, like getting clawed at by a huge wolf, I suppose?”

“Do you resent me?”

You frowned. “Of course not! And I don’t resent Moony either, before you ask,” you said that last bit with an accusing finger towards him.

“And the fall?”

“More scary than painful.”

“Scarier than me?”

“You’re not scary!” You turned to him.

“Scarier than Moony?” he corrected.

“Yes.” There was silence. “The water monster… it was… nothing like Moony, frightening, hungry, unreasonable. Moony’s different, he– you are beautiful.”

There it was again, you calling him beautiful, you kept doing that over and over, and he thought it was just your protective nature, you wanting him to feel better about it, but with veritaserum, it was impossible to lie. Remus cleared his throat, looking to the side as he felt a flush going up his neck and you smiled, pushing him just a little. “Now stop asking me questions that make me sound all sappy!”

“Does it bother you?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Told you to stop making me sound sappy, how would you feel I had you drink some and ask you questions?”

“I never had you drink anything!” he replied, offended.

“Right, you only took advantage of the fact that I had drunk it to ask your silly questions.”

“They were legitimate.”

“Most of them I had already answered Remus.”

“Only half answered,” he corrected. “You’ve said time and time again that you were fine.”

“I AM fine!” And that was true, again, you couldn’t lie. Did everything hurt? Yes. But other than that, other than the pain, other than the soreness, you were perfectly fine.

“And you truly believe it,” Remus said, surprised.

You smiled and pushed him again “No more questions,” you warned with a smile on your face.

“And here I was thinking of asking you if Sirius was good in bed,” Remus joked.

“I wouldn’t know,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Remus looked at you surprised, “You mean you haven’t–”

“That’s none of your business Moony,” you said as you started to flush. “We said no more questions.”

“Oh, but you’re always teasing me about things like this,” he said as he poked your arm with a sneaky little smile. “So you really never have?”

“Remus!” You reprimanded again and then sighed. “No, have not. We haven’t gotten there yet, okay? We’ve been busy with other things, if you can tell. Now do I have to go into details for you to stop it or…”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.”

You huffed, “you’re too curious for your own good.”

You were right in more than one way. “If that isn't the cauldron calling the kettle black.”

You smiled and shoved him to the side again, he enjoyed the feeling of your hand on his shoulder, he was wondering how much he could tease you before you actually got pissed at him when the bell rang.

“I’ll take this to him and see what he wants,” you said as you grabbed the potion you’d finished.

“I’ll tell Nightshade why you’re going to be late,” he said as he placed the rest of his books in his bag, “I’ll take your bag too,” he said as he picked it up from the floor.

You frowned, “I can take my own bag, Moony.”

“I know, but it still hurts, doesn’t it?” he asked as he pointed at your shoulder.

You narrowed your eyes at him, he knew you’d have to tell him the truth still, you had taken more drops than you needed, you huffed out a “Yes” as you rolled your eyes, “But I’m perfectly capable of–”

“I know, and I don’t care,” he interrupted as he slung your bag on his shoulder. “I made that,” he said as he pointed at your shoulder, “Now I carry your bag.”

You scoffed, now diverted at your friend’s resolution more than anything, you were about to say something when Sirius shouted from the door, “You coming Moons, Starshine?”

“You fill him up, yeah?” You asked Remus just before you gave Sirius a wink, he blew you a flirty kiss in response.

Remus nodded when you turned back to him, and you gave up on fighting for your bag, after one last sight. “See you in class,” you told him with a wave and walked straight to talk to Slughorn, potion in hand.

“You’ve demonstrated to be a remarkable student the few months that you have been here darling.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And not only in potions, you were brilliant at the Quidditch game and I’ve heard good things from Professor Bins and Seraphina. Flitwick also speaks highly of you.”

You tilted your head slightly, a small “hum” escaping your lips, you were sure Slughorn wasn’t done with whatever he was about to say.

“And you’ve demonstrated time and time again to me that you are more than well-trained on potions.”

“It’s only been thanks to my pairing with Remus.”

“Ah… yes, your pairing with Mr. Lupin,” he said. “The way you switched the papers was undoubtedly clever.”

You gasped, “You realised?”

He just smiled, as if it had been obvious, “I picked the partners for everyone, of course, I knew. I just wasn’t sure how you’d managed to outmagic my spell. All at Potter’s request, I believe. He must have convinced you, that boy has been madly in love with Miss Evans for a while now.”

“But you didn’t say anything then.”

“If you had been smart enough to switch my charms, I assumed you’d be able to cope with Remus’ speed at potion making.”

“So you know he’s good.”

“Of course, Remus has always been remarkable.”

“Then why has he never been invited to the–”

“So you know why you’re here.”

“He might have mentioned something like a Christmas dinner.”

Slughorn nodded, “Yes, this is my cordial invitation to our dinner on the 20th of December. I know there’s still some time, but I thought you might want to know since you are always welcome to bring a guest along.”

“Could I bring Remus?”

“You may bring whomever you want.”

“But why isn’t he invited?” you pressed.

Slughorn gave you a look, you didn’t want to press too much, you had the suspicion it might have been due to bIood status, either that or Slughorn knew about his lycanthropy, either way, it just didn’t make sense to you that he wouldn’t invite Rem.

“For reasons that you are not and will not be aware of, I’m afraid,” he responded eventually.

“But I could bring him as my guest?”

“Yes, although I expected you to bring Mr. Black.”

That got you to pull your head back just a little, you had been so defensive over Remus, you had forgotten that the most logical person for you to bring along would be your actual boyfriend.

“Think about it,” Slughorn said with a small smile. “And tell me when you’ve made your choice. Now I don’t want to keep you for too long, it’s time to get to your next class.”

You gave him a courteous nod and left. You’d have to talk to Sirius about this.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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luveline · 2 years ago

Note

hi!! i was wondering if you would write more ab spencer, r, and baby amanda from your single dad au? :o they’re so precious <3

Thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader 1.6k

"How come you aren't hungover?" Spencer asks.

You can barely hear him over the cacophony of the crowd. You're waiting for Hotch to finish his decathlon, the girls in their sunglasses, Jack and Morgan holding a homemade sign aloft.

Amanda's sitting on the barrier with her weight against Spencer's chest, her soft brown hair splayed out against his collar like a wave.

"I know the meaning of moderation," you say with a sweet smile.

You might be imagining the pinking of his cheeks. "Not moderate enough, clearly," he jokes.

JJ hadn't picked Henry up until three in the morning. Which is fine, Spencer will take Henry whenever he needs to, as per his self-ordained godfathering duties, but when JJ hadn't appeared at 11 like she'd promised, Spencer had obviously been worried.

"Things got a little… out of control." You dip your face to his ear. "I've never seen Emily dance like that. It was crazy."

"I wish I could've been there, but we had a date with Edward Tulane, didn't we, Amy?"

Amanda tips her head back at her father's affectionate tone. "Daddy, I can't feel my butt."

"Not your butt!" he says, taking her seriously but chuckling at the same time as he pulls her up and off of the barrier. With some careful manoeuvring, he's tucked Amanda into his chest, one hand held protectively over the bottom of her back. The other hooks behind her knees.

"Is that better?"

He speaks to her with the same fatherly fondness as always and every time you find yourself melty like butter in the summer sun. In Spencer's eyes, Amanda is the smartest, most interesting girl alive. You're tempted to agree.

"I was worried it might be depressing for her," he says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's sad for a children's story, you know? But she's really interested, and it's important for kids to hear sad stories. Children who read stories with unhappy plotlines are more empathetic, and have a stronger sense of justice." He smiles at her. "Plus, I think it's her favourite so far. She asked if we could read it again, all in one go. It's gonna take hours."

"That doesn't surprise me. I mean, she's yours. I thought you'd be reading her Tolstoy by now."

"I'm saving Tolstoy for first grade."

He's serious.

Hotch runs through the finish line and the members of the BAU that are assembled cheer loudly. He doesn't seem embarrassed at all, only proud, ducking down to give Jack a sweaty hug. Then he, Jack, and his new girlfriend move away from the group. The remaining members of your team start to break away, too.

The girls all want to go home and die in their own beds. Rossi and Morgan have separate dates. You're thinking you'll go home and shoot the breeze until a more reasonable bedtime when Spencer turns to you with his usual genial smile.

"Do you want to come over? We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock."

Spencer's changed a lot since he became Amanda's primary caregiver, but some things stay the same. He loves doing things with other people and he'll always extend an invite if he thinks the other party might enjoy themselves. Going over for dinner feels a lot more intimate than his having an extra ticket for a foreign film festival, or late night takeout, though.

"I don't want to impose," you say awkwardly.

"Do you think you're an imposition?" Spencer asks in concern.

"No, just, you know, I don't…"

"Amy doesn't mind. Do you, sweetheart?"

"What?" says Amanda's little voice.

"Can Y/N come for dinner?" he asks.

Amanda smiles, pearly white teeth and cheeks chubby with baby fat. "Yes! We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock!"

You laugh in delight.

"We decided in the car," Spencer explains.

"Here I thought you were telepathic." You direct your smile at Amanda's doe eyes. "I'd love to come for dinner. Thanks, baby."

Spencer has the cleanest car any parent has ever had. You know he spent days choosing the safest one he could find in his budget, and even more days on a car seat. His apartment is just as clean but way more crowded, stuffed to bursting with Amanda's toys and his books.

"I'm gonna change, do you mind?" he asks, leading you down the hall into the kitchen. Amanda had tipped half a juice box down his front, and the stickiness is clearly making him uncomfortable.

"No, by all means."

He smiles. "Stay here," he says with a feigned sternness, pointing one of his pretty fingers at Amanda. His daughter only giggles.

You follow Spencer with your eyes as he leaves.

"Will you take off my shoes, please?"

You look down. Amanda stares up at you, her round eyes pleading, one foot held a half inch off of the ground.

You leap to action, and say, "Oh! Yeah, baby, no problem," as you get down on your knees.

They're simple buckles and take all of ten seconds. Amanda holds onto your arm and lifts her feet one at a time so you can pull them off. Her small toes wiggle in her socks when she puts them back on the floor.

"Feel better?" you ask knowingly.

"Daddy says shoes are a con-d-struct," she tells you.

"They are!" you say, though whether you really agree might take some thought. "They're silly, huh?"

"Yeah. If we walked with no shoes, we would have tough skin like trees!"

"Like trees," you repeat. You love listening to little kids speak because they're so full of joy to share what they know, and Spencer Reid's kid? She is a walking book of facts. "That's so cool, did daddy tell you that?"

"Daddy tells me everything."

Spencer appears in a graphic t-shirt. You've only seen him dressed down through barely open hotel room doors or in photographs with Amanda. It takes a second for your brain to recognise what you're seeing.

He's a genius, so he understands what you're doing immediately.

"Oh no," he coos, bending down to take Amanda's shoulders into his hands. "I'm so sorry," —he kisses the top of her head— "I forgot all about your shoes. How will you ever get tree bark feet?"

It's sweet to see how she responds to his affection. Her eyes squint closed and she smiles softly, giggling when he scratches her shoulders through her dress.

"Thanks for releasing her, she can't stand wearing shoes when she doesn't have to," he says to you, nudging her out of the way to offer you his hand.

You take it, letting him pull you up. He doesn't let go of you straight away, instead brushing his thumb over your fingernails, one after another.

"I've been meaning to ask you to dinner for a while. I– I've never been any good at this part, I thought it would be harder, because Amanda's the only girl in the world I understand no matter how many books I read, and that's not going to last forever, but I…" Spencer's voice steadily quietens, until the tone he's using is dulcet, and his brows have pulled together. He's just as pretty frowning as smiling. "It feels easy, with you," he finishes.

"Are we having macaroni?" Amanda asks.

Spencer looks torn. "I was thinking rigatoni," he says.

"Gross, dad."

"Farfalle?"

"Bowties?" she questions suspiciously.

"Is that better than rigatoni?" he asks.

Amanda dwells on this, leaning her weight into your leg. It's an unthinking gesture that fills you with light.

"We can't have macaroni?"

You know from Spencer's bemused sigh alone that she's about to get her way.

"Do you mind?" he asks you.

Amanda pins you with a pout, raising her hands into a praying triangle. Her puppy dog eyes are killer and unnecessary.

"Whatever you want, babe," you say hurriedly.

She bursts off to her toys with an excited cheer. You're sorry to see her go, petrified of embracing yourself, and still majorly caught off guard by what Spencer said. He's wanted to ask you over for dinner for a long time, does that mean he likes you? And the way he'd held your hand — that's not an ambiguous affection.

You like Spencer. All the small things that make him him, and the huge things too. His daughter, his books, his genius mind and his clumsy heart. If he likes you too, you might just combust.

Spencer nips into the living room to put Fraggle Rock on TV. Amanda's sweet voice chases his heels, her singing a mixture of melodic gibberish and passionate recitation.

You linger as he starts to gather what he needs for dinner. He's either not worried about what you think of his confession or trying to hide that he is, knee deep in a recount of the invention of boxed mac and cheese when you touch his elbow.

"I know what you mean, about what you said before, I feel the same. It feels easy with you."

You don't know what it is. But Spencer knows everything, so you aren't worried.

He beams. His smile warps each word he says as he turns back to the saucepan he's filling with pasta. "Maybe we should get dinner without Fraggle Rock, sometime."

"I don't know, I don't think it gets any better than this." You nod your head toward the living room, Amanda's singing an adorable echo.

His smile grows impossibly bigger.

"Me neither," he says.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #dad!spencer reid #dad spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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nekrosdolly · 9 months ago

Text

albert whiskers (fluff)

after umbrella disposes of him, albert finds himself in a shelter for abandoned hybrids. lucky for him, he's exactly what you're looking for + extra lil bit at the end!

a/n; another option on the 100 followers special poll- i just rlly wanted to write all of these i'm sorry guys... also i do not have energy to write sex now that i'm working more sorry!!! no sex in this one

tags; @whiskers-my-beloved

the fan whirs overhead, another noise that fades into the background with pathetic barks, meows, and clucking from the other hybrids in the shelter. being older, more people passed by his kennel in favor of other, younger hybrids. he's been here for at least a few years, and the pattern is always the same. new people flood in, walk right past him, and leave with a younger, sweeter hybrid that has more energy and can give them more love.

you're just looking for a pet. someone to love and adore, but not tire you out with endless wishes to play. you've always had older animals growing up, so why would a hybrid be any different?

walking through the path between multiple cages, many younger hybrids try to garner your attention, but none of them really piques your interest. as you reach the back end, you notice that there's not as many hybrids back here, and if there are, they're older and somewhat sad. you assume they've been here for a while, which rings true based on the acceptance dates on the information plagues hanging off their cage doors. most of them don't look at you, though the occasional one raises their head in curiosity and mild hope. it really just breaks your heart.

at the last cage, you stop to read the plaque as you've done with the other older hybrids in the more dim half of the room.

"albert whiskers..? how cute," you murmur, smiling softly. you peer inside the cage to find said albert whiskers and find him sitting in the corner of his cage. he looks up at you through (what you assume to be) prescription sunglasses, his tail flicking curiously. he's handsome, his platinum blonde ears twitching as he sniffs you out from afar. his tail matches his messily slickbacked hair, his pupils widening. he wasn't expecting to see someone both young ang cute in front of his cage, not since he was thrown here. of course, he doesn't get his hopes up quite yet, but his tail and ears betray him.

"well hello there," you say, placing a hand on the cage door, "i take it you're mr. whiskers?"

he stares at you for a few moments more, wondering whether or not he should engage you. it's your subtle head tilt at the end of your question that gets him to do it.

"…yes, that would be me." he says coolly, trying to appear a bit more cold. it doesn't work all that well, and you find his voice to be nice.

"you've been here quite a while, huh?" you sit down in front of his cage, placing your hands on your knees.

"i have," he resists the urge to scoot closer, "a few years."

oh, how your heart bleeds for him.

"well, can i take you home?"

"are you not looking for a more… youthful companion?" his ear twitches with interest.

you shake your head softly.

"no, i wouldn't be able to care for a younger hybrid. i work too much for that. i was hoping to find someone older."

he's silent as he figures out your true motives, if you're really trying to get his hopes up only to leave the moment he agrees.

"if it helps," you add, "i live alone. it's just me and myself, no other animals or people, i'm pretty quiet, i won't force you to cuddle, and i'm just tired of being alone in my home."

albert nods softly, rubbing his wrist as he considers what you've said. your words are tempting, and truthfully, it sounds as though you could provide him with what he needs- stability. not to mention how cute you are. your eyes are so sweet and part of him aches to just lie down in front of you and let you pet him all over.

"… alright. i suppose that will do just fine."

and like that, you take him home. he adjusts after a few weeks of overly cautious behavior. the two of you fall into a routine- you work while he busies himself doing menial tasks around the house, and when you come home, he's there to listen. he's replaced the role of a boyfriend for you, honestly.

so when you come home from work tired, and as usual, albert greets you at the door. he moves to hug you, but you brush him off.

"hi, alby." you mutter, walking right past him in favor of your bed. he follows you with hesitance.

"dear," he says, watching you crawl into bed without so much as changing out of your work clothes.

"hm?" you don't look up from the comfort of your sheets.

he walks over to the bed and climbs in bed beside you, his ears flat against his head.

"are you upset with me?" he asks quietly, unable to help the slight desperation in his voice. he'd been missing you all day and really, all he wanted was to cuddle with you even if he won't say it outright. instead, he reaches out and places a clawed hand on your shoulder, trying his hardest to avoid kneading you should you end up kicking him out.

"no, honey. i'm just tired, alright?" you say, gently brushing his hand away. clearly, something's wrong, but he doesn't press. he just lies beside you, his tail curled anxiously on the bed.

you can feel the anxiety he exudes rolling off of him in cold waves, and despite you being tired, you roll over to face him.

"just come here…" you sigh and push the sheets off of you, patting your chest. reluctant and still somewhat hurt by your initial dismissive rejection, he scoots close and presses his face into your chest. once your hand tangles in his hair, he's purring and nuzzling closer. the softness of his hair and the fur on his ears isn't lost on you. he's so happy to be with you after a full day of being alone. he's not used to such solitude without you around. even before, when he was working at umbrella, he wasn't alone.

though he feels silly about snuggling up to you like some needy pet, he can't help it. he's become somewhat dependent on you since his arrival, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even you.

the calm silence is familiar and soothing, nothing but the sound of your breathing filling the air. his tail flicks happily, his ears perked up as well.

evenings like these weren't unusual. after a few moments more of lying in bed, you finally sit up and press a kiss to his forehead.

"i missed you, kitty. sorry for being mean." you mutter, stroking his hair still as you look into his hazel eyes. his heart flutters, slitted pupils turning round within seconds.

"it's alright, dear. i only missed you is all," he takes your hand and kisses the back of it, keeping his eyes locked on yours, "it's too quiet without you somedays."

the blush that dusts your cheeks is unmistakable. his free hand creeps up your arm to cup your head and pull you in for a soft kiss, one he'd been looking forward to all day. you reciprocate it with love, his gentleness only something you can coax out of him. his lips are soft and honey-sweet, his whiskers tickling your face. you pull away giggling at the feeling.

"let's get you out of those clothes, hm?" he mutters, rolling the both of you over so he's on top. you blush more and nod softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"it's time for me to take care of my owner. you've been so good to me." he starts kissing down your jaw, his whiskers brushing against your skin.

extra!

it's the weekend and you've been out for too long, something albert's grown suspicious of. you're never out this long without explanation or good reason. he waits on the couch, tail swishing with irritation. his ears twitch when he hears footsteps approach the front door, yours accompanied by a pair he's unfamiliar with.

you open the door soon enough and he doesn't bother to greet you, pissed off at you for taking so long. not to mention, that nasty smell you've brought in, it almost smells like-

"albert, i got you a friend! come here, honey!" you call, holding chris's leash loosely. you shut the door with your hip.

his ears perk up and he quickly gets out of his seat, turning around to see chris redfield standing by your side, glaring at him.

"chris!"

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡#albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#hybrid au #cat hybrid #cat hybrid albert wesker #hybrid!albert wesker #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker smut #albert whiskers

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zeninsama-moved · 1 year ago

Text

pay up!

gojo satoru x female reader

satoru's poor time management has you working overtime, and this cheap bastard has something other than cash to pay you with (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

note from author mercury: this is my entry for our slimeball collab over on @bastardblvd , figured the host of the slimiest event on this corner of the internet should probably contribute a lil somethin. let's pretend like i'm not shitting bricks bc this is my first time writing for gojo <3 ending is a little abrupt but i needed to get this out asap or i'd be scrutinizing it for the next five months

content warnings: female reader, unprotected sex, oral and fingering (reader receiving), overuse of the word 'cute', praise and obnoxious petnames (reader receiving), needing to keep quiet, fucking on the couch while the kids are asleep down the hall so if that's a concern for you please don't touch, panty fetish if you squint, cumshot?, implied you've fucked before, unfair compensation for your labor lmao, multiple references to the slimeball au so that may be super jarring if you aren't familiar.

↳ word count: 3.9k

It's almost eleven, which means Satoru is... very late.

Shit happens, you get it. Maybe work ran later than expected, or the train hit a freeloader on the way back to Grimetown, but still. You can’t help but feel bothered by the lack of text message from your pseudo-employer.

You would never complain about Megumi and Tsumiki. They're absolute angels, and caring for them has never felt like work. Besides, your only other options were a waitressing job at Franky’s or the graveyard shift at the gas station, which you heard is filled with... interesting characters at that time of night. Caring for the coolest elementary schoolers alive seemed like a no-brainer. The arrangement worked out in your favor as well. Satoru ended up moving you into his apartment complex due to his demanding schedule, wanting you to always be close – like two apartments down the hall close.

Contrary to the name, the Luxury Condos on Bastard Boulevard weren’t much of an upgrade from your last apartment. The landlord must be loaded because it’s a miracle this place passed inspection, but you’ll gladly accept updated appliances and neighbors without a small army of pet rats. Even the offensively high rent doesn’t bother you because your pseudo-employer paid it all in cash.

(You tried asking Satoru exactly where he got all this money from, to which he said, “It ain’t easy being the sexiest designer sunglasses model on this side of town. You gotta work hard to play hard!”)

Anyways, whatever is holding him, you hope it’s a good excuse.

In the meantime, you’ve taken up camp on his sofa, wrapped in a throw blanket that smells vaguely of Satoru's disgustingly expensive cologne. You were too lazy to change the channel from whatever cartoon Megumi was watching before bedtime, laughing through your nose every now and then. It’s not that bad, but still… You’d really, really like to go back to your apartment and hit the hay.

Maybe a little snooze won’t hurt, but of course, right as you close your eyes...

The smart lock clicks behind you. It’s a quarter past eleven when Satoru enters the apartment, looking gorgeous and unbothered, sunglasses low on his nose and DAISO cat-print tote bag slung over his arm.

"Daddy's home!"

"Shh!" you're glaring from the couch, lips drawn in a frown. "Megumi and Tsumiki are sleeping! Where the hell were you? You couldn't give me a heads up?"

"Sorry, babycakes. They loved what I was giving 'em, so the shoot ran overtime." Satoru grins at you, pulling the sunglasses off his face and ditching them in the catch-all along with his keys. His shoes are toed off and left by the front door. "Why, you miss me that bad?"

You're tempted to throw one of the many decorative pillows right at his big, dumb head. Instead you sink back into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your frame, grouchy. "Whatever," you sigh. "You're four hours late, so you better pay up."

Satoru sucks in air through his teeth. "Yeah, about that..."

You don't like where this conversation is heading.

"Some big guy outside the train station jacked my wallet on the way home. You'll never believe it, he had this fuckin'... worm? On his shoulder? Shit, it was crazy. So I don't have the cash to pay you, but–"

You glance over your shoulder at the man now rummaging through his bag behind you, eyes and tone full of warning. "Satoru..."

An opened package is waved in your face by a beaming idiot.

"– Ichigo daifuku! Your favorite!"

He's so full of shit. There’s one piece of mochi left, does he really think his already-eaten train snack will fix this? Probably, and as much as you'd hate to admit it, you do like strawberry daifuku mochi. Dammit.

Despite your annoyance, you don't get up from your spot on the couch. You're tempted to storm out, blow past Satoru and grab your things, maybe give him a good shove while you do it. However, you're tired, and no grand display of your frustrations would change the fact that you'd be returning tomorrow to pick up his kids from school. Also, your apartment is literally two doors down, so you wouldn't truly be escaping Satoru – you'll still feel his annoying energy seeping through the absurdly large gap under your door while you sit there, in the apartment that he bought you, stewing in your annoyance and eating your feelings in a single daifuku mochi.

God, you might hate this man. You don't even wanna look at him, but despite feeling this way, you let Satoru move closer, ditching the bag of sweets in favor of pinching your puffed-out cheek in his fingers.

“Aw, come on,” he pouts, redirecting your face towards his in an attempt to get you to look at him, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You force yourself to look anywhere else but the man above you and stubbornly pretend you can’t feel the cool puffs of his mint-gum breath, or notice his devious grin from the corner of your eye. “Don’t be mad at me, babycakes. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“You can go to the ATM and get me some cash."

“Yeah, besides that.”

On the subject of things you hate about Satoru, you hate how quickly he switches up on you. One minute, he's the most annoying man you've ever had the misfortune of knowing. The next, he's smooth and serious. The kind of man that confidently leans in and ghosts his lips over your neck, intentionally fanning his breath over your skin because you made the mistake of telling him you're ticklish there.

"There must be some way for me to make this up to you," Satoru murmurs into your neck, the low vibrations of his voice making you shiver. It's then that you finally cave, eyes slowly meeting his, brilliant blues hidden behind heavy lids.

Unfortunately, he's very handsome.

"Okay," you huff. "Fine."

He kisses your cheek, then your nose, and then he kisses you.

You hate to admit it, but Satoru knows how to kiss. His lips are warm and soft, meshing with yours with confidence, tongue easing into your mouth in a practiced motion.

He momentarily breaks the kiss to join you on the couch, kneeling on the cushion beside you and leaning back in, cradling your cheek in his hand, murmuring against your lips before kissing them again.

"Let me show you just how much I appreciate you."

Satoru reaches down and rests his hand between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the rough fabric of your shorts. You bite your lip at the sensation, stifling a needy whimper, but he knows. Your grouchy demeanor melted so easily for him.

How cute, his little tsundere.

He squeezes you softly, then rubs four fingers up and down, keeping his pace slow.

"You know I can't do it without you, right?"

Your hips lift off the couch, chasing his hand as it continues its unbothered pace. Satoru rewards you by focusing the stimulation on your clit, switching to tighter, firmer circles over the sensitive bud.

"You're just saying that," you mutter.

"Nuh uh," Satoru teases. "I've never seen anyone be so good with my kids. They love you, you know. Maybe more than they love me."

That's not too difficult, you want to quip, but opt to bite your tongue instead. Satoru's touch feels way too good, you don't want him to stop or risk having your orgasm put off just over a snark. Instead, you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, fidgeting with the shorter tufts of hair there.

Satoru kisses you again. His hand stops playing with your clit just to skim higher, unfasten the button and zipper on your shorts so he can touch you where you both want it most.

"And you know," he murmurs between kisses, fingers sneaking under the loosened waist of your shorts, then your panties, until you feel his fingers make contact with your bare clit. He watches your reactions closely, smiling when you gasp and buck up into his touch. "I like you too. How can I not? You're too damn cute."

His slender middle finger skims your folds, feeling the wetness there, letting it gather and get him all slick, making it easier when it finally pushes inside you. Just one finger already feels like so much, almost too much. He feels your walls bear down, his cock twitching lazily in his pants. How long has it been since he’s had you last?

You let him have you once before, back when he spent the whole day helping you move into your new apartment, carrying all those heavy boxes for you like the gentleman he is – and you, being the sweet peach you are, insisted on making him dinner as a thank you.

You reminded Satoru of a cute little housewife, puttering around the kitchen in your apron, though nothing was cuter than the sight of you sinking onto his dick that night, your hands and pussy clinging to him like you couldn’t get enough.

Every time he jerks off, he thinks of that adorable, pinched look on your face when the fat head of his dick first speared you open.

It's kind of embarrassing, the hold you have on him.

When you're taking his finger with ease, Satoru presses a second into your cunt, further stretching it out. "Come on, baby, open up for me," he coaxes, voice low and sultry. "Fuck, you don't know how bad I missed this pussy. Gonna let me fuck it again? Hm?"

"Uh huh," you're nodding, dazed, and the sight of you makes Satoru grin. The heel of his palm presses into your clit, providing the right amount of pressure when combined with his fingers.

"Yeah? Gonna let me have this cute pussy to myself?"

Cruelly, the motion stops.

The lack of stimulation makes you pout.

Satoru's fingers glide out of you with an embarrassingly loud squelch, intentionally brushing along your clit as they withdraw from your shorts and panties. His hand emerges, fingers glistening with clear threads of arousal webbed between them, and before you can think, he slips them past your lips and presses firmly on your tongue, prompting you to suck.

"Tastes good?" Satoru coos, delighted at your eagerness. "Let me taste now, okay, cutie?"

Shyly, you nod. His fingers withdraw from your mouth, leaving a dribble of spit on your bottom lip.

Satoru repositions himself to kneel on the floor in front of you, tugging you by the hips so your bottom half comes right to the edge of the couch, dangerously close to his face. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cunt, the sensation muted by your shorts, but it still makes you gasp. His fingers hook into your shorts and you lift your hips to help him pull them off, but he makes no effort to remove your panties with them. Instead, he fixates on the little wet patch right in the center, caressing it with his finger. Admiring it.

Fuck, you’re so cute. He can’t wait to get his mouth on you.

"Need to keep quiet, okay?" Satoru instructs, peering up at you through his lashes, watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. The last thing you need is to disturb the two rugrats asleep down the hall, even if you could pry yourself off Satoru and pull your shorts back on in record time. You don't want this moment to stop, not when the promise of his mouth on your cunt is so deliciously close.

You look so sweet like this, he thinks. Chest heaving, eyes wide and eager, one hand fisting the hem of your shirt, holding it over your stomach for a better view. Satoru smiles up at you, maintaining eye contact as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“What a beautiful girl.”

Satoru buries his face in the soft warmth between your legs. His nose presses into your clit, taking in your scent as his tongue ventures lower, finally getting a taste of your pussy and he shamelessly moans. It’s faint through the fabric. He knows he could taste you better without them, but something about eating pussy through a cute pair of panties never fails to get him so fucking hard. He likes watching them get wetter and wetter, until they're completely soaked from arousal and saliva and clinging to the shape of the pretty pussy underneath.

Your other hand flies down immediately, resting on the back of Satoru’s head to urge him closer, and of course he’ll indulge you. He’ll eat you just the same, dragging his tongue in broad strokes up to your clit, then sucking it into his mouth.

The muted sensation makes you whine. It’s not enough, yet so good. Enough to make your little pussy flutter under your panties. You push his head harder against your cunt, desperate to keep the kissing suction over your clit. You’re certain you could cum like this, between the pressure of Satoru’s tongue and the vibrations when he moans against you.

A string of saliva connects Satoru’s swollen lips to your panties when he pulls back for air, but this time he pulls the soaked fabric aside, finally getting an eyeful of your pussy.

“Well hi, gorgeous,” he lovingly coos, pressing a light kiss over your clit. “Did you miss me?”

Is he… really talking to your pussy?

Scratch that, you hate him again.

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless.

“What do you mean? We’re having a moment,” Satoru replies, voice still sweet and airy, the same way one would talk to a cute little pet.

If you didn’t need him so badly, you’d kick him right in his dumb face.

Fortunately, Satoru cuts his little bit short and dives back in, tongue sweeping through your folds, finally getting his first real taste of your pussy. You taste even better than he could imagine.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, body melting into the couch. Your fingers tangle in soft white hair, urging his head deeper, wanting to feel more of his mouth and Satoru obliges. His tongue dips into your cunt, fucking you with it, then drags up to your clit to lick in slow circles.

He really, really wants to be inside you right now. His dick is throbbing so hard, he’s amazed he hasn’t passed out yet, but Satoru’s always been a man with a sweet tooth. He doesn’t mind setting his needs aside a while longer if it means eating out some pretty pussy.

Maybe not too much longer though.

His fingers join between your legs, still slick from your saliva and arousal, and slip easily into your cunt. Making you cum is easy for him, his fingers thrust deep with each lazy roll of his wrist, stimulating that spot inside you with ease. Though, he can tell you're craving more of a stretch, so Satoru, being the chivalrous, generous, oh-so-kind man that he is, gives you a third finger.

Your jaw drops at the intrusion, pussy now spread wide to accommodate the stretch of three fingers as they curl and stroke your sensitive walls, drawing out more wetness and arousal until it drips down his wrist in clear drops.

Satoru knows you're close when you let out a particularly desperate moan, your hips stuttering and walls fluttering so perfectly on his fingers, clit pulsing against his tongue.

"Satoru, I'm–" you warn, trying to keep your voice low.

"I know, baby," he coos in encouragement. "Feels so good, doesn't it? Go ahead, pretty baby. Cum on my tongue if you need to."

You don't need any further coaxing. When you cum, you cum hard, hand smacking over your mouth to muffle your cries as Satoru keeps fucking you through your orgasm, fingers thrusting and tongue lapping up every drop of arousal your sensitive pussy drools out, just for him.

He rests his head on your inner thigh, watching fondly as you come down from your high. His fingers still thrust into you but his pace has slowed significantly, working you through it until your walls stop contracting. Your arousal coats his entire hand when it withdraws from your cunt, even pooling on the couch beneath you. It'll be a bitch to clean, but Satoru can't bring himself to care about that now. His dick might explode if it's not buried in your cunt in the next thirty seconds.

Even as you lay there, chest heaving, you still crave more. Your hands are greedy, grabbing at Satoru while he makes his way up and eases you back against the couch.

“Easy there, tiger,” he chuckles, hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and peeling them down your legs. "Let's take these off you first."

Your panties are discarded somewhere – probably his pocket, that pervert – before Satoru goes in for another kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One hand rests beside your head, supporting his weight. The other reaches down and palms his dick through his pants. "You need my dick that badly? Hm? Turn around."

You oblige, rolling over to lay on your stomach and pretending the sound of his belt unfastening doesn't make you warm with anticipation. Satoru shifts to straddle your thighs, placing one of the cushions to rest under your hips, keeping you nice and comfortable while also elevating your ass to be closer to his dick. A win-win.

"Shit," he sighs, pulling his dick from his briefs and jerking it slowly, slicking himself up with your wetness. Precum beads at the tip and he rubs it against your folds, mixing your messes. "It's been a while, huh?"

"Satoru," you whine, pushing back against him, wiggling your hips slightly in a silent request for him to quit teasing you and get on with it.

Maybe that makes you greedy. After all, he was just nice enough to let you cum on his fingers and tongue, but you don't care. It doesn't hurt to be selfish every once in a while, especially with Satoru of all people.

When Satoru finally presses the thick head of his dick into you, it feels like you’re being split in two. He's immediately met with resistance, your cunt bearing down, struggling to accommodate it even with all the prep he gave you. So he starts slow and shallow, dragging his heavy dick in and out, bullying your cunt into relaxing and letting more of him fit. He pulls out and taps the head against your entrance again. "Come on, sweetie, open up for me~"

He eases into your cunt again, but this time Satoru leans in, his opposite hand settling on the other side of your head, smothering you with his weight in the best way possible. His body blankets yours, pinning your back under his chest and ass against his hips. His dick pushes into you with more persistence, inch after inch sinking deeper until he's buried to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. You're probably drooling all over his couch, but it's hard to feel shame when he's filling you out so nicely. He's so deep, it's like he's forcing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with his dick.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, kissing it sweetly, then he starts to move. Slow, deep thrusts, only withdrawing an inch before he's chasing that warmth again. He fucks you as hard as he can without being too noisy, limiting the smack of his hips against your ass, even though he really wants to see it bounce from the force of his thrusts. If he could, he’d be making you scream right now, watch some pretty tears stream down your face because of what his dick does to you. Yeah, that would be cute.

Satoru ruts ruthlessly into the tight heat of your cunt, chasing the orgasm he’s needed so fucking desperately. Balls slap against your clit, heavy with all his pent-up release. He takes advantage of your open mouth and forces two fingers inside, pressing down firmly on your tongue and delighting in the way you slobber around them, in the way your cheeks subconsciously hollow and suck them deeper, still tasting your pussy on them.

Sucking on his fingers keeps you quiet, gives you something else to focus on if not the relentless pounding against your cervix, or how close you’re getting to snapping and cumming all over his dick.

“Shit, you’re so perfect,” Satoru huffs against your neck. "I can feel you squeezing me, baby, I know this little pussy wants to cum."

It’s hard to moan his name when his stupidly long fingers are prodding the back of your throat. You’re babbling, crying out for Thatowu to keep fucking you, it feels so good, and he’s grinning like an idiot above you. Yeah, baby? It feels good?

Satoru’s fingers withdraw from your mouth only to snake underneath your body and stake claim on your clit, massaging in slow circles, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. You can’t take it anymore. Your body goes limp, cheek smashed into the cushion, gaping mouth smearing drool all over the fabric while your cunt creams around his dick.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” Satoru moans, feeling your cunt squeeze around his dick like it's trying to swallow him whole. “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum. Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fill this pussy up?”

You’re too fucked out to answer, but that’s okay, because Satoru wasn’t really asking. More like letting you know he’s seconds away from driving his dick as deep as possible and unloading right against your cervix. God, he’d really like that, but he can't risk having any more rugrats right now. Not when his career as the only sexiest designer sunglasses model in Grimetown is taking off.

Instead, he pulls out of your cunt and manhandles you onto your back, quickly stroking his dick, filling the living room with the lewd sounds of your wetness squelching around him. You're laying there, dazed, legs spread wide and pussy exposed, all swollen and leaky and clenching around the air. The sight of your debauched face sends Satoru over the edge. He releases with a groan, cum splattering on your lower stomach, inner thighs, all over your pussy, before pressing the head right against your clit and letting the rest of his load drip.

You both need a minute after that. Maybe several minutes.

Blood still rushes in your ears when you come to. You push yourself up on shaking arms, Winnie the Pooh-ing it with your tee shirt and lack of panties. You're a mess, all sweaty with his cum painting your lower half, even parts of the couch underneath you. Maybe he'll offer up his shirt as a cumrag so you don't have to do the walk of shame to the bathroom.

You watch Satoru, who is already back to his normal, irritating self, snatch his bag off the side table, already craving a little something sweet. He chomps into the last strawberry daifuku mochi in the packet and you frown.

“Hey, I thought that was for me."

“We can still share,” Satoru teases, waving the mochi-half in your face with a grin.

Huffing, your eyes drop back down to the open bag on his lap and… wait a minute. Has that been here this whole time?

“Satoru, is that your wallet?”

He looks down, a little rice flour on his chin.

“Oh, shit! Where did that come from?”

#mercury writes

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myosotisa · 1 year ago

Note

idk what to ask for but Steve in the car smut?

so anyway roadhead

Car Madness - s.h.

ǁ summary: Two horny young adults and the last 2 hours of a long roadtrip. What's a girl to do?

ǁ tags: smut, oral (m receiving) with swallowing, roadhead is dangerous y'all don't do as i do, do as i say. no pronouns, no y/n, afab!reader, nickname for you is baby.

ǁ word count: 2k

It’s been 11 hours so far in the car and there are 2 more hours to go.

You and Steve had switched off shifts of driving – him taking the majority just because he felt more comfortable that way – but it still was a long fucking day in the car. Passenger seat naps were attempted by you and Steve, and he had even attempted a laying-down-in-the-backseat nap, but actual shut eye had ended up few and far between. The road from Hawkins to New York had been full of almost nothing to look at and it got to the point where even the mixtapes you prepared for the trip weren’t enough to keep the boredom at bay.

Now, sun long past down as Steve speeds down the sparsely lit asphalt of Interstate 76, you’re both half stir-crazy and half asleep. It had been foolish pride that insisted you both could make the 13 hour drive in one day without stopping – and now it was too late to back out. So foolish pride continued as you tried to think of things to talk about to keep Steve and yourself awake.

Half sideways in your seat, the sight of your boyfriend and the warmth radiating off him was a maddening mix of soothing you closer to sleep and getting you into some kind of sleepy-horny state that was making the skin on the back of your neck crawl. He was just in a loose t-shirt and jeans – why did he look so fucking hot? Sunglasses abandoned in the middle console, left hand firmly on the lower edge of the steering wheel, right hand clenching and unclenching his grip on the gear shift just to move a little. The movement made the muscles in his forearm flex in a way that made his veins more visible.

Why are veins attractive? What if women being attracted to how veins look on men was what created the very first vampire myth?

“Baby?” The warm, heavy rasp of his voice pulls you out of your lustful daze, glancing over at you with a smug smile. “I think you’re drooling a little.”

While you’re tempted to retort something to try to bring his cockiness down a peg, because he’s a sexy and charismatic bastard, you offer a syrupy sweet smile instead. “And what if I am? Can you really blame me?”

His eyebrows shoot up, sparing another surprised but pleased glance in your direction before focusing on the road. With a teasing lit to his tired voice, he politely informs you, “I think you’ve succumbed to car madness, my love.”

My love. It’s almost like he wants you to crawl across the center console and eat him alive.

“Mmmm,” you hum, intentionally high pitched like a moan and rejoicing him when clenches his strong hand around the gear shift again, along with a muscle rolling in his tightened jaw. “Car madness is giving me a lot of ideas, it seems.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, the word slightly choked off at the end. “Like what?”

By way of answering, you shift closer to lean on the center console, chest brushing his elbow as the warmth of his skin bleeds through your comfy hoodie. “How hard would it be for you to wiggle those jeans down around your thighs, handsome?”

He says your name in a stern rumble, a warning and an encouragement. “I’m not sure if that’s a very good idea.”

“Come on, Steve-o,” you use the hand not holding up your chin to run feather light fingertips down his arm, smile growing when he shivers slightly. “I’ll be real gentle – and if you feel like it’s too unsafe after I start, you can tell me to stop. But I really, really want your cock in my mouth.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself, pulling his arm away from your trailing touches to run a hand through his messy hair. “Fuck… Okay, fu– Jesus, grab the wheel for a sec, will you?”

Stomach twisting in excitement and anticipation, you settle yourself in your chair and grab a hold of the wheel, keeping your eyes out the windshield to keep within the lines as a lot of shuffling goes on beside you. While you want nothing more than to watch him shimmy his jeans down over his thick ass and thighs, you know he’s already a little nervous about the idea and don’t want to let your horny monkey brain take over too much.

When his hand brushes against yours to take the wheel again a few moments later, you waste absolutely no time in feasting your eyes on the new picture beside you.

Shirt slightly hiked up to show off his belly button and the trail of hair that leads down from it, you lick your lips when you follow the line to his half hard erection. Thick as ever, getting longer by the second, and just starting to blush the same pink that’s spreading across his cheeks. With his hair mussed, his hands in white knuckle grips in their places, his clothes disheveled just far enough to free his cock and balls…

“I think it’s safe to say I’m definitely drooling now.”

And his dick twitches in his lap at the same time a breathy chuckle puffs out of his parted lips. Another smug smile in place, and he momentarily tilts his head toward you to say, “That should help, huh? Why don’t you put it to use, baby?”

A firm grip around the base of him is enough to wipe the smile off his face, abs flexing as he lets out a shaky sigh. “Y’know what? I think it will help plenty.”

It’s a bit of an awkward adjustment, but without too much discomfort you manage to drape yourself across the console, right elbow resting between his thighs as you use that hand to pump the velvet skin a few times, harden him the rest of the way before you tilt down and tongue into the slit at the top of the head.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, the hand from the gearshift draping across your back while he heaves a breath in and out. Not hearing a complaint yet, you keep your hand in a firm grip around the base as you take the tip into your mouth and suck. His dick twitches in your hand and mouth right when you circle your tongue around the head before releasing him.

Lips brushing the skin on the side of his shaft, you murmur, “Still awake up there, handsome?”

“Definitely,” he confirms with another breathless laugh, warm palm dragging up your spine and resting on the nape of your neck. “So fucking awake. Please keep going.”

“Well, since you said please.” You momentarily release your grip to lick him from base to tip before taking him back into your mouth, settling down about halfway before suckling again.

“Jesus,” he repeats, fingers flexing on your scalp but still not making any move to grab your hair or push you down. It seems he is taking your promise of ‘gentle’ to heart – allowing you to control the bob of your head as you take more and more of him into your mouth.

A little rivulet of spit runs across your fingers and down to his balls, another shaky groan pouring from his throat at the feeling. With the signal, you pull off again, using your hands to spread the collected saliva down the entirety of his shaft and to a soft roll of his balls in your palm. He jumps at the sudden attention to the sensitive area, yelping a quick, “Not there!”

You completely pull away, concern creasing your forehead as he basically pants into the now heated air between you. “Sorry just…” He flashes you a sheepish smile. “Too sensitive for the car, baby. Gonna make me drive us off the road.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” You reassure at the same time his fingers, still woven into the hair at the nape of your neck, do a gentle scratch at your scalp. “But I can keep going?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Steve laughs again at how quickly you’re ducking back down to get your mouth around him. In your haste, you press further than you’re ready and activate your gag reflex, throat squeezing the head of his cock as he lets out a surprised moan, grip on your head tightening. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

Entirely too encouraged by his praise and sounds, you press down to lightly gag around him to a very similar reaction. Your own spit starts to hit your fingers again, and the twist up motion you do to meet your lips makes his hips flex up, pressing further into your mouth. A small whimper leaves his parted lips, making the steadily increasing throb between your legs near unbearable. Shifting your foot beneath you, you swallow any of your shame and roll your hips down to rub your clit against the heel of your foot.

“Are you…?” His grip in your hair tightens into a near fist, another moan leaving him as his hips flex again. “Christ, baby, you’ve got me so close already.”

You take as much down your throat as you can and let out a hum of approval, delighting in the way his thighs tense up around your forearm. Determined to push him over the edge as quickly as you can, your traitorous fingers release the base to brush against his balls again.

His answering moan is loud but the grip on your hair yanks you up just high enough that your lips barely brush the tip of him. “Come on baby, be good, or I won’t let you have my cum.”

The threat has you whimpering, eyebrows tipping up as you press featherlight kisses to the head of his cock and whisper, “I’m sorry, so sorry, I’ll be good, just wanna make you feel good, wanna make you cum.”

“Fuck me– You’re so good baby, so sweet for me.” He loosens his fist in your hair and gently scratches your scalp again. “Go on then, make me cum.”

You waste no time in taking him as far as you physically can, throat muscles seizing around the head as he moans again. You move to pull back but his hand keeps your head in place, his hips moving into a gentle rock of barely a few millimeters in and out of your mouth. Closing your eyes, focusing on breathing through your nose and relaxing your throat, you allow him to gently fuck your mouth until he uses your hair to pull you halfway off again.

“I’m so close, baby, please– Feels so fucking good,” he starts to babble as you return your hand to the base of his cock and go back to the upward twisting motion to meet your lips that remain suctioned tight around the top half of his cock. The additional stimulation has him moaning high, hand once again fisting in your hair as he gently thrusts up into the feeling once, twice, and then he’s cumming – abs and thighs seizing and trembling as his cock twitches in your mouth, salty cum laying out across your tongue as you continue to suck him down with a backing track of his breathless moans.

Though your hand stops, you don’t stop sucking and licking at his softening cock until you’re sure you’re cleaned off each drop of his cum, and even then he has to use his grip to pull you off so you stop overstimulating him.

Now getting a full view again, you feel nothing but pride at the heave of his flushed chest, the pants leaving his swollen, bitten lips, the muscles in his abdomen still recovering as his heavy cock falls off toward his hip as it softens. “You were right, all the drool really came in handy.”

His hand releases your hair to grip on his own, another breathless chuckle leaving him as he shakes his head. “You’re gonna fucking kill me one day and I’m gonna love every second of it.”

thanks for reading! please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it, they make my day <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #myos ideas #myo4harrington

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gothcsz · 5 months ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XV.

GIF by azertyrobaz

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: A very eventful 4th of July celebration.

WORD COUNT: ~10.3k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: fluff i think? idk javi is working overtime here, some horny thoughts >:), kissing <3, descriptions of injuries and blood, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that i'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: first of all it's f*ck america we're just here for the vibes, okay. i had so much fun writing this, so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did! 🎆 <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

The sun shimmers on the surface of Lake Fraiser, casting reflections that dance across the water. The celebration is in full swing. The sound of laughter and cheerful conversations mixes with the sizzle of the grill and the occasional pop of a firecracker in the distance.

Paloma struggles up the steep wooden steps that lead to the kitchen, balancing a precarious stack of trays filled with the different desserts she’s made. Her arms strain under the weight, and she can feel the warmth of the summer sun annoyingly beating down on her. She pauses to readjust, narrowly avoiding the lemon bars from sliding off the top.

She’s been having quite a day. It began with a kitchen catastrophe that forced her to scrap and restart a batch of her treats. So, she had just told her father to go on without her, promising to join them later on.

Then came the clumsy misstep at the gas station, where she stumbled over her own two feet and badly skinned her knee. Now, with each step she takes, a stinging reminder pulses through her leg. The hastily applied bandaid, already starting to peel from her sweaty skin, offers little relief.

“Need some help with that?”

She glances up to see Javier, his brown eyes dotted with golden flecks. He’s holding a string of lights, his plain shirt and swim shorts an attractive sight, dark hair sexily tousled and slightly pushed back from his sunglasses sitting atop his head. She’s never seen him look this casual and it has both her heart and core throbbing.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” She replies, attempting to sound confident despite the wobbling trays.

His brows raise, setting the lights down on a nearby chair. “Are you sure? ‘Cause it looks like you’re about to start a dessert landslide.”

She huffs, her stubborn streak kicking in. “M’fine. Got it under control.”

He can’t help but smirk at her antics. “Y’know, there’s no shame in acceptin’ a little help. Especially when it comes with such a tempting offer for me.”

Paloma narrows her eyes playfully, lips curving into a teasing smile. “For you? Huh… so what’s this ‘offer’?”

“I get first dibs on these as a thank you.”

“Oh, is that all?” she replies, her voice laced with mock skepticism.

“Well, since you’re askin’, I was also hopin’ to pull you away later before the fireworks start,” he adds, his voice softer, more sincere.

Her cheeks redden, the warmth spreading through her in a way that has nothing to do with the summer heat.

She glances down at the trays, her resolve wavering as she meets Javier’s hopeful gaze again. His expression is earnest, full of an unspoken yearning, that she can’t help but give in.

“Yeah, alright, fine,” she concedes, “But only ‘cause it’s been a hectic day and I don’t want to be responsible for anyone missin’ out on dessert.”

He chuckles, a comforting sound that makes her feel like she’s buzzing. “Deal.” He reaches over and takes the containers, his fingers brushing hers.

The sensation has those pesky butterflies in her stomach fluttering, so she focuses on the task at hand to settle them.

“What’s in this one?” He asks with genuine curiosity as he peeks under the foil, walking alongside her as they go up the stairs.

“My pride and joy–– mini cherry pies. Had to restart ‘em this mornin’ but they came out so much better ‘cause of it.”

“How festive.”

“You know me. A true all-american girl.”

They put everything down on the counter once they’re in the kitchen and Paloma glances around, noticing how deserted the area is. The sisters are usually running around like headless chickens trying to make sure everything is perfect.

“Where is everyone?”

“Down by the lake,” Javier answers, nodding towards the large window over the sink that offers a panoramic view of the property.

The lawn is dotted with clusters of people, a lively tapestry of decorations in reds, whites, and blues celebrating the holiday. Children race across the grass, their joyous laughter mingling with the distant sounds of splashing water and excited chatter. Paddle boats and kayaks glide smoothly across the lake’s surface.

The sight is almost idyllic, a perfect summer day.

“They were gettin’ worried. Supposed to have been here hours ago.” He leans his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and the pull of his triceps has that damn t-shirt accentuating how toned he is.

And his forearms. She could pass out right now. The sight of his veins protruding against the skin is so attractive.

“Yeah, don’t remind me. Hit a few bumps along the way but m’here now. Better late than never, yeah?” She busies herself setting everything she’s brought out neatly, oblivious to the way his eyes rake over her body.

She’s wearing a Team USA t-shirt from the 1984 Olympics. Lola got it for her when she flew out to Los Angeles to watch the games. To Paloma, it was the coolest thing ever, and it quickly became her go-to patriotic shirt. The soft, worn fabric clings to her comfortably, and the faded red, white, and blue logo gives it some personality.

He’s always loved how the denim mini skirt hugs her curves, showcasing those beautiful legs that he wants to caress and touch on. It rides up high on her thighs, hinting at the white bathing suit underneath, glimpsed briefly when she bends over.

There’s also something about a woman in a pair of boots. It’s definitely the Texan in him that finds it sexy.

Javier reminds himself to keep the staring respectful and to a minimum. But it’s very difficult to when she’s walking around looking like that.

To beat the heat, she’s clipped her hair up and it naturally styled in a very Pamela Anderson-esque updo, a few stray pieces framing her face.

“What happened to your knee?” He can’t help but ask, eyeing the flesh wound and how the bandaid was literally hanging on by a thread.

“My clumsiness struck again. Tripped on my way to pump gas. Dunno what was more embarrassin’–– the actual trippin’ or how a family of five watched the whole thing happen from ‘cross the parkin’ lot. Swear they got a kick out of it.”

He laughs and she smiles softly, the warmth in her eyes mirroring his own fondness.

“I’ll go look for a first aid kit to help with that.”

“You don’t have to, s’not not that bad.” Just as she says this, she accidentally bumps her knee against the counter and hisses at the pain, some fresh blood now dripping down her leg.

“I’ll be right back,” Javier pushes himself off the counter and disappears to the nearest bathroom to retrieve what he needs. She’s kind of relishing in his newfound motivation to stay in her good graces.

When he returns, he guides her to sit on one of the stools, his touch gentle yet firm as he carefully cleans the wound. She flinches slightly at the sting of the alcohol wipe, but his reassuring grip on her calf and the soothing circles he rubs against her skin help ease the discomfort.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” she hums, captivated by how handsome he looks while he’s concentrated, the pain now eclipsed by the tingles that follow his touch.

Brows are pulled together, mouth slightly parted, and tongue just barely poking out… he looks so dreamy.

After bandaging her up, he discards of the used materials and stands. “All set.”

“Thanks, doctor. I can walk again,” she jokes and he shakes his head with a playful smile, heading to the sink to wash his hands.

“Gotta finish stringing up some lights, but your dad’s down there by the deck.”

Paloma nods appreciatively, now eager to immerse herself in the day’s celebrations.

“Thanks for helpin’ me out. Hopefully Tammy ‘n them don’t have you workin’ all day,” she quips, half-serious about the women’s tendency to enlist any man around to do the heavy lifting.

“No problem, querida,” he replies softly, the endearment rolling off his tongue in a way that makes her heart skip a beat. “And it’s too late for that, but I don’t mind. Keeps me busy.”

“It’s a party not an odd job.”

“Still, it makes me feel useful.”

They part ways after that, Paloma hurrying back to her car to retrieve her tote bag with her essentials for the day. She joyfully bounds down the wooden steps, greeting familiar faces with warm hellos as she makes her way towards the deck.

There’s people everywhere, a much bigger turn out than last year.

Near the shoreline, a group of teenagers play an animated game of volleyball, their shouts of encouragement and friendly competition echoing over the water. Further down, clusters of people lounge on brightly colored towels and beach chairs, dipping their toes in the cool lake or floating lazily on inflatable rafts shaped like flamingos and unicorns. Paddle boats and kayaks drift leisurely, their occupants waving and calling out to those on the shore.

The deck of the lake house is a hive of activity, with adults congregating around coolers. Long tables covered with American flag tablecloths are laden with an array of delicious foods. The hum of conversation and bursts of laughter create a symphony of summer joy, a fitting soundtrack, she thinks.

“There she is.”

She’s greeted by her father and the sisters from the bar, all four of them lounging around one of the picnic tables.

“Sorry m’late. Had a crazy mornin’.” She leans in to kiss each woman on the cheek before turning to hug her father, who’s nursing a Corona in his hand.

“Not any crazier than your daddy attemptin’ to grill again. Almost blew himself to pieces.”

They share a laugh at Romeo’s expense, falling into small talk as she makes herself comfortable against the benched seat of the table, slipping on her sunglasses and plucking a slice of watermelon from the large plate at the center.

“S’alotta folks here. Like, the whole damn county it seems.” She observes, scanning the crowd and taking a refreshing bite of the fruit.

“People need community after everythin’ thats been plaguin’ all the towns. Somethin’ lighthearted to keep morale high.” They all agree in a quiet murmur, the air shifting as the conversation gets solemn for a split second, but it’s quickly brought back on track when they’re approached by a few regulars from the bar.

Her gaze drifts off then, catching Javier’s silhouette from the distance as he helps a few teens reel in a small boat.

He’s so broad yet lean. She wonders if he’s been working out recently. The sun makes his brown skin glisten, his red shirt a darker shade in some spots where sweat dampens the cotton. She’s having a good time eyeing his exposed legs, since he’s always wearing those tight ass jeans or in uniform.

The swim trunks leave little to the imagination. They cling to his narrow waist and wide thighs. She can’t help but ogle how the fabric hugs his ass, licking her lips.

She pours herself a glass of sweet tea, the cool liquid quenching her thirst. Both literally and figuratively. Watching him stirs something deep within—a mix of arousal for his physicality and a longing that almost breaches her boundary of not rushing things.

As she sips her tea, her eyes continue to linger, imagining the feel of his strong arms around her, the warmth of his body close to hers. She didn’t get to really enjoy him the first and only time she’s taken him.

While it had massacred her heart afterwards— she swears she’s never felt as pleasured as she did when he was fucking her. Not even with August, and their sex was great.

Now all she can really focus on is him, moving effortlessly by the water’s edge, unaware (or very aware) of the effect he has on her. She’s completely tuned out of the conversations at their table.

“He’s a real cutie, ain’t he?” Kristy’s voice cuts through Paloma’s reverie, pulling her away from her ogling. She blushes when she notices the knowing simper on her face.

“Who?” doing a piss poor job of playing it cool, Paloma reaches for more sweet tea.

“Don’t play dumb with me, girl, you know who m’talkin’ ‘bout.”

Her blush deepens, “Suppose he is…”

“He’s got that ruggedness like them cowboys from old western movies. Makes ya wanna saddle up and take him for a ride.”

Paloma laughs loudly, scrunching her nose. “Geez why dontcha tell me how ya really feel.”

“Oh darlin’, the interest for men bus has long departed from this station. M’sayin’ it ‘cause of you.”

“Me?” She chokes on her drink, caught off guard by the directness.

“Yes you. I’ve seen the way you act around him. ‘N not just today, either. You’re crushin’ hard, sister.”

If only she knew the full extent of the fuckery between them. But also… was her attraction really that obvious?

Duh. You’re always staring at him like a teenage girl does with her celebrity crush.

“Yeah, well, like you said. He’s cute and all but…”

“But…?” Kristy prompts, leaning in with interest.

“Look, I didn’t come here to get grilled, alright? That’s the food’s job,” she deflects playfully, standing from her spot and stretching her limbs.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad—don’t ya?” Kristy’s voice carries a teasing lilt as she leans in conspiratorially. “S’okay, pretty girl, secret’s safe with me. Though I’d reckon you should claim your territory ‘fore your girlfriend swoops in ‘n snatches your hunk.”

She juts her chin up to signal for Paloma to look over and when she does, the smile on her face drops.

It’s Sloane, standing there with her back turned, chatting with Javier. She can’t see her face, but the silhouette is unmistakable.

Jealousy prickles beneath her skin, green swims in her brown eyes. The sight of them together stirs a wave of unease and insecurity within her.

“Gonna go use the restroom,” she mutters suddenly, excusing herself before Kristy, who is somewhat amused by this little drama that’s unfolding before her, can respond.

She briskly walks off towards the house. Each step feels weighted with uncertainty, her mind racing with thoughts of what might transpire if she looks back and sees something that’ll confirm her fears.

Let this moment be a test, a chance to see if he will follow through on his promises and stay true to his word.

“Long time no see, officer. Haven’t got worked up again or did ya find someone to replace me?” Sloane bats her lashes up him, a playful smirk playing on her lips as she pinches the lower between her teeth.

He glances at her briefly, his expression unreadable, before side-stepping her entirely and heading towards the deck. He needs another beer and cigarette—quickly, and to distance himself from her unexpected presence.

“Oooh, cold shoulder. Knew you were harsh but seein’ it in practice... s’kinda hot,” She calls after him, her voice carrying a hint of amusement and challenge.

Javier halts abruptly, a surge of irritation flashing across his features. He looks around, ensuring no one is paying attention to their exchange, before turning back to face her. His tall frame towers hers, his jaw clenched with restrained frustration.

“Dunno what you think this is but I’m tellin’ you right now it’s nothin’ but a big fucking mistake,” He retorts sharply, his voice low but firm, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Her expression wavers slightly, a mix of surprise and defiance crossing her features. She meets his gaze steadily, own demeanor shifting to match his intensity.

“You weren’t sayin’ all that when I was ridin’ your cock in the cab of your truck.” She shoots back, her tone laced with an edge, intended to provoke.

And it does. Javier knows he shouldn’t let her get under his skin like this—it’s exactly what she wants. But he can’t help it, especially not with Paloma nearby. He’s putting in every ounce of effort to mend things between them, to make things right. He won’t allow Sloane to fuck that up for him.

His jaw ticks again and he leans in closer, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “You are nothing special. All you’re good for is spreading your legs, said it yourself. A distraction that likes bein’ used,” the words drip maliciously from his tongue, “This,” he motions between them, “doesn’t exist. It never fucking happened.”

He holds her gaze for a moment longer, his resolve like steel in his dark eyes. Without another word, he walks away with purposeful strides.

Sloane stands there, seething silently, her expression twisting into a petulant scowl, like a spoiled child denied a treat. Her hands ball into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fights the urge to lash out. They’re quickly losing control over the situation and that pisses her off. If only August had listened to her.

Meanwhile, Paloma stuffs a piece of dessert into her mouth, using the sweetness to distract herself from the interaction between Javier and Sloane.

She’d been half tempted to watch it unfold from the window, but kept herself from doing so. It just felt odd.

“Hey, little dove.” August’s southern twang breaks through her thoughts, and she sees him leaning against the doorway that leads from the kitchen to the foyer.

Great, she thinks wryly. If Sloane’s here, then August is sure to follow. Or the other way around. She scans the room, half-expecting to spot Gabriel lurking in a corner somewhere.

“Hey, August,” she greets, her tone guarded. She wants to ask him what he’s doing here, but it’s a public event, and the question feels futile. “What’s up?”

“Haven’t heard from ya in weeks…” his voice is veiled with frustration.

“Okay, and?” She responds curtly, own irritation evident as she wipes at the corner of her mouth where some icing has smeared.

His gaze narrows and he walks over to her, reaching out to firmly grasp her wrist and pulling her towards a more secluded area of the house.

“What the fuck are you doin’?!” Paloma whispers sharply, tugging away from his grasp with annoyance etched across her face.

“So that’s it, huh? You jus’ not gonna talk to me anymore?”

No, she intended to have a civil conversation with him and properly address their situation. But she hasn’t found the right time or the emotional fortitude to do it yet.

She stands uncomfortably before him as his upset gaze pins her in place.

“Don’t be ridiculous, ‘course I was gonna talk to you.” She crosses her arms against her chest, “I just wasn’t ready to but since you’re here with the intention of gettin’ some typa answer outta me…” Trailing off, she wracks her brain trying to think of the right words to say. “I think s’best if we just… go our separate ways.” She’s never had to break up with anyone before, so she’s totally winging it.

“Separate ways?” He repeats, words edged with disbelief and a hint of offense. “You really gonna say that? After everythin’ we’ve been through. After all I’ve shown you.”

She swallows hard, her chest tightening at the confrontation. “While I’m thankful for all that, I’ve decided s’best for me to let my momma’s past stay in the past. She had her secrets, ‘n now I get to have mine.” She tries to keep her voice steady, clearing her throat and shifting her weight uneasily between her feet.

“Really, it’s all been… eye openin’ and amazin’,” well not everything but she won’t get hung up on the technicalities. Her words remain careful yet firm, “And sometimes I still can’t believe s’all true… b-but m’just not cut out for all that. I’m sorry I can’t be the person you want me to be.” The person you think I am.

The silence that follows is uncomfortable, almost suffocating, in the small spare bedroom he’s pulled them in. She’s partially relieved they’re not having this conversation out in the open, especially not with Javier and her father nearby.

“So that’s it then? Got me showin’ you all your true potential for months just so you can break my heart like this,” He finally speaks, with pure resignation dripping from his tongue.

True potential? Her face twitches at that, unsure of what to make of it.

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt you,” she replies softly, ready for this to be over, “but I can’t, in good faith, continue this. It’s too much for me.”

She still thinks about what’d he said the last time they were together; how that old man was supposed to be an offering. How can he say things like that then get upset when people compare his group to a cult?

That possibility flits through her mind too fast for her to actually ponder it, too focused on the look he’s giving her now.

His blue eyes search hers, seeking any hint of doubt or regret. Yet Paloma meets his gaze with unwavering conviction, and he realizes he’s lost her for good.

“Is this really what you want?” He asks after the long pause.

“Yes,” she replies, quietly but firmly.

“What about Slo?”

She can’t help the pinched expression she gives, “What about her?”

“She’s gonna be real upset when she finds out you’re out.”

Ugh, cry me a river. “Yeah, well, I realized that maybe we weren’t as close as I thought. Been meanin’ to talk to her too but m’sure you can pass the message along.”

Because if she has to see her face to face, Paloma has no idea how she’s going to react.

There’s more silence as he takes in her shift in priorities. He chuckles wryly, “‘Kay… fine. Hope you don’t regret this.”

Paloma can’t quite place his tone, all she knows is that it stirs unease at the pit of her stomach, but she just remains quiet. It doesn’t matter how the aftermath makes her feel, she knows this is the right decision.

He’s gone in the blink of an eye and she’s left alone in the room, feeling a little lighter but also needing a few minutes to collect herself.

She won’t let this ruin her day. She’s been looking forward to being here all week and is dead set on having a good time.

When she finally rejoins everyone else on the deck, she spots Javier among their small group, smoking a cigarette. Relief washes over her, knowing he’s here and not off elsewhere in someone else’s company. Call her selfish, but she’s on a new path of allowing herself to take what she wants for once. And right now, the thing she really wants is his undivided attention.

She waves her father goodbye as he drives off to work, unfortunately not being able to stay the entire night. It’s later in the evening now, sun moving lazily across the sky, yet the heat remains relentless.

The cool lake water looks inviting, but she still feels uneasy from the nightmare she had a few weeks ago. Lingering dread nags at her, and although she knows she shouldn’t overthink it, she can’t help it.

“Ready to sneak off yet?” Javier’s breath is warm against her neck as he comes up behind her, sending a cascade of goosebumps across her skin. She does her best to hide just how reactive she is to him.

“Wasted no time, did you?” She turns her head to look at him, a small yet teasing smirk playing on her lips.

“Gotta have some respect. Can’t be going after a pretty girl in front of her dad like that. Especially when he’s carrying a loaded gun. Who am I, Jonah Abbott?”

She giggles, scrunching her nose. “Nice one. M’surprised he isn’t here. He loves a good party and bein’ the center of attention.”

“Missing him already?”

She nudges him with her elbow, “Never that.”

“Then we better get goin’ before he shows up. He’s got a penchant for appearin’ when mentioned.”

“And where exactly are we goin’?”

“Just to the other side of the lake. Not that far of a walk. I was over there this morning.”

Paloma hums, glancing at the large crowd of people scattered about before nodding. “Okay. Let me go grab my things.”

As she walks off, Javier feels a knot of nervousness tighten in his stomach. As much as he’s been wanting to spend some alone time with her, he’s anxious about what that might bring. Would he fuck up and say the wrong thing, driving her away? Would she realize that she actually wants nothing to do with him?

Every interaction they’ve had today has been great, so he’s off to a good start, and he’s enjoying being around her and everyone else. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt this... normal. It’s an odd feeling, but he’s learning to embrace it rather than reject it.

She returns with her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “Ready?”

He nods, offering her a reassuring smile despite his inner doubts. “Ready.”

They begin their walk, the sounds of laughter and splashing water fading behind them as they move towards the quieter side of the lake. The path is shaded by tall trees, offering some respite from the heat.

The tension in Javier’s shoulders eases, and he finds himself relaxing, if only slightly.

“So, what’s over on this side?” She asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Just a nice spot. Thought it’d be perfect for us to spend some time alone together, away from all the noise.”

She smiles, her eyes gleaming with admiration. “Sounds perfect.”

They continue on, their conversation flowing easily. It’s actually kind of scary how they’re able to slip back into this normalcy. Making small talk as if they haven’t spent the last however long at each other’s throats.

The sun dips lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the body of water. By the time they reach their destination, Javier feels those nerves from before wash away entirely. He spreads out a blanket he had stashed nearby, and they sit down, the gentle lapping of the water against the shore providing a soothing ambiance.

Paloma leans back, closing her eyes and soaking in the tranquility of the moment. “This is nice,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees, watching her with a gentle smile.

They enjoy the peace and quiet for a minute. He knows there’s still a lot to figure out, but right now, he really is content with taking it one step at a time.

“Slo and August were here earlier.” She doesn’t know why, but the words tumble out, her curiosity compelling her to open one eye and glance over at him, gauging his reaction.

Javier scoffs, irritation blooming at the mention. “Yeah. Had the unfortunate pleasure of runnin’ into her. Did nothing but try and piss me off.” He works the gum in his mouth as he looks out into the distance, then he asks, “You talk to your boy toy?”

Paloma rolls her eyes. “Talkin’ to him right now,” she teases, unable to resist. His lips pull into a small smirk as he continues staring out at the water, his side profile illuminated by the warm light, jaw flexing and tensing with every chew. God, he looks so hot.

“But if you must know,” she continues, “I did. Told him things between us were over.”

He’s fucking relieved and happy to hear that. “Good.”

“Good?” She cocks a brow at him and he turns to face her again, leaning back on his forearms. She shifts to turn her body, propping her weight on her elbow, their faces now closer together.

“Can’t make this work if you’ve got a man.”

She hums in response, her eyes lingering on his pouty lips.

Javier’s smirk widens, and he leans in, just barely, minty breath fanning against her skin. “You know, querida, you drive me crazy.”

She runs her tongue across her lower lip, her heart racing. “Good,” she echoes, her voice barely a whisper.

The world around them seems to fade away as the electricity between them intensifies. The lake, the sun, the party in the distance—all of it becomes irrelevant compared to the undeniable chemistry they share.

“C’mon, let’s get in the water,” Javier says suddenly, standing and pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a fit and chiseled torso. He kicks off his shoes, and Paloma has to bite her lip at the sight of him.

Yup, he’s definitely been working out. His defined, broad shoulders and the tantalizing trail of hair on his belly make her pulse quicken. The swim trucks fit very snugly against his bulge.

“You just gonna admire or…?” He smirks yet again, catching her stare, and she scoffs playfully, rising from her spot and undressing herself.

Her white bathing suit is a little more modest than what she would usually wear, but it still showcases her curves in a way that has his brain short circuiting. His eyes trace the scar over her hip which only adds to the allure.

Javier’s mind races back to that night they hooked up. How he wishes he could redo it, not just to avoid the mess he caused afterwards, but to keep from rushing through it.

He’s typically all about filthy and quick fucks, but with her, he wants it to be different.

He wants to take his time, discover the spots she likes to be kissed and caressed at, to hear her pretty moans and pants of his name while his tongue maps out every inch of her.

“You just gonna admire or…?” She repeats his words, unclipping her hair and it cascades over her shoulders. The soft mahogany waves glow beautifully in the oranges and purples of the sunset.

“Guess we both have a staring problem,” he replies, unable to tear his eyes away.

Paloma steps closer. “Guess we do,” she mutters, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Race you?”

“You’re on.”

They both take off running toward the small dock a little further down, but as they get closer, she begins to feel more of that apprehension from earlier, slowing her steps.

The dock seems to stretch endlessly, the water around it looking darker and more ominous than before. Her throat runs dry and the rocky ground beneath her feet feels like it’s anchoring her in place.

Relax, it was just a dream you had weeks ago. Get over it. She repeats over and over, but still doesn’t move from her spot.

Javi reaches the end of the narrow structure, turning back to her with a carefree smile that falters when he sees her standing still.

“You okay?” He asks, brows furrowing slightly with concern.

“Y-Yeah, it’s just,” she stammers, feeling a bit childish, “I had a weird nightmare a few weeks ago involvin’ water, and it’s just spookin’ me a little right now.”

His expression softens as he walks back to her. “Hey, it’s alright,” he tells her gently, “We don’t have to get in if you don’t want to.”

Paloma takes a deep breath, “No, I want to,” she insists, her voice a little stronger. “I just needed a moment.”

He nods, understanding as ever, “‘Course, whenever you’re ready.”

She takes a tentative step forward, then another, until they’re walking side by side.

When they reach the end, he looks over at her reassuringly. “You sure you’re fine?”

Paloma nods, her apprehension disappearing with every step they took. “Yup.”

“You don’t have to act like you are. It’s okay if you—”

She cuts him off by suddenly pushing him into the water, laughing loudly in triumph.

He resurfaces, wet hair obscuring his vision and he pushes it back with his thick fingers. “Eres traviesita, nena (you’re naughty, baby). I’ll let it slide on account of your little bad dream.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Got no choice but to, cowboy.”

Now it’s her turn to dive in, taking few steps back to get a running start. As she breaks the surface, a sense of exhilaration washes over her, the weight of her nightmare gone.

“See?” he says, treading water beside her. “Nothin’ to be scared of.”

She grins, feeling better already. “Thanks, Javi. I needed that. Been avoidin’ the water all day ‘cause of it.”

“Anytime,” he replies, his voice warm and sincere and he likes hearing her call him Javi.

They float and swim around, taking turns doing cannonballs and plunging into the water. It’s as if they’ve reverted to childhood, joking around and teasing each other relentlessly, scoring dives and seeing who can make a bigger splash.

It’s always him. Him and his stupid, attractive broadness.

They’re carefree, relishing the pinch of privacy they’re able to share without the prying eyes of nosy neighbors. Javier imagines a future where they don’t have to sneak around, where he can proudly have her on his arm, showing the world what she means to him.

The sun fully sets, just barely illuminating the now night sky. “There’s a canoe back on shore I want to take you out on.”

She’s floating on her back as he says this, her eyes fluttering open to look over at him. “You’re pullin’ out all the stops today, aren’t ya?” she says, starting to swim over to where he is with a cheeky grin.

“Is it too much?” He feels a tinge of insecurity. Is he overcompensating?

“If you were anyone else… maybe. But you’re not. You’re… you.” She doesn’t need to explain any further. He doesn’t need her to.

Back on shore, he swiftly gets the canoe into the water and climbs in, extending his hand to help her. She’s a little wobbly at first but manages finally, taking a seat on one of the slats as he begins to row them towards the center of the lake.

They can see the lake house in the distance, its glow from the strung-up lights twinkling. There’s the faint sounds of firecrackers and the flashing of some sparklers that is oddly comforting to her.

“Got the best view out here. Skies are clear tonight, too,” he says, looking up. She follows his gaze, stars littered along the black sky.

The first firework is set off, bright colors exploding in the air with a loud boom.

She’s captivated by it, her eyes wide with awe, while his focus remains entirely on her. Always so beautiful, he pinches himself subtly to ensure this isn’t some dream. The fireworks cast a kaleidoscope of colors over her face, highlighting the joy and wonder in her expression.

Women like Paloma are a rare treasure. They often find themselves with people who dim their spirit or buried in places like Seminary. It’s why he has to change, to be better for himself. But most importantly, for her. She deserves everything—the world, the universe. He’ll do whatever it takes to give it to her.

“Oh my god, that one looks like there are stars explodin’ from it!” She exclaims, pointing excitedly at a particularly dazzling firework.

He finally tears his gaze from her, following her finger to the sky where a large burst of sparks erupts. The explosion of light is breathtaking, but nothing compared to the woman beside him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing,” he murmurs, though his eyes drift back to her. The illuminations dance across her features in a way that makes his heart burn with a fierce protectiveness and desire.

She catches him staring and grins, tilting her head. “You’re not even watchin’ the fireworks.”

“I’m watching something even more beautiful,” he replies smoothly and earnestly. His flirting makes her giggle, having her look away bashfully.

“Smooth talker,” she teases, but there’s no denying the pleasure his words bring her. Even if they’re simple and cliché as all hell. She shifts closer to him, the canoe rocking gently beneath them. The proximity is intoxicating, warmth radiating from their damp bodies as her naked thigh brushes against his.

“Just tellin’ the truth,” he replies, his hand finding hers. Their fingers intertwine, and the touch sends electric sparks through both of them, more charged than any firework.

“I’d be a fool not to appreciate what’s right in front of me.”

Paloma feels the intensity of his gaze, his eyes roaming her face as if memorizing every detail. They both can feel the pull, the magnetic attraction that has always been there.

“Seems to me you’ve been a fool once or twice before,” she says, leaning in so their noses nearly touch. “But you’re not too bad yourself.”

Oh yeah, a giant fool. Big-fucking-time.

He gives her a lazy smile, the playfulness returning to his eyes. “Not too bad, huh? I think I can work with that.”

As the fireworks continue, the sky lights up with a magnificent display, but neither looks away from the other. The booms and crackles become nothing but background noise to the silent conversation happening between their locked gazes.

They often find themselves communicating through just looks.

“I’m really glad you gave me another chance.” He voices softly.

“Me too,” she replies, matching his timbre, heart pounding in her chest. “Even if it was really hard for me to.”

“I know it was. It’s why I’m really tryin’ to prove to you that I’m serious about us.”

“Serious enough to tell my daddy?”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“When the right time comes, yes.” He’ll face Romeo, he has to if he wants to be with her. And fuck, does he.

His thumb gently strokes her knuckles, and she squeezes his fingers in response, a wordless acknowledgment of their shared feelings.

“Let’s head back. Don’t need you freakin’ out over a water snake or somethin’,” Javier says with a teasing grin, the memory of the night he snuck her back home coming to the forefront of his mind.

Paloma scoffs, pulling back from him with a roll of her eyes as he begins to row them back to shore. “Don’t ever let me find out somethin’ stupid you’re afraid of. M’never gonna let you hear the end of it.”

He chuckles in response, shrugging his shoulders. “Have fun tryin’ to figure that out.”

As soon as the canoe touches the shore, she hops off before he can securely dock it, walking out until the water is at her waist before submerging herself in it.

Javier anchors the boat and goes after her, flashing her a confused expression when she resurfaces. “Figured you wouldn’t want to be in the water when it’s so dark out.”

She runs her hands across the wet surface, looking up at the sky again; different fireworks painting the empty canvas and reflecting against the water.

“The dream I had…” She begins, “I was walkin’ along the bank of a swamp then suddenly I’m goin’ under. It’s all muddy and gross and thick–– m’strugglin’ to find somethin’ to get me out when I see it. A fuckin’ gator comin’ at me.” She shivers, the eyes of the reptile flashing across her mind, making her grimace. “The panic I felt… the fear, it was so real.”

Javier is quiet, his attention fully on her. He can see her expression, illuminated each time sparks burst above.

“Then I saw someone on land. A savior.” She pauses, tilting her head to look at him, “It was you.”

His fingers twitch at his sides and he swallows thickly, remaining silent with an unwavering gaze.

“I called out for you and you came, about to pull me out but then…” She shakes her head, looking down at the dark water. “S’like you changed your mind. Left me there ‘n the alligator got me. I woke up terrified and immediately threw up.”

Now he grimaces, feeling a deep pang of guilt. Even in her dreams he’s betraying her. He moves closer, gently urging her to look up at him. When she does, he leans forward, tenderly brushing some wet hair from her face. “I am so sorry,” he whispers, not knowing what else to say.

Her eyes search his with a small, sad smile. “S’okay, was only a dream. Jus’ wanted to tell ya about it.”

He hesitates, feeling a strong urge to be vulnerable with her, to share his own fears. He takes a deep breath, pushing away his timidness before speaking up. “I get bad dreams too. Different, but they leave me shook up just the same. Can barely sleep most nights.”

Her eyes widen a little in curiosity. “What about?”

“There was someone… back in Colombia. She was a working girl that a lot of the sicarios sought out. She became my informant, giving me valuable information in exchange for a life here in the States with her son.” His voice is low as he begins to explain.

“The lines blurred along the way. We both started catching feelings,” her breath is shaky but she listens to him with the same attentiveness in which he had listened to her, “and just when I was on the verge of figuring us out and getting a notable arrest under my belt–– they fuckin’ took her. Beat her. Assaulted her. I showed up too late. The damage had been done.” He stops, jaw clenching at the memory of that night.

The image of Helena so broken is seared into his mind. The bullet he had put in the guard’s head did nothing to erase the guilt or ease her suffering.

“That’s the nightmare that haunts me most. The one where I relive that night over and over again. The dread of not knowing where she was, the panic of storming the building, the pain of seeing what they’d done to her… the shame of knowing she was there because of me. Her and her son were put into witness protection after that, and I never saw her again.”

Paloma’s heart aches, feeling terrible for all the things she said to him in the back of his cruiser. He’s been through some unfathomable shit, and here she is, throwing it back at him because of her hurt feelings.

She grabs ahold of his hand under the water, tugging him closer. “It’s not your fault, Javi.”

“But it was my operation—”

“That’s irrelevant. You could’ve devised the perfect plan ‘n still, somehow, life woulda found a way to fuck it up.”

He just stares down at her, the moonlight and fireworks making her glow almost ethereally.

“You gotta forgive yourself for that eventually. S’the only way to get the nightmare to stop.” Easier said than done, but it’s good for him to hear this. He needs to hear this. “Bad shit was gonna happen whether you wanted it to or not. You did what you thought was right, ‘n y’all were always playin’ a dangerous game dealin’ with those folks... from the sounds of it, she was always in harms way.”

Funny how she ended up being the one to console him despite that being the opposite of his intention.

Silence envelops them as he mulls over her words and the look she’s giving him—compassionate, understanding, resolute. Her eyes, brimming with empathy, seem to penetrate the walls he’s built around his heart.

He takes a deep breath, feeling exposed. “You really believe that?”

“I do,” she replies firmly, squeezing his hand. “You can’t carry that guilt forever. You did everything you could.”

Exhaling loudly, he breaks the tension. “How much do you charge per hour?”

Paloma snorts with a shake of her head, splashing him lightly. “More than you can afford.”

Javier quirks an eyebrow playfully. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” she smirks, leaping out of his reach when he lunges forward in mock pursuit. Her playful giggles ring out, a melody that echoes across the quiet night now that the fireworks were done for.

It doesn’t take long for him to close the distance between them, his hands finding her hips and pulling her close. She spins in his arms, turning to face him, her hands resting atop his that hold her waist.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” she questions lightly, studying his handsome face.

“Like what?” he counters, his eyes tracing the curve of her cupid’s bow.

“Like you wanna kiss me.” she teases further, her hands sliding up to rest gently against his wet chest.

“‘Cause I do. Real fuckin’ bad, actually,” he confesses with desire, but also a hint of restraint.

Her breath catches slightly, she can feel his heart thudding beneath her fingertips.

“What’s stoppin’ ya?”

“Trying not to move too fast,” he admits, his grip on her hips tightening ever so slightly, gaze locked on hers with an intensity that matches the flickering stars above.

She hums, tilting her head to the side then pointing her chin up to look at him. Even in the dark, she’s mesmerized by his inviting brown eyes, the silver light giving them this distinct glint that has her heart racing.

“Please do it.”

And he does, as soon as the words leave her mouth he’s leaning in to kiss her slowly. Testing the waters.

The match strikes, lighting ablaze a heated exchange of passion on each other’s lips.

The kiss deepens quickly, fueled by how fucking bad they both want this. His arms encircle her waist, pulling her flush against him as hers loop loosely around his neck. Their bodies meld together, hips pressing into hips.

Her back arches as one hand roams up, cupping the back of her head while the other digs its fingers into the plush skin of her hips. His touch is both tender and possessive, conveying a hunger that leaves her breathless.

Her tongue swipes over his bottom lip and he parts to let her in, grunting at the lingering taste of summer fruit and sweet tea. He can feel himself hardening, much to his dismay of wanting to move slow.

It takes everything in her not to rub up against him, the pressure between her thighs gaining momentum.

Their soft sighs of pleasure and the gentle sounds of their lips smacking echo in the air, she has to pull back before things are taken too far and she ends up climbing him like a tree.

“Mmm ‘kay, that’s enough.” She whispers against his lips but still goes in for one more quick peck… then another… then another.

“Sure it’s enough?” He can’t help but tease and that gets her to pull away with a quickness.

“Don’t get all cocky Peña.” She gently pushes at his chest and he raises his arms in surrender with that infamous smirk of his. She begins to waddle back to shore and his brows pull together.

“Where ya goin’?”

“Gotta take a piss.”

“Not really the sexiest thing to say to a man after you’ve left him half hard in the middle of a lake.”

“Sorry can’t hear you over me not givin’ a damn.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he follows behind her to get redressed. It was getting pretty late, and as much as he’d prefer to stay out here with her all night, he knows he still needs to tread carefully and not smother her with his attempts at affection.

Paloma haphazardly dries off as she slides on her boots and walks a reasonable distance into the surrounding woods to find a secluded spot to relieve herself.

Her lips tingle, an aftershock from that amazing fucking kiss.

She steps carefully over roots and fallen branches, not wanting to add another injury to accompany the one on her knee.

Then, amidst the quiet, a faint sound catches her attention—a wheezing noise that unsettles her. Instinctively, she freezes, her brows cinching as she strains to locate the source.

The wheezing evolves into a soft groan, coming from beyond the thick trunk of a towering tree. She can hear her heartbeat thudding in her ears as she edges around it, eyes widening in shock when they land on a figure lying in the dirt.

It’s a young girl, about her age, barely visible in the dim light filtering through the dense foliage. Blood streaks her torn clothes, and her breaths are shallow and uneven.

“Oh my god,” Paloma breathes out in horror, rushing to her side. She kneels beside her, hands trembling as she feels for a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there. “Okay, you’re goin’ to be fine just—” she urges softly, her voice tight with fear. She yells out Javier’s name in a panic, frantically scanning the girl’s injuries, trying to assess the damage as best she can.

The urgency in her tone is unmistakable, piercing through the quiet of the woods.

Javier’s head snaps to attention at the sound of her panicked voice. Dread grips him as he bolts through the underbrush, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities, none of them good.

He reaches her side in a blur of motion. “What happened?” He’s relieved to see that she’s okay, however that relief is gone the second his eyes land on the injured girl. He curses, kneeling and shifting into his authoritative nature, “Is she breathing?”

“I-I found her like this,” she explains quickly, tone trembling with emotion. “She is but barely. I think she’s been s-stabbed. We need to get her to a hospital.”

“The nearest hospital is an hour away. She won’t make it. I gotta get her to town,” Javier replies, his voice tense with determination. He scans the surrounding area, staying vigilant in case whoever did this is still lurking nearby.

“Dr. Hughes was here earlier, completely wasted. S’why she had to leave early. There’s no way she’s in any shape to deal with this now. We need to make that drive,” Paloma insists urgently, her eyes pleading with him.

“She won’t make it,” he repeats a little harsher, his jaw tense. “It’s a miracle you found her when you did. I’m takin’ her to Hughes— whether she’s drunk or not.” His tone brooks no argument, attention now shifting to the other girl.

“Alright sweetheart, I’m goin’ to lift you up and carry you to my truck, alright?” He says softly, his tone gentle as he carefully scoops her into his arms, mindful of her injuries. She responds with a faint nod, her eyes barely open as she struggles to stay conscious.

They move swiftly through the wooded area, Paloma following closely behind him as they navigate the uneven ground. Fortunately, those down by the lake are oblivious to their urgent mission, the distant noise of conversation and music low as they make their way to Javier’s truck.

At the vehicle, he carefully places the girl in the cab, Paloma attempting to climb in also but he stops her.

Javi frowns, shooting her a glare. “What the hell are you doing?” He asks incredulously.

“I’m comin’ with you,” she replies, matter-of-factly, gritting her teeth.

“Absolutely not, you’re staying here while I deal with this––” “You can either stand here ‘n argue with me while this poor girl bleeds out in your truck, or you can shut up and get to drivin’.”

She doesn’t give him time to make a choice, nudging him out of the way and hopping in, very gently placing the stranger’s head on her lap.

Javier mumbles out a litany of expletives, evidently frustrated, closing the passenger door behind her then rounding the truck to get it started.

They pull out into the main road and he reaches for his mobile phone to call Romeo at the station, clueing him in on what the fuck is going on. He doesn’t mention that Paloma is with him–– that’d only set the sheriff off and he needs him focused on sobering up the doctor, not distracted by his daughter’s unauthorized involvement.

“Hey darlin’, I’m Paloma.” She murmurs softly, brushing matted hair from her face and trying not to wince at her injuries. “We’re gonna get you some help, okay? You’re in good hands.” The girl’s left eye is swollen shut, her lip busted, her face a canvas of dirt and blood—both fresh and dried. Paloma’s stomach turns at the thought of how long she might have lain there, unnoticed and in pain.

As they speed towards town, Javier can’t help but overhear her words of comfort; her voice is sweet, all things considered, as she tries to keep the battered girl from drifting into unconsciousness.

Despite his initial exasperation over her coming along, he softens at her compassion. He knows she’s only trying to help.

When glancing over at them briefly, he sees that she’s still only in her bathing suit and boots, “There’s a flannel in the back. Put it on when we get there.” He advises, his tone calmer now. She nods in acknowledgment, eyes flickering with concern as she continues to comfort the girl in her lap.

When they finally pull up outside Dr. Hughes’s home, the doctor, her husband, and Romeo are already eagerly waiting on the porch. The sheriff’s expression is tight, his eyes narrowing as he spots Paloma in the front seat. Javier cuts the engine and hurries around to gently lift the injured girl from the truck, careful not to worsen her wounds as he takes her into his arms.

The doctor rushes forward, her professional demeanor snapping into place as she assesses her condition. “Get her inside,” she directs briskly, everyone moving to assist.

Paloma follows them into the house after slipping on his red flannel and buttoning it up halfway, her mind racing with worry and subtle guilt for having involved herself. She knows her dad is going to have questions, but she isn’t focused on that now.

She paces outside of the room they’re in, barely hearing the conversation happening on the other side.

“I can stabilize her but that’s about all I can do. She needs to go to a proper hospital,” Dr. Hughes’s voice filters through the door.

“I’ll take her. Get ahead of this thing before word spreads,” her father replies tersely.

“And your daughter?”

He sighs heavily, and Paloma’s heart sinks. “Why is she even here?” The question is directed at Javier, who stands quietly in the corner, arms crossed, thumb brushing his mustache as he stares into space. Like Paloma, he’s also covered in blood and dirt, but is unfazed by it.

“She found her out there and insisted on tagging along,” he answers truthfully. There’s a moment of tense silence. “I’ll make sure she makes it back home alright. What’s important now is her. Her injuries match that of the other victims. It had to have been the same person. We need her conscious and talking as soon as possible.”

Paloma stops pacing, her mind reeling with the implications of what they’re saying. She can’t bring herself to keep listening, now feeling a twinge of fear. It could have easily been her laying out on the dirt. Beaten and stabbed. Left for dead. She shivers.

She hurries down the hall to find the bathroom. The sensation of dry blood on her hands makes her skin crawl. She needs to wash it off, to do something tangible to alleviate the whiplash of her emotions.

Closing the door behind her, she turns on the tap and lets the lukewarm water run over her hands, scrubbing vigorously. The crimson stains run pink, swirling down the drain.

She leans against the sink when she’s finished, staring at her reflection in the mirror, trying to make sense of the chaotic events of the evening. How did her day go from being joyful to this? The adrenaline rush is starting to ebb, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread about what might unfold next.

Her hair is frizzy and damp from the lake water, her eyes glossed over with unshed tears she hadn’t even realized welled up. There’s blood and grime staining her midriff and parts of her bathing suit. The image reflects back a mix of concern and weariness.

A sudden knock startles her.

“You okay in there?” Javier’s voice is slightly muffled but it instantly calms her nerves.

She moves to open the door slightly, peeking up at him through the crack.

“M’not the one half dead on a bed right now,” she mutters.

He glances down the hall, ensuring they’re alone before focusing back on her. “I know, baby. She’s going to be fine. Your dad’s about to leave to take her to the hospital.”

“He’s pissed that I’m involved, ain’t he?”

He sighs, his hands falling to his hips. “Not pissed, just upset. But he’ll get over it. I’m taking you home, so whenever you’re ready, I’ll be outside.”

Paloma nods, grateful for him as he’s her anchor in all this turmoil. She closes the door, leaning her back against it and taking some deep breaths, composing herself before stepping out. She’s still a little shaky, but knowing she did all that she could brings a small measure of solace.

Back out on the porch, her father and Javier both turn to look at her. Romeo eyes the flannel on her shoulders then flicks his gaze over to his deputy sheriff warily. Whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t voice out loud.

“How you holdin’ up?”

“I’m fine,” she replies, her voice steady though her eyes betray lingering worry.

Her dad walks over to her, enveloping her in a brief hug before pulling back, hands settling on her shoulders. “Lock all the doors when you make it home. You know where the key to the gun safe is?”

“Daddy don’t be ridiculous…” She begins to protest, but the serious look in his eyes stops her short. She swallows hard, “Yes, I know where it is.”

“Good. I’ll have one of the deputies posted out front of the house. Who knows if this fucker was lingerin’ around when you found her. M’not riskin’ it.”

All she does is nod while he places a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She looks over his shoulder at Javier who’s doing a piss poor job of acting like he’s not listening in on them.

They lock eyes briefly, his expression a mix of concern and reassurance. The sheriff’s caution is warranted. The extra surveillance on her honestly makes Javi feel more at ease, too.

Ensuring that the girl is settled as comfortably as possible in the back of her father’s cruiser, he wastes no time–– lights flashing and sirens blaring as he speeds off towards the hospital.

Dr. Hughes joins them on the porch not long after, “You hurt, darlin’?” She asks and Paloma shakes her head. They say their goodbyes and Javier thanks the married couple for their help.

Back in his truck, it’s quiet minus the murmur of the radio as they drive along the backroads. She stares out of the rolled-down window, lost in thought.

“I hope she makes it out okay,” She finally breaks the silence, her voice laden with concern.

Javier glances over before reaching out to place a reassuring hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. “She’ll be fine. Don’t stress over this, hermosa, por favor.”

She nods hesitantly, appreciating his comfort but unable to shake off the nerves. The image of her beaten face and fragile state is etched vividly in her memory.

First the old man, now her.

As they approach her house, Paloma thinks of her father’s stern warning and the precautions he insisted on.

“Can you come back later?” She blurts out, tugging at the hem of his shirt out of nervousness.

Javier purses his lips, rubbing at his eyebrow. He can feel the migraine slowly winding up. “I wish. Gotta head back out to the lake to oversee everything while your dad’s at the hospital.” It’s going to be a long night.

Her heart sinks, but she understands. This is his job after all. He’s more use out there than he is staying here to comfort her. She rubs at her eyes, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her, yet she knows sleep will be elusive tonight. The fear that someone might be coming after her is too intense.

She really hopes this doesn’t trigger another nightmare. She’ll stay up all night to prevent it from happening if she has to.

“Hey, c’mere,” he undoes his seatbelt then hers once they’re parked, bringing her closer to him, not giving a damn that they’re both dirty. “If it were up to me, I’d stay with you all night. I’ll make sure they send someone with some fuckin’ sense out here to look after you.” His hand comes up to cup her jaw, lowering his face to hers and she pouts softly.

“Even though I know you’re more than capable of handlin’ yourself.”

It’s true, but it’s the principle of it. The fact that they even have to worry about this. Still, she gives him a tight smile.

“I had a really great time with you today.” She whispers, nuzzling against the large palm that’s now against her cheek, his thumb stroking her soft skin.

“Me too, palomita. I always have a great time when I’m with you. Love seein’ that pretty smile.” Her heart flutters and she bites her lip, his dark eyes dropping to her mouth as she does.

They both lean in at the same time, sharing a slower, more tender kiss. Neither of them wanting to pull away yet knowing they have to. There are more pressing matters at hand.

After a few more minutes of getting lost in each other, he pulls back and nudges his nose against hers. “Go on now, cariño. I’ll see you soon as I can.”

She pouts again, leaning in to kiss him one final time before sliding away and reaching for the door handle.

“Wait,” he stops her, leaning over to open the glove box and pulling out one of his updated cards—the one with his new mobile number on it.

“You call me if you need anything at all. Doesn’t matter what it is. I’ll answer.”

She takes the small card between her fingers, looking up at him. “Anythin’?” she asks for clarification.

“Anything.” His voice is firm, eyes locking onto hers, making sure she knows he means it.

This brings her comfort, but she won’t bother him while he’s in the middle of dealing with everything. Not unless she has to. “Okay. Be safe, Javi.”

“You too, palomita. Lock the doors and try to get some rest.”

She steps out of the truck, watching as he drives off into the night, a mixture of fear and warmth lingering in her chest. She knows he’ll be back as soon as he can, but for now, she has to be strong for herself. She heads inside, locking the door behind her, the small card still clutched in her hand.

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