#boy meets world prompts

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 198

Now Bruce was not expecting to reincarnate upon his death. At least he thinks he died, he’s pretty sure he did. There wasn’t any other reason for him to be a well, literal baby. Around two he thinks, which fits well with the fact that it’s around that time that babies start forming memory recall, if he, well, remembered correctly. 

But while he knew about reincarnation thanks to Shayera and Carter, he’d never exactly given it much thought towards himself. Because seriously, what were the chances of such a thing as him being given another chance? 

So he was quite surprised at his situation, experimentally opening and closing pudgy hands that looked well, just a tiny bit off. He’d never been that pale before, he thinks, even back when he never went outside like, ever. 

He turned his gaze towards the mobile above him with a sort of idle curiosity- a mixture of bats (ha) and other trinkets he wasn’t familiar with. It also caused him to get his first good look at his parent, asleep on a rocking chair right next to the crib. 

Huh. They had the same pale skin he did, albeit in the light it looked like it was slightly tinted blue, and while their hair was white they didn’t exactly look old. They looked surprisingly well rested for raising a toddler too, unless they had a nanny or something similar… He rolled over, managing to very shakily push himself to his feet with the help of the crib. 

Why was standing so hard as a toddler? And why did he have his memories of everything except how he had died anyway? 

His head whipped up from where they were staring at his feet when he heard a snort, finding his parent awake and standing. Somehow silently enough that he hadn’t noticed- or he was that easily distracted by the unfamiliar giddiness bursting in his chest. 

“Morning little bat,” his parent easily picked him up and held him while he inwardly sighed at the nickname. Of course his bat motif would follow him into this life. A low rumbling almost caused him to jump, his body relaxing before he could fully register the sound. The… purring? 

Oh. 

He wasn’t human this time around. 

[writings-by-fairy]

Risky Business

Fandom: Boy Meets World

Pairing(s): Eric Matthews x Jack Hunter, side Cory Matthews x Shawn Hunter

Words: 1,176

Rating: M

Warnings: sexual content

Summary: Jack and Eric go on a double date with Shawn and Corey. Eric gets a little handsy.

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Jack was laughing at something Cory had said while Eric was still processing the joke. Cory and Shawn sat across the table from him and Eric, they decided to have a double date to celebrate the end of the fall semester. Eric and Jack had moved in together a short while ago and things could not be better; they started dating two months within moving in with each other. Eric had confessed his love after Jack had brought home another one-night stand. Since then, it has been nothing but smiley kisses, sleepy morning cuddles, and lots and lots of sex. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, in fact, Eric was rubbing the inside of Jack’s thigh.

The waiter stopped over, “The food should be out soon, you guys doing alright? Any refills?” A mumble of no’s and thank you’s echoed across the table which allowed the waiter to nod their head and head off to the next table.

Shawn and Cory started to argue about something meaningless. Jack listened in to the argument laughing quietly to himself about the foolishness of the argument. He felt Eric lean into his side and hot breath against his ear, “Think anyone would notice if I started fingering you right now?” Jack’s eyes widened at the blunt proposal Eric was hinting at.

“W-what?” Jack sputtered quietly, he tried to whisper but he was too shocked to think or control his actions. His eyes darted around like the whole restaurant had heard what Eric had said.

“I said,” Eric began while tracing the slight bulge growing in Jack’s pants, “Think anyone would notice if I started fingering you right now?” Jack’s doubt about what Eric had said had disappeared when Eric repeated what he said. Eric glanced at the two boys across from him smiling slyly as he moved his hand to the bottom of Jack’s back rubbing small circles.

Jack took a deep breath to control his breathing and quick heart, “Are you crazy?” he whispered yelled to the boy next to him. “We are literally in the middle of a restaurant!” The group was tucked away in a booth in the corner and there wasn’t a huge crowd of people as they came late. This still didn’t make Jack any more on board with what Eric was implying. Though the idea did excite Jack, it was something they had discussed before after one of their multiple round nights.

Eric’s hand began to travel lower and lower to the point where Eric was teasing the boxers Jack wore; Jack’s pants fit a little loose from grabbing the wrong size but stubbornness refusing to return them or wear a belt. “Do you want me to stop?” Eric smirked down at Jack next to him. Jack shook his head, blood rushing to his cheeks as he answered, he felt embarrassed how worked up Eric could get him.

Smiling at his response, Eric reached in his pocket and pulled out a travel packet of lube. Jack gave Eric a look, of course he planned this! His fingers moved into the boxers slowly until they reached Jack’s hole. They teased the entrance, rubbing circles and threatening to press in at any moment. Eric pushed two fingers in after what seemed like hours of teasing. Jack let out a loud gasp gripping the napkin tightly in his lap.

“Jack!” Shawn snapped his head towards the said man. “You seriously cannot be that shocked about what I just said, all I said was that I could totally…” Shawn’s voice blended in with the background noise as Jack focused on his breathing. He waited until Corey and Shawn started talking to each other again.

“Eric.” Jack mumbled through clenched teeth. “are you tryi-“his words were cut off as Eric began to move his fingers slowly in and out. Jack clenched his eyes shut before snapping them open.

Eric held a smug look, “what was that babe?” Jack glared at him through a sideways glance. Eric turned towards the table as if nothing is happening. He even chipped into Cory and Shawn’s conversation, offering some dumb observation. How is he acting so normal fingering someone?

Jack began to slowly rock back on Eric’s fingers, his body subconsciously wanting more. Eric brought his other hand to Jack’s saying a stern stop; Jack immediately listened. He gripped his napkin harder as he focused on trying not to grind his hips down which his body so desperately wanted. Eric began to move faster causing Jack to suck in a sharp inhale while arching his back. His eyes fighting to stay open when all they wanted to do was close in pleasure; Eric loved the control he had over him right now.

Eric immediately stopped when he felt Jack’s hips rock back to meet his thrusts. “I believe I told you to stay still, slut.” Jack almost just came by Eric calling him a slut, this was new to the both of them, but they could tell there is more to come based on the reactions. Eric began to pull his fingers out making Jack whine and let of a string of plea’s.

“No, no, no, please, I promise I'll be good, Eric.” Eric could see the desperation in Jack’s eyes, Jack took a deep breath. “I promise I will listen.” His voice tried to stay a whisper. Eric glanced at the two across from them, still bickering back and forth about God knows what. He acted like he was pondering if he should listen to his boyfriend which had Jack on the edge of the seat, big puppy dog eyes pleading up at him.

“Okay, but if I have to tell you one more time to stop,” Jack’s eyes lit up at what Eric was hinting at. “I will stop this and punish you when we go home, understand?”

Jack shook his head so hard; Eric was concerned for a second. “Okay, now be a good boy, Jackie” Jack whimpered and shook his head yes.

Eric moved his fingers back in then began to pick up speed. Once he saw Jack was comfortable and silently begging for more, he added in a third finger. Jack let out a low moan while he gripped the table. They kept going like this for a few minutes, just Eric trying different paces and angles while Jack tried not completely loose it.

“Jack, Eric,” Cory smiled at the two folding his hands together. “we want your fully honest opinion.” Cory smiled at the two then at Shawn encouraging him to speak now.

“Which one of us would win in a fight?” Shawn spit out fast as if he had been holding in that question for a long time. “Cory is more built, but I am quicker.” The two lost focus and began to argue about who was quicker now. While they argued, Eric curled his fingers to just the right spot to make Jack come undone. Any composure Jack had, gone. As he massaged the spot, Jack let out a few whimpers.

“Hey!” Eric called out to the two bickering, “Go put something good on the juke box.” The two nodded and raced to the jukebox at the front on the store. Once there, Cory put an arm around Shawn’s waist pulling him close.

“Oh God, Eric” Jack whined. “I am so close.”

Eric picked up the pace, “what do we say?” He looked down at Jack, watching him try to form a thought.

“I-I-can-ughhh” Jack’s head dropped to his chest, knuckled turning white as he gripped his own leg.

Eric laughed, “what was that baby? Didn’t quiet catch that.” Jack’s eyes began to water with frustration.

“M-m-may I cum, plea-please?” A single tear rolled down Jack’s flushed face as he fought his bodies desires, he wanted to finish so bad.

“Yes, slut. Go ahead and make a mess of yourself.” Eric smirked as Jack immediately brought his hand down to his erection. Eric loved watching Jack feverishly chase his orgasm.

“ohhh thank you thank you thank you” Jack’s eyes rolled back into his head, hips bucking while pushing the fingers deeper inside him. His mouth gapped open as he finally came, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in.

Eric pulled his fingers out while rubbing soothing circles onto Jack’s thigh. He placed a kiss on top of Jack’s head which was resting on his shoulder. He quickly excused himself promising his boyfriend he would be back as soon as possible to the restroom to wash his hands. When he returned, he found Cory and Shawn still at the juke box trying to pick a song. Jack was sitting quietly with his head down and still fiddling with that cloth napkin. He smiled up at Eric when he sat down. Eric put an arm around Jack’s shoulders rubbing his arm slightly. Jack placed a tired head on Eric’s shoulder, smiling to himself.

“Was that okay?” Worry was laced in Eric’s voice, he had always been an overthinker with Jack. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” Jack loved that about Eric, he always checked in after.

“That was amazing, babe.” Jack leaned up and kissed his jawline gently before placing his head back on Eric’s shoulder. Eric smiled to himself beginning to wonder how he got so lucky. “Though, my pants are sticky and now there is a dark spot.” Eric’s eyes looked down to confirm there was a dark spot, they laughed to themselves.

A song finally began to play as Cory and Shawn raced back hand in hand. The food came out shortly and the four began to eat. Cory tossing fries into Shawn’s mouth, celebrating when Shawn finally caught one. Eric smiled fondly at the two, happy with where his life was.

Once they got the bill, Eric paid for all of them causing Cory to embarrassingly hug Eric shouting I love you’s and how Eric is the best brother in the world. Shawn thanked him sheepishly laughing at Cory’s antics. Cory and Shawn led the way out of the restaurant and down the busy city streets. The night life in the city had always been a favorite of the four, the bright lights and busy life. Eric had an arm wrapped around Jack’s shoulder while Jack wrapped his arm around Eric’s torso.

Eric leaned down to whisper into Jack’s ear, “By the way, do not think I didn’t notice you grinding your hips at the end when you promised you would be a good boy and listen.” Jack’s eyes went wide. Eric just smiled and kept walking as if he didn’t say anything.

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I am on AO3 as the same username if you want to check out my other works. This is on there :P Requests are open so please message me

XOXO Fairy

[iscahmckrae]

Crossover fanfic prompt: A friendship forms between Jess Mariano and Shawn Hunter—either in New York, Philadelphia, or both, depending on timeframe.

[d3adhood]

tag dump , feel free to disregard.

╼ ✘╽   IN MY DEFENSE I WAS PROBABLY STONED.   ╽   OOC. ╼ ✘╽   THIS IS THE WAY IT IS.   ╽   PSA. ╼ ✘╽   ALL MY FRIENDS ARE HEATHENS TAKE IT SLOW.   ╽   P. ╼ ✘╽   I’M A POPULAR POPULAR MONSTER.   ╽   SP. ╼ ✘╽   WORDS MEAN NOTHING WITHOUT ACTIONS BEHIND THEM.   ╽   PROMPTS. ╼ ✘╽   I’M NOT PLAYIN GAMES ANYMORE!   ╽   GAMES. ╼ ✘╽   MY SWEET BOY…NOTHIN GO ON WITH YOUR DAY   ╽   META. ╼ ✘╽   TURNS OUT I MAKE THINGS SOMETIMES.   ╽   EDITS. ╼ ✘╽   YEAH NOW I’M BACK … OH LOOK AT THAT.   ╽   APPEARANCE. ╼ ✘╽   EVERYBODY IN THE WORLD KNOWS I’M A LITTLE TWISTED.   ╽   MUSING. ╼ ✘╽   THAT’S WHY I GOT THESE … SICK THOUGHTS.   ╽   HEADCANONS. ╼ ✘╽   EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED WAS RIPPED AWAY.   ╽   DESIRES. ╼ ✘╽   BEEN TO HELL & NOW I’M BACK.   ╽   IC. ╼ ✘╽   YOU TALKED SHIT .. NOW YOU’RE GONNA GET HIT.   ╽   ANSWERED. ╼ ✘╽   WE REALLY GOTTA STOP MEETING LIKE THIS MAN.   ╽   REPLIES. ╼ ✘╽   IT’S NOT MUCH … BUT IT’S ENOUGH.   ╽   HALFDENT. ╼ ✘╽   ME WITHOUT YOU DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE.   ╽   BRUZ3R.

[partiallysame]

The 141 teases Gaz about your pet name for him and now you gotta fix it

Soap heard you call Gaz “Kyle Baby” once. One time. And he gripped his grubby hands on the name. No longer calling him Gaz or Garrick. Only Kyle baby. He did it so much the rest of the 141 picked up on it. Ghost saying “here you go Kyle baby” when handing Gaz anything and Price even referred to him as “Kyle baby boy” once and Soap hit the ground laughing so hard. Did it bother Gaz? Yes absolutely but the worst was when he was trying to explain the name to the 141 over drinks one night. Each large man had one too many to drink and were a giggling mess as Gaz fought for his life defending you and “Kyle baby”

“What are ye just a wee lad?” MacTavish was losing his shit over his own comment.

“Noooo” Gaz whined back “she says it different. Says it all sexy like” This immediately prompted all three men to repeatedly say ‘Kyle baby’ in their sexiest (drunkest) voices. “Fuck you lot. If you heard it you’d know. The way she says it, it’s like she’s just asking me to take her to bed and the pretty bird knowwwsss it too. Uses it against me she does.”

Unbeknownst to his team, Kyle had texted you to come get him (come prove his point). When you texted you were there, Kyle ran out front to meet you. You thought he was getting in the car but he was pulling you towards the bar’s entrance. Trying to explain what he wanted you to do.

“Kyle Garrick. You want me to what?”

“You know loves. Just say it like you do when you want me to give it to ya good.” That comment earned him a slap on the arm.

“You want me to seduce your team? Am I understanding that right?” His large drunk frame is looking down at you, giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes he knows you can’t resist.

“Not seduce. Just say their names and work the lads up a little. Been teasing me for weeks about ‘Kyle baby’. Need them to understand. At least just MacTavish. Stupid fucking bloke won’t let it go.” He had pulled you into his chest as he tried to convince you to go along with his plan. You just stared at him but with a final “please baby. I really will give it to ya good if you do this.” Rolling your eyes you agreed and were immediately pulled into the dark bar. Kyle situated you on an empty stool and motioned for you to stay.

“MacTavish.” Kyle had his hand out pointing to his squad member. “The little lady’s got something to say to ya.” All of a sudden the soldier is walking towards you and this is real. Cursing yourself for agreeing to this because what the fuck are you supposed to do.

“What can I do ye for” Johnny was standing in front of you and you motioned for him to sit on the stool next to yours.

“Heard youve been making fun of my Kyle” You stood up to stand in front of him, making the height difference much more in your favor.

“He tattle on me did he?” Soap cocked his head to the side, curious about where this was going. Stepping a little closer so your body was just in between his (man)spread legs.

“You know Johnny. If you had a girl at home willing to suck your cock” Soap choked on his spit the second the vulgar words came out of your mouth. “I don’t think you’d be complaining about any nickname she chose for you.” Soap was trying to regain his composure but the look in your eyes shifted, all of a sudden these big innocent bedroom eyes were staring at him as you leaned in a little more to get closer to his face. “Right Johnny baby?” The breathyness of your voiced paired with this barely heard whine coming from your lips made his mind go blank. It took every ounce of self control he had not to just take you right there in front of the whole fucking bar, your boyfriend included. You stepped back away from him and turned to Kyle who was already laughing at the look on Soaps face but absolutely lost it when you shook out your body like you had the chills and followed it up with “ugh yuck I didn’t like doing that.”

Soap is crushed, sulking behind you. You just flipped his whole world upside down, whispered in his ear like sex incarnate and then turned around to complain that it inconvenienced you. He never once used “Kyle baby” again.

(Do I only write at soap’s expense? Yes. I wanna tease him so bad)

[sakuravalelp]

Phantom letters - DPXDC PROMPT

The bats wake up one day to the internet going crazy; people around the world were getting letters from they're diseased loved ones. The reactions are mixed, from people being outraged for the "prank" to people crying in melancholy at getting closure.

All the letters have something in common: They're closed with a green sealing wax that had an stylize DP and the name Phantom beneath it. Posts about the cards were using the # Phantom Letters.

The bats are discussing the viral posts in the cave when Alfred comes holding a basket filled with letters, announcing they were left at the doors. The letters had the sealing wax that they recognize from the posts. Checking the cameras they can see how they glitch before the basket appears.

Alfred starts to distribute the letters that had only one destinatary. Letters from each Thomas and Martha to both Bruce and Alfred. Letters from each John and Mary to Dick. A letter from Catherine to Jason. A letter from the Drake's to Tim, and another one to Bruce.

Once they had calmed down enough from the shock, Alfred proceeded to read the shared recipients. From Thomas and Martha to "The grandchildren we never got to meet." From John and Mary to "the family that took our little Robin in." Letters from Catherine to "My little boys family." The letters were directed to people the deceased didn't get to meet.

As much as the mere existence of the letters tugged at their hearts, they decided to not read them until they verified that the handwriting actually belong to the ones it claimed. They checked each letter, and in the end confirmed the letters were in fact from they're lost love ones.

After much discussion, each person makes the decision to read they're own letters later in private, and they proceed to read the ones that shared recipients out loud. The letter mentioned specifics like names and events that the deceased shouldn't have been able to know, including they're vigilante abilities, which had them pause each time to panic a bit. But what was more interested were certain pieces of the letters that mentioned a Prince Phantom.

"Prince Phantom said to don't mention things past our death, but it wasn't a command, so we're hoping this won't be much of a problem." - John and Mary

"I still can't believe Prince Phantom is letting us do this, but I'm so glad." - Catherine

It finally paints the mystery in a more concerning light when at the end of Thomas and Martha's letter there is a call for help.

"We're sorry for ending the letter on a serious tone, but seeing the kind of job you all get involved in, we wanted to ask: Could you please help Prince Phantom? Phantom had asked us to not give information about this, but he's so young, and has already been hurt so much. Please, check on Amity Park, Illinois."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Meanwhile, team Phantom has decided that they needed to get the news about the GIW out of Amity and ask for help. Two problems:

the GIW blocks any technological attempt made.

People might be afraid to learn that ghosts exist and side with the GIW.

As a way to deal with the public image, Phantom opens a possibility that the death have never had:

"All afterlives are open to write letters to their love ones that are still alive today. Nothing that includes threats, and don't go talking about the anti-ecto acts or Amity Park yet, we're trying to ease people into our existence first. Also, I know you all check on your love ones when the veil is thin, but please keep the things you shouldn't know out of the letters if possible. If you want your letter to be sent in the first batch, make sure to deliver your letter before the week ends."

Letters are a good way to reconnect people with the death, they aren't digital, and the GIW won't be able to intercept letters if they're send through inter-dimensional portals. Two birds in one shot.

[demonic0angel]

DC x DP prompt: Zeus is a dick, as is most of the Greek pantheon. As such, Cassie Sandsmark is looking for a new patron god. Dani hears this, and introduces her to Danny, the Ghost King and new god like being.

(I haven't finished reading through the Young Justice run, so I actually don't know too much yet. So just beware that this will probably be incorrect.)

Cassie snarled as she straddled the dummy to beat it with her fists. From a distance, the rest of the Young Justice looked at her with various amounts of wariness and worry. Dani leaned close to Kon.

“What’s going on?” She whispered.

Tim was the one who answered, “Cassie’s powers are disappearing. Something with Zeus? I’m a bit more worried about her raging though. She’s going to hurt herself at this rate.”

Dani nodded and shared a look with the other girls, who also gave her a look. Then they all stepped forward, leaving the boys behind to share a sigh of relief.

They approached Cassie carefully, who was panting and winding down from her brutal beat down on the practice dummy.

“Hey, Cassie,” Cissie began. “Wanna talk about it?”

Greta and Dani both helped Cassie up and while Greta patted her back comfortingly, Dani put away the dummy. Cassie scowled, but then her expression changed into something more sad. “My powers are leaving. I just— I just want to know why! I thought that they wouldn’t leave me no matter what…”

Dani perked up. “Wait, you need another patron god?”

Cassie nodded but then she paused, alongside Greta and Cissie. “Wait… do you know someone?”

Dani beamed. She nodded and flew forward to hold Cassie’s hand. “Yes! He’s new to being a god, but I can promise that he’s powerful and he won’t abandon you! I can promise you 100%!”

Cassie looked hopeful for the first time. She looked down, thinking to herself as she muttered, “I only wanted Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl to be proud of me…” She looked up at Dani. “Who is he?”

Dani grinned. “He’s a death god, but he only came to power a few months ago. He rules over the domain of death and everyone who is dead or will be dead. Also space.”

Cassie hesitated. “Death…? I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that.”

Dani clenched her hand gently. “I promise that he won’t make you kill. He’s the god of death, so he only helps ferry the dead souls to the afterlife. He’s more like… Hades, if that makes sense. He was a hero himself in our world.”

Cassie brightened. “I’d like to meet him! Who is he?”

Dani grinned. Her eyes were sparkling from excitement. “He’s my brother.”

[radiance1]

I like redeemed Vlad, so I'm gonna do with that BUT he's still an asshole you know? Like, Vlad is seen as an 'Evil God' in that world because he brought 'evil' into it and, like an devil, he's been making deals left and right with such ironclad rules for when he offers and wiggles his way and loopholes conditions when he's being offered a deal.

He's a business man, it's what he does.

And then whenever he disappears most of the time it's just him going to manage VladCo, and the few times he's actually been kicked out was more of a timeout if anything because of said deals he's made that's ended up having a bit more consequences than he foresaw. Then, as you said, he could be poked fun of because of how he was in the past with evil throw around casually because yea, he was evil, much to his exasperation because he's changed!

They then point out how his deals usually end up worse for the one dealing with him than the other way around, and even a few souls he's claimed up. Which he defends with, again, businessman, and it isn't his fault if they offered up his souls in exchange for things he can give them!

Vlad: [Pops up in this world for a vacation because he's just absolutely done with being a businessman right now.]

Also Vlad: [Starts making deals left and right while scheming how to fulfil them]

The Pantheon (What I'm calling them now): Oh my gosh, this hypocrite is at it again. Hey, hey! No! No! You're supposed to be resting do NOT make someone king you evil bas-

Vlad is absolutely in his element being an evil, scheming lil guy in the background and the rest of The Pantheon is exasperated at this because he's supposed to be on vacation or whatever but if it works it works they guess?? He's like that weird uncle who is ultimately harmless (to The Pantheon at least) but you have to tell off a bit before he goes too far or something.

Might I suggest, based on what you have, that Star would be the minor deity of History or something like that? With a connection to Tucker because he's the God of Wisdom/Knowledge(+other things?) here as seen by the people of the world.

Not gonna lie, love the idea that Sam is the main rebirth method, with help from Dan, of this little world. I don't know why I just like it :D

Also, love the Fantasy with hints of highly advanced magitek because yea, why wouldn't Tucker do that? His old temples have various hidden secrets that his students (and those who're inclined to, like adventurers) have to explore while figuring out puzzles and is absolutely delighted when they start making dungeons.

Also regarding the next question. Previously I imagined it was humans but then realized why stop there? You can have dryads, which are the attendants to Mother of Life and various forests around the world. Monsters, and like you said, lesser dragons wandering out and about. They wouldn't be divinity because, well, yea, but they might be considered sacred creatures to some groups of people or just dangerous forces of nature to others.

Klarion looking similar to them would be funny, the lesser dragons would know he's different from them, but the YJ don't know that now do they?

Might even be a few races that have more lizard/draconic features hehe.

YJ: [Wants to bring Klarion back but never mention him by name]

The Pantheon: [Knows who they're actually talking about before Side eyeing Vlad in the corner doing his little Evil God roleplay]

The Pantheon, deciding to commit to it since it's already there: Okay yea, we'll totally help you bring that guy down.

Also yes, most definitely magic. Even different types of schools too! Like:

Star magic (Danny).

Nature, Life, Plant, magic (Sam).

Sand, Rune, Enchantment magic (Tucker).

Death (Dan).

Wind (Dani).

Contracts, dark/black magic (Vlad because you know, Evil God thing).

And since Klarion has stepped into the world, Chaos magic becomes an option as well though it isnt mostly known until someone actually taps into it.

There's various subs-schools of magic, most definitely. Necromancy is a mix of the Death and Life magic school, the four elements would fall under Nature, but Wind might be considered its own special kind of school because of Dani's existence, etc.

I want to say that Time would also be a secret option, but I don't think Clockwork has stepped onto that plane yet for it to become one. I also want to say that Pariah stepping onto it would also breath a new magic to life, but I have no idea what it would be....

Will the Young Justice ever manage to figure out that Klarion was with them throughout there entire journey? Find out next on DRAGON BAL-

Inspired by @puppetmaster13u and various dragon aus they have.

BUT! This is also a bit of a fantasy/DnD au I guess...? IDK BUT HERE WE GO-

Okay now so, I'm imagining that that Danny, Tucker, and Sam create a pocket dimension for their game via the use of reality warping (via scepter) and something given to them by Pariah Dark before he went off on that whole honey moon thing with Clockwork.

For the record, Danny isn't the ghost king here, Pariah Dark is he's just the prince.

Sam created a garden from the barren earth, that eventually grew into a great forest and spread out to the rest of the world, which technically made her the creator of life but anyways. So, she's holed up in said garden turned forest.

Tucker bestowed upon his subjects (after they were made of course) knowledge and technology and is regarded as the greatest teacher in that world's history.

Danny? Oh yea he became that one that giant dragon that everyone knows is there, is afraid of, and just sleeps all day in this one specific place. You'd have to cut him some slack though, because no one told him creating a world and its laws would be so hard even with help.

That and him, as the one with basically the most knowledge and resident fanboy of space, created the stars surrounding the place as well!

Of course, they couldn't stay there all of the time. What with work (Tucker), high-society (Sam), and studying (Why the heck did Danny decide to go to collage again?). That entire place was just made to play around in before they had to go their separate ways and be, you know, actual adults, so it was easy enough to let go of it really.

Except for Danny. Not of any great reason, really, he just needed someplace where he could quietly study in peace, nap, think or just get away from the Ghost Zone before he had to go through all that princely nonsense again. Plus, none of their creations in that pocket dimension really wanted to mess with the giant fuck off dragon who was said to created the place anyways.

For the record, Danny is more of an eastern dragon in design with a long body rather than western. So that probably just added more into his intimidation with his sheer length.

So, you know, of course he would have been none too pleased when someone actually did disturb his solitude (as stated by the dimension's residents) as soon as the world was thrown off-balance by an outside force.

Meanwhile, Klarion the Witch boy is having the time of his life coming across a whole world that somehow hasn't been affected by Order or Chaos. So he's capitalizing on that.

Then he came across a place that was said to be sacred, not that he cared, and then came across a boy who didn't look a day over his teens (which frankly doesn't say much in regards to immortals) with a frankly long tail that looked longer than he was tall and very majestic looking horns.

Danny was annoyed yet curious, Klarion was surprised yet delighted.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 139

So. Dan has somehow found a small child. A practically newly born ghostling who had literally fallen right on top of him. A ghostling who had practically formed right above him, far away from nurseries and instead above him of all ghosts? 

Him, the Sunkiller? The Worldeater? Jordan Vladimir FentonNightingale-Foley-Manson? Son of Space and War? Bringer of the End?? Seriously, what the hell! Ghostlings shouldn’t even be able to form within other ghost’s Lairs, and he knew for a fact this wasn’t his own ghostling seeing as he wasn’t interested in such things. 

So here Dan is, feeling more confused than he ever has with a newborn ghostling clinging to him and sobbing in his arms about wanting his dad. What even is his unlife right now.

[writings-by-fairy]

Friday Night

Fandom: Boy Meets World

Pairing(s): Eric Matthews x Jack Hunter, side Cory Matthews x Shawn Hunter

Words: 1,590 (more coming at some point)

Rating: M

Warnings: sexual content

Summary: Eric and Jack go to a college party and one of them gets a little crazy...

11:30pm Deep breath. Toss. Bounce. And it’s in! Jack made the winning cup in their intense game of cup pong. Eric couldn’t help but smile despite losing: seeing his boyfriend smile and laugh with the others made his heart swell. Jack and Shawn did their handshake while others congratulated them on their victory.

“Well Matthews duo, rematch?” Shawn smirked at the two across the table. Cory and Eric looked at each other narrowing their eyes in a secret communication.

Cory stepped forward, “bring it.”

{}{}{}

9:15pm “Come on, Eric!” Cory whined through the phone. “It will be fun, Shawn and I can even give you a ride.”

Eric sighed; he planned on staying home this Friday night in his cozy dorm with a cozy blanket and a super hot boyfriend. Him and Jack had a scary movie night every Friday where they would cuddle on the bed until eventually the movie was forgotten.

“Fine. But only for a couple hours max.” Eric couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Cory and Shawn screaming, he is pretty sure he heard the phone drop at least twice.

“Okay, okay,” Cory started once they calmed down. “Well, we will pick you up at 10!” They said their good byes and Eric sighed; don’t get him wrong, he loved partying and people but he loved his boyfriend more. Throughout high school, Eric would party pretty much every weekend but fast forward to senior year of college, he only went out pretty much on special occasions.

The sound of the key in the door startled him from his thoughts, Jack was back from his 6-9 economics class.

Jack swung the door open to reveal he was soaking wet, “It’s raining.” His teeth chattering as the rain began to grow cool against his skin.

Eric’s pupils dilated. Jack’s hair was a mess, his wavy hair showing and sticking up in a million places. His shirt, which he cut the bottom off because it was too long but ended up making it a little too short, clung to his every muscle and curve. His nipples looked as if they were about to cut through the shirt and all Eric wanted to do was kiss Jack while teasing his-

“Eric! Are you even listening?”

“What…oh yeah…yeah”

“What was the last thing I said?” Silence. “That’s what I-“ Eric cut Jack off by grabbing the back of his head and pulling him in for a kiss. Jack gasped in surprise but soon brought his hands up to cup Eric’s face. Eric pulled away and pushed Jack’s book bag off while pinning him to the door with his body.

“Eric…Eric,” Jack’s pleas fell silent on Eric’s ear as he only started to trail kisses down Jack’s neck. Eric pulled the wet shirt up to his collarbone and held it there as a silent command for the other to hold it there. Jack shakily moved his hand to hold the shirt while the other hand made its way to Eric’s hair.

Eric stared at Jacks nipples before rubbing his thumb over them causing Jack to moan and roll his head back. “Oh Eric…” Eric took this as a sign to put his mouth on Jack, he started by sucking a hickey at the base of the next and leaving a trail down to his nipple where he began to suck and bite.

“Eric…more…” Jack began to absentmindedly roll his hips up for more but receiving little relief. Eric’s thigh barley providing any help.

Eric pulled away, he looked at Jack in awe. He was still holding the shirt right where Eric told him too. “Okay, if you think I am not doing enough, you can continue to hump my thigh like a little desperate slut.” Jack stared for a second with his jaw open in shock.

He looked to argue with himself in his head: one half of him waiting for Eric to say just kidding while the other is coming to terms with Eric’s order. The latter won.

He looked down with red spreading from his chest up to his face, he felt a little humiliated about this. Oh but did he love how Eric treated him in times like this. He began to move his hips in an experimenting way, switching angles and pace until he found one he liked. He gripped Eric’s shoulder and rutted his hips like a dog in heat.

“Good boy.” Jack’s legs nearly gave when Eric called him that, hips stuttering a little. Eric resumed teasing Jack’s nipples by rolling them between his fingers making Jack’s back arch.

Jack’s pace began to falter and switch up, “Eric…please…cl-cl-close.” Jack’s voice was raspy and whiny now. Eric smirked and grabbed Jack’s hips in a bruising grip holding him to the door. “Wha-…no, please, you can’t..” Jack’s eyes were now dilated as he looked up confused, he slowly dropped his still damp shirt.

“Ohh, look at you, you poor thing. We barely even started and you are already cock dumb.” Eric traced absent patterns on Jack’s torso before pushing him to his knees. “You first have to get me off, baby. Have to earn it.”

Jack looked up with those big, teary eyes before reaching forward to pull Eric’s pants down. He only pulled his pants to his mid thigh not bothering to waste time by his jeans off all the way. Eric grabbed Jack’s hair and his own dick, slapping Jack in the face with it a few times.

Eric sighed and let his eyes roll back into his head when he pushed his dick in Jack’s mouth. Jack looked up while taking his dick further and further. Once Eric felt Jack was comfortable, he moved his hips faster and faster making Jack’s eyes water.

“Holy shit, Jackie…” Eric groaned running both hands through Jack’s hair. That was all the warning Jack got before hot cum went down his throat. They stay like that for a minute or two, just Eric trying to calm his breathing while Jack cleans up what he can. Some of the cum trickled down the side of Jack’s mouth. Eric noticed this so he wiped it off with his thumb and shoved back in his mouth. Jack happily sucked on Eric’s finger.

Eric pulled Jack back up to his feet and tucked himself away. “Well, I would say that you earned it now.” Eric reached down and started palming Jack roughly. Jack, sensitive from being edged and horny, moaned loudly rocking his hips to meet Eric’s palm.

“Oh, can I-can-can I please cum now?” Jack squeezed his eyes shut focusing on not coming. His hands balled up in fists beside him.

“Open your eyes.” Jack looked Eric in the eyes with tears streaming down his face. “Good boy, yes you can.” Jack thanked him over and over as his hips stuttered and his mouth in a silent O. Once he came, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Jack stood there using the door as support because he knew his legs would give way when not supported. “Oh my gosh, Eric!”

Eric’s eyebrows furrowed together concerned, he pulled Jack in for a tight hug. “Oh no, was that too much? I’m sorry, you just looked so good when you walked in and it was so sudden and-“

“Eric! Shhhh, that was great.” Jack reassured him, he swore he felt the weight get lifted off Eric’s shoulders. “Now, I would love to get out of these wet and cum stained clothes.” Jack pushed his way over to his dresser, taking off his wet clothes in the process. He opened the PJ drawer only to be stopped.

“Different idea for tonight,” Eric started off slowly making Jack look at him with a suspicious look. “Cory and Shawn may have invited us to a little party tonight.”

Jack stared for a second.

“And I might have said yes.” Jack’s eyes lit up. Jack loves to party as well and sometimes begs Eric to go but usually they just end up in bed by 9 doing other things. They honestly haven’t gone in months.

“Oh. Oh my gosh. When?” Jack started rummaging through his clothes.

Eric smiled, seeing Jack happy always caused him to fell like he was floating. He slide his way behind Jack hugging him, “Cory and Shawn are picking us up at 10.”

{}{}{}

10:49pm “Eric, how do I look?”

Eric spun around to see Jack in some baggy jeans with an oversized college crew neck. He looked soft.

“Beautiful as always.”

Jack blushed, bashful my pushing Eric away. Eric was in his typical jeans with a flannel and white shirt combo. He made his way to the bag under his desk, as he picked up the bag, the sound of glass can be sound clanking together. Both shared some laughter before kissing each other softly.

They made their way down stairs out to the road where they waited for the other two to pull up. Luckily, the rain had stopped. They shared small conversation while Jack held onto Eric’s arm with his head resting on Eric’s shoulder. The fall air starting to wrap its cold hands around the two boys. Suddenly, a loud bass can be heard from the distance and to no surprise they find Cory and Shawn are the source of this sound.

The car pulls up fast and the window rolls down to reveal Shawn in the passenger seat. “You ready to get fucked up?!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I am on AO3 as the same username if you want to check out my other works. This is on there :P Requests are open so please message me

XOXO Fairy

[kittwix]

First Kiss with the Joestars

Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna, Jolyne Cujoh, Johnny Joestar, Josuke Higashikata (Gappy), Jodio Joestar x Neu! Reader

word count: 5.4k , it's long if you read all of their parts >_<

tags: very sweet; cavity inducing fluff, jodio is a little mean, reader stand isnt specify or implied, reader is gender neutral!

Jonathan Joestar

Your suspicion grew when he had invited you for a picnic out to the vineyard. He had made it obvious that he liked being around you, even at the times when he would be practicing for his Rugby tournaments, he would always encourage you to be there to cheer him up.

He would have everything all planned out, he had his maids prepare the basket for him and even went ahead to pack some of his favorite lunch items; resisting the urge to just eat them right then and there before he could meet up with you.

Upon meeting, he gracefully held the basket with one hand, offering his other arm for you to grasp. He greeted you with a kiss on the back of your hand, a faint blush gracing his cheeks, eliciting a chuckle of amusement from you.

"My, my, Jojo.. Have you contrived this all on my behalf?" You stood there, curiosity in your eyes and a small smile, as you watched your boyfriend carefully spread a beautifully sewed quilt over the uneven patches of grass. It was clear that this moment, simple as it might seem, was shaped with intention and care, setting the stage for the intimate afternoon you were about to share together. "Could it be that there is a significant event which has escaped my memory?” 

"No, nothing of that sort." Jonathan replied, his smile casting a warmth over you that felt as comforting as sunlight caressing your skin.The sheer sight of him made your tummy flutter with butterflies; his handsomeness was evident, and his disposition was the pinnacle of gentleness. He was the nicest and most sincere boy you'd ever met. "What a delightful day out, wouldn’t you agree? The weather is simply ideal for a luncheon outing with my beloved.” 

"Well yes," You hummed, now it was your turn to be embarrassed as you fidgeted with your hands for a moment and watched him take apart the lunch. "I cannot shake the suspicion that you are plotting something. Quite the mischievous schemer, are you not?”

"What? Me? That’s absurd! Do you truly believe me of being capable of such baseness?" Your boyfriend teased, mimicking a frown which prompted you to gently push on his shoulder as you shared a laugh. It was times like this where you could genuinely admire him. You noted the sharp outlines of his chiseled face, and how his kind blue eyes, reminiscent of the deepest sapphires, seemed to sparkle even more under the natural light. And oh, that smile...

You gradually moved closer to him, inch by inch, until there was almost no room between you. He twisted his head, appearing surprised by the sudden closeness, yet there was no sign of disinterest in his reaction. Silence encompassed you both, the world around you dissolving into a distant hum. 

Within seconds, you closed your eyes and closed the final gap, your lips meeting his in a sweet, short kiss. It was a brief encounter, lasting only a few seconds before you pulled back, but in his gaze, you could swear you saw stars twinkling back at you. He glanced at you, completely taken aback, his mouth slightly parted as if about to speak, capturing a moment of wonder.

"Wow..." He reacted. "That was certainly not within the scope of my intentions, but I must admit.. It was rather pleasant."

Joseph Joestar

It was mostly his initiation, he likes to joke around with you a little too much but that was just part of his personality that you like so much. Not to mention that he can be pretty unpredictable, making him blunt in ways that just makes you like him even more. 

"What do you want now, Joestar?" You asked, crossing your arms at the sight of your tall boyfriend creeping up on you with a stupid smile that could only mean that he was up to no good.

"Ouch! Can't a guy stroll up to his darling and turn on the charm?" He asked, seeming to have pretended to his offensiveness with a hand on his chest as he bats his eyelashes at you. “Anyways, got any plans later?”

“Oh, what’s it to you? Gonna take me out for dinner? Miss Lisa Lisa isn’t going to like the fact that you’re slacking off on your training.” You reiterated back with a little smirk and a hand on your hip. "She doesn't need to know! I can handle almost anything, baby! Just give me a shot, or else you might get kissed." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, leaning in a bit closer, and you couldn’t help but conceal the smile that was growing on your face. With a playful push, you gently nudged him back, enjoying the flirtatious banter between you. “Is that a threat?” You raised a brow. “Or are you asking something out of me?” “Perhaps.” He answered back and for a second, silence enveloped both of you, heightening the tension in the air. It didn't help matters that he was so close, his scent filling your senses. Glancing around briefly, you released a small sigh, shaking your head in a playful manner. With a tender gesture, you reached out and cupped his cheek, the intimate moment shared between you intensifying.

“You’re impossible.” Your voice was a faint whisper, closing the distance between you as you moved in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. The kiss, delicate and sweet, lasted far longer than you had anticipated, but you found yourself loving every moment of it. As you got closer, the temptation to melt into his embrace overcame you, and you could feel his eagerness through the curious movements of his hands, which became bolder by the minute.

However, just as you were about to voice your feelings, the distinct call of Caesar’s voice pierced the intimate bubble you had created, forcing you to regretfully break the kiss. Turning your gaze back to Joseph, you were met with his trademark snarky smile, a look that teetered on the edge of being both endearing and infuriating. He wore his joy openly, quietly bragging to himself about having gained something as simple as a kiss to you. It was a moment that triggered a playful irritation in you, making you want to slap his smug grin away.

As the moment between you faded, you watched him depart with a playful wink cast over his shoulder in your direction before returning back to Caesar. Even as he walked away, his cheeky demeanor left a lingering warm feeling in your heart, a silent promise of more moments like these to treasure.

Jotaro Kujo

On the contrary, it was an accidental kiss and wasn't something that neither of you had planned. It was in front of everyone as well, especially in front of his grandfather, which only heightened the embarrassment of the situation.

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, with suspicions that an enemy Stand user, possibly one of Dio's underlings, was involved. This required everyone to be attentive, continuously on the lookout for signs of an attack or sabotage, no matter how bizarre the situation may be at hand. Despite the tension, the moment had allowed for a brief lapse into normalcy as Joseph generously offered to cover the cost of lunch for everyone. You conveyed your gratitude gracefully, humming blissfully to yourself as you devoured the pasta you'd chosen, enjoying the flavors 

However, your delight was cut short when you felt an unusual sensation in your throat. It swelled quickly, making it difficult to breathe and speak. Panic came in when you realized you were choking, and the situation quickly escalated from uncomfortable to life-threatening. It was Iggy who had caught on to this, the small dog emerging from beneath the table and began barking loudly at you.

The abrupt escalation of events threw the group into a state of alarm. As you began to drool excessively, struggling for air, a small, rabid-like bug emerged from your mouth, adding a surreal horror to the scene. Your attempt to cry out was muffled, choked by the intrusion. Polnareff and Joseph let out a collective scream, their voices blending in shock and terror. Despite the panic that was clouding your eyesight, you could see Avdol and Kakyoin rush into action, summoning their Stands with an eagerness.

In the midst of the chaos and fear, you suddenly felt a strong, reassuring grip on your shoulder, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with Jotaro. His presence was imposing, the brim of his hat casting a shadow that obscured the upper half of his face, rendering his eyes invisible in the moment. Before you could process the situation fully, Jotaro's lips pressed firmly against yours. Shock and a surge of adrenaline caused your eyes to fly open wide, your hands instinctively curling into fists against his muscular chest. As he pulled back, the realization hit you: Jotaro had taken the stand from your mouth, now holding it between his lips. With a look of disgust, he spat it out to the side. In an instant, Star Platinum was summoned, its fist blurring into motion as it delivered a powerful punch that sent the stand hurtling into oblivion.

Everyone was taken aback by Jotaro's action. It was a bold move that had you gasping for air. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as you processed the sensation; his lips had been surprisingly soft, and the kiss had carried a level of passion that left you questioning its intent.

The lingering sensation of his lips on yours created an array of emotions swirling within you, mixing gratitude with confusion and a hint of curiosity. The lingering sensation of his lips on yours sparked a range of emotions within you.

You cleared your throat, the unexpectedness of the circumstance made you feel instantly self-conscious, forcing you to put your plate aside as your hunger faded in the aftermath of the experience. “Thanks…” You said hoarsely.

“Yare Yare…” 

Josuke Higashikata

You and Josuke attended the same school, and it had become a regular occurrence for him to offer to walk you home. At first, you didn't think much of it, considering it a friendly gesture. However, things took a different turn when your school friends started teasing you, hinting that Josuke might have a crush on you.

Today was like any other day, with Josuke offering to walk you home once again. However, a nagging feeling of guilt crept over you as you realized how many times he had gone out of his way for you without expecting anything in return. Despite your gratitude for his kindness, you couldn't help but feel like you owed him something more substantial.

As the two of you approached your house's doorstep, you fidgeted with your hands, an anxious yet grateful smile forming across your face as you turned to face the boy. "Is this like, the millionth time you've walked me to my door?" you teased gently, resting against the doorframe and looking down at your feet. "You're really sweet," you said, genuine admiration coloring your words as you met his gaze again. His presence was familiar and comforting, making every trip to your door a special part of your day.

Josuke rubbed the back of his head, a bashful smile playing on his lips as he blushed slightly at your words. "Hey, I was raised to be a gentleman, y'know," he replied with a hint of self-consciousness, his genuine sincerity shining through. "And, uh, I think you're pretty cool to hang out with." he added, trying to play it off casually but unable to hide the warmth in his eyes as he looked at you. 

"Yeah? I think you're pretty cool too," you replied, crossing your arms and allowing your gaze to linger on his figure, almost as if you were studying him intently. Josuke, with his trademark pompadour, couldn't help but chuckle softly at your lingering look, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

You fought with the thoughts that raced through your mind, urging you to take the risk and make your move, especially after leaving Josuke visibly flustered. He was now haphazardly kicking at a pebble under his foot, avoiding direct eye contact as if quietly expressing that he was waiting for something else to happen before returning home. The tension in the air was obvious, and you could sense the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

"I wanted to thank you for walking with me every day," you began, your voice wavering slightly with nerves. "A proper thank you," you quickly corrected yourself, hoping to drop a subtle hint about where the conversation was heading. "I feel like my words aren't enough. I think you deserve something more meaningful."

As you spoke, Josuke's gaze shifted back to you, curiosity and anticipation flickering in his eyes. He didn't know what to expect, but the moment he felt your hands holding onto his biceps, everything seemed to fall into place. His heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on him, his mouth going dry and his lips quivering slightly in response to the sudden surge of emotions.

Without hesitating for another second, you leaned in and gently pressed your lips against Josuke's, savoring the sweetness of the moment. The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your lips, adding to the enchantment of the kiss. When you finally pulled away, a soft giggle escaped your lips as you admired the lovestruck expression on Josuke's face, his goofy grin speaking volumes about his happiness in that moment. "S-so, uh... I'll pick you up tomorrow?" Josuke asked, a hint of nervousness lacing his words. In response, you gave his cheek a soft tap, a reassuring gesture that brought a smile to his face. With a final glance and a warm smile, you opened the door to your house, leaving Josuke with a sense of anticipation.

“Definitely.”

Giorno Giovanna

During another date that he had arranged, Giorno bought you ice cream as the two of you walked hand in hand. It was a rare occasion when he wasn't caught up in his responsibilities as a mob leader and actually took the time to be with you. Being outside of the mansion felt refreshing, and you were grateful that Giorno shared the same sentiment.

"You know," you started, a playful lilt in your voice as you attempted to coax him into sharing the dessert, "it's one of your favorite flavors. Are you sure you don't want a taste?" Your attempt was light-hearted, an effort to draw him into a small act of normalcy, something as mundane as sharing ice cream on a date.

Giorno's response was a chuckle, the sound warm and rich, filling the space between you. "I'm quite sure. Today, I'm more than happy just to see you enjoy it," he replied, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. 

It made you wonder if he'd ever considered taking the relationship to the next level. Nothing extravagant, simply the fact that you've been dating for a while now and he has never initiated a kiss. How you ached to feel his lips on yours. Given his soft-spoken demeanor, you wondered if his lips were also soft and moisturized, providing an intoxicating lasting sensation with each kiss. Given that you were staring a little too long, Giorno had turned to meet your eyes as an evident grin spread across his lips as he cups his own cheek out of embarrassment. “Is there something on my face? You look like you have something you want to say.”

“Mmm, yeah actually.” You responded back with lidded eyes as you gave his hand a small squeeze and stopped your tracks. "There’s been something I’ve been wanting to do for the longest.” You admitted as the ice cream in your hands slowly melted from the bright sun above. You continued, “If I have your permission to touch you, will you trust me?” 

"You always have my permission, you don't need to ask," Giorno reassured you with a gentle smile, his eyes watching you carefully. As you wrapped one arm around his neck, the distance between your bodies shortened, creating a more intimate atmosphere. Your cheeks were flushed, and the way he met your gaze without much of a reaction made butterflies flutter in your stomach. You felt his arm snake around your waist, and it almost seemed like he knew exactly what you had planned to do next. The anticipation and closeness between you added a thrilling suspense to the moment.

Eventually, the both of you lean in to share a passionate kiss. Much to your pleasure, his lips were soft and so were his hands as it continues to explore the rest of your body. You felt weak in the knees, your hand rested on his chest and once the two of you pulled away you were left starstruck. “Giorno...” “Shall we get going?” The question, simple and gentle, jolted you back to reality, yet the magic of the moment lingered like the afterglow of a sunset. His hand, warm and reassuring, squeezed yours. You nodded your head in response, letting the blonde lead the way as the two of you continue to enjoy the rest of your date. 

Jolyne Cujoh

Well, it was more of a dare than something that was just intended. Whenever she was in a good mood, she hardly took herself so seriously, especially when she was messing around with her friends. Though it was pretty easy to break down the tough exterior that she occasionally displays on herself. That’s just how Jolyne is and you admire her for that.

You were seated comfortably on the carpet of your apartment, surrounded by your friends and the lively energy of the gathering. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, fueled by the risky game you had all decided to play. With each round, bets were placed, and allowances were on the line as you wagered on the most obscure acts and challenges.

However, things took an unexpected turn when Ermes placed a cash bet on Jolyne kissing you. The room fell silent for a moment as everyone's gaze focused on you and Jolyne, the heightened tension palpable as the game appeared to have strayed into personal territory. 

“Where’d that even come from? You tryin’ to make fun of us or something?” You asked Ermes, your cheeks felt warm,

Ermes just laughed, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she observed the sudden tension between you and Jolyne. "What? Can't handle a little dare?" she teased, her grin widening at your discomfort. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation, especially when you caught Jolyne's eye. Her usually fierce demeanor seemed softened by the flush of embarrassment, making her look unexpectedly vulnerable.

Jolyne let out a deep breath, her gaze shifting from you to Ermes and then back again. "Fine," she finally said, the word coming out more as a challenge than a submission. She leaned closer, her eyes locked with yours, a mix of defiance and something softer you couldn't quite place. The room fell silent, the playful teasing of moments ago replaced by an almost electric anticipation. You could hear your heart beating, loud in the quiet of the room, as Jolyne's face came closer to yours. Her eyes flickered closed, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear.

The kiss was brief, a simple press of lips that felt like a spark through your entire body. When she pulled back, her eyes met yours again, searching for a reaction. The room erupted into whistles and laughter from Ermes and Foo Fighters, but both you and Jolyne were caught in a moment of silent communication, a question and answer passing silently between you.

Jolyne broke eye contact first, turning back to face Ermes and the others with a nonchalant shrug. "See? Just a kiss," she said, her voice steady but you noticed the slight pink still coloring her cheeks.

You were left a little dazed, warmth spreading through your chest. Although the kiss was part of the game, it felt like it carried more weight than either of you would admit. As the game continued and the evening wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at Jolyne, wondering if the moment had meant as much to her as it did to you.

Johnny Joestar

Just as he was about to join the big horse race, you had to pull him back a bit as you couldn’t help but worry about his own well being. It was a big deal, people can get way too competitive and you tend to worry over the littlest things. Of course, he had to reassure you that he was gonna be fine and that he would just have to be away for a few days, perhaps a few weeks or even months. The thought of being so far away from him already made you anxious and he noticed this, so he held your hands and looked up into your eyes. 

"I'll be fine, promise," he responded, his voice full of confidence and calmness. You wanted to believe in his statements and that he would carefully go through the challenges. You knew deep down that despite the distance and time away, he had the courage and determination to return to you.

Before you could say anything else, an obnoxiously loud horn blared, causing both you and Johnny to flinch. The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, signaling that the horse race was about to commence. You observed Johnny, noticing how his gaze fixated on a man in a hat, attending to a horse. While you were curious about his sudden focus, you decided not to inquire and instead diverted his attention back to you.

You stretched out and cupped his cheek, gently turning his face toward you. The touch was both calming and anchoring, a gentle reminder amidst the chaos of the race. Johnny's gaze met yours, and everything else disappeared into the background. The clamor of the crowd, the excitement of the race, everything went incidental.

In the heat of the moment, you let your body take control as your brain lagged behind. You wrapped your arms around Johnny, pulling yourself closer to his pretty face and eventually your lips locked with his own. You could tell you caught him off guard with the way his body jumped but he immediately melted into the kiss.  The world around you seemed to fade into a blur, leaving just the warmth of his lips against yours and the rhythmic beating of your hearts in perfect harmony. It was a frozen moment in time, with every touch and sensation speaking volumes about your relationship.  

After the lingering kiss had finally ended, Johnny's lips retained their puckered form for a moment longer, as if trying to capture the essence of the intimate moment. His eyes remained closed, basking in the residual warmth of your embrace. It wasn't until you let out a playful giggle and lightly tapped his cheek that he snapped out of his reverie, realizing that the kiss had come to an end. Johnny's face broke into a sheepish grin as he opened his eyes, the delighted twinkle in them reflecting how deeply he had lost himself in the experience.

"Having fun there, loverboy?" you teased with a playful grin, unable to hide the amusement dancing in your eyes.

"Shut up, and kiss me again before I go for real this time," Johnny mumbled in a half-serious, half-playful tone, already leaning in with closed eyes, anticipating the next kiss. You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully at his eagerness, knowing all too well how much he enjoyed these moments of intimacy.

Granting his wish, you leaned in closer, planting a series of small, teasing pecks on his lips. Each kiss was light and fleeting, just enough to leave him wanting more but sufficient to see the satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

His embrace was overwhelmingly tight, his clinginess something you adored in him, yet you hadn't quite anticipated the sheer strength he possessed. It left you feeling somewhat overpowered, as if you were about to be compressed into nothingness. Your reaction was a series of light giggles, and although you attempted to push him away gently, it only led him to draw you closer once again. Looking down at you, Gappy gently held your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"Josuke, what's gotten into you?" you question playfully about your boyfriend, but Gappy's arms remained tightly around you. Sure, you had grown accustomed to his affection, though it may occasionally take you by surprise with its intensity. You were also aware of his memory loss and continued search for his identity and purpose. Being one of the first people he met after losing his memory, he quickly developed an emotional connection to you, which you accepted wholeheartedly. 

“You’re warm...” He muttered quietly, his fingers tracing patterns across your skin, inducing involuntary shivers. His acts toward you were noticeably compassionate, in stark contrast to his usual approach. Really, he had charisma, a natural capacity to attract those around him, as well as characteristics that made him unique. Nonetheless, he was ready to get violent at any given moment. But with you, he was someone completely different. He treated you with tenderness and care that spoke volumes, distinguishing you to be special in his eyes. It was this sharp contrast, this respite from his rougher side, that made you feel sincerely appreciated and cherished.

"Jojo..." Your words was just a whisper, a sweet utterance full of care as you softly lifted your hands, cradling his face with the utmost care.You allowed your eyes to wander over his features, memorizing each detail—the curve of his brow, the depth in his eyes, the subtle strength in his jawline.  As you leaned closer, your lips discovered the warmth of his forehead and planted a delicate kiss. With each kiss, you followed a line across his face, from his forehead to his cheek, and finished with a peck on his chin.  He reacted with a slight start to your boldness, a small but noticeable jump, yet he remained silent, his eyes speaking volumes of the surprise and warmth he felt.

You wanted to giggle, a sense of satisfaction at getting such a reaction from your boyfriend. You were about to say something witty and sharp, the words almost dancing on your tongue, eager to tease him even more. However, before you could make your smart remark, the scenario took an unexpected turn. His hands, echoing your previous move, rose to gently cup your face. The world seemed to stop for a time as his eyes fluttered shut, sending a subtle indication of his intentions.

Then, with unexpected boldness, he closed the gap between you, pushing his lips against yours in a daring kiss. His unexpected action left your eyes wide open in shock for just a second, leaving an unspoken query hanging in the air. But as the surprise wore off, a warmth flowed through you, and you found yourself easing into the kiss, your body's tension melting away as you reacted with equal passion.

Once the two of you pulled away, you were left breathless, your cheeks were warm and it was hard to really look him in the eyes after such a passionate kiss. You were at a loss for words as well, it was hard to really think about what to say next. It seemed like he was on the same page, his eyes simply looking at yours as he tried to read the expression that you had on your face. Rest assured, there was definitely going to be more kisses after that. 

Jodio Joestar

Your frustration was palpable when you stumbled upon him yet again engaged in the act of selling drugs, this time to a group of unfamiliar faces. The sight of him engaging this illicit exchange stirred a flare of anger within you, prompting you to confront him directly. Standing there, your posture rigid with your arms tightly crossed over your chest and a frown etching deep lines of disappointment across your face, you were the picture of discontent.

Jodio, seemingly unconcerned by your appearance or the dissatisfaction etched all over your face, simply snickered to himself dismissively. He nonchalantly shook a baggie full of dollar notes, flaunting the goods of his trade right in front of your eyes, all before he had a chance to properly register your presence or understand the depth of your anger.

"Again?" You couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you observed his repetitive behavior. It was a mix of frustration and disappointment that colored your expression, a silent plea for him to understand the significance of his actions. However, his response was careless, with a mere shrug that appeared to indicate a lack of regard for your issues.

"What's the big deal?" he asked, his tone tinged with casualness as he continued walking, dismissing your concerns. He passed you and headed in the direction where Dragona had parked his car. However, you were not going to let him off the hook so easily. You followed closely after him, the mean expression still engraved on your face as you gazed at his back. Your steps were deliberate, each bearing the weight of your frustration you had for him. His relaxed demeanor simply bolstered the urge to confront him and make him realize the weight of his actions that he had on you.

"What's the big deal?" For god's sake, you're a 15-year-old selling drugs to a couple of dickheads!" Your frustration spilled out in words, your voice infused with fear and exasperation. "You'll get in big trouble, and they'll take you away, and—" Before you could continue, you were interrupted by his irritatingly loud yawn. The interruption left you speechless, your eyes narrowing.  The boldness of his attitude, yawning as if your issues were nothing more than a little annoyance, was frustrating. "You're unbelievable," you said under your breath, your words filled with disappointment.

"What's unbelievable is that you care so much," he spat back, his tone defiant as he stuffed the bag of cash into his pockets. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face you directly. "What? Cat's got your tongue? You're kinda funny," he added with a hint of sarcasm, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Your initial instinct was to lash out, to give voice to the frustration swirling inside you. But in a split second, something shifted, and before you could fully process it, your impulses took over. Without a second thought, you grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, pulling him closer, and pressed your lips onto his.

The kiss was impulsive, a burst of emotion that manifested in the heat of the moment. You could feel the texture of his slightly chapped lips against yours. It was a surprise even to yourself, this sudden act of intimacy amidst the tension and conflict that had defined your interaction moments ago.

“I’ll… see you around.”

[moonstruckme]

hi Mae could do a reader with Spencer (or any boy u want!) where she's feeling super nauseous and throwing up a lot and trying to hide it from him like may be it's early on and she feels embarassed? I went out to brunch with a friend and idk what happened but I think I got food poisoning I've already thrown up twice and still feel so so sick

Ugh food poisoning is the worst, but I hope you're over it now lovely! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: vomitting, nausea

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Part of you thinks you should cancel. You’re not a very good time right now, nauseated and shaking a little from the exertion of walking from your car to the host’s stand. Spencer deserves a date that doesn’t have to scope out bathrooms like escape routes the moment she enters the restaurant. But oh, he’d been so sweet in asking you. All soft eyes and gentle voice, and he’d sent you the menu to make sure you found something you liked before he made the reservation. You know it can’t have been easy to get, at a nice place like this on a Saturday night. Really, at the end of the day, there is simply no world where you cancel on Spencer. 

You paste on a smile for the hostess, wondering if she’d find it odd if you leaned on her stand for support just for a moment. “Hi,” you say. “Um, I’m meeting someone, I think he’s already…” 

A touch at your elbow prompts you to turn. 

“Hi,” Spencer says. 

You go a bit breathless at the sight of him. Spencer in a suit. His hair still messy as if he ran his hands through it after leaving home, the top button of his shirt open like he had it done up all the way and then felt too constricted. He looks handsome and endearing and nice. Your sundress and half sweated-through makeup feel suddenly, hopelessly inadequate. 

“Hi,” you say back. “Sorry, I thought you’d already be sitting down.” 

“I wanted to wait for you,” he replies simply. He turns to the hostess. “For Reid?” 

As she walks you to your table, it dawns on you what an idiot you are. Possibly the only thing you could do to Spencer that would be worse than cancelling on him would be to show up as you are now. Listless and unprepared for conversation. You’re going to have to order either the smallest thing on the menu or nothing at all, and he’s going to think you don’t want to be here with him. And for yourself, you want to experience this—a first date, with Spencer, and quite possibly your only date—with all the appropriate butterflies and nervousness. Instead, you just feel…tired. And sick. 

“This is really nice,” you say as you sit down. 

“Yeah?” Spencer reaches for the carafe in the center of the table, pouring water into your glass and then his own. “I’m glad you think so. I’ve only been here once, but I thought it was good then, so. I hope you like the food.” 

He spills a little bit of water on the tablecloth, missing his glass. Winces as sharply as if he’d shattered it. Oh god; he’s nervous. You’re going to so disappoint him. 

“Sorry I was late.” You take your water, the cool glass against your hand a relief. “I was…” Well, you were vomiting in your bathroom. “I got a bit tied up on my way out.” 

“That’s okay,” he says easily. “You look really beautiful.” 

You wish you could tell yourself he was only a good liar. You feel clammy, and disgusting, and entirely undeserving of sitting across from him, but it’s all earnestness in Spencer’s puppy brown eyes. 

“Thank you.” Your voice has gone soft with sincerity. “You look very handsome, too. I’ve never…I don’t think I’ve seen you in a suit.”

Spencer smiles, bashful. “I should probably wear them more for work. Most of my team does.” 

“I like what you wear,” you say. “It suits you. Very professor-y.” 

Drinking water was a bad idea. You’ve been too greedy for the cool feel of it going down your torn-up throat; your glass is nearly empty already, and already it wants back up. 

“It would probably be more professional if I dressed like the others, though.” He gives a one-shouldered shrug. Adorable. “I am a professor, but I’m also a profiler, so…” Spencer’s smile slips when you swallow against the nausea tightening your throat. “Are you okay?” 

You press your lips into a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t think there’s anything unprofessional about your regular clothes. I like your cardigans.” 

“They’re not…they’re not unprofessional, I guess, but I…” You can see Spencer’s brain working, his eyes moving over your face as you struggle to appear attentive. “Sorry, are you sure you’re okay? You look uncomfortable.” 

You could almost laugh, if you weren’t feeling so awful. Trust Spencer to tell it like it is. 

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sorry, I’m not feeling great, but I’m fine.” 

“You’re not?” Spencer looks troubled. Sad, puppy brown eyes. 

Oh, and there are the nerves you’d been missing. Malicious, evil butterflies turning your stomach into an inhospitable environment. 

You stand, your chair squeaking against the floor. “I’m so sorry,” you say in a rush. “I’ll be right back.” 

You are not, unfortunately, able to keep that promise. You spend the next twenty minutes kneeling in a bathroom stall, trying to convince yourself they probably keep the floors very clean in a nice restaurant like this while your body rejects the water you had and then several phantom meals it suspects you might’ve had while it wasn’t paying attention. When you finally emerge, Spencer is waiting outside the bathroom with a glass of water. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. You’re wary of repeating your mistakes, but you take a small sip to appease him before simply giving in and pressing the cool glass to your temple. 

Spencer assesses you with his gaze. You resign to it, knowing he’ll have you figured out by now whether you make it easy for him or not. 

“How long have you been sick for?” he asks softly. 

“It’s not contagious,” you want him to know. “It’s food poisoning, I’m pretty sure.” 

“That’s not…what I’m worried about.” Spencer sounds almost hurt, but his touch is gentle as he brings his knuckles to your forehead. “You didn’t have to come if you weren’t feeling well.” 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. You’re too exhausted to pretend at being anything else anymore. “It was stupid. I didn’t want to bail on you, but instead I’m ruining it.” 

“You’re not ruining it.” His first knuckle moves almost imperceptibly, a tiny caress. “This isn’t your fault. We can do this another time. Did you drive here?” 

“Yeah,” you say meekly. 

Spencer frowns. “Can I take you home? You’re too hot to be driving yourself.” 

He flushes instantly, though you weren’t going to say anything. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“I know.” 

“Here.” He guides you to a bench, his hand ever so gentle on your waist. “Wait here, okay? I’ll grab our stuff.” 

You’ve fully given into wretchedness. You have no shame about resting the side of your head against the wall, closing your eyes until Spencer returns with a touch to your shoulder. He’s carrying his jacket and your bag, and the sympathetic look the hostess shoots you says that he’s conveyed you’ll be abandoning your reservation. 

“You don’t have to drive me,” you say as Spencer leads you outside, one hand at your back like he’s afraid you’ll keel over. “I can get home alright. I don’t want to throw up on your nice suit.” 

“I thought you liked my cardigans best.” If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was teasing you. “Anyway, the idea that you could be sick again this soon isn’t consistent with the idea that you could get home alright.”

It’s so him, the way he reasons this out, like he’s outlining an argument you’d never honestly expect to win. It reminds you that you’re on a date with Spencer Reid, and that makes you feel worse. 

You let him shepherd you to his car and sit you in the passenger seat. He buckles his seatbelt, looks over to see that yours is on, and his hand twitches as if it’s going to reach for yours before rerouting to the ignition. 

“Spence…” 

“Hm?” 

“Just, thank you. And I’m sorry, for making us leave.” 

“It’s okay.” He says it so easily, like a given. He does reach for your hand now, his fingers closing over yours to give the gentlest of squeezes. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t ask to be sick.” 

“I’m really sorry I ate that sketchy pasta last night.” 

Spencer laughs. It’s a lovely sound, lovely enough to make you smile despite the roiling of your stomach. 

You say, in a softer voice, “I think it would have been a really nice date.” 

“We’ll find out,” he says surely. “Maybe next week, if you’re not doing anything. We could come back here, or go somewhere if seeing that bathroom again will make you uncomfortable. I know that for some people nausea can be a Pavlovian response. You spent…a long time in there.” 

You stifle a groan, leaning your head against the window and turning your face in humiliation. Spencer’s thumb stroking down the side of your hand makes it all worth it.

[cosmicpearlz]

my love is mine, all mine

summary: a glimpse into how wonderful your relationship with jude is and how you guys complete each other.

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

~one~

“i’m jude bellingham,” you attempt to mock his deep voice, while trying to contain your laugh. jude playfully glares at you with his arms crossed against his chest.

“you’re not funny.”

“i am so. you know you wanna laugh,” you replied, smiling brightly in his face. it instantly makes him crack a soft smile but he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of winning.

“no.”

“guys, he’s smiling! he knows i’m funny,” you poked his side while smiling even harder. the camera crew around you guys laugh at the way the two of you got distracted with poking each other and slapping the other person’s hand away.

“you guys have to stay on task. start asking the questions!”

“right right, sorry. i’m jude and that’s y/n,” you waved to the camera as jude introduced you.

“we’re here to see who loves the other person more.”

“no. try again.”

“we’re actually here to basically talk about our relationship. is that better?” jude looks at you with a smile and shakes his head.

“whatever you say m’love. do you wanna ask the first question?”

~two~

wining the match by a landslide had taken so much stress off of jude. he played the hardest he’s ever played. the fans from the opposite team giving him and his teammates an obnoxious amount of hate, only encouraged him harder. alas, he can breathe and loosen his shoulders.

jude looks across the pitch to find you with his family. his brother was the first to notice him looking and smiled at him. jude waves him over and jobe gets the hint, tapping everyone else to follow him across the pitch.

meeting in the middle, jude hugs jobe first. pulling him into a bear hug, causing the younger boy to laugh. moving on, he goes to hug his mom and dad. you stand over to the side giving them a little bit of privacy. you’ve never been the one to get in the way of his family, knowing how close they all were. not that they would’ve minded because they fully expected you and jude to get married, with how long you guys had been together. they seen you as a part of them.

“baby, why are you standing so far? c’mere,” jude pulls away from his mom and dad, immediately looking for you. he holds his arms out, prompting you to rush into his arms.

“congratulations my love. i’m so proud of you,” you whispered into his chest. jude wraps his arms tighter around you and lifts you up, loosen one arm to hook your legs around his waist. your arms find their place around his neck comfortably.

“thank you for being here.”

“i’d travel across the moon for you.”

“i’ll travel across the galaxy for you,” jude replies, while looking deeply into your eyes. you smiled and raised a hand to rest on his cheek. he leans his head further into your touch.

“must you always have to one up me?”

“yes. i would give you the world if i could.”

“luckily for you, you are my world and you’re already all mine,” your eyes gazing from his eyes to his lips. with one arm around your back and the other around one of your thighs that rested on his waist, he smirks.

“and you’re all mine,” jude leans his head closer to you, connecting your lips together. a sweet kiss that never fails to spark a burning desire within you. you pull away before the kiss can get too graphic with you guys still being in a public place.

“i love you so much.”

“i love you too darling,” jude places a quick kiss to your head and hugs your body close to him.

completely forgetting he absolutely still had the mic attached to his jersey. the private moment will be a trending topic for the next morning for sure.

~three~

“i’m ready to shake my ass on this yacht!” you jokingly said, causing jobe to make a face of disgust.

“ew i prefer you didn’t. don’t wanna see what you nasties do on your free time.”

“i prefer you do. actually, can i have a private dance?” everyone around jude groaned and walked away quickly to get on the boat. leaving the two of you to walk by yourselves.

“keep it in your pants bellingham,” you push his chest with a knowing smirk.

“i can’t. it literally has a mind of its own when it comes to you,” it was your turn to make a face mixed with disgust and disappointment.

“you are a perv. stop being nasty,” you pointed at him and walked away from him.

jude starts chasing you, knowing you wouldn’t even have the chance to go far because of his longer legs. he caught you in no time and picks you up, making you yelp in the process, along with nonstop laughter.

“you know you like my nastiness. stop pretending you don’t,” he whispered in your ear and placed a kiss on your neck.

“i do. just maybe not in front of your brother and friends,” you replied with, in between your constant giggles.

~four~

football season was finally over. real madrid winning the final cup had been a dream of jude’s and it came true. you guys took a trip back to england to visit his family and spend time with them. unfortunately, the time zone was messing with your sleep. finding yourself restless, you looked to your boyfriend and gaze over his sleeping figure.

“jude,” you poked his shoulder with a whisper. the sleeping boy didn’t move an inch.

“babe,” you shook his shoulder a little harder and jude hummed softly to you in acknowledgment. still he wasn’t fully awake.

“i can’t sleep.”

“darling it’s like three in the morning,” the roughness of his sleep voice stirred up something within you. curse your boyfriend for being so hot even when he’s half asleep.

“i know, i’m sorry. i just can’t sleep.”

jude sits up and rubs at his sleepy eyes. the moon light from the window shining on his face within the dark room.

“what do you want me to do exactly?”

“stay up with me until i fall asleep?”

the silence was loud as you guys studied each other’s faces in the dark. jude sends a small smile to you and gets fully out of bed. he holds his hand out for you to take and leads you to the kitchen. quiet footsteps pattering around the wood floors.

“let’s have some tea then.”

“okay.”

you sit on the stool by the countertop as you watched jude prepare two cups of tea. he knew exactly how you liked your tea. nothing in it but the tea bag and hot water. he thought it was weird but never mentioned it to you.

“here you go m’love,” sliding the hot tea cup to you and placing himself in the seat next to yours.

“thank you baby. i’m sorry i woke you.”

“it’s not a problem. is anything else wrong or you just really couldn’t sleep?”

“no, i just couldn’t sleep,” you pout, making the boy quietly laugh. he lifts one of your legs into his lap, rubbing the bare skin with his free hand before taking a sip of his own tea.

“well luckily i’m really good boyfriend.”

“oh really?”

“mmhm. who else would wake up at the ass crack of dawn?”

“you have a point bellingham,” you sip your tea to hide your incoming smile. “have i ever told you i love you?”

“hmm, you might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“once or twice? woah, you gotta give me more credit babe.”

“where’s the fun in that sweetheart?” you give him a dead straight look, while jude quietly laughs some more.

“i’m kidding. i love you more,” jude leans over and captures your lips in a kiss. moving to then place kisses all over your face, laughter now spreading out in you.

“not possible. i love you wayyy more.”

“ugh as if.”

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 2; ghoap x reader) masterlist

-

The hard part is admitting to himself that he doesn’t know how to function on leave without Ghost’s voice in his ear.

Johnny’s two days into his annual leave when that stray thought crosses his brain. Out with chums even, packed into the booth of an old pub in his hometown, the leather well-worn and a match on the telly that he half watches while one of his mates goes up to the bar to order another round for them. In between his third and fourth pint of lukewarm mild, he thinks something like, wonder what Simon’s up to.

The thought comes and then keeps coming. Keeps cropping up when he least expects. At the pub (wonder what Simon’s up to), in line at the grocery store (wonder how Ghost takes his steak), drowsily puttering around the kitchen while making breakfast (no way he wears the mask at home), listening to some guy in front of him hack up a lung at the dry cleaner (Lt’d do his fuckin’ head in if he was here), and even in the shower with his head tipped back, rinsing out the suds (wonder if he’s got a girl tucked away at home). 

Is it so unusual? Johnny can’t remember a time in his life when someone lived in his head night and day, but Ghost’s presence feels like an extension of his own these days. He’s cycled through girlfriends without a care in the world, without contemplating their existence for half as long, but they never cradled his life like a small bird in the palm of their hands and returned it safe and sound, did they?

Still, he feels it like a knot in his chest. Dreams about Ghost even; wakes up hot and hard, and scrubs his hand down the side of his face when he sits up in bed. Phantom memories of a body heavier than his weighing him down (just the duvet) and a thick hand curling around his dick (his own hand wrapped around his shaft, rubbing one out in his sleep). 

He shakes it off, but it follows him out into the real world. Looking at the door of a coffee shop and thinking absentmindedly, Ghost would have to duck under that. 

Johnny puts it out of his mind. As much as he’s able to, that is. Chalks it up to some kind of hero worship. He’s worked with superior officers before—plenty of times, hundreds of times—but there are few men of Ghost’s calibre, both in skillset and mystique. Not to mention the sheer size of the guy. And what is Johnny if not a moth to a flame?

Better not to ruminate. He casts the memory of seeing Ghost’s dick in the showers after their last mission (monstrous thing, uncut, pubes darker than the hair on his head, more than a mouthful—it’d give him lockjaw) out of his head. Doesn’t think about it. Laughs at a mate’s joke at the pub when he didn’t catch a word of it to mask the way he perked up at the sight of a wide-shoulder man until he turned around, giving Johnny a proper look at his face.

He’s not ready to think about it. Might never be able to really look at why he eats it up, why he struts around with his chin cocked just a bit higher than usual because he knows everyone else is watching him with equal parts envy and curiosity for being Ghost’s favourite. 

Then, one day, he meets a girl.

Johnny’s not winning an award any time soon for world’s best son, but he knows a thing or two. The first thing being chocolates and the second being flowers. His sisters handle the rest; they fuss about the party, get a gift certificate to the spa, send out the invites—all that fun stuff. He’s sent off for the bare essentials. Practically kicked out of the house by his oldest sister—nearly brains himself on the asphalt and tugs his windbreaker on when it’s thrown out the door after him a second later, grumbling about being the errand boy.

He picks up a box of chocolates from the corner shop (not fancy enough, his sisters will probably bitch, but that’s a problem for later) before heading down the road to the florist. There’s a bench out front stacked with tin flower vases, the only spot of colour on a dreary spring morning. He spends a couple minutes chatting with the cashier and flirting a bit halfheartedly (he thinks maybe it’ll be worth it if it gets him a discount, even five percent off) until the florist comes out from the back. 

“Jesus, who gave ye the right?” Johnny breathes, horse blinders on, vision narrowing on the object of desire coming out of the back in a linen apron and simple t-shirt underneath, scissors poking out of the front pocket. 

“The right?” she repeats back, blinking.

“To leave the house lookin’ so fuckin’ gorgeous. Glad I wasn’t driving when I passed you by—woulda been in a twenty car pile up.”

She’s not impressed in the slightest. It’s thrilling. By that point, the cashier is long forgotten. Probably not the best impression he’s ever made, but he’s made worse ones. It’s not every day he comes across an angel. Hard to be polite in front of a real life miracle. 

He wears her down over the week though, showing up each day for a new bouquet. His mam’s never liked him more, so at least there’s that. His sisters side-eye him whenever he ducks out of the house to head down the road to the florist’s, but even they know better than to bring it up and risk pissing off their mam. He interrogates her about flowers and her job, makes his presence unavoidable, a week long siege that ends with Johnny taking her out to dinner and then letting her take him to bed. 

He wakes up nestled in her cozy apartment above the flower shop, stretching out and making himself right at home. When she trades in her linen apron for a terry cloth robe and stands expectantly by the door, Johnny just grins. Shows all of his teeth. 

“Are ye just gonna use me and kick me out?” he pouts. Folds his hands behind his head and digs a foot into the sheets, trying to sink into the mattress. Little king in his castle. 

“You know, you don’t have to pussyfoot around with me. Weren’t you just trying to get laid?” she asks, brow arched. The disbelief thick in her voice makes it clear what she thinks of him. 

“No’ just some playboy, hen,” he scoffs. “I have feelings too.”

Her other eyebrow lifts. He’s tickled pink.

He plays the part well, he supposes. Lounges in bed and eats grapes all morning while she stares at him from the kitchen like he might dissipate at any moment. He’s used to leaving a false impression, like a lake that someone builds their house next to until years go by and someone says I think this was once a meteor. 

When she comes back to bed around mid morning, Johnny wastes no time pulling her up onto the bed until she plants her cunt over his mouth and sinks down onto his waiting tongue. 

Candy sweet pussy, he thinks blissfully, then says it out loud because he can never keep his mouth shut. It must tickle because she yelps and nearly pulls away from his face altogether, but he wrenches her back down, fingers digging into her ass cheeks a bit too forcefully. He’ll pay for that later. 

In the aftermath, when she collapses beside him in bed and rests her head on his chest while he plays with her hair, he itches in his skin to message Ghost. It perplexes him. They never text, he and Ghost; they don’t call, they don’t write, they don’t email. For all intents and purposes, their relationship ends at the perimeter around base, dissolves to nothing. It’s not Ghost’s fault he trickles into Johnny’s dreams sometimes. 

A week goes by. Calm the mind. He thinks of Ghost and his fingers tremble and the phone stays silent and he lets the thought go. Steady. Breathe in and out. His caryatid girl slips in and out of his sheets, hesitant always like he might leave. Johnny doesn’t know if she wants him to, wants to feel vindicated in her assumption, but of all her wants, that ranks the lowest in his mind. 

He spirals deeper into it, infatuated. She’s sweet but snippy, candy sweet with a sour kick—everything he’s ever wanted in a girl. Ever unimpressed, watching him with a small, hidden smile, amused despite herself. 

Johnny wonders if this is the universe waving its hand in front of his face. Yoohoo, missing something?

He looks pointedly away. 

It’s new, but maybe he’s like every other military man in the world, unable to go with the flow, dissatisfied with seeing where things go. He needs instant gratification, everything now-now-now, the certainty of commitment—he spills blood with everyone he knows, so why would his girl be any different?

Returning back to base is harder this time around. The last day of his leave is an exercise in restraint, tempered only by her smile when he sees her off at the door to her apartment, reluctant to leave. 

“C’mon, promise me you’ll call, hen,” Johnny mumbles into her mouth, catching her answer with a languid swipe of his tongue. His arms press her tight to his chest, digging his hands into her back pockets and giving a good squeeze, relishing in the way she squeaks. “How’m I gonna survive without ye, huh? They’re gonna have to jumpstart my heart after it gives out from missing ye so bad.”

“So dramatic. You have my number,” she says when he finally pulls back enough to let her speak.

“No, please, baby, please—promise me—”

“Oh my god, alright, fine—I’ll call. Now get going already.”

The drive back to base leaves him feeling bedraggled, lost. When he gets in, it’s straight to the barracks, an hour long nap before reporting to Price, dragging his feet the whole way over. Moping, for lack of a better word, until he rounds a corner and nearly collides with someone that stops him with a single hand on his shoulder. 

When he looks up to eyes rimmed in black paint, the world lightens. His shoulders lift. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Johnny.”

It takes Johnny awhile to bring her up with Ghost. Something keeps holding him back, choking him when he tries to say it outloud. He blames it on uncertainty (had to be sure she was the one, Lt, ye ken?) but he feels the truth at the core of him. When he does finally muster up the nerve to pass his phone to Ghost where her photo is front and centre, no mistaking his intentions, he waits on tenterhooks for a reaction. 

Only breathes out when Ghost asks to meet her. He can do that. 

“Aye, Lt. Just for you.”

[ribbonskiss]

THE LEANOVER → OP81

Part 2 of 2. Read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: You come home on uni break to find your brother’s best friend, Oscar, is visiting. You both fall back into old habits, but some things are not the same.

Tags: brother’s best friend, friends to lovers, slow burn, SMUT (18+), masturbation, Jack Doohan is from Melbourne in this one for logistical reasons, not proofread at all hah

A/N: finally!!! The end of The Leanover!!!! Sorry for the extended deadline, this one turned out chunkier than I expected and honestly I don’t know if I’m quite satisfied with it but it is what it is. Anyway, enjoy!

Oscar is a handsome boy. This is a fact you find to be so uncontroversial it may as well be accepted as a universal truth. There has never been a time where girls did not whisper amongst themselves when he would enter a room, where the mothers of his friends would not rave with great emphasis to his about how strong and handsome he’d become, where his presence at a function did not brighten up the place, because not only is he handsome, he is beautiful. Beautiful people are magnetic, you think; their beauty lies in their nature, their fundamental quality of supernatural grace, a gift bestowed by the forces that be towards the lucky few.

You recall his last year of high school. You were sixteen, still growing into your body and learning how to use a felt-tip eyeliner pen. Teenagers are fascistic about social hierarchy; they are greatly cognisant of their standings in the high school pecking order, intensely anal about preserving the rigidity of the structure, and thus you had long accepted your status as the forgotten sibling. Oscar and your brother were athletes, students with clout attached to their names; you were awkward, unaware of your own intensity, intimidating to a fault, but more than happy to lay low. Two individuals of such different standings in the social order should never interact—but for the first (and only) time you were now going to the same house parties and birthday bashes, and here was the greatest display of Oscar’s beauty. You can never forget that image: the figure of him standing on the other side of the room, so broad-shouldered and trim, freckles of sun damage littered over his skin all the way down his neck like constellations, his head turned away from you to reveal his chiselled jaw as he speaks to someone while holding a can of Reschs. And suddenly his eyes would meet yours, catching you in the act, and he’d give you a gentle smile.

You were always so grateful for this. So grateful he would look your way and beam so brightly, a glimpse of his inner calmness, his quiet gentle bliss. You were never under the impression you were the only one to be so blessed by his grace; you were just happy to be around him. Sometimes when he would come over, sprawl himself over your couch or lay on the floor, pissing himself laughing at your brother’s antics into the late hours of the night, you’d ask yourself whether you should feel guilty for being the only witness to this part of his life. This secret of his: that Oscar is so much more beautiful than most people will ever know. Not his fans, not his colleagues, not the majority of the world. This is between you and him.

And now you have him all to yourself. A bit greedy, isn’t it? The past week you’ve spent together has been nothing short of lovely. You find out that he’s strangely disciplined. Oscar’s a dutiful housemate, doing the chores you even forget about without the need to be prompted, unlike most guys his age. He likes to hum to himself when he’s got the vacuum going and he thinks you can’t hear him butcher the tune of “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel. He’s a good cook who prefers careful measurement over eyeballing. He doesn’t read books like you do, but he’s happy to lie on the couch all day and watch a show with you on the telly. And he’s surprisingly touchy—he seems most pleased when you’re both on the couch, your legs crossed and stretched out, resting on top of his, his hand on your foot, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. You don’t speak during these moments. Nothing needs to be said; things just sort themselves out.

At some point in the afternoon you get tired, yawning to yourself, and without even needing to look at you Oscar reaches over, tugs at your arm to tell you wordlessly to turn around. You oblige; your head against his chest, his fingers trail up your forearm to your shoulders and, eventually, the back of your neck, smoothing over the soft, fine hairs that reside there. You’re too tired to mind the goosebumps the feeling of his fingertips on your skin gives you, or the increasing thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat underneath you. You shift in his arms, folding your legs up in a way that makes the hem of your shorts ride up, exposing the curve of your thighs all the way up towards the swell of your—well… It would be so uncouth for him to look there.

It never occurs to either of you that the hardest part of the process is done. The feeling returns: the feeling that arises in you when he looked at you from across the room at those parties all those years ago. The feeling of knowing that person so incredibly well. Of sharing a secret together, and letting that secret grow bigger and bigger until it takes on a life of its own. Of sharing that life together. These things do just sort themselves out, but you would never know until you speak of it.

You are growing increasingly needy. There’s no other way to put it. You’re fucking dying. The heat of the dry, punishing Australian summer is starting to get to you, even with how skimpy your attire has gotten, and having him around twenty-four seven is starting to feel more like divine punishment than intervention. You were wrong all along: Oscar is not an angel, but a demon sent to terrorise you all your life until you give in and the Devil can steal your soul for all of eternity.

He works out every other day. That’s at least three days where he’ll disappear into another room in the afternoon for hours, slips right out just to slip into the bathroom, and then waltz back into the living room as if nothing has happened. But something has happened.

Oscar has a very basic wardrobe at home. He likes his soft, mild colours—dark greys and soft whites, beige tones, navy and olives… It’s very on brand for him, yes. And here he is again, today, emerging from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following him out the door as he runs a hand through his slightly damp hair. He’s wearing a crisp heather grey t-shirt, fresh from the pile of laundry you’d folded yesterday. The sleeves can barely withstand the size of his biceps; he’s just gotten new dumbbells in. And god, the smell of his skin, the musk of him mixed with the soft clean scent of soap still radiating off of him. It’s like crisp hot white bedsheets, fresh out the dryer, already crumpling under the weight of two lovers, bodies sticky from tangling into each other; like soft detergent left out in the garden, where the grass is freshly cut, and the warm sun hits your skin.

This is as close to a primal urge as it will ever get for you. The first few times you could just tell yourself to look away, but now the smell of him is unavoidable, overwhelms your senses, and lights your entire body on fire. You stick your nose into your book the entire time and pray he goes away. Oscar retreats into the kitchen and wonders if your book is really so good that you’d be that engrossed by it. He’ll have to start reading again soon.

“The worst thing a woman can do,” you say, hand in the air with great feeling, “is be cut down in her prime by a man.”

Three beers in and you’re starting up your great tirade already. Oscar watches with an amused smile as he sits on the grass, green Peroni bottle in hand. “I know it sounds so pathetic and untrue, but it is true,” you continue, pacing back and forth with a giggle. “It’s true! I’m so much better off now. No offence, Osc, you’re one of the good ones.”

“I’m very flattered.”

“You should be,” you nod.

He reaches over and grabs a fresh beer from the esky, flicks the cap off with the belt he’s taken off, and hands it to you. You thank him; “just trying to stay in your good graces, missy,” he chuckles.

You sigh, taking a swig of it as you look up to the sky. “Frankly, I’m glad that part of my life is over already,” you say. “I’m not happy to admit it, but for a long time, I had just thought of myself as undesirable. Invisible.”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows with great concern, an ocean tide of emotion threatening to wash over him. “Impossible.”

“Possible,” you nod, with a bitter smile that’s less regretful than accepting of your past. “You know. Surely you remember.”

Of course he does. He remembers every little thing, because they’re not little to him. He remembers it all, how he’d scare off sleazy, drunken boys from approaching you at parties. Even after he graduated, the threat remained: you mess with her, you mess with Oscar Piastri, the F1 big shot. Boys never looked your way because of that; he used to hold you by the end of the party, sitting on the porch of whatever house you’re at, you latching onto him in your drunken half-slumber, both of you silently wallowing in your desires. Drowning, suffocating in each other’s warmth. Then he’d stay over at your house and wait until your brother fell asleep to press his ear against the wall, listening to your muffled sobbing. You were always too eager to suffer alone, to make a martyr of yourself and accept the cards you had been dealt.

But you stand tall now, a soft smile on your face suggesting a great deal of growth. It’s what he’s always found so beautiful in you. Beauty, he thinks, lies in the spirit, an ability to have infinite love and bliss in the face of the frustrations of one’s life. You are a complete soul, whole in ways he may never be, capable of learning to love over and over again and of light-heartedness in the face of turmoil. He knows he cannot truly achieve this because you are his Achilles’ heal. He cannot bear to think of you off on your own without him, doing things with other slimy ratty boys, going places he may never know of. Having a life without him in it. Oscar frowns; had he been too selfish in denying you all your opportunities? You had graduated high school without losing your virginity, without ever being in a relationship, and he wasn’t sure your first kiss would even count as a kiss. He can’t imagine how much that must’ve crushed you—and he was away, far away on his stupid little racing circuits instead of being at home, comforting you, as he should’ve been.

You wave it all off, as if you could hear his thoughts. “Well, I’ve done all of it now anyway, and I’m happy to report that it’s not for me.”

He cocks up an eyebrow. “And what exactly is ‘it,’ Tiny?”

“The hookup thing,” you shrug.

Oscar’s chest feels like it could explode; cold flashes wash all over him. “Oh?”

You playfully shush him. “Don’t tell my family, okay?” you chuckle. “But, yes. I tried it. It was good, until it wasn’t. Very quickly I realised I’m kinda, like, spiritually forty. I need to stretch in the mornings and tuck in by eleven.”

“And kick-ons aren’t until at least one,” he tuts. “You’re always been a sleepy girl.”

“That is true,” you nod, taking another sip of your Peroni. “Anyway, it was worth it, at the very least just to get it all out of my system. I’m very comfortably single now.”

The sky is darker than it should be. The sun has already tucked itself away, and it’s not even evening time yet. “You know, it’s so cliché,” you continue. “That Sally Rooney quote, it’s just like that. I went to uni and got pretty. And all of a sudden men saw me—I mean, I was pretty much invisible before. Before in school, when you and my brother were still around, guys used to do this stupid, horrible thing where they wouldn’t speak to me, they’d just speak to you instead. Even when the topic was about me. Well, no one knows I grew up with Oscar Piastri when I’m at ANU. I’m just me, and I’ve got a nice haircut and a decent rack of tits. And they see me, they see me now and I realise now that they’re all just sort of stupid. I’m very sorry, Oscar, but boys are stupid.”

“No need to apologise,” he snickers softly. It makes you smile a little wider. “But surely they were not all so bad?”

“No, I really don’t know how to pick ‘em. They really were all that bad,” you chuckle, eyes creasing as your cheeks push up in laughter. “Think the best one might’ve been the guy I lost my virginity to.”

Oscar’s eyes widen. He hums, pretends to be normal about it. “Tell me more,” he says.

You nod and oblige. “It was early in the school year. I went on four dates with him,” you start. “He seemed right on paper. Double major, worked for a diplomat, spoke two languages and was well-travelled. Maybe a bit pedestrian in his taste in music and films, but it didn’t bother me so much. We talked okay. He knew what to do, how to be courteous, held doors open and shit—I didn’t know what the whole dating thing was meant to be like, and I was easily impressed. He took me back to his after the fourth date and we listened to his vinyls: corny 70s Greatest Hit compilations and his favourite Kanye albums.”

You take a break, pulling out a thing of lip balm and unscrewing the cap before squeezing it out. “He told me he used to take ballroom lessons for some weird high school thing he did, and he twirled me in his arms, and it made me feel so light and small and girlish that I felt like I was floating.” Your finger spreads the balm over your lips, the feeling cool and tingly on your skin. “He told me I was funny. He kissed me, and his stubble was so sharp and gritty against my skin that it gave me traction acne the day after. He held my hand the whole time. He was an awful kisser. Just kept jamming his tongue in. But it was sweet enough. No one’s first time is good, anyway.”

Oscar tries to swallows down the lump stuck in his throat. His fingers and toes are tingling, chest tight and contracting still. You take another swig. “I’ve had too many of these,” you say.

“You’ve had three, Tiny.”

“That’s more than enough for me,” you shrug, yawning as you set the bottle down on the wooden table outside in your garden. “I think I’d better fuck off to bed now. Sleep tight, Osc.”

He doesn’t sleep in your brother’s bed that night. No, he takes out the spare mattress again and drapes the spare velvet blanket over himself, because he could never forgive himself if he jerked off in his best friend’s bed to the thought of his best friend’s sister. No, there would be no good excuse for that, but tonight is one of those nights where a man simply cannot hold himself back anymore. The alcohol is still burning in his stomach; when Oscar shuts his eyes, all he can see is these elaborate images crafted by his mind’s eye of you, placed in all the scenarios you’d described to him, only replacing that dirty fucker was him, being so gentle and delicate and loving, just how you deserve it. It should have been him there instead to do it all right; it is true that losing one’s virginity is often an awkward affair, his own experience was no less lousy, but if anyone were to have a perfect instance of it it should be you. Oscar can see it all now, how he’d go about it. Holding onto your soft curves as he pushes himself in slowly, the little gasps that would escape your honey-sweet mouth, so warm and wet on his lips. He would die happy, he thinks to himself, as his hand roughly palms his length, hair dampening from sweat in the blistering summer night heat. Cicadas sing outside his window; he heaves wildly, chest rising and falling dramatically as his hand gets slicker with each stroke. He had no idea he could even leak that much.

Thank god you’re sound asleep. He grips tightly onto the soft blanket, balling it in his fist as his eyes shut again tightly, the guttural noise he lets out much louder than he intended. Then Oscar collapses; his limbs go slack, heart beating out of his chest still as he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh, hand now sticky with his spent. The mattress is damp with his sweat. If he wasn’t before, he’s royally fucked now.

Your parents called; they’ll be home on Christmas Eve, but only in the afternoon, and they’re picking your brother up as well. Which means the two of you have some shopping to do; the house should be looking festive in time for their arrival. Oscar pushes the shopping cart, following you deep into the maze that is Kmart. He helps you haul the Christmas tree box in and out of his car. And he watches as you pull its branches down, giving it shape before littering it with baubles and tinsel. And when it comes time to finish the tree, you look him with bright eyes. He smiled at you, takes the Angel Gabriel out of your hands and places it on top of the tree carefully. You put on your silly little Santa hats and poorly bake gingerbread men.

You never end up throwing the rager Oscar jokingly suggested, but you do hold a small get-together after running into some old schoolmates at the shops. So it turns out that a few girls you used to do drama class with are in town, and of course anyone Oscar invites is going to show up—he’s Oscar fucking Piastri—so here you are, with a decent turnout of people currently congregated in the back garden and the living room. You’re thankful enough of them showed up on such short notice, with Christmas Eve only a few days away, and you’re thankful everyone seems to have gotten more civil and mature since you’ve left school.

The doorbell rings more than once, and you peel yourself off of the couch to go answer it, Balter tinnie in hand now that you’re all out of Peronis. Your eyes widen once you fling the door open, revealing a familiar face, standing with a smile on his face and a couple guys behind him.

“Surprise,” Jack chuckles.

“Doohan in the flesh,” you quip with a smile. “You cheeky boy. Since when were you in town?”

“Since yesterday,” he shrugs, and the guys behind him file past you into the house at the sight of some of their mates. “Heard you were throwing a thing with Big Shot Oscar. Hope you don’t mind that I’m crashing—I come bearing gifts.”

You shake your head. “Of course not, no, I’m glad to see you,” you say, though you sigh at the sight of the twelve-pack he’s got in his hands. “Mate, Strong Zero? It’s not that kind of party.”

“Some of us can handle our liquor,” Jack laughs, putting the pack in your arms before smoothing his hair back. “Don’t spoil the fun for the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes, turning your back to him as you walk down the hallway back to the kitchen. “Congratulations, by the way,” I say. “I’m glad to see two of our finest graduates succeeding.”

“I can tell. You’re beaming, clearly,” he jokes, following you in. “It was never in doubt for Oscar, anyway, so I think I deserve a bigger congratulations for making it, no?”

You peel apart the drink packaging, the tins of drink coming loose on the kitchen counter. “Let me get this straight: you want me to be more proud of you for being a worse driver than Oscar?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’m just repeating your words, Jack-Jack.”

“Never said I was a worse driver,” he snickers, shaking his head as he folds his arms over his chest. “You snuck that in yourself. But I always knew you were biased, so I won’t take offence to that, Tiny.”

You turn over your shoulder, glaring at him. Dramatically, he throws his hands up in a display of surrender, but your conversation is cut short.

“Well, well, well,” Oscar grins, strolling into the kitchen and approaching Jack with wide arms. “Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver.”

“Fancy seeing you here, F1 driver,” Doohan beams, dapping Oscar up before pulling him into a hug. “How you been, mate, good?”

“Nah, yeah,” Oscar chuckles, glancing back to you with a smile. “It’s been a splendid break for me. You been good? Didn’t realise you were back.”

“Yeah, just landed yesterday,” Jack nods, a hand on the back of his neck. “Heard you two were doing a thing, thought I’d be jet lagged out of my mind but nah. Wouldn’t miss this.”

You notice Jack’s a little taller than Oscar, who’s having to tilt his head up a little. “Appreciate you showing up, mate,” the older one says. “I’m gonna go catch up with some of your mates, but stick around, yeah?”

“Absolutely, man,” the younger one says with a smile. “Good seeing you again.”

Then Oscar leaves, fingers gliding over the skin of your cheek in passing, a gentle action of tenderness, as if to say goodbye wordlessly. Doohan wiggles his eyebrows. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” you exclaim, eyes avoiding his gaze as you snatch a Strong Zero for yourself.

“That,” he presses on, finger extended now to point to where Oscar had put his hand on your cheek. “The little hand-cheek-look thing. The fuck? Do you have something to tell me, pal?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Please mate, just be normal—”

“Don’t gaslight me,” Jack says, as stern as he can be.

“He’s been living in my home!” you gasp. “Of course we’re a little close!”

“Living in your home—”

“Not by choice,” you roll your eyes. “Just—my family’s all out of town right now. He’s kind of all I have at the moment.”

“Agh!” Jack groans, smacking himself on the forehead. “Genius move. Fuck, I should’ve locked you two in a room myself years ago—”

You put the tin back onto the counter and slowly turn to face him. “Excuse me?”

He frowns. “Oh, man,” he pouts. “You don’t mean to tell me you two are still doing the thing?”

“What thing?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“You know, the thing,” he says, eyes innocent and wide as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “The weird game you two play. I thought you guys would have gotten over it already.”

Your breath hitches in your chest, making you stammer and go red in the face as your confusion worsens. Jack notices this. “What, you really don’t know?”

“No, Jack, I do not,” you manage to breathe out. “Please, enlighten me.”

He shakes his head, lets out a strange chuckle as he leans back against the wall, having taken a tinnie off the counter. “This would be funny if it weren’t so tragic,” he starts, grimacing. “Oscar used to push guys on the soccer team around for talking about you. He’d go silent whenever you were around and get clammy in the hands. He got weird whenever he’d even hear your name. And I’m sure I don’t have to list out your incriminating actions.”

Needless to say you’re taken aback by this. Eyes wide and blank, you look at him with shock as your mind oscillates between delight and horror, hand resting on your chest as if your heart needs the help. Jack sighs, and after a moment of tense silence he speaks again. “I take it that’s enough proof for you.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“We thought you knew,” he shrugs. “And it wouldn’t have been my place to meddle, and also, it was kind of amusing to watch.”

You scoff bitterly. “Amusing.”

“Well, not so much now,” Doohan nods.

Silence fills the kitchen again, the chatter outside quiet against the deafening quietness inside. “You do like him, don’t you?” he asks earnestly.

You don’t answer, but all he has to do is look at your solemn face and see the emotions threatening to spill out of you. He comes closer, puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey. Just take your time, mate.”

You nod, but you hear Oscar’s distinct timbre in the distance, speaking rapidly to someone. You turn your head and see him standing in the living room near the couch, and then—like magnets—he seems to feel your eyes raking over his figure, and meets your gaze as his head turns a little. Suddenly you’re sixteen again. He’s smiling at you like he used to, so fondly and sweetly, all the way from another room. Everything has changed but this feeling is the same. Oscar nods his head gently, as if to tell you ‘I’m doing okay over here, and I hope you are too,’ and you realise he’s dropped out of his conversation now just to look at you. He has always done this.

The hard part is over, but you didn’t know until it was spoken of.

You sweep the crushed cans off the table and into the garbage bag, back starting to hurt from all the cleanup you’ve had to do. Thank the lord they all left early; you haven’t been able to enjoy yourself fully since that talk with Doohan. Since then his words have just been eating away at you the whole night, but you can speak to Oscar just fine, you think. You’re trying your best, at least.

“Jesus, have the lights always been this bright?” he says, and by the way he’s stumbling onto the couch and slurring his words a little, he’s probably more tipsy than he’d like to admit.

You shake your head, turning around to face him. The cans inside the bag you’re holding clank against one another. “Fun night?”

“Not particularly,” he says, eyes shutting as he throws an arm over his face, lying down flat on the couch. “Just, those fucking Strong Zeroes, man.”

“I told Doohan he shouldn’t have!”

“He really shouldn’t have.” Oscar groans, eyes shutting tighter as he tries to push his face into the couch, and you chuckle before going back to cleaning up, moving towards the pile of cans on the kitchen island.

“Don’t leave,” you hear him say behind you.

You turn around, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?” you say. “I’m not. I’m just going into the kitch—”

“No,” he whines quietly, muffled by the fabric of the couch. “That’s too far. Stay.”

You stand still, still holding the bag in your hand, visibly confused.

“We should always be in the same room,” he continues. “I don’t want to be away from you.”

You flush at his words. You’re not sure if he quite grasps the implications of what he’s saying, but you chalk it all up to his current state—surely he’s just a clingy drunk. You put the garbage bag down against the wall, approaching the couch as he pulls his legs back to make room for you.

You sit down. “Are you feeling alright, Osc?”

“No,” he replies, too quickly for your liking. Oscar shuffles back onto his back, eyes still shut as his tone is reduced to grumbling. “I had this really awful thought the other day that we’re so far apart. I’m off doing my races and now you’re off at uni doing whatever.”

You cock your head to the side, clearly about to protest, but he starts up again. “I just want to know what you’re doing all the time,” he admits. “And how you’re feeling. I miss you all the time, and I wanna know you’re okay.”

“Oscar,” you frown, putting a hand on his arm tenderly. “If you want to stay in touch more, of course we can—”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay in touch. I wanna be with you.”

You pull your arm back. He winces, missing your touch. “Tiny, this must sound so crazy.”

“No,” you assure him, though you’re struggling to comprehend his words. “I just don’t know what you me—”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your blood runs cold even as your stomach shatters and explodes into a million butterflies that feel hot like lava inside of your body. “I know it must sound so crazy,” Oscar chuckles bitterly. “I know it must be so crazy…”

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t think it’s crazy. I just, I wonder how you’ll feel in the morning.”

“It’s not the alcohol.”

He opens his eyes only to look at you, pupils darting around slowly to find you, the only soothing sight when the lights are still killing him. Oscar smiles a little at your familiar face. “I spoke to Doohan,” he explains.

“Ah,” you mumble, flushing. Of course he did.

He pauses a bit, tries to find the courage to speak again. He finds it in how your eyes seem to shine a little brighter where you’re sitting, mesmerised by how beautiful you are tonight. “He’s right, you know. I feel a bit silly, or stupid rather, like I don’t know how to explain myself.”

“Well,” you chuckle timidly, looking down at your hands. “I would have some explaining to do myself, too.”

Oscar smiles to himself. He takes a moment to catch his breath; he didn’t even realise he’d been holding it in this whole time. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear that.”

At his words, you look up to meet his eyes again, to see how he’s smiling now, and it makes your chest expand with warmth, heart pumping fast. “I’ll feel the same in the morning,” he says, sitting up clumsily now just to look at your face better. He doesn’t want to look away ever again. “I promise you that. I’ve felt this way since forever—I just didn’t know the word for it yet.”

Your eyes widen just a little more at his words; you don’t recognise the inexplicable feeling that’s captured your body, but you think this is what he means. The thing he didn’t know the word for. But you know the word for it now.

“I think I love you too,” you say.

Oscar lets out a quiet noise of relief. He finds your hand in your lap, takes it in his, and just holds it. You look at each other for a long while, taking in the details of one another’s faces. “You don’t look a day over seven,” you chuckle, and it makes him grin softly.

“That’s alright. Did you feel then how you feel about me now?” he asks.

“I think you sealed the deal when you helped me get up on my feet after falling off the slide,” you quip with a smile, and he squeezes your hand a little approvingly.

“You remember that.”

“The little things aren’t little to me, either,” you say, and his heart soars at your words. Oscar can’t resist it anymore; he tugs on your hand a little and pulls you into his arms, hands latching onto your waist as he holds you tightly. You fall into each other like magnets. It just feels right, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but nothing in this world is truly given this way. You had been working for it your entire life, but you’re only knowing this now.

His lips hover over your cheek, and it makes you shiver, but it shouldn’t be like this. “I don’t want our first kiss to be when you’re drunk,” you tell him, pulling away from his flushed face. “It’s… You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. It just has to be right.”

Oscar swallows dryly, but he nods. “You’re right,” he says, with a gentle smile that tells you he’s being sincere. “You’re right. Not like this.”

He pulls you in again, holding you even tighter this time. You feel his heart beating out of his chest against yours, his warm breath against your skin, the warm his arms keep contracting as if he’s afraid to let you go. A warm waft of air filters through the window, left ajar, and swirls around the two of you, bodies now entangled. Neither of you can find a reason to leave, so you don’t. You never end up cleaning the kitchen that night.

The sun’s starting to filter through your blinds now, and you know you have no excuse to stay in bed anymore, but you don’t have the heart to wake him up. Your brother’s bedroom is probably collecting dust already; ever since that night, Oscar’s been sleeping in your bed now, and you both sleep so much better with a cuddle buddy by your side. He likes to be big spoon, but he’s happy to hold you face to face as well, duh! Why would he upset with getting to see your face, eyes shut so peacefully in slumber? He likes to wake up before you because of this, just so he can catch a glimpse of you so soft and pliable in his arms, comfortably happily asleep, but today you’re the one who wakes up first, stirred awake by the birds chirping outside your window.

You try to slip out of his grasp, but he just tightens his arms around you, furrowing his eyebrows in his sleep. You try again and he does it again, this time with a grumbling noise that makes you chuckle.

“Oscar,” you smile, press a gentle kiss onto his forehead. “They come home today.”

“So?” he grumbles back, eyes still shut as he pulls you in, tucking your head under his chin. “What’s it got to do with us?”

“We’ve got to make them brekky, babe,” you chuckle. You press a kiss to his neck now, before deciding you can’t really resist littering them all over his skin. “They’ll be starving by the time they get here.”

Oscar makes a strange, hushed noise. “Well, doing that certainly won’t get me out of bed.”

You’re confused, but then you realise something’s been pressing up against your thigh, worsened by how he keeps pulling you back into his arms. “Oh my god, Osc,” you yelp. “Just from a few kisses?”

“And maybe a very good dream,” he mumbles back. If he were awake, he’d surely be laughing, pleased with himself.

“You dirty, dirty pervert,” you snicker, but you’re tutting at him in a way that sends a tingle down his spine, and your fingers inching down the trail on his stomach is making him shiver. “You’re shameless.”

“Yeah, but something tells me you like it,” he says, but he can barely finish the sentence before you tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, shimmying them down. His length springs free; your eyes beam a little too brightly at the sight of it, making him laugh.

“Someone’s eager.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been dreaming about riding you into the bed for actual years,” you chuckle, long fingers wrapping around him. “You look delicious in the morning, you know that? All sleepy and dishevelled. It’s very sexy, Osc.”

“Ah?” he says, a moan disguised as a word. Your hand starts to move and he can barely hold himself back. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your mouth is hovering over his cock now, warm breath making him shiver before your tongue makes contact with his tip, swirling all around the head in a way that makes his eyes roll back. “Holy shit,” you hear him mutter to himself, and you smile as you drag your tongue all over the length of him.

“Babe, I love the teasing,” he breathes out. “But I don’t think I can quite take it this morning.”

You hum to yourself, biting back a cheeky smile as a thought pops up in your head. “You know, you’re right,” you say. “We’re running on a tight schedule. And we could use something that saves time, so… if you’re getting head, you could give it too, no?”

Oscar’s face lights up at your words. “You wanna sit on my face? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.”

“Fuckin’ hell, any day of the week, missy.”

With that, he puts his hands on your head and pulls you up for a kiss that deepens into a little more. His lips are soft, mouth hot and wet; you feel yourself dampen a little against the cotton of your panties, something he feels too as his hands travel all the way down to your ass, fingers reaching past the fabric of your shorts inside to find the wet patch growing at your cunt. Your fingers hook into the waistband of both layers, tugging them off eagerly as he steadies his hands on your hips again. You turn around, and now Oscar’s got your pussy hovering right over his face. He think he’s salivating at the sight of it. Is that too crude? Jesus christ, it’s just so much fucking better than he could have ever imagined, waking up with you by his side, having the girl of all of his dreams with him now, eating your pussy first thing in the morning.

“You’re not so tiny anymore, hey? You’re a big girl now.”

You flush at his words. “Just get to it, Piastri.”

He needs no further encouragement, hands on your hips pulling you down to his face, tongue flicking a long stripe all the way down your cunt. You cry out at the sudden contact, and you realise very soon that he is very good at what he is doing, soft wet tongue sliding between your folds carefully, lips wrapping gently around your sensitive clit, hands gripping onto the meat of your ass, an action that signifies a clinginess you’d never know from how soft-spoken he is. He eats you out like a hungry man, lapping up the wetness that soaked your panties before eagerly. When you wrap your lips around his cock, taking all of him in until he hits the back of your throat, it makes him groan against your pussy, and it feels so strangely good that you keep throating him just like that every once in a while, just to feel him shift underneath you and thrust into your mouth a little. He wants to be gentle with you so badly, and he is, but he just can’t resist it when you’re doing that.

“Fuck, babe,” Oscar gasps out, pulling away as his fingers continue to rub at your clit. “If you keep doing that thing, I won’t last very long.”

You can tell by his tone he’s slightly embarrassed about taking such little time to get there. “We’ll get there together, I promise,” you say. “Just—ah!—keep using your fingers.”

He smiles, happy to oblige. This time he dips a finger inside you, tongue now swirling around your clit as his finger curls, finding that cushiony spot inside you that makes your back arch a little. There it is. He slips another finger in, tongue flicking fast against you, fingers pumping at a steady pace as you suck his cock sloppily, drool pooling at the base, fingers still wrapped around his length, lazily moving up and down. It’s all too much for the both of you, both moaning and whimpering against one another as your bodies start to get more and more sensitive, responding to each motion with a little more volume. Your back arches, his hips thrust; you know you’re both getting to that climax.

“Babe, fuck—”

“I know,” you gasp, a long mewl drawing out of you as his fingers, soaked in your slick now, keep thrusting in and out of you. “I’m—hah—almost there, too.”

He nods his head eagerly and latches his wet mouth back onto you, eating you out desperately as his hips start to move on their own, filling your mouth and muffling your increasing cries of pleasure as your eyes shut and roll back.

“I can’t take it,” he moans loudly. “Babe, I—oh my god!”

Just as Oscar starts to flood your mouth, you collapse onto him as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless, body slack and limp. “Jesus,” you heave out, flipping onto your back off of him, swallowing all of his load down your throat. The sight of it makes him whimper. You take a good look at him; he’s got your slick all over his face, glistening from his lips down to his chin.

“Christ, I made a mess of you,” you chuckle, embarrassed, but he seems proud of himself.

“A souvenir, yeah?” He jokes, and you push his chest, rolling your eyes, but he pulls you into his arms. “God, that was fuckin’ amazing. You’re fuckin’ amazing.”

You pull the duvet back up over the both of you as you lie down once again, resting your head on his chest now as you look up at him with a smile. You wipe at his mouth with your hand. “There.”

“Aw,” he frowns playfully. “I quite liked it.”

“You fuckin’ pervert,” you say, going to push his chest again but he catches your arm with his hand.

“Don’t get feisty,” Oscar chuckles, shaking his head before pecking you on the forehead. “Let’s just lay here for a bit. And you know, I’ve been thinking.”

Your finger traces shapes on the freckled skin of his bare chest. “About what?”

“About you, coming to see me,” he says. “You know… I was thinking, maybe you could schedule your classes with me in my mind? You know, money’s not an issue. Transport, accommodation, passes, I can take care of all of that. I just need to know you can see me. Not for every race, obviously. But some of them. It’d mean so much to me, Tiny.”

You look up at him now, smiling. “Of course I can,” you nod gently. “It’d mean everything to me too, Osc.”

His face blooms into a smile, eyes raking over the details of your face, savouring it as if he hasn’t a million times before. “Then it’s done,” he says, bringing your hand up to kiss it. “You can’t escape me now.”

“Like I’d ever want to,” you roll your eyes.

Before Oscar can counter with a snarky remark, the door flies open.

“Piastri—seriously? My fucking sister?”

That’s the end! Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Leave em all in my askbox, and again, thank you so much for reading!

[chaostudee]

baby fever, lewis hamilton.

summary : upon seeing lewis meeting a young boy you can't help but imagine a future with you and lewis having your own. warnings : suggestive content

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

the hospitality was filled with eager fans as they awaited their meeting with 7 time world champion lewis hamilton. although lewis had been greeting fans all morning, his smile didn't waver and he gave each person the same treatment as the next. that's what you loved about him, his undenying attention to detail.

looking on, you can't hide the smile that creeps upon your lips as you watch lewis with a young fan. the young boy runs up to lewis to which lewis smiles and gets down on his knees so that he can speak properly to the young boy.

you watch as lewis hands the boy a signed hat and ruffles his hair and taking a quick picture with him before moving onto the next person. your heart leaps in your chest. although you and lewis had only been married for a year it would be a lie to say that kids weren't on your mind. you had many a time imagined you and lewis having a child, with his eyes and your smile.

lewis spies you watching him and winks at you. your cheeks burn and you sheepishly run your hands through your hair. it was the simple things that lewis did that made you flustered, even if it was just as simple as a longing stare or cheeky grin he still managed to make your heart clench.

and you were so content as you watched his fans enunciate the same love that you shared for him.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

it wasn't long before lewis was done with his duties and his first instinct was to head over to you. you were now sat in the corner of the room, busily typing on your laptop to avoid disturbance to others.

your eyes are brought away from your screen when you feel a presence from behind.

"hey baby" lewis whispers into your ear before placing a gentle kiss to your cheek. you turn around to him smiling before pulling him in to place your lips on his.

"what was that for?" lewis asks half smirking when you pull away. you shrug in response and return your attention back to your laptop.

lewis slides into the seat beside you and directs his attention on you. he notices that you are acting strange, and that usually means that you have something on your mind.

"what's on your mind" he prompts to you, tracing his finger uo your arm. lewis's love language was most definitly physical touch and at every utmost opportunity he would.

at this your fingers hover over the keys. "nothing lew"you confirmed, trying to convince him. lewis raises his eyebrows at this knowing that you are lying to him.

"i know you y/n come on tell me what's up". this was true. lewis knew you almost too well, to the point where he nearly knew you better than you knew yourseld.

you sigh and close your laptop before beginning to fiddle with your fingers. "you know earlier...." you begin.

lewis nods but is uncertain. "baby you have got to be specific".

"when you were meeting that young boy".

lewis clicks on to what you are getting at. "ah yeah he was really cute wasn't he?" he pauses "he was telling me that he really wants to be a racing driver and he had a drawing of me" lewis says as he recollects his meeting with the young boy.

you smile fondly at lewis. "seeing you with a young child, i just couldn't help but think about um what if we had a kid....".

lewis had truthfully been thinking about you and him having kids for awhile but he was afraid to suggest it, in the fear that you didn't reciprocate his same feelings about the matter.at your suggestion lewis's smile softens and he grabs your hand and kisses it. "i've been thinking about it too but i don't want to rush you into anything"

you nod and can feel nothing but grateful for his empathy towards you. "i think i'm ready" you say confidently and at this lewis's eyes shine with thoughts of the future.

lewis interwines his fingers in yours. "so....you want to start trying" lewis begins to move towards you to kiss you but you pull away.you gesture to your surroundings and he chuckles.

"i know a place we can go".

taking your hand he leads you down the corridor to his driver's room. you walk in and lewis follows closing the door behind him but not before placing the do not disturb sign on the door.

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