#holy shit my heart skipped a beat i love this

[ilonacho]

boyfriend haul from today

[kirammanswifey]

Could I request the arcane characters with love at first sight?

Like they see reader for the first time and they have a “holy shit” moment?

(Also I’m completely obsessed with your writing it’s ✨scrumptious✨)

arcane characters falling in love at first sight x fem!reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i seriously love writing this kinda stuff—super simple, cheesy sweet moments that make your heart skip a beat. it just hits different, ya know? sevika's part was my absolute fave tho. hope you guys vibe with it the same way! as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The hustle and bustle of the conference room feels distant as you walk in, the murmur of scholars and scientists discussing technological advancements. You weren’t particularly excited to be here, but the possibility of learning something new was always a good incentive. You take a seat in one of the middle rows, pull out your notebook, and look up just as the speaker of the event approaches the podium.

Viktor.

You’d heard his name before, of course. He was the brilliant scientist behind some of the most impressive advancements in Piltover. But no one warned you about the effect seeing him in person would have. His presence is something you can’t ignore, like an invisible current pulling you in, even before he starts speaking.

His posture is slightly hunched, leaning on his cane as he arranges some papers on the podium. The brown hair falls in messy strands across his forehead, giving him a disheveled look, almost as if his mind was occupied with something far bigger than his appearance. But it’s when his amber eyes, sharp and perceptive, scan the audience that something inside you stirs. He doesn’t just look; he’s searching, studying each person with the same intensity with which he talks about science.

Then, when his lips move, emitting the first words, everything changes. His voice, deep and melodic, resonates through the room. Every word seems to carry weight, each syllable infused with passion and knowledge. It’s not just that he talks about science; it’s the way he does it, with an intensity that sparks something inside you, as if his words weren’t just abstract concepts but something tangible, something that calls you to engage, to understand.

You can’t help it. Without thinking, you lean slightly forward, completely absorbed in his speech. It’s as if you’re trapped in his world, as if, for a moment, the crowd around you disappears, and all that remains is his voice and the way his eyes light up when he speaks with such fervor.

And then it happens.

His eyes meet yours.

It’s only for a second, a fraction of time so brief that you might think it was just an illusion. But it’s enough for you to notice something in his expression, something that changes. The rhythm of his speech falters, if only for an instant, but it’s enough for you to catch it. His gaze locks onto you with an intensity that takes your breath away, and you can see him blink, slightly confused, as if he can’t understand why, all of a sudden, he’s so focused on you, of all the people in the room.

“Hm… excuse me,” he clears his throat softly, a small hesitation that doesn’t go unnoticed. His gaze shifts to his notes as if that could help him regain his composure, but it’s not the same anymore. Something has shifted. There’s something different in the way he moves, how he seems more aware of his surroundings, of you.

The murmurs in the room grow louder, and while most of the attendees go on with their own thoughts, there’s something in the air that tells you you’re not the only one who noticed the brief interruption. Viktor quickly picks up the thread of the conversation, as if it’s second nature, as if he’s used to regaining control in unexpected situations. But now, there’s something more in his gaze. The way his eyes return to you, as if there’s something about you that draws him in, confuses him, and yet, fascinates him.

His words no longer seem like just a lecture on science. There’s something more in his tone, a layer of curiosity and something deeper that slips into his voice. Every time his eyes meet yours again, you realize he’s not just talking to the room; he’s talking to you. And you find yourself surprised to realize that, in that moment, you’re completely absorbed in him. It’s a mixture of fascination and something else, something harder to name.

At the end of the conference, you decide to stay a little longer, pretending to review your notes while the crowd starts to disperse. There’s something in the air, a palpable sense that the words between you and Viktor haven’t been fully spoken yet. The noise gradually dies down, but when you look up, you find a presence approaching you.

It’s Viktor.

It’s so unexpected that for a moment, you wonder if this is really happening. His gaze, usually so calculated and controlled, is filled with a softness you hadn’t expected. There’s a warmth in his eyes, something you can’t ignore.

“Ah… hi,” he says, with a slight smile that, though subtle, lights up his face. That smile, the one he rarely shows, makes you feel like you’re seeing something personal, something he doesn’t easily share with others. “Sorry if I’m being too forward, but… do I know you from somewhere?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

No, he didn’t know you. But in that moment, with the way he looked at you, as if he had just made an unexpected discovery, you knew he had just met you… and he wouldn’t be able to forget you.

Jinx

The music in the club pulses, rising and falling in vibrant waves, neon lights casting flashes of blue and purple over the crowd. You're having one of those nights where the atmosphere pulls you out of your usual routine, but you're not planning to stay long. Still, you take a moment to just observe, enjoying the chaotic vibe that always surrounds places like this.

Then you see her.

Jinx.

She's perched on the bar, swinging her legs carelessly. Her messy, bright blue hair seems to glow under the club's lights, and the expression on her face is a mix of mischief and wildness. But it's not that that catches your attention. It's her eyes.

When your gazes meet, time seems to freeze for a second. For just a moment, it feels like the noise of the club disappears. Jinx freezes, her playful smile fading for an instant, and for the first time in a long while, there's a trace of vulnerability in her eyes. Something unexpected.

It's so brief you almost miss it, but you feel it. As if something in her mind paused, and for a split second, she realized that maybe she needed more than just chaos. It's not something Jinx lets herself feel often, but in that moment, she can't ignore it.

"Shit..." she murmurs to herself, surprised by the emotion that just surfaced.

In a blink, she’s back to her usual carefree stance, the one everyone knows, but that tiny moment of insecurity, that brief glimpse of something deeper, lingers.

Without thinking, she jumps off the bar and strides toward you, her unpredictable energy trailing behind her. She approaches with a playful smirk, the kind only she can pull off, her eyes locked on yours, never breaking contact.

"Well, well," she says, her voice dripping with amusement as she leans toward you, her expression cheeky. "I saw you and thought... ‘Hmm, interesting.’ I don’t usually get... caught up by people, but there’s something about you that makes me think of things... not so bad."

She grins with that unshakable confidence. "So, what are you doing here, so far from me? Came looking for me, or are you just the next victim?" she teases, playing with a strand of her hair.

Her gaze darkens. "Because if you're here to stir up trouble, darling, I can assure you, there’s plenty of it to go around. But I don’t promise you’ll be able to handle mine."

Vi

Vi walks into the bar, looking for a little peace after a long day. The sound of people chatting and the soft music surrounds her, but she feels like she’s in her own world. She makes her way to the bar and orders a beer, resting for a moment.

Everything seems calm until you walk in.

Vi notices you immediately. She's not easily impressed, but something about you catches her attention. She watches you enter with a quiet confidence, walking with a calm that feels unstoppable. Her gaze follows your every move, and without realizing it, her breath becomes a little heavier. There’s something about your presence that makes her feel like the air itself has stopped for a second.

It’s not that she hasn’t seen interesting people before, but you… something about you made her pause.

You glance over, and when your eyes meet hers, something in her chest gives a little jolt. Vi quickly looks away, as if simply locking eyes with you has thrown her off completely. She wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket and takes a swig of her beer, a little faster than she intended.

When she looks up again, you’re walking toward her. The confidence in your stride is obvious, and the way you approach makes her freeze for a second, as if she’s trying to process what she just felt.

"I like your tattoos," you say, breaking the silence. "You’ve got a pretty unique style."

Vi pauses for a moment. It’s rare for someone to compliment her like that, and even rarer for someone who seems so… different. Her first reaction is a slight flush, but she quickly regains her composure.

"Really?" she says with a half-smile, trying to seem indifferent. "The great thing about tattoos is that you can never really regret them. At least, not too much."

Her tone is casual, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you think she feels a little out of place in this conversation. For a moment, it’s as if she’s lost control of the situation, but she recovers quickly, not letting it stop her.

"I like the vibe you give off," you say with a smile. "You’re not trying to be anyone else."

Vi chuckles softly, a low, natural sound, as if she’s finally starting to relax a little. "And you’re not afraid to speak your mind, huh?"

"No, I’m not one to be afraid," you reply, never breaking eye contact.

Vi studies you for a second, realizing that this interaction isn’t quite like anything she’s used to. There’s something about you, something she can’t quite place, but it draws her in. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, there’s something about you that makes her want to keep talking, to know more.

"So, are you going to join me and let me buy you a drink, or are you going to keep asking questions that make people feel weird?" she asks, with a newly gained confidence.

Your laugh is so natural and easy that it almost makes Vi sigh.

"I think I can’t say no to such a generous offer."

The conversation continues, and though at first Vi tried to seem cold and distant, she finds herself laughing more than she had planned. She doesn’t know how, but you’ve gotten under her skin, and she doesn’t mind it one bit.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn walked through the streets of Piltover, the day slipping slowly through her thoughts, absorbed in a case that wouldn’t let her rest. Always in work mode, her steps were firm, but her mind was elsewhere. Everything seemed in order... until she saw you.

A few meters away, and suddenly, everything changed. It was as if something, or someone, had sliced through the air. In the blink of an eye, her attention was drawn to you, and in that brief moment, her breath quickened slightly. However, as soon as she noticed, she tried to ignore it, almost as if her mind was trying to correct an error.

"Focus, Kiramman," she told herself, an internal command. But it was impossible.

She looked at you unintentionally. It wasn’t a quick glance or a casual observation. It was a direct stare, almost as if she could see into your soul. Her eyes traced your figure with an unexpected precision, as though she were searching for something beyond what was visible. And for a moment, she felt lost in that strange sensation. Something about you bewildered her, a presence that didn’t fit into her meticulous analysis.

Your calmness, the way you carried yourself, everything seemed to come so naturally, it captivated her immediately. The way you smiled at people as you greeted them, your face shining almost as brightly as the sunlight. You radiated such a unique energy, it was as though you attracted attention with every breath you took. Like a siren with her song, you made people obsess over being near you, and right now, that’s exactly what Caitlyn wanted to do.

A wave of frustration washed over her. What was that? She couldn’t shake that strange feeling, something more than just a glance. It was… something immeasurable, something that didn’t fit her logic.

She shook her head. But she couldn’t stop thinking about what she had felt. That sudden spark, that attraction she didn’t understand. The logic of her mind clashed with the emotional response she had just experienced.

For a moment, she turned around, but it was too late. You had already disappeared into the crowd. "Is that it?" she said to herself, trying to distract herself with the details of her surroundings, but your face lingered in her mind. She couldn’t shake it. She had seen you, she had felt you. Something had happened.

Suddenly, an idea snuck into her mind. What if all of this had an explanation? Maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence. Maybe… maybe it was a new case she needed to investigate. Who were you? Why had she felt that way? A mystery, no doubt.

With a slight smile on her lips, Caitlyn resumed her walk. She couldn’t let a clue slip by, and now she had a new one: to discover who you were, and what was behind that feeling that had left her so confused. The case was open.

Jayce

It was a family dinner, one of those where conversations sound distant, but the glances and gestures feel closer than ever. Both families had gathered to celebrate the new partnership in the family business, the Talis Clan. The factory, known for its legacy of hammers and tools that helped build Piltover, was being expanded with new alliances. Your parents, as always, were the perfect hosts, and as soon as you arrived, you took a seat at the table, observing the interactions, lost in your own world.

It was an anticipated event, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable. Silence had been a part of you for so long that, even though you had gotten used to it, there was always an awkwardness in the conversations, in the inability to share words. However, at least today there was a sense of expectation in the air. Your family and the Talis Clan were finally going to be partners.

The hum of conversations blended with the clinking of silverware and glasses. But then, as if the rest of the world faded away, you saw him. Jayce Talis, the son of the clan. You had heard of him, his intelligence, his skill with engineering, his success in Piltover, but seeing him in person hit you like a direct blow to the heart. It was impossible not to notice him. His presence was magnetic, almost dazzling. Everything about him seemed perfectly aligned with the city he represented: orderly, bold, but with an underlying warmth.

He saw you immediately. And though he tried to keep his composure, something in his gaze softened. For a moment, he froze, watching you as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. Your eyes met his, and everything about him seemed to stop. In that instant, Jayce felt the sting of love at first sight. It wasn’t just your physical beauty; it was something deeper. There was something in the way you stood, in the way your long hair fell in soft waves, adorned with delicate red ribbons, something that sparked an inexplicable tenderness and charm within him.

It wasn’t just a visual blow, but a feeling of connection, as if the world around him had disappeared, leaving only the sight of you. Your dress, so delicate and simple, highlighted your natural elegance, and in that moment, Jayce felt incapable of looking away. For a second, he thought there was something ethereal about you, as if you were a reflection of everything he had always aspired to understand: perfection and fragility at the same time.

The conversation between your parents and theirs continued around them, but he was lost in that moment with you. He tried to compose himself, but the pressure in his chest was palpable. “So this is what love feels like, huh?” he thought as he forced himself to look away, trying to regain control of the situation.

When your parents mentioned your silence, Jayce couldn’t help but look at you again, curious but also captivated. He wanted to approach, to talk to you, but he realized words wouldn’t be necessary. There was something in the way you communicated with your eyes, how you expressed yourself without speaking, that he found even more fascinating.

“So,” he finally said, with a genuine smile as he stepped closer. “Looks like we’re going to be partners, huh?”

There was an unusual calmness in that moment. As if, without words, you could communicate on a much deeper level. Despite the silence, there was something in you, in the way you were, that made him feel more connected than with many others he had met in his life.

Your gestures were natural, warm, and even without words, Jayce had already made a discovery: the moment he saw you, everything changed. The warmth of your presence enveloped him, and it wasn’t just the fact that you were beautiful; there was something magnetic about you, something that drove him to want to know more, to understand who you were beyond what was evident.

Your parents watched from a corner, and although they didn’t fully understand the dynamic, they noticed something: there was a connection, subtle, but real.

Before he left, Jayce gave you one last look, and with a small smile, added, "See you soon, Miss."

Ekko

The night was dark, with not a single star in the sky. Ekko was flying on his hoverboard, gliding through the air with the freedom flight gave him, when, suddenly, something strange caught his attention.

Your figure appeared in the distance, gliding on a hoverboard identical to his. At first, he thought it was a coincidence, but when you got closer, he realized that your movements were almost identical to his. Your mask was different, a fox, but your presence made him feel as though he were looking at a reflection of himself.

"Who are you?" he asked, with his usual cocky attitude. "Why are you trying to copy me?"

You smiled, a playful laugh escaping your lips. "I could be a fan of what you do... or maybe of you," you replied, staying by his side, flying with the same skill, as if it were all just a game.

"Why don’t we have a little race?"

Ekko didn’t seem to know what to think, but his gaze darkened with suspicion.

"Are you scared? You know you're going to lose, right?" you said, challenging his ego.

"Just don’t waste my time," he responded, and despite his apparent indifference, within a second, he took the lead.

The race began, and both of you soared through the air quickly, flying over the city, illuminated only by the moonlight.

You didn’t care so much about winning as you did enjoying the freedom of the air. You pulled off a few tricks with ease, jumping and spinning, while he focused only on speed. You were having more fun than you expected, but you didn’t let yourself get distracted. You knew this wasn’t just a race; it was clear there was more at play.

As the race went on, you noticed how he started getting distracted, watching you as you performed tricks. His concentration faltered, and the lead he had in the beginning started to fade. When you glanced at him, you noticed his breathing becoming more erratic, while you stayed calm, enjoying the flight. In one final surprising turn, you overtook him, crossing the finish line with a mischievous grin.

Ekko hovered in the air, out of breath, watching you disappear into the clouds. But before you left entirely, you left a trace of your presence: a pink lipstick mark on the white part of his mask.

He stopped and slowly removed the mask, staring at it as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The mark of your lips was there, clear and bright. His breathing quickened, his trembling hand touched the mark, and for a moment, everything in the air seemed to stop. Something inside him, something he had never felt before, suddenly awakened.

"Who the hell are you?" he whispered, staring at the mark on his mask. He could feel his heart beating faster than ever. He knew his world had just become much more uncertain, and at the same time, much more exciting.

Silco

Silco was in one of his usual meetings, surrounded by partners and associates presenting him with an economic offer more appealing than the last. Every word, every figure, was discussed with the usual tension, for every decision he made was crucial to the control of Zaun and his interests. The conversation flowed, but suddenly, everything changed.

The door swung open abruptly, interrupting the flow of words. You entered without warning, without apologies, as if you had no concern about disrupting the moment. You carried a tray of freshly baked cookies and a jug of milk. Your presence was a breath of fresh air, unexpected yet bold. You didn’t seem bothered by the situation or the disapproving glances; your innocent smile was the perfect contrast to the heavy atmosphere in the room.

Your father frowned, clearly irritated by your interruption. But you, unfazed, approached the table with a graceful elegance, setting down the tray. Your gaze locked onto Silco’s, a look so intense that it communicated more than any words could. Your movements, smooth yet subtly provocative, made it clear you knew exactly what you were doing. The innocence of your smile didn’t deceive; behind it was something more: a blend of disdain and challenge.

Silco watched, motionless. You could tell his gaze was fixed on you, studying you, noting every gesture, every microexpression. You weren’t like the others. While others might have bowed before his presence, you showed no fear or respect—only bold curiosity. There was a small challenge in your posture, something that made him feel you weren’t willing to bend to him. You were a challenge.

Finally, you stepped back, leaving behind one last glance, a flash of audacity and confidence. You knew you had left an impression, and you left as quickly as you had come.

Silence fell again in the room. The men continued murmuring, but Silco couldn’t focus on their words. Your presence still lingered, that confidence in your movements, your bold attitude, so... charming. You weren’t the typical woman who waited to be rescued. You weren’t the woman he was used to seeing. Something in your eyes told him that you controlled every situation, that you needed nothing from him.

Your father, embarrassed, tried to resume the conversation, but Silco, without losing his authority, interrupted him with a voice as deep and steady as ever. It was as though he had already made a decision.

“What do I need to do to win your daughter’s hand in marriage?” His question fell onto the table like a verdict, cold and precise, leaving everyone stunned. “I’ll pay whatever it takes.”

His tone wasn’t that of a request; it was a declaration. There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his eyes. Silco had always gotten what he wanted, and with you, it would be no different.

Mel

Inside the Medarda mansion, a tense atmosphere lingered. The opulence of the place couldn’t conceal the growing unease that swept through the halls. The city, as always, was on the brink of rebellion, and the tension in the streets was palpable. Amid all this, Ambessa had decided that her daughter, Mel, needed constant protection. And that’s where you came in.

Your presence didn’t go unnoticed by Mel. From the moment she laid eyes on you, a mix of discomfort and distrust settled in her gaze. Her mother, so meticulous, so calculating, had never been this concerned about her safety unless there was something more behind it. And of course, Mel had deduced what everyone else knew: you had been sent to spy on her. Just another pawn in the vast network of power her mother controlled. The anger she felt toward Ambessa would, not surprisingly, be directed toward you.

“Do you really think you’re going to spy on me? Do you really think I’ll let you ‘protect’ me just because my mother told you to?” Her words were like knives thrown in your direction, but you kept your calm. You knew how to handle those defenses, how not to respond to the provocation.

“I’m here to take care of you, Miss Medarda, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Mel watched you for a moment with narrowed eyes, sizing you up. In those moments, the queen she was, the woman of ice, seemed to disappear for an instant. In the distance, you could see the doubt seeping into her eyes. But she still maintained her façade. The discomfort grew when you moved closer, when the distance between you both shortened.

“My mother thinks I’m so fragile that I need a watchdog…” she muttered, almost to herself, but somehow, you knew those words were directed at you. It was a mix of anger, pain, and wounded pride—something you couldn’t ignore.

“I’m not here to be your watchdog, Miss. I’m just an obstacle between you and what might happen if you didn’t have someone watching over you. I’ll be outside your room for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll accompany you inside, wherever you need it,” you said calmly, not breaking your gaze. You didn’t need to add more; the weight of the truth hung in the air.

But something changed. Something in her attitude softened, even if only by a fraction. Her body, which had tensed with every word, now relaxed just a little, though she couldn’t help it. You, of course, noticed it, and that’s when something strange started to happen. Something Mel hadn’t anticipated.

When you said you’d stay outside her room for tonight, and the next day you’d take your place inside, her breath changed slightly, almost imperceptibly. A tingle, or rather, a sharp sensation, ran through her chest. It was nervousness, something she didn’t experience easily, especially not because of someone like you.

“Y-You… inside?” her words dragged, but the surprise didn’t hide the vulnerability she had just exposed. The arrogance that usually surrounded her seemed to dissipate with every passing second near you. And in that moment, Mel realized her heart was beating faster, that the distances she had kept for years were beginning to dissolve in the air. But she didn’t want to accept it. She didn’t want to be vulnerable. She couldn’t allow it.

The closeness of your presence was too strong to ignore. She, the great strategist, the cold, calculating mind, couldn’t understand how someone so simple, so present, could tear down the walls she had built with so much effort. And yet, there you were. There was that uncomfortable feeling, beginning to invade her in a way she couldn’t handle.

“Good night,” she whispered, not looking back at you. She said it like another order, an attempt to regain control, to reaffirm her independence, but at the same time, her words came out so softly that you almost didn’t hear them. She hurried to close the door behind her, the sound echoing down the mansion’s hall.

Inside the room, Mel let herself fall onto the bed, her body tense but her heart racing. Her legs crossed, her breath irregular, she couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. Why did it matter so much to her to be near her? Why had your closeness left her so… disarmed?

Sevika

It was just another mission for Sevika, one of those tasks Silco had assigned her with the certainty that there would be no issues. This time, however, the job was to steal a Hextech crystal from one of Silco’s partners, who had acquired it illegally. The mansion was heavily guarded, but that wasn’t a problem for her. Sevika was a shadow in the dark, an expert at infiltrating well-guarded places, and always ready to get what she wanted.

After bypassing the initial traps and evading the guards, Sevika reached the room where the coveted crystal was kept. Finally, it was in her hands. She smiled in satisfaction, but before she could take a step back, something stopped her. It wasn’t a sound. It was a sensation, something in the air that made her hesitate for a moment.

Just as she was about to move, the floor gave way beneath her. The trap snapped shut with a sharp sound, and Sevika fell, caught by an invisible mechanism that left her immobilized. The surprise made her frown, but her demeanor never changed; instead of getting angry, she calmly assessed the situation, waiting to figure out a way to escape.

Then, a figure appeared before her. A woman, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. With a playful smile, you approached the crystal Sevika had tried to steal, taking it with ease.

“Well, well... looks like someone wasn’t as careful as they thought,” you said in a mocking tone, amusement evident in your voice as you observed her trapped.

Sevika, who had initially felt the frustration of falling into a trap, couldn’t help but be surprised to see you. But instead of getting angry, something about your attitude made her stop. Your posture, your confidence, the way you appeared with such a carefree elegance... Everything about you gave her a strange sense of fascination, even admiration. She liked you. She was sure of it.

You walked closer, still smiling with that confident attitude. You kissed her on the cheek, and the touch of your lips against her skin left her frozen for a second.

“Thanks for making it so easy, you did all the dirty work for me, I’ll admit, you saved me a huge headache,” you said with a playful smile as you walked away with the crystal in hand.

Sevika watched you, still trapped, but now feeling something more than annoyance.

“Who are you?” Sevika asked, unable to hide the curiosity that had taken hold of her.

You, as if you already knew what was going through her mind, answered with a mysterious smile. “Don’t worry, this won’t be the last you hear of me.”

Before Sevika could react, you had already vanished back into the shadows, like a ghost. At that moment, a strange sense of emptiness settled within her. She felt like this night wasn’t just a dream — she had fallen into the trap.

With the crystal now in your hands, Sevika laughed at the situation. “This won’t end like this,” she muttered under her breath as she began to free herself from the trap. The men in the mansion, the ones who were supposed to be guarding the crystal, didn’t realize what was happening until Sevika was already on her feet, ready to face them.

In the midst of the fight, with punches flying and bodies falling, Sevika couldn’t stop thinking about you.

“You cocky little brat, just wait until I get my hands on you,” she told herself as she took down the last of the guards.

[party-snake]

hi…. could i perhaps request a small one shot in which sebastian immediately develops a crush on some poor diver who just crawled through his vent? and he’s like all shy and shit? thank you :)

Certainly! Thanks for requesting :)

Cupid's arrow

Sebastian x Fem! Reader

Tw: The request and reponse will serve as your warning. Idiots in love.

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oh... oh no. Sebastian promised himself he wouldn't get attached to any expendables. They're just prisoners. Some of them annoying pests who just want to flash him with that damn light beacon.

But you. You were different. The moment you stepped in his shop, you never flashed him. You even bought all his items. You never dared to say anything mean or degrading to him.

He chuckles as he slides the file over to you. "That wasn't exactly a staring contest. What were you doing?" The chair creaks as you slump foward, putting your head in your hands and pouting. "I wanted to look at the pretty shark." That made his heart skip a beat.

He scoffs and leans foward, tapping a claw on the bit of text. "Are you just ignoring the part where she is hostile to all humans?" You huff. "But I wanna look at her!" He rolls his eyes at that. "Look. Don't tell anyone this, but i'll give you a freebie."

You look taken aback for a moment before he frowns. "Take it before I change my mind." You nod quickly and were gone as soon as you came. he takes the moment as a second to breathe. 'Holy shit. So cute.' Thoughts race through his head, mostly of you.

A few minutes pass and he's back in his shop, adjusting his items. "Hi Seb." You say suddenly, catching him off guard. "Jesus- don't scare me like that. How'd you... you were so quiet." You simply nod. He straightens out, weaving his hands together. "Well, uh. What are you here for?" Browsing his wares, you spot a blacklight.

"Blacklight?" You ask. The shopkeeper nods. "Not many of those left. It doesn't anger the squiddles." You make a 'ohhh' face and pick it up, examining it. He chuckles at your cute face and just kinda... stares at you.

He snaps out of it when you wave your hand infront of him. "Seb? You okay?" He shakes his head. "Huh? Wha- Yup." He stutters horribly, cursing at himself. You smirk. "You sure?" You put your hands behind your back and step foward. He puts his hand over his face to block you out.

"Yup. T-Totally fine." You decide to drop it. "How much?" He looks down at you. "Huh?" You snicker and point at the blacklight in your hand. "For this." He looks dumbfounded for a few seconds before responding. "How about... 250. A discount, just for y-you."

"Really?" Stars form in your eyes and his brain stutters for a moment. "Yup." You fork over the data and stuff the blacklight in your bag. "Thanks Seb!" The only sound left in the shop was the thumps from the vent as you made your way out. He puts a clawed hand over his face as breathes, trying to calm his racing heart.

Your laughs, Your manners, the way you didn't immediately try and insult him. It meant more than you thought. He takes a deep breath and sighs, running his hand through his hair. He promised himself he wouldn't get attached, wouldn't grow crushes. But everytime he thinks of you, he smiles like an idiot in love. Oh well...

Sorry this is really short! (at least to my standards) my brain refuses to work apparently, so I forced it. Also sorry if it's shit. I'm tired. 😔

[heartsforvin]

ONLINE LOVE

thank you nonnie for the request !! i hope you like it (:

pairing: gamer!vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: cussing, sexual jokes / innuendos, pure fluff

summary: when vinnie goes on omegle one random night out of boredom, he doesn’t expect to meet you and fall in love in the process

with nothing to do on a friday night, vinnie decided to go on omegele. he hadn't been on the site in years, and honestly thought it had gotten banned.

tagging it with a few trendy things, vinnie fixed up his appearance just a bit before clicking on the video option.

of course he knew he wasn't going to get lucky with someone not showing their junk right away, so he wasn't disappointed when he saw some random guy's dick.

after a few skips and boring people, he finally got to you. "holy shit." he thought he said that in his head, but when you looked up, he knew he didn't.

with a furrow to your eyebrows, you give him a small smile as you say hello.

vinnie can't help but give himself a few extra minutes to stare, you were just so pretty. after a minute, he clears his throat and smiles.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes with a laugh. "just didn't expect to see such a pretty girl."

blushing, you thank him with a smile of your own. "you're not so bad yourself." you reply.

vinnie chuckles as he thanks you like you did him. overtime, the two of you ask each other questions about the other, along with interests.

"you play any video games?" he asks you, and you smile with a shake to your head.

it was honestly kind of hard to focus on conversation with him. the first thing you had noticed when he popped up on your screen was his eyes.

vinnie notices you staring at him and smirks. "am i really that nice to look at?" he chuckles.

you rid your thoughts quickly, almost being embarrassed that he caught you. you wouldn't have the confidence to admit it, but he was good to look at.

smiling, you quickly divert the conversation to his previous question. "not much of a gamer really, unless you count the sims." you say.

vinnie laughs and shakes his head. "nah i'm talkin' real games." he tells you.

rolling your eyes playfully, you give him a scoff. "oh so you're one of those people." you say with a laugh.

when vinnie heard you laugh he swore his heart skipped a beat, and not even to be dramatic. he watched as you went on and on about how the sims was real gaming.

he saw your smile and knew that's something he wanted to see more of. "woah hey, calm down." vinnie laughs as he cuts you off.

you smile, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "what? sims is real gaming, you nerd." you tell him.

vinnie takes in your appearance again and the clothes you're wearing. he can't get enough of you and he just met you.

you do the same, looking at him through the laptop screen, faint blush spreads across your cheeks.

vinnie stands up and the breath is almost knocked out of you when he does. he's wearing sweatpants and a white tank top, muscles on full display.

"you lookin' at my arms or...?" vinnie asks with a chuckle as he sees you staring. "because i can give you soethin' to look at."

laughing, you roll your eyes at him again. "definitely don't want to see that. i've seen too many."

vinnie chuckles and nods his head, completely understanding. although, it doesn't stop him from making a comment.

"you sure? because i do have a tattoo there, but if you don't want see i guess you'll never know." he shrugs.

you wish you were near him so you could hit his arm, instead, you result in a playful scoff and sarcastic reply. "you do not have a tattoo there."

the blonde laughs but shrugs again. "how'd you know if you've never seen it?"

this time, its your turn to shrug. "guess i'll just have to take your word for it." you tell him.

the playful banter continues for about another hour. neither you or vinnie thought you'd actually meet a decent person on this site tonight, but you're both happy you did.

"okay," you say, getting vinnie's attention back onto you and not his phone. "other than gaming, what do you do?"

vinnie stifles a laugh at the question, knowing his answer. "i stream." he tells you.

you already know his answer to your next question so he beats you to it by saying, "yes, i do stream video games."

you can't help but smile. "nerd." you comment with a laugh.

vinnie fires back. "you don't even play real video games, don't even give me that kind of attitude." he says with a laugh.

you brush him off with a scoff. that brought your attention back to the sims games and how you now suddenly got an idea.

"hey vinnie," you get his attention again and he looks up at you. "what if i told you i'm about to make you and me in sims?"

you were half joking, although you did think about the idea of it. vinnie furrows his eyebrows but has a smile on his face.

"that's cute, you should." he tells you, making you smile.

you nod, telling him you'll do it after you get done talking. the two of you talk more for a bit, jokes are made, smiles are shared along with laughs, and vinnie did make one or two comments about you blushing.

in all honesty, he was doing the same thing an you probably could notice. he couldn't help himself, he was starting to think he was falling a bit in love with you.

he did think it was way too soon to tell and you two had known each other for no longer than four hours.

silence fills you two for a minute before vinnie interrupts the silence with what you'd say is a crazy statement.

"you know what you could do if we ever do meet and possibly have a thing going?" he asks, and you don't reply right away, taking his words in.

you didn't want to rush anything at all, but the chemistry between the two of you was very noticeable. so, you raise your eyebrow as you wait for him to tell you.

he smirks, anf you instantly know its another one of his dirty jokes. "never had support from under the desk before."

the minute that sentence leaves his mouth your laughing loudly, quickly trying to stop yourself.

you give him that same look back, smirk turning into a smile as you tease him and tell him maybe one day it'll happen.

you both talk for a bit longer until the two of you decide to call it a night. before yo go, vinnie asks you for your number and you happily give it to him.

he was definitely falling in love with you now if he wasn't already.

thank you nonnie for the request again !! i hope you liked it + everyone else reading this (:

comments, reblogs + feedback of any kind is appreciated <33

tags: @sturnioloshacker , @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @42angelgirl , @leqonsluv3r , @khackerr , @louloulemons-blog , @visualbutterflysworld , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @supabhad , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @laylasbunbunny , @defnotayonna , @khxna , @jpg3 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy

[bookshelf-dust]

someone worth leaving home for

eddie munson x fem!reader

gif by @cowboylikemunson

word count: 2,695

warnings: some alcohol use, swearing, a little suggestiveness? otherwise pure fluff

synopsis: you’re not really one to go out on the town much. being at home is just…better. but maybe there are some people worth getting out of your pjs for.

a/n: the amount of time this has been sitting, left to collect dust because i just couldn’t get a good footing on it or decide what direction to go in is vile. but i finally did it!! and i think it turned out pretty cutesy. if you’ve been in the market for something fluffy to get through the horrors life brings you, i hope this’ll help. love you!! <33

————

“Will you quit dragging your feet, already? For one, you’re gonna scuff your new boots, which I paid good money for, and for another, we’re never gonna get close enough to the stage if you don’t pick up the pace.” 

Tatum skips ahead of you, her skirt flouncing behind her. You scoff, shoving your beat-up compact back into your purse, along with the wine colored lipstick you’d been applying. “I just don’t understand your obsession with bars. I much prefer drinking at home. In my pajamas.”

“It’s not gonna kill you to come out with me for one night.” Tatum says your name. “Besides, I already told you the lead singer is kind of your type…” The last word leaves her mouth with a sing-songy lilt to it. She pulls open the door to The Hideout for you. “God knows you need some physical affection,” she mumbles. 

“What was that?” you laugh, cupping your ear with your hand. “You wouldn’t happen to be shit-talking your best friend, now would you?”

Tatum flips her hair over her shoulder. “Sometimes shit-talking is the best form of motivation.” 

It’s not exactly light outside, what with the time change and it getting dark so early, but somehow it’s darker inside the bar. There are a few neon signs hung up on the wall, large beer company logos staring you down. Your boots immediately stick to the floor beneath you; peanut shells crunch under your heels. 

It’s the kind of disgusting that holds nothing but nostalgia and a strange sense of comfort. You go to take a seat at the bar, but Tatum is quick to grab your hand, pulling you across the oblong room and in front of a small-ish stage. Your brows knit together. 

“What do you want to drink? I’ll get it. These are the best seats in the house, and I damn sure am not about to let anyone take them.”

You spout off the first thing that comes to mind, hoping it’s even something this place will have. You bring your purse into your lap. “Best seats my ass.”

Tatum slams a glass down on the table in front of you. Your heart smacks against your ribcage. “Jesus fuck!” She laughs when you clutch your collarbones, eyeing the pinkish liquid in your cup.

“These might be the grossest seats in the house, but they sure are good for checking out the band.”

How she even heard your snide comment from the bar, you’ll never know. Tatum takes a swig from her beer, waiting for your eyes to widen. You decide not to give in to temptation. 

“You brought me here so you could ogle the singer in a shitty band in an even shittier venue?”

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”

Your eyes roll back into your head and you take a long sip from the plastic straw in front of you. “And no,” Tatum continues, “you pessimistic little shit. I have eyes on the drummer—hello. Do you even know me? The front-running guy is much more your type. And he plays like, an electric guitar or something. You know what they say about guitarists…”

“Okay, stop. You sound so sure that you know exactly what my type is, and I just don’t think that’s fair, I mean, I don’t do that to you—holy shit…”

Tatum leans back in her chair, the front legs lifting ever so slightly. She claps her hands and giggles. “Ha! Told you so!”

The back of your hand makes contact with her clammy bicep. She takes it in stride. 

The band, a group of four, has appeared on stage, skin glimmering in what can only be described as a ghostly manner due to the cheap lighting. There’s a guy taking a seat at the drum set with floppy brown hair, an earring, and a ratty gray sweater on. “Does he have big sad eyes?” you ask Tatum, raising an eyebrow. 

She might as well have squealed. “You bet your ass he does!” 

You look at your best friend as the group begins to play a cover of something that sounds vaguely familiar—maybe you’ve heard it on the radio before—but that you can’t place. You won’t tell her, but you’re glad she dragged you here tonight. The love-dazed trance she’s in makes it worthwhile. You’re not gonna let her leave without getting that guy's number.

A quick glance around the place shows you that only a few other people are paying attention: the lone bartender, an older group of men, some possible teens in one of the corners sharing a pack of cigarettes. You swing your head back in the direction of the small stage, shocked to find the lead singer giving you a once-over. 

You can’t decide if you’re intimidated or intrigued. His mouth is just barely pressed against the microphone, his lips twitching into a smirk as you maintain eye contact with him. 

This man doesn’t look like anyone else you know. Sure, he’s got a similar style cut to his hair, the same dark jeans plenty of people wear in such a small town. But he’s the kind of person you can look at and just know that they’re trying to do bigger things. Reach for things bigger than themselves and the lives they grew up having. 

He seems to be wearing a couple different necklaces, a messy stack of brackets on his left wrist, an Iron Maiden shirt that’s been torn more likely from wear than in the depths of a factory. He’s the kind of gorgeous people write poems about. Hell, the kind of gorgeous people paint because they have to document it. Something about his bone structure, his lithe movements, the curve of his throat.

You find yourself unable to look away from him even as you sip your too-sweet cocktail. Your elbow nudges Tatum’s. You’re hoping that by leaning into her budding crush, yours will go unnoticed. Hopefully she’s forgotten about it since you haven’t said anything since he walked out. “You planning on asking for the drummer’s number before we leave tonight?” you ask, smiling when her cheeks flush. 

“I really want to. And they always seem to stick around after they play, to buy a beer or smoke in the alley out back. I mean, I did put on a push-up bra.”

Your shoulders shake with laughter. By the time their set is over, you’re pretty sure you only really knew one song they played—and that was only because your dad likes it. 

————

Tatum glances over her shoulder. You give her a lookin, raising your eyebrows and hands in tandem. She cringes, though it looks more like a victorious smile. She gestures at you with her index finger. Almost done. 

She’s been talking to the drummer—Gareth, you’ve now learned—for twenty minutes. You wish they’d just exchange numbers and head off in their separate directions already. The balls of your feet are starting to ache in your boots. 

You let your eyes flutter shut for just a moment as you relax into the brick wall behind you. God, you feel old. You’re ready for bed. 

There’s a shuffling sound off to your left, the slam of a door. “Shit, Gare, you got a light? Mines out.”

You look up, looking for a face to match with the voice you’ve just heard. It’s the guy from before, one of the others from the band. 

“Yeah, man, here.” Gareth fishes a silver lighter out of his pocket and passes it over. Tatum glances at you, jerking her thumb back in the guys direction. Well, he’s gorgeous, she mouths. You roll your eyes. 

Once he’s lit his cigarette, the still unknown man looks at Gareth and asks, “You about ready to head out?”

You grin to yourself, tuning out the rest of their conversation, their exchange of introductions with Tatum. You’re looking down at a particularly round rock when another pair of boots appear in your line of vision. Your head shoots up.

“Hey,” he grins, “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Eddie. Tatum said you’re with her?”

You let out a short, little puff of air laugh. “I am. My best friend since the seventh grade and the only reason I’m not in my pajamas by now.”

If possible, he’s even prettier up close. There’s a smattering of freckles across his nose and under his eyes. The sly line of a dimple drawing up next to his mouth. The first thought you have about him at this moment is how much you like his hair. 

Eddie chuckles, blowing the smoke from his cigarette away from you. “Ooh, are they good pajamas?” The playfulness in his question catches you a little off guard. 

“They are,” you start. “They’ve got Garfield on them.”

He smiles at you. “Cute. Poor Odie though, right? When’s he get to be on a pair of pajamas?” 

“Oh, don’t worry. I have a t-shirt with them both, so he’s not totally left out.”

Eddie stuffs a hand into his back pocket. “Good. I was worried. What’s your name, gorgeous? You know, so I can look you up in the book if I find some Odie pjs.”

Normally you’d be embarrassed by how quickly you’re being charmed by this man, but he’s so damn cute that you don’t care. You tell him your name. He smiles again, slower this time, and tells you how pretty it is. 

“I’ve never seen you here before tonight,” Eddie says. 

“It’s my first time. Tatum begged me to come out with her, but I know it was really just because she wanted your drummer’s number. Usually I’m happy to drink at home.”

Eddie looks over at your friend standing with his. Gareth is writing something on a gum wrapper. 

“Well I’m certainly glad I got to meet you. You looked very pretty out there. Hope we didn’t disappoint though?”

You wave your hands. “Oh, not at all! I enjoyed it. I liked the mix of covers and originals. You’re very good. You have a…strong stage presence. Very assertive.”

He drops his cigarette, snuffing it out with the heel of his boot. “Yeah?” There’s a sick little smirk on his face when he glances back up at you. 

You hum. “You’ve got that whole…rockstar look about you, y’know?”

“So…is all that stage presence enough for you to come back next week? You’ll only have to be out late one night. If you make it, I’ll buy you a drink. We can keep talking about how pretty you are and how you feel about my assertiveness.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Trying!”

The both of you burst out into giggles, enough so that Tatum and Gareth look over to see what’s wrong. 

A yawn from you interrupts the gleefulness. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, smiling at you. His eyes take on a pretty sheen. “I’ll let you go, alright? Before you pass out on the sidewalk.”

You stick your hand in your purse and rummage for a pen. “You have anything for me to write on? You know, so we could talk a little more and I can answer your question.”

Eddie never has shit on him. Suddenly he pulls out his pack of cigarettes, flipping it over and handing it to you. You snort down at the little box, but scribble your number in the white space anyhow. “I can also apologize for my shitty flirting,” you tell him.

“Practice makes perfect,” Eddie says. 

Tatum skips over, grabbing your hand and blowing a dramatic kiss at the two men behind you as she drags you away. “Goodnight, boys!”

————

“What the actual fuck are you doing?”

Eddie appears in the living room, a pair of ratty and worn pajama pants sitting on his hips, a hand in his tangled hair. 

“What’s it look like?” 

He tilts his head in order to make eye contact with you. “Some weird Exorcist shit.”

What he’s referring to is your downward dog pose. You took up yoga a little while back, not only because it gave you something new to do, but it also helps keep you grounded. This is not to say you’re perfect at it, but it’s fun. 

It’s been just over two months since you met Eddie. He’s always felt like he’s gotta do a hundred things at once, like he’s constantly on the go—being pulled in all these different directions. Wayne used to tell him that if he didn’t learn to relax, one day his head was gonna fly off and his body would just keep on running. 

Somehow being with you, being with a total homebody, has mellowed him out. He can’t quite explain it. Maybe the chemicals in him finally evened out (he thought that was part of puberty or something). Really it’s because he’s never really understood being grounded—not until you. 

“You can join me,” you tell him, lowering yourself to sit on your haunches. “If you want. It’s just some stretching.”

He settles onto your carpeted floors, pressing a warm kiss to the center of your forehead, his hand cupping the back of your neck, thumb caressing your hairline. 

“You gonna drag me to the hospital when I throw out my back?”

“Of course.” He watches, enamored, as you shift your position. “Here, I’ll show you my favorite one. It feels really good for your hips.”

You get into a child’s pose, letting your knees fall wide so that your hips open up and relief runs up your spine. The effects of sleeping in the fetal position—an Eddie glued to your side no matter how much you move. 

You look over at him and blink. Hesitantly, Eddie attempts to copy the way you’ve folded your body. His knees just won’t do whatever it is yours are doing. They’re not very spread and his back is a little too hunched.

“Shit,” he fusses. “This shit hurts! Must be some feminine magic or something. How are you not in pain right now?”

“Here, try this one instead.” Eddie gets into a cobra pose much easier. His back cracks and he groans.

“Baby, honey, sweet fucking woman of mine—I genuinely don’t think my spine was made for this.” He sits back down, mesmerized when you do a pigeon pose, saying how good it feels and how your mind quiets for a few minutes. 

Eddie chuckles to himself. Your head pops up. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing…I was just thinking that I also know of a few ways your mind could get real quiet.”

“Eddie!” you shriek, reaching out to smack his arm. “Be serious.”

“I am—”

“Come on, just do this one with me, okay? If you throw your back out I’ll give you a massage or something. Besides, relationships are about compromise! Think about how many pairs of my shoes are all sticky because I like you so much that I get dolled up and follow you to a hundred different bars to hear you sing.”

“A hundred is a bit of a stretch. But, I digress. I will try this with you, m’lady.”

Your body makes a triangle as you return to downward dog, coaxing Eddie with you. His hair falls away from his eyes and your gaze travels to the soft skin of his tummy, the sparse hair below his belly button. It’s at that moment that you realize Eddie is also eyeing you. His eyes are glued, very obviously, to your ass. 

“Eddie, this is supposed to be relaxing, stop ogling me!”

“I saw you over there. You were being a perv with those eyes, babe. Don’t act like I'm the only guilty party.”

“You first! You always start staring first.” 

“You’re right. And if I didn’t have a staring problem, you wouldn’t be doing this with me right now.”

“Technically, I made the first move.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“Yes, I did!”

“No, you really didn’t.”

You swipe at Eddie’s ankle, knocking him off balance. You shuffle quickly across the carpet, burning your knees but not caring. 

“Just shut up and kiss me already, Munson.”

Eddie just about tackles you, cupping your face and bringing you flush to his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[ghostsandguns]

New Year's Eve

Why on earth had you agreed to come to this party?

Your gaze swept over the bustling room as you took a sip of your drink. The music blended with the laughter of friends and lovers, all enjoying each other's company.

When you'd told your friends your New Year's Eve plans consisted of watching Pride and Prejudice and eating leftovers, they had nearly dragged you out of your house.

You appreciated the thought, but as the countdown to midnight drew closer, they had all snuggled up with their partners, leaving you awkwardly sitting between them.

It's not like you weren't interested in dating... you just hadn't found the right guy yet. And yes, maybe you could have tried harder, but for now, the company of your cat had been enough.

Or at least, that's what you tried to make yourself believe.

You were pulled back from your thoughts when one of your friends burst out laughing. ''No way!''

Their partner playfully rolled their eyes before continuing whatever story they were telling.

''I swear! My cousin tried it, and the next day she bumped into this super hot guy at the grocery store''

Meeting your confused gaze, she gave you an amused look before turning to you.

''My grandma told me that when the clock strikes midnight, you have one minute to eat twelve grapes under a table if you want to have good luck the next year''

This had you raising an eyebrow in doubt, but she quickly waved it off. ''Trust me, it sounds weird, but it works,'' she said, her tone full of confidence.

''I saw a fruit bowl on the table,'' she added, glancing down at her watch. ''Aaand if you hurry, you still have some time left.''

''Fuck, it,'' you thought, shrugging off any lingering hesitation. Might as well give it a shot—what’s the worst that could happen?

Setting down your drink, you stood up, and as you made your way to the ''lucky'' grapes, a playful chorus of ''ooohs'' rang out behind you.

Grabbing a handful of them, you glanced around a few times to make sure no one was paying attention to you before dropping to your knees and crawling underneath the large table.

The tablecloth draped low, partially obscuring your view, leaving you only able to see a bunch of legs moving around the room.

"4...3...2..." the countdown echoed through the room, signalling the moment to begin.

You quickly popped the grapes into your mouth, chewing and swallowing as fast as you could before the minute was up.

As the last one slipped in, you couldn't help but wish for a little extra luck in the love department, swallowing it a bit too quickly in your haste.

You burst into a coughing fit under the table, smacking your chest as you desperately tried to catch your breath.

That's when, suddenly, a hand appeared, gripping the tablecloth and pulling it back slightly, causing you to flinch in surprise.

"You alright there, love?"

The figure before you crouched down, ducking his head underneath the table. And holy shit, this had to be the most stunning man you'd ever seen.

''Well, thanks for the compliment, but may I say, you look lovely yourself''

Wait, had you just said that out loud? Mentally smacking your forehead, you let out a nervous laugh.

''I just said that out loud, didn't I?'' you mumbled, instantly regretting it as the words left your mouth. The heat creeping up your neck only making the situation worse.

He smiled at you, giving you a subtle nod. The way his lips curled up was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

God, even his smile was ridiculously pretty.

''Might I ask why you're sitting under a table?'' he asked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

You were growing more embarrassed by the second, but the man didn't seem to mind, casually crawling underneath the table to take a seat next to you.

He had to angle his head a bit to avoid hitting it against the table, and his knees were slightly touching yours, making the situation feel more intimate than it probably should have been.

"Oh—I'm just… you know, chilling," you muttered, feeling even more self-conscious.

His smile widened as he reached out a hand. ''The name's Kyle. Mind if I join you?''

Cliffhanger tuntuntun...

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Vienna. One.

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

pairing - carmen berzatto x reader

warnings - cursing. references to mikey’s death.

word count - 2k

authors note - strap in, this one’s gonna be a rollercoaster!! can’t wait to get into this a little more. I love this show, and we’re gonna have so much fun getting lost in that world. this series is going to make you laugh, cry, scream, and want to throw your phone at my head. get ready <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

part two. series masterlist. inbox. masterlist.

home (hōm) - the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

You’ve been staring at the outside of the building for fifteen minutes.

It looks so different that you had to check the street sign, ensuring you are where you thought you were.

The Bear.

It was The Beef, the last time you were here. Stood in this very spot, tears dripping down your face, you bid farewell to the life you once knew.

Now you’re back.

It looks slick, professional, high end. It’s all polished glass and sharp edges, a drastic contrast from what once stood here.

You wonder what Michael would think.

The thought sends a pang of sadness through your heart, which you shake off as quickly as possible. Today should be a happy day, you remind yourself. Emphasis on should.

You take a deep breath and try the door of the restaurant, surprised when you find it unlocked. Walking inside, you have to stop and take in what’s in front of you.

No more sticky floors or peeling paint or arcade machines. No more flickering lights or red pleather booths or plastic cutlery.

The restaurant you’re currently stood in is slick, spotlessly clean, perfectly laid out. It’s like something out of a magazine. You’re in shock, bewildered by the transformation.

“Holy shit.”

The kitchen door has swung open, and across from you stands Richie Jerimovich.

“Am I hallucinating, or what?”

You laugh, and before you know it, he’s striding towards you, throwing his arms out for you to jump into. He wraps you in a bear hug, spinning you in circles like when you were a kid. You’re dizzy when he puts you down, his hand grabbing your shoulder to steady you on your feet.

“You hallucinate often these days, old man?”

“Old man,” he scoffs. “Yeah fuckin’ right. Do I look old to you?”

“You want me to answer that?”

He shoves you playfully, shaking his head.

“Thought I was seeing ghosts when I saw you stood in here.”

“If anyone’s hallucinating, it’s me. How… how did you do this? It’s like a whole new restaurant, Cousin.”

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Really cool. I think I stood and stared at the sign outside for like twenty minutes. Seriously.”

He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in.

“He’d have liked it, right?”

You can hear the slight waver in his voice, well disguised insecurity peeking through.

“He’d have fucking loved it, Richie.”

He presses a kiss into your hair, bumping your hip with his affectionately.

“So what, you’re like, a big boss here now?”

“I’m in charge of front of house, actually. I’ve been professionally trained and shit. Oh, guess what?”

“What?”

“I wear suits now. Every night.”

“You’re kidding. Bet you wear them well, too,” you tease, laughing when he kicks your foot with his. “You always scrubbed up well.”

“You gotta see it for yourself. We’ll make you up a table tonight, get you to try everything.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m not gonna put you guys out like that.”

“Vi, you’re not putting us out. And you and I both know Carmen isn’t going to take no for an answer.”

Your heart skips a beat at the very mention of his name.

“I just don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“Babe,” he practically whines, pulling you into him, “you are never an inconvenience. For any of us.”

“Okay, okay,” you relent, resting your head on his arm. “I can’t wait.”

Richie grins, excitement vibrating off him.

“Okay, let me look at you. You look good, Vi!”

You mock a twirl, spinning with a curtsy for good measure.

“I like your hair like this,” he compliments, plucking at a strand. “Suits you.”

“Thanks, Casanova,” you laugh. “How’s Eva?”

“Oh, she’s good. So good. Did you see all the pictures I posted from the Taylor Swift concert? I’m officially the best dad in the world.”

“I did, and they were the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s so big, now. Can’t wait to see her soon.”

“I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you. Cousin tells her stories about you all the time.”

“…he does?”

“Are you kidding? Of course he does. Sugar does too.”

A cool sense of relief washes over you. It’s nice to know that they haven’t forgotten about you, as stupid as it sounds. There’s something comforting about knowing they still talk about you, even when you’re gone.

He plants a kiss on the crown of your head as the kitchen door flies open once again. Marcus, Tina and Ebra file in, along with a girl you’ve never met before. They’re looking at you with curious expressions on their faces when you hear it.

“Does anyone know where the fuck I put my good knife?”

When he doesn’t get an answer, he strides into the restaurant, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you at Richie’s side.

He tries to speak, but he can’t.

Instead, he practically runs across the room, wrapping his arms around you as your feet leave the floor.

You bury your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of home that you’ve missed so much. He’s murmuring into your ear, but you can’t for the life of you work out what he’s saying. It’s all low and slow, careful to not be overheard. You tangle your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, nudging his face back into your shoulder. He presses a gentle kiss to your skin, which sends a shiver down your spine that you’re praying he doesn’t notice.

Eventually, after what feels like hours, he pulls away to look at you. His hands are on your waist as if they belong there, as yours cradle his face.

“You’re home.”

He breathes it, as if he can’t quite catch a lungful of air.

“I’m home,” you say, sweeping your thumbs across his cheekbones. “You’re home.”

“I’m home.”

You’re completely unaware of the group of people watching you. They all know they should tear their eyes away, but they can’t seem to. It’s new, seeing Carmy like this with someone. They’re all wondering what the hell has happened.

“Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he laughs, pulling you back in for another hug.

Pressing a kiss into your hair, he rocks you slightly, as if you’re both completely thrown off balance by the presence of the other.

You step back, giving him a once over.

“I like your tattoos, Carmen. Very hipster.”

“Shut up,” he chuckles, shoving you lightly. You shove him right back, both of you grinning like idiots.

His eyes flicker up, catching Sydney’s gaze. She looks completely bewildered, and a little uncomfortable. Carmy tugs you into his side, turning to face the crowd.

“Syd, this is Vienna. Vienna, Sydney. The rest of you guys know her.”

They all smile, meeting you in the middle for hugs and hellos. You hold your arms out to Sydney, who steps into them somewhat apprehensively, giving you a quick squeeze.

“My name isn’t actually Vienna, but it’s been a nickname for as long as I can remember. So you can call me Vienna, or Vi, or Enna. I get them all.”

She nods, visibly still a little confused. The door swings open one last time, and out walks Natalie.

“Oh my God!”

You give her a careful hug, on account of the bump she’s sporting.

“Oh, you look so beautiful, Sugar. You’re glowing!”

“It’s sweat from the kitchen babe, I swear.”

The blonde sits down at a table, and you join her, eager to catch up with one of your oldest girl friends. As you do, Sydney and Carmy reconvene a distance away.

“She’s pretty.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Carmen’s watching you as you talk to his sister, as if he’s worried you’ll bolt out the door at any given moment.

“Your… girlfriend?”

“Oh, no,” he’s suddenly a little flustered, hand scratching the back of his neck. “Best friend. We’ve known each other forever. Literally. Our mom’s had us a day apart. We were neighbours, grew up on the same street.”

“Ah. And she’s been away?”

“For a long time. Think it’s about five years, maybe more. I went to culinary school, she went to art school, both ended up living in different places.”

“Did you know she was coming back?”

“Jesus, Syd, is this twenty fuckin’ questions?”

“Sorry,” she says sheepishly, fiddling with the end of her braid. “You just seemed surprised to see her.”

“Yeah. I was. Had no idea she was back in town.”

“Did you guys keep in touch?”

He gives a look that says really?, but answers the question anyway.

“Not as much as we should have. It’s hard, being so far apart. We saw each other a few times, texted and called when we could. But it’s not the same.”

He glances in your direction to find you laughing with Natalie, a delicate hand placed on her growing stomach. Nat looks happy, carefree, like the young girl she once was. You seem to have that effect on people.

Richie pulls out a chair next to the pair, knocking into Carmy’s shoulder as he sits down.

“Told Vi we’d give her a table here tonight, so she can try everything. You should join her, catch up.”

Carmy reacts as if it’s the stupidest idea he’s ever heard, so Richie continues quickly.

“We need to be able to run this shit without you. One evening with you dining instead of cookin’ won’t hurt.”

“We’ve done it before,” Sydney adds, alluding to that fateful opening night. Richie snickers. Carmy doesn’t.

“And you’ll be here, it’s not like you’re a thousand miles away. We’ll come out and get you if we need help, Cousin.”

Carmy’s known his answer since the very first second Richie asked the question, but he’s trying to play it cool. He doesn’t want to give away just quite how excited the thought of an entire evening with you makes him.

“Fine.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Sugar have ended up practically on each others laps at your table, whispering and giggling like old times. She’s telling you a story about something funny Pete said when you look over at Carmy, to find him already staring at you.

Your heart skips a beat as you catch his eyes, smiling gently at the fact he refuses to look away. He’s so timid with everyone else, so worried about what people think of him. He’s never as bold as when he’s with you.

You wink at him, quick and cheeky, and heat blooms across his cheeks instantly. He winks right back, stifling a grin by biting at his lip.

“You never told him, did you?”

Nat’s watching the two of you intently, gaze flicking back and forth between her brother and his childhood best friend.

You take a deep breath. And then another.

“No.”

“Vienna.”

Her tone is stern, almost scolding, and you suddenly feel sorry for the child who’s going to be on the receiving end of it one day soon.

“I couldn’t do it.”

She grabs your hand, resting them both in her lap.

“Secrets like that eat people alive, Vi.”

You squeeze her hand before dropping it, desperate for the conversation to be over.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll tell him when the time is right.”

“The time is never right when it comes to Carmen. You and I both know this.”

You refuse to admit she’s right, even though deep down, you know she is absolutely is.

“You haven’t told him? Richie hasn’t either?”

“It’s not our place to tell him. You have to be the one to do it.”

You inhale carefully, risking a look over to where Carmy is stood up, pointing at a table in the corner of the restaurant. He’s clearly in Chef Mode, both him and Sydney speaking in a language you can’t even begin to understand.

He catches your eye and smiles, all bright and bashful, before resuming what he was saying.

You don’t want to hurt him.

You think it might be inevitable.

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

@agirlcandream84 @diorrfairy @raging-panda @melancholicmelanin @nolita-fairytale @jacxx2 @huang-the-geek @2guysonascooter @stxxllaaa @an0nym1ss @thereisnoowl @dreamingofleon

[dewdr0pz]

somethin' stupid ❤︎₊ ⊹

summary: Sirius says 'i love you' for the first time

a/n: hi! as you might know, i'm really new at writing for the Marauders and this would be my first time writing for Sirius, so please feel free to let me know what i could do better next time or what i did well :)

tags: @eyesof-thehurricane @daemontargaryennn @o-kye @unbeleevable @mochamuff1n @prettysinners (this is me just guessing who would be interested in this, please let me know if you would like to be removed/added from the taglist!!)

word count: 726

warnings: slight angst, tooth-rotting fluff, reader and Sirius cry a little

You were curled up on the small couch in your pajamas, your nose in the new book you'd gotten recently. You weren't sure how long you'd been on the sofa until Sirius arrived.

"Babyyy," Sirius whined, "you've been reading forever. Can we please do something?"

"I haven't been reading for that long," you chuckled, sliding your bookmark between the page you were on and looking up at him, his arms draped over the back of the sofa.

"You've been reading for at least an hour," Sirius teased. "You haven't even moved. It's a bit scary, darling."

"What do you even want to do, Siri?" you asked, stretching your legs with a groan.

"I don't know," he said, "cuddle? Watch a movie? Go for a walk? Cuddle?"

"You said that twice," you giggled.

"I know," he matched your smile. "I really want to cuddle." His eyes lit up. "I have an incredible idea."

"Yes?" you chuckled.

"I could lay on your lap," he said, already climbing onto the couch," and you can sit there and look pretty and read." He nuzzled his head into your belly and wrapped his arms around you. "You smell good," he said.

"I'm wearing your jumper, silly," you laughed.

"Oh," he said. "I smell good."

"Yes, you do," you nodded, opening your book up again and absentmindedly playing with his hair. He let out a content sigh and closed his eyes, moving one hand to rub your thigh.

"Please never stop getting acrylics," he murmured, wriggling his head under the jumper to lay his head on your skin.

"I might have to, Siri," you said. "They're not healthy for your nails, I've heard."

"Isn't there a healthy one now?" he asked, lifting his head up. "A gel one?"

"Bio gel," you nodded, "but my friend told me they're expensive."

"I'll pay for it, babe, don't worry about that," he said, nuzzling his head under your his jumper again.

"You spoil me too much," you laughed.

"Why wouldn't I?" he said, kissing your soft tummy. "I have to pamper my darling." He hummed with content when your nails lightly scratched his scalp.

"I love you," he murmured.

You froze, your heart skipping multiple beats and your eyes widening. The words on the pages became blurry, jumbled-up bits of nonsense as you lost your breath.

When you looked at him, he was already looking at you, his eyes flickering with traces of fear.

"Did I do something wrong?" he whispered, so soft you could barely hear him. "Did I mess up?" he asked when you didn't respond.

You felt your heart break into shards at his shaky words. You quickly set your book down on the coffee table and threw your arms around him with a tearful giggle.

"You didn't mess up, Sirius," you whispered, sniffling as his shaky arms wrapped around you tightly. "You didn't mess up at all."

"Do you love me?" he whispered, lifting your head out of his chest and cupping your face. "You don't have to say it back-"

"How is that even a question?" you laughed. "Of course I love you, Siri, of course I do."

You watched his expression go from worried to ecstatic as he hugged you again, causing you to fall and hit the pillows.

"Holy shit, you love me!" Sirius laughed. "I love you! We love each other!"

"We do!" you laughed, wiping away your tears.

"Why are you crying?" he said, kissing your wet cheeks. "Baby, we're in love! I love you! You love me! We love each other! Isn't that great?"

"You're crying too, dummy!" you teased, reaching up to wipe the streaks away.

"At least I have a good reason!" he laughed. "You gave me a fright, darling!" He kissed your lips a few times. "And before you apologize, you have nothing to say sorry for, so don't even try."

"But I scared you-" you started.

"Nope, you're not allowed to apologize," he interrupted, kissing your forehead. "What you are allowed to do is tell me what food you want me to order for us."

"We're getting takeout?" you questioned.

"You think I'm going to get up and cook for us after we just confessed our love?" he said dramatically. "Absolutely not. We're going to order takeout so I can cuddle you for the rest of the night."

You weren't complaining.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Cupid doesn’t gamble II

Summary: Leon, a mafia boss whose empire dominates all casinos on the west coast, meets a young girl amidst a game of poker. What would happen if he threw all his chips and gambled his love for you?

Warning: Mafia!Boss!Leon x Female!Reader. Eventual smut. Slow burn. Romantic. Leon is a gentleman. Characters are 21+ (plot wise). Researched topics. Mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 6,142

A/N: I was giggling and kicking my feet while writing this🤭 holy shit I’ve never written something so damn corny before… I LOVE IT TEEHEE. Ugh I love me some good fluff.

[I][III]

“I gave a second chance to Cupid, but now I'm left here feelin' stupid. Oh, the way he makes me feel that love isn't real. Cupid is so dumb,” - Cupid (Twin Ver.), Fifty Fifty

When Saturday arrived, you dressed yourself in a formal dress. You could only assume he’d want me to dress fancy since he always seemed to wear a suit. You didn’t think you’ve ever see him wear something casual.

The clock marked seven and you patiently waited in your room. You wore a black skin tight dress that reached your knees. It wasn’t from the most luxurious and high brand but it was still quite beautiful. The sleeves were actually a cape draped over your shoulders in a thin sheet of mesh fabric. Even your heels matched your dress. You’ve never been one to dress immodest on the first date. Your hair was done tied down and your makeup was light but not too boring. Everything looked just right.

Leon leaned against his car, his eyes focused on the door of your apartment building. He had been there for a while now, waiting patiently. He was dressed in one of his nicer suits, this one a deep navy blue. Although he didn’t bother to wear his signature red scarf or gloves.

He glanced at his watch, it was a minute before seven. He pushed himself away from his car, his eyes never straying from your door. He’d known Mafia Bosses who had to be punctual at all times, and now, it was a habit.

The neighborhood your apartment was in was on the side of the working class. You didn’t live in the richest part of town so his car stood out like a sore thumb.

Leon suppressed a sigh as he checked his watch again. Seven o’clock, on the dot. He started walking towards the door, his steps slow but steady. When he finally stood in front of your door, he took a moment to straighten his suit before raising his hand to knock, his knuckles rapping against the door three times.

He could already imagine your flustered reaction to seeing him again. He almost smiled at the thought, but his expression remained neutral, his face a stony mask. He waited.

Upon hearing the sounds of the knocking, you quickly made your way to the front door and opened to find Leon dressed so formally. He looked really good, your breath hitched and your heart skipped a beat.

“Leon,” you said with a soft smile, “You made it.”

Leon’s eyes roamed over you as you opened the door, taking in your appearance. The light makeup, the black dress, the tied-up hair, everything about you looked absolutely perfect. He couldn’t help but think that you looked even prettier than the last time he saw you.

He returned your smile with a small one of his own, his eyes softening slightly at the sight of you.

"Of course I did," he said, his gaze never leaving yours, "I said I would, didn’t I?"

He was so gentle, like an innocent lotus that blooms above water. Hence why you couldn’t help the smile you had, “You did,” you whispered as you maintained his eye contact.

You closed the door behind you and walked down the steps to stand in front of him. Even with heels he stood above your height.

“You look very handsome,” you complimented as you gestured for his own outfit. His suit seemed rich and expensive, made with only the best craftsman. Leon’s eyes darkened slightly at your compliment, a small smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. He was used to compliments, but coming from you… it was different. It sent a flutter through his chest, something he wasn’t used to feeling.

"You're one to talk," he replied, his gaze roaming over your figure again, "You look absolutely stunning."

He extended his arm out towards you, his gesture a silent invitation as he waited for you to take it.

His words were sincere, no lie detected. As if he was truly honest, why would he lie to a woman? He didn’t seem the type to try and hook up on the first date. He had manners and etiquette. You gently wrapped your hand around his bicep as he offered his arm to you. You’ve only ever seen this in movies, you didn’t think people still did it in real life.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, staring up at him as the lights from the stars above you twinkled in your eyes. Leon felt the warmth of your touch on his arm, the way your fingers wrapped around the material of his suit. It was a simple touch, but it already felt too intimate. He knew this was dangerous terrain, getting close to you like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He didn’t miss the way your eyes met his, a warm sparkle in them as the reflection of the stars danced across them. You looked almost enchanted by him, like a doe staring up at a wolf.

But Leon was no wolf. He was so much more dangerous than that.

Leon led you to his car, his arm still intertwined with yours. His steps were steady, his gaze focused on guiding you to the vehicle. The night was cool and yet, he wasn’t even paying attention to the cold.

His mind was occupied with other things, specifically the thought of how to keep your attention on him. Most of the women he’d dated before didn’t stay for long. He figured they were only interested in his money.

But you were different. It somehow felt like you were truly interested in getting to know him, and not his bank account.

When you neared his car, he actually held the door open for you until you sat down and closed it. Such manners! As he began to drive, you couldn’t help but marvel at his car. Even the interior looked expensive, “Nice car,” you commented softly.

Leon gave you a small shrug, slightly amused by your compliment. He was used to women swooning over his expensive assets, his cars, his houses.

But you didn’t do that. And it was refreshing to say the least.

"It's not bad," he agreed, his eyes on the road. He wasn’t looking at you, but he could still sense your gaze on him. He glanced over at you briefly, a small smirk on his lips.

"You’re not very impressed by the car, are you?" he asked bluntly.

Your cheeks flushed a bit and you shook my head, “I actually don’t know anything about cars,” you replied abashedly, “But I like it. It looks nice. Very comfy.”

Maybe he was used to hearing women compliment his assets and his bank account but you weren't used to such a lavish life so you didn’t know much. But it was all still impressive, not because of the price but because the car genuinely looked like it was taken good care of.

Leon chuckled softly at your answer, the sound low and warm. He could tell he managed to make you flustered again, a slight pink tinge on your cheeks that he found endearing.

"You’re the first woman I’ve met who didn’t swoon over the car instead of the man driving it," he said bluntly, his eyes on the road still.

He found it interesting, your lack of reaction to his worldly possessions. Most women, in his experience, fell over themselves just to ride in this car.

Okay maybe it was a bit weird reducing his car to just ‘comfy’ but it was fresh and real. It was an unexpected response but it seemed like he liked it.

You stared out the window, shaking your head once again, “Why would I put a car over a person?” You muttered before you glanced at him driving.

“A car won’t love me back. It won’t wipe my tears off my face,” you continued, “All it does it take from point A to point B. Why would I choose a car over someone?”

Leon's eyes left the road briefly to look at you, his expression unreadable. Your answer seemed simple and honest, genuine even. Most of the women he’d met cared about how much he could spoil them. They wanted fancy jewelry, expensive clothes. They never cared about the little things, the soft spoken words and the caring touches.

"That makes sense," he replied softly, his eyes focusing back on the road.

“In any case,” you muttered, unaware of how your words affected him for the better. You, in fact, did care about the little things. The lingering touches, the stolen glances—you lived for all of that.

“I think if you love someone,” you continued, staring at the road in front of you, “You understand them. You don’t lust after them, you don’t judge them, and you don’t compare them. To love someone, is to love so innocently but also very intimate in the sense that it isn’t sexual.”

“No car can replicate that type of love,” you whispered and glanced at him. Maybe you were being a bit indirectly forward, but you wanted him to know that you didn’t care if he was the richest man on earth or the poorest man, it was his morals and values that mattered.

Leon’s fingers tightened their grip on the steering wheel as he listened to your words. Your explanation of love was sweet, pure. It was almost like hearing a child’s view on the world, innocent and untainted.

It was so far from his own views on love. Love was a weakness, a risk that only ended in more pain and hurt. He had seen it many times, how people would do horrible things, all in the name of love.

But hearing your idealistic explanation of love… it sounded almost alien to him.

Your words felt almost like a revelation to him, a realization that love was supposed to be innocent, and intimate, and so much more than just material things.

He took a deep, steady breath, his mind quietly processing your words, the way they seemed to touch a part of him he thought was long gone.

"You have a way with words," he said, his voice laced with a hint of admiration.

A shy smirk reached your lips and you looked down at your hands on your lap, “Not really,” you muttered, “I just really like to read romance.”

“I’ve read Anna Karerina, Lorna Doone, and Forever Amber,” you listed softly. You loved romance novels, reading about predestined love and star crossed lovers often resulting in a battle of emotions was all so interesting to you.

Leon's gaze briefly flickered towards you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. It was endearing, your passion for romance. It was almost cute.

"Ah, a romantic at heart," he commented, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "I've heard of those books. Bit tragic, aren’t they?"

He remembered the brief details he’d heard about those stories, tales of love, passion and despair. It all seemed a bit cliché.

“Yes,” you agreed, “It is tragic but what is love if there aren’t consequences? The true enemy of love is not hatred, it’s indifference and doubt.”

“I like to think that love is a double edged sword, a line so thin that divides happiness and depression. It’s our choices that make that sword tilt either side,” you commented quietly.

Leon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened even further at your words. They were deep and profound, making him think of things he’d never pondered before.

“And what happens when that sword tilts the wrong way?” he asked, his voice a little cold.

He'd seen the darker side of love, the way it could make people do things they'd never thought they were capable of. He'd never been a stranger to that kind of love. The kind of love that consumed and destroyed.

“Then you let it tilt until it’s back straight. It’s a rotation, a cycle. Eventually… love will be the right way,” you said.

“Love can destroy and create, not so different from a god. You can create to destroy or you can destroy to create. You can hate to love or love to hate. But in the end, it’ll always be there,” But your view on love wasn’t all happy, it wasn’t all sad either. You’d like to think you had a balance of understanding the good and bad about the subject of love.

Leon chuckled darkly, a bitter, almost sarcastic sound. The cycle of love you described was something he had never believed in.

"Love can’t just fix itself," he replied, "Once it's destroyed something, it can never bring it back. Nothing can."

You smiled and looked at him, “Sure it can,” you replied, “Love *can* be fixed as it can fix others.”

“It’s everywhere. It’s in the trees, in the sea, in our blood—love exists and it hasn’t died. It can’t die. If there is no love, what will there be?” You said softly, “There will be people that hurt you and no matter how much love you give them, it’ll never be enough.”

“But that doesn’t make it the end of the world. It’s a temporary wound in your heart that feels too deep to heal but like all injuries… it slowly heals. Love is time. And you have time to love,” you muttered softly, still staring at him, “And with the right person, you’ll learn,” you said as you hesitantly rested your hand on his shoulder. Leon didn't look at you, his gaze stayed forward, watching the road. But he could feel the lingering touch of your hand on his shoulder, a stark contrast to his cold demeanor.

"You speak so kindly of love," he said softly, his demeanor softening, "As if it hasn't hurt you before."

He was softening, it’s like he couldn’t stay mad forever. “It has,” you whispered, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a small smile, “But I’ve learned to accept that the pain wasn’t just a setback. It was a step for the future.”

Leon's expression softened ever so slightly as you squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him. Your words, your optimism, it made him feel almost guilty for his cold demeanor.

He inhaled a breath, his body relaxing a little. You were a rare one, he had to admit that. In his line of work, he never encountered people like you, who spoke of love with such gentle wisdom.

As you neared the restaurant, it was busy with late night goers. People dressed in nothing but their bestest dresses and suits. It was quite fancy.

-

You had been sitting at your table that he had reserved, spending the time talking about your interests and telling stories. You don’t think you’ve ever laughed as much as you did tonight. He was funny, charismatic, kind, and patient. It was like he had cracked your introverted shell.

Leon's eyes lingered on you as you laughed, a small, warm smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You looked cute when you laughed, he had to admit. He was enjoying your company more than he thought he would. It wasn't just mindless banter, there was an ease in their conversation that he wasn't used to.

Leon raised his glass of wine, silently gesturing for yours to clink against.

"To a lovely evening," he said, his gaze never leaving yours.

You raised your glass of wine and clinked it against his with a smile, “To a lovely date,” you added before you sipped my glass. Once you put my glass down, you sighed softly and looked at him, “Thank you for this date. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy before on a first date,” you said with a small laugh.

The corner of Leon's mouth twitched into a small smile again as you thanked him. He was glad to see that you were enjoying yourself as much as he was.

He took a drink from his glass as well, his eyes still studying you, studying that beautiful smile on your face.

"No need to thank me," he said softly, setting his glass down as well. "This night is just as much for me as it is for you."

You leaned forward and rested your arms on the table, “Are you always such a gentleman?” You inquired with interest, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act differently.”

"Perhaps," he replied, his gaze fixed on you, "I've always been taught to treat women with respect."

“It’s nice,” you whispered with a smile, your cheeks pink from drinking wine, “It’s way better than what modern dating is.”

"Modern dating?" he repeated, arching a brow, "Not into that whole 'Netflix and chill' nonsense?"

You chuckled and shook your head, “Oh, god, no!” You said as you rested your elbows on the table, your chin resting on the palm of your hand, “That’s like asking someone if you want to have sex. And I don’t do it like that.”

“I’d never ask anyone if they want to ‘Netflix and Chill’,” you muttered, “If anyone said that to me, I’d think they were a walking red flag.”

Leon chuckled at your reaction and shook his head as well. It was refreshing to meet someone who wasn't into the casual 'Netflix and chill' culture.

"I'm inclined to agree with you there," he commented, a hint of amusement in his voice, "It's a little too shallow for my taste. I prefer spending time getting to know someone before... well, anything else."

He took a sip of his wine, his gaze still on you, studying your expression. There was something so genuine about you. It was quite rare in his usual line of work.

“I agree with you on that,” you muttered softly as you watched him sip his wine, “I prefer to love than to lust.”

Leon's eyes widened ever so slightly at your words. Your honesty and your perspective on love and lust were a breath of fresh air.

"Love rather than lust, huh?" he replied, his voice almost a whisper. He set his glass of wine back down on the table.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table, his gaze intense and focused on you, "Quite a profound way of looking at things," he added, a hint of intrigue in his tone.

“Well, yes,” you said, you could feel yourself enter a state of rambling. Of digressing, if you will, “Everyone is so obsessed with instant gratification that we often forget that the process to reach that state is far more rewarding than the feeling itself.”

“It is like walking up the steps of a mountain and your only goal is to get to the other but in order to get to the other side, you must take calculated steps otherwise you’ll slip and fall. And that’s what life is about. To slip and fall but to also pick yourself up in order to achieve a goal, whether it is eternal happiness or a momentous fleet of bliss, the process in which we get there feels more satisfying than the actual feeling of being at the top that can only last a few seconds,” you rambled.

“Love is cherishing all the moments in which led you to be where you are. If we don’t appreciate what we have, someone else will,” then, your cheeks turned a bit pink as you realized you rambled, “Sorry. I went on a tangent there,” you said with a small and awkward laugh.

Leon simply sat back in his chair, a small smile playing at his lips as you spoke. He found himself listening intently to every word you said, captivated by your passion and eloquence.

"Don't apologize," he said, the hint of a smirk on his lips, "I find it endearing when you get carried away like that. You're quite the deep thinker. I like that."

You chuckled softly and nodded once more. You were indeed a deep thinker, a philosopher at heart. Everything that dealt with life, you loved to hear about.

“I just have a lot of thoughts in my mind,” you muttered quietly, “What about you?” You asked suddenly.

“What do you like to do?” You asked as you tilted your head slightly to the side, almost curiously.

Leon chuckled at your question. It was only fair that he be asked about himself. He took a moment to think before responding.

"What do I like to do?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his voice, "Well, I'm a man of many interests. I enjoy reading, going to nice restaurants, taking walks... and gambling."

He paused, a sly grin slowly spreading across his face, "And you know I'm a pretty damn good poker player."

You rolled your eyes despite your lips curling into a smile, you weren’t all truly annoyed. He was a really good player that beat various times whenever you played for the first time together. The one where you met.

“Yes,” you nodded your head slightly and sat back, crossing one of your legs over the other, “You are a good player. I’m still grateful you forgave what I owed you after the rounds.”

"You know I have a soft spot for pretty girls," he said with a small chuckle, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

He reached across the table and gently patted the top of your hand, his gesture both affectionate and reassuring.

"It wasn't a big deal," he continued, his expression growing serious again, "Besides, I knew you weren't just some rich kid wasting your parents' money. That you were being responsible."

Your face softened and you didn’t move your hand away, the action seemingly affectionate and it warmed your heart. He was so gentle, wasn’t he?

“Just thought of spending a few dollars hoping I’d get more, but I learned my lesson,” you whispered before your hand hesitated a bit. You turned your hand over, essentially putting your palm up against his palm.

Your heart was beating fast, just the simple touch from his hand was enough to set your heart ablaze, “I’d never spend my parents’ money… you’re right on that,” you added, your voice quieter as you stared down at your hands together. Leon's eyes flickered down to where your hands met on the table and lingered there for a moment. He inhaled a tiny breath, his mind momentarily distracted by the feel of your skin against his.

The touch was simple, but in his line of work, he'd nearly forgotten the sweetness of physical affection. He gently curled his fingers over yours, holding your hand in a firm but gentle grip.

The touch was gentle, intimate, and tender. A softness of the warmth shared between you as your fingers gently played across his hand, your thumb rubbing his skin in a setting to wake a trail of warmth.

You didn’t know what took over you to do that but for some reason it felt natural. As if you were meant to hold him like a dream. That’s what he was, a dream personified right before you.

Your eyes drifted from your hands back to his eyes, watching as the dim and orange light of the restaurant play across his features in a harmonious and seraphic light. As your gazes met again, he couldn't help but be entranced by the way the soft candlelight from the restaurant played across your features. It was as if they were crafted to perfectly fit the curves of your face, enhancing your natural beauty.

His thumb gently returned the gesture, rubbing against the base of your hand. A silent, gentle agreement.

Unspoken words and unanswered questions lingered but for now, you’d just enjoy the company of each other. As the date progressed, the night became darker and the restaurant slowly became lone.

After paying, you walked out of the said place and strolled through the sidewalk as you made your way to his car. In the middle of crossing a bridge, the moon’s light reflected on the water beneath you, a shine so bright that you had to stop by the railing and stare at the full moon. Leon's footsteps slowed to a stop as you paused to stare at the moon. He stood beside you, leaning against the railing, his gaze fixated on your face as you looked out at the reflection of the moon shimmering on the water below.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked quietly as you kept your eyes on the moon, a soft breeze blowing by you two.

He glanced up for a moment, taking in the sight of the full moon in the inky black night sky, "It is," he agreed quietly. But as he looked back at you, he found himself thinking that there was a sight even more beautiful right in front of him.

You didn’t even notice his lingering gaze, eyes spoke so many volumes. It’s what makes humans vulnerable, the eyes never lie.

You stood there for what felt like an hour but really it was just a couple of minutes. Your skin chilled with goosebumps as the night breeze brushed over you, once again reprimanding yourself for being cold.

It was a pattern, huh? You being cold and him bringing you warmth. A balance between you. The irony didn't escape him. In any other circumstance, he would consider himself the colder one, and yet, standing beside you right now, in this moment, he could only think of you as the warm one.

He shrugged, then, without missing a beat, he gently draped his coat around your shoulders, the warmth from his body transferring to the fabric.

A smile plastered on your face as you felt the fabric with an all too familiar scent of his cologne. One that you didn’t even realize you had missed so much.

“Thank you for tonight,” you muttered softly, bringing his coat closer to your body, “It’s one of the best dates I’ve ever been on.”

He nodded his head in response, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, "It was my pleasure," he replied, his tone genuine.

He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on you once more, "And in all honesty," he continued, "I had a good time as well. I hope there'll be more nights like this soon."

You nodded and your smile widened, just the thought of seeing him again on a night like this made your insides flutter with joy and excitement. A candid and innocent feeling.

“Yes, I hope so too,” you muttered and stared up at him. It was just the two of you, standing under the moonlight as the sound of water splashed underneath you from below the bridge. Leon couldn't help but smile softly. Your expression was full of innocent excitement, your eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

The sound of water below you two and the soft sounds of the night's insects and the rustle of leaves echoed in the air around you, but all he could focus on was you. You, standing there with his coat draped around your shoulders. You, who, in that moment, seemed more beautiful than ever.

His heart skipped a beat in his chest, and he couldn't help but reach out and gently cup your cheek in his hand.

Your breath hitched, his touch was that of a soft caress. Of an artist admiring their piece of art that had been inspired by their muse. To which in this case, he was the artist and you were his muse.

The night ended perfectly. You had gone to his car to take you back home, although you didn’t really want to leave him just yet. The night felt young but you didn’t want to be selfish and greedy. The drive back to your apartment was quiet and peaceful. There wasn't an ounce of awkwardness, just the comfort of each other's presence. Even as Leon parked the car in front of your home, a part of him wished the night could have lasted just a little longer.

“This is it,” you whispered as you remained sitting in his car while he parked in front of your apartment. You didn’t want to say goodbye, what if you didn’t see him again?

He turned off the engine and turned to you, watching as you spoke the words neither of them wanted to say.

"I guess it is," he replied quietly, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles against the steering wheel.

You took off his coat and gently placed it in the cupholder separating our seats. Then, you glanced at him. Goodbyes weren’t easy when you didn’t know if you’d see each other again.

A thought occurred to you, you rummaged through your purse and pulled out a small piece of napkin, which had your lipstick stain on it, along with a pen. You wrote your number on the piece of napkin and then handed it to him, but not before you stole a kiss on his cheek. Leon's breath caught in his throat as he felt the surprise kiss against his cheek, the heat of your lips sending a shiver down his spine.

“Call me soon,” you whispered as you stepped out of the car, rather anxiously and a bit hastily. He took the napkin, his gaze flickering to the numbers written on it. He held it in his hand, almost like a lifeline, watching as you stepped out of the car.

"I will," he called out, a hint of something in his voice, as if he was reluctant to let you leave, "I'll call you soon," he repeated, a promise, an assurance to you, and himself.

As soon as you entered your home and closed the door behind you, you let out a breath you had been holding in after kissing his cheek. It was bold for you and it probably caught him off guard but you didn’t regret it one bit.

You felt your heart quicken, now that he had your number, you can definitely keep seeing each other more often. All was not lost tonight.

Leon sat in his car for a moment longer, staring down at the napkin holding your number with your faded lipstick kiss next to it. His mind was racing, his heart still thudding against his chest.

Your kiss was bold, unexpected, yet it sent a spark through him that he hadn't felt in so long. It was like a promise, a declaration that something had shifted.

He folded the napkin and put it in his pocket, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He started his car, heading back home with one thing in his mind. Soon, he'll call you. Soon.

-

For a couple weeks, you’ve gone out on more dates. Dinner dates, walks along the beach, even taking you to a carnival. He was always such a gentleman; holding the door open, carrying you in his arms bridal style if your feet ached from your heels, always stubbornly paying for your food.

And you had no say in anything, he was assertive but gentle. As if he only wanted to take care of you and not make you work or move a muscle. You didn’t mind, of course, but you always made sure to offer to pay for dates (even if it made him reprimand you).

For the first time in my life, you felt happy. Genuinely happy. He was everything, the only reason you woke up all happy was because of him. You were no longer your old self, he converted you into this happier version that you didn’t know you could be.

“Eyes locked on the target, Sir.”

“Good, go on right ahead, bring the captive alive.”

The worst thing imaginable had happened. A man broke into your house, the window crashed and you left your room to investigate.

When you made it to your living room, a figure from behind you suddenly pressed a piece of cloth right under your nose, forcing you to inhale whatever was on that.

Your vision blurred and you slowly felt your body become weak and disoriented. The man kept his grip around your arm tightly, preventing you from moving. When you had finally passed out, he gently laid you down on the floor to communicate with another person.

“Target acquired, returning back to base,” the man said before he picked up your body and threw it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

-

Leon was slowly falling hard for you. Seeing you happy, laughing, smiling was becoming an addiction for him. Every passing day that he spent with you, he found himself getting more and more attached.

He would do anything for you, pay for everything, pamper you, as long as you were happy and content. Seeing you smile because of him, brought him more joy than anything in the world.

He was falling in love, even if he didn’t quite realize it yet. His heart belonged to you now, whether he admitted it or not.

“Boss,” the voice of a man rang out in Leon’s office. As he had gone on dates with you, he didn’t neglect his duties as the mafia lord.

“Kyle was found dead in the casino. The arms case was missing as well,” he said to Leon. But it wasn’t just a random death. No, it was the act of an enemy mafia group just from the other side of the city. One that had many times tried to assassinate Leon and take over his empire.

Leon's expression darkened as he listened to his underling's report. The news of Kyle's death and the missing arms case was nothing but a nuisance, but the fact that his enemy mafia was behind this bothered him even more.

"Damn it," he muttered, his fists clenching at his sides, “Those bastards are getting bold."

He pushed himself up from his chair, his gaze hardening as he listened to his underling, "Any leads?"

The man shook his head, “No, sir. The body was missing so we couldn’t find the cause of death. But we found a card with the initials of Santo 'The Suit' De Lucchi.”

Santo ‘The Suit’ De Lucchi was a long time enemy of Leon. He was the man that had been targeting Leon ever since he became a Mafia boss. Santo was given the nickname ‘The Suit’ because he always played a tricky game.

He was obsessed with card decks, often always leaving behind a suit card on a bloody crime scene after murdering his own enemies. He’d leave the four types of cards behind depending on the message he tried to convey. This time, he had left an 8 of Spades card, meaning that he had a powerful group of men at the ready.

Leon's jaw tensed at the mention of the name. Santo 'The Suit' De Lucchi. He knew that name all too well, and it was never for a good reason.

The mention of the 8 of Spades card made his eyes narrow. It was a warning, a declaration of war. And it was personal.

"How nice of The Suit to leave a calling card," Leon said, his voice laced with anger. "He really wants my attention, doesn't he?"

“What do you want us to do, boss?” The underling asked Leon. War between mafias wasn't uncommon. Almost everyday, there were news of men found dead in the streets from crime and mafia activities. But to prevent panic among the citizens, the police simply said they were civilian disputes. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Leon paused for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts and plans.

"I want you to gather more information about his men, his operations, his every move," Leon ordered, his voice sharp and commanding, "But more importantly, I want to know why he's making a move now. This isn't just some petty feud, it's a message."

Leon's eyes narrowed as he thought, "He's playing a game, and I need to be ten steps ahead if I want to win it."

“On it, boss,” the underling then left Leon’s office, leaving him alone to think to himself.

It was suspicious how The Suit made a move now after years of feuding with Leon. What changed? Who was their next target? The Suit wasn’t going to stop there, no, he won’t. It would only be a matter of time before he went after something Leon cared so deeply about.

As the door closed behind his underling, Leon let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

He knew The Suit’s next move wouldn’t be a direct attack at him, no, that was too risky for someone like The Suit. He’d want to hit Leon where it hurt the most.

Leon’s thoughts immediately turned to you. His chest tightened at the idea of you being hurt, being targeted somehow. He had to make sure you were safe. Protected.

[rafescvntyclubgf]

Mile High Club - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

Older!Rafe x SugarBaby!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️ <- my first drop 😭

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: SMUT, Sex on a PJ, lots of pet names, lovey Rafe, takes out his phone and records that sh!t, unprotected p in v, what’s a plot

📖 Rafe takes you on the his Private Jet

✨ You take a little breath as his fingers glide along your clothed slit. Rafe ghost circles on top of the delicate material. “And this fuckin’ pussy, baby.” You feel him smile against your lips as he touches your wetness. “I can’t get enough.” ✨

2K

Reader’s POV:

“Get over here,” he growls playfully, reaching for you and tugging you over. You giggle delightedly as you climb on, taking a seat on his lap. Rafe’s hands impatiently wrap around your waist. The next moment, his lips are on yours, kissing you deeply, tongues rolling slow.

“I love you, baby.” He hums, kissing you one last time before throwing his head back. “We’re alone. Isn’t it fucking nice?”

“So nice,” you whisper, lips greeting his skin, kissing him softly as you work up to his ear. Rafe’s strong hands skim lower, circling your ass before squeezing it. “So, Rafey…”

“Mmm… Y/N.”

“How private is this jet?”

He lets out an unholy chuckle, seizing your hips, drawing your body flush with his. “Very, very private, Y/N. What do you have in mind?”

You walk over to your weekend bag, grabbing a few things. “Hold onto these?” You walk over to him slowly, resting the cuffs in his hands. “Do you want to use these now or-”

“Is that even a question,” he cuts you off, a sinful smirk licked on his perfect lips as he pulls one side open with ease. His eyes flick to yours, making your heart skip a beat—icy blue, brimming with lust.

Rafe rises from his seat, body clashing with yours, hands working into your hair. His kiss is deep, tongue slipping through your lips again as he uses his grip to draw you even closer.

“I’m so addicted to you, Y/N…” His hand brushes your thigh, toiling higher, disappearing under your dress. You feel yourself start to throb. “Your voice; this fuckin’ body…” he groans.

You take a little breath as his fingers glide along your clothed slit. Rafe ghost circles on top of the delicate material. “And this fuckin’ pussy, baby.” You feel him smile against your lips as he touches your wetness. “I can’t get enough.”

“Fuck,” you whimper against his plush lips. Rafe bites down, giving yours a soft tug.

“Are you gonna let me fuck you anyway I want?” He groans.

“Any way you want – I’m all yours, Rafe.”

“I can’t wait to please you all weekend, Y/N… I want you to feel me next week.”

“Use me.”

He chuckles, darkly. “Hurry up, baby.”

You pluck out a pair of blood-red stockings, rolling them on, red lace trim, clutching your thighs. Eyeing yourself in the mirror, you take one last glimpse at your body, adorned in a mess of rouge lace and straps.

Shit. He’s going to lose his mind. Heels? He’d love that. You step into the black glossy pumps, feeling your excitement bubble over.

Roaming into the cabin, the lights are drawn low again, soft music plays, setting the perfect ambiance. Rafe turns, his gape greeting yours, sprawled back in the chair. “Holy fuck,” he mumbles, eyes rolling back, hastily moving to his feet.

He studies your body as he strolls toward you—nothing on his muscular frame but a pair of white boxer briefs. You study him as well, his hair drawn back, showing off his chiseled jaw. He wets his pouty bottom lip, eyes meeting yours again.

“I love you… Y/N. So fucking much.”

“I love you too, Rafe.”

His rough hands take a grip on your hips, pulling you nearer. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing softly with you. “I have never wanted anything as much as I want you.”

“I feel the same way,” you whisper, warmly.

“I can’t wait to please you, Y/N… With my hands, with my mouth, with my cock. Any way I can, as much as I can.”

“Don’t make me wait.” Rafe’s lips crash into yours, claiming your mouth, hungry and breathless. He nips at your lip again, harder, pulling out a breathy moan, making him echo the same.

He picks you up effortlessly, bringing you into his arms, bodies melding as one. You grind your hips into him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your crotchless panties, your essence transferring to his warm skin. Your kiss gets rougher, demanding more; Rafe matches your passion without hesitation.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he mutters. “I wanna hear you scream my name.”

“Mmm… What if they hear,” you whisper, tongue skimming along his bottom lip.

“Let ‘em.”

Fuck, Rafe.

He sets you down, keeping you close, not wanting to lose contact. “Turn around,” he grunts. You climb onto the chair, cool leather against the heat of your bare skin, hands pressed against the back.

“Did you wear these so I could fuck ’em off, angel?” He snickers as he takes a grip on the spikes of your heels. You bite your lip and nod as your eyes lock with his. “Mmm… That’s my girl.”

He pinches the elastic of his boxers, working them off his body; cock stiff, smacking roughly against his tanned skin. Rafe’s focus shifts, watching his own hands as they work up the back of your calves to your thighs.

Rafe snaps the red lace against your skin, chuckling wickedly. He brushes your hair to the side, kissing you softly on the shoulder, hands working back down again. “Fuck me,” Rafe mutters as he sails two thick fingers along your soaked pussy making you moan. “So damn wet.”

You feel a loss of his touch, Rafe’s eyes are still on you as he steps closer. You look over your shoulder, offering him your wrists, resting them on the small of your back. He gives you a devilish smirk. “Mmm… Good fucking girl.” Rafe locks the metal. “Too tight?”

“Just right.”

“Beautiful.” His fingers trail your spine as he works his way to his knees, pressing a soft kiss against your bound hands.

He snatches your hips, drawing you nearer, adding a sway to your spine, giving him better access. Rafe praises you softly, the warmth of his words, hot against your arousal, sends chills across your body.

His tongue meets your sensitive flesh, gliding gently through your silk. You let out a needy whimper, resting your head against the back of the chair as you concentrate on his touch.

Fuck. He knows what he’s doing.

His tongue swirls around your entrance, teasing you for a moment before pushing deep. An airy cry slips your lips. “Rafe… Fuck, baby. That feels so good,” you groan.

Rafe’s lips lock on your sensitive bud, sucking and flicking his tongue. Your thighs start to quiver—your heart, is racing a little faster.

His hand trails up your legs. Mmm… Those fingers. You feel your body physically aching for them deep inside you, pussy throbbing in anticipation.

His hands pull back. You look about, pathetically; your breath quickly robbed as he plunges his cock into you roughly, body doubling over on the seat, making you cry out. Rafe tightens his grip on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he drills into you again.

“Y/N… Mmm. So fucking wet,” he moans huskily, increasing his tempo, skin clapping skin as he bottoms you out completely. You feel his hand dive forward, working between your thighs.

“Oh my god,” you squeal as he runs quick circles on top.

Rafe slows his pace, rolling his hips skillfully, the smacking of your thighs is replaced with the sounds of his dick working in and out of your drenched pussy. He grabs the chain, pulling you back, working himself in at a different angle, the curve of his cock kissing your sweet spot.

“Yes, baby. Right there,” you groan.

“Y/N… You look so fucking good; so damn beautiful, baby. Can I take a picture? Please-”

“Take a video.” You look back at him sinfully.

“Fuckkk,” he mumbles as he continues to take you from behind. Rafe reaches over, grabs his phone, turning on the flash.

“I can’t wait to watch this every night we’re apart, Y/N… Look at you, princess. Look at this fuckin’ ass.” Rafe snaps his hips a little harder, making your curves bounce with each roll as he yanks the chain a little more.

You feel your pleasure start to build, your walls closing in around him. “Can you cum for me, baby girl,” he growls.

You answer with his name, releasing from your lips, pussy rippling around his cock. A burst of ecstasy courses through your veins. He doesn’t stop, keeping pace, working you through your orgasm; toes, curling, heels tumbling to the floor. He lets out a devilish chuckle.

“Rafe… Holy fuck,” you pant, drawing a shivering inhale as you feel the aftershocks of your orgasm. Rafe’s hips grind slowly, gliding effortlessly through your release. He lowers his phone, getting a better view. A smirk spreads on his lips as he gets the perfect shot; his long cock, pulling in and out, glistening with your wetness; capturing every noise.

Rafe shuts off the camera, tossing it to the little side table. You take over, grinding and throwing your ass back. “Goddamn,” he rasps, slapping your cheek.

“My turn.”

“Your turn, Y/N?”

“Mmm… Mhmm, baby.”

“Shit… How did I get so lucky?” He soughs as he opens the binds.

You look up at him through your lashes, taking the cuffs hooked on his finger. “Let me take care of you, Rafey.”

“I love you… Have I said that already?” His hands wrap around the back of your neck, pressing your mouth against his. Your mind is hazy, blissed out from your climax.

I can’t wait to make him feel the same.

“Sit,” you demand.

Rafe relaxes into the chair, leg pitched out, blue eyes luring you closer. “Hands behind your head.” He smiles lustfully, complying with your demands. His muscular arms flex as his fingers lock. You walk toward him slowly, climbing onto his lap again, reaching for his wrist.

He’s still eager to please, tongue grazing your nipple, capturing you between his rosy lips, sucking roughly. You grab his other wrist as he works to the other side.

Fuck, this man is heaven.

You stare down at him, bound and in your control. His dick is achingly stiff; cum, gathered on his tip.

Reaching over, you grab his phone, clicking record again, propping it against a champagne bottle. “Y/N… Jesus Christ,” he groans, biting back a moan as you slip to your knees.

Rafe’s lips part in anticipation as you near his cock, quickly licking a line up his shaft, eyes boring into his hooded gaze. You swirl your tongue around his velvety head.

Taking him to the back of your throat, you gag on his length, making his abs flex. The metal clinks as the cuffs tighten. Mmm… You like that? You do it again and again. “Y/N, fuck!” Rafe bellows. You moan onto his cock, hearing his lucid pleasure.

“Mmm… Suck it, baby. Just like that,” he pleads, tossing his head back. You drop your hands, gripping his thighs, feeling his muscles stiffen under your grasp. “You make me feel so good. Fuck me, Y/N. Please.”

You climb onto his lap again, clutching his dick in your fist, aligning yourself with his head, swirling as you meet his stare. “Use. Me,” he grunts. “I don’t wanna stop ’til you cum again,” Rafe whispers the words breathlessly against your lips as you sit down, sinking lower and lower on his cock, feeling the delicious stretch.

A soft whimper leaves your lips—a smile felt against your kiss. He knows you’re close. So fucking close.

Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, you ride slowly. His addled gaze drinking in every angle, drunk on pleasure, wasted on the feeling. You slam a needy kiss against his mouth, incoherent words falling from your lips onto his.

“I’m almost there,” You gasp as you take hold of the chain between his wrists, tugging at it as you start to bounce.

“Y/N. Mmm… Shit.” His eyes slam shut, mouth falling open, head thrown back against the seat as he floods you with his seed.

“I’m gonna cum, Rafe,” you cry. He raises his hips, lifting you up, ramming into your cunt as your pleasure runs its peak. You hit your precipice, bliss surging through your system yet again.

Your body relaxes around him. Rafe crashes back down onto the seat, eyes lowering, watching as his climax slips from your pussy onto his swollen cock.

“Holy shit,” he huffs, releasing a satisfied breath. You reach for the cuffs, unhooking them listening as they fall to the floor. Rafe wraps his body in yours, sanctuary found in his arms as he holds you tight. You look into his eyes, a wide grin spreads on his lips. “I fuckin’ love you, baby.”

[eccentricwritingbaby]

meet-cute

part one! part two part three

lando norris x fem!reader

summary - y/n y/l/n just needed a coffee when she walked into the shop, she didn’t expect to also walk out with a date. 

masterlist

-

you had just recently moved to monaco in order to get away from the ordinary life that you found yourself having. you were a person who needed adventure and opportunity which just wasn’t happening in your hometown. you maneuvered your way through the streets in order to reach your favorite coffee spot for your much needed afternoon pick me up. once inside, you patiently waited in line until it was your turn to order. 

“double espresso with almond milk, please,” you spoke quickly to the barista taking your order.

“no problem,” she smiled as you gave your cash to her while leaving the rest of your change in the tip jar. you then moved right over to the side in order to wait for your brew to be finished up. after a few moments the barista called out your order and you reached over to grab it. by doing so your hand was covered over by anothers and you briefly pulled your hand away.

“i guess there's two people in this shop with great taste,” you heard a swift british accent say to you.

“i guess so,” you chuckle, “i apologize you most likely ordered before me that's most likely yours,” you speak to the handsome stranger. 

“please take it, I don't mind waiting,” he says to you while eyeing you a bit, “but only on one condition,” he adds.

“and what may that condition be?” you question with a teasing smile, enjoying the attention from the attractive man.

he moves slightly closer to you and continues with his proposition, “that you wait with me for my order as well,” he speaks with a smile.

“well kind sir, you’ve just made yourself a deal,” you wink while grabbing the coffee and taking a seat at a nearby table. he moves over to sit at the seat across from you while taking you in.

“have i seen you somewhere before?” you ask, looking at him a bit longer.

he gives a quiet laugh while proceeding to say, “i do not believe we’ve met, love. i would’ve remembered a face like yours. i’m lando, by the way,”

“y/n,” you reply, “its lovely to meet you lando,” 

after many more words exchanged and lando’s - technically yours - coffee appearing, you sadly had to make your way out of the coffee shop and into your plans for the day ahead. you and lando begin to exit the shop, still laughing here and there at different inside jokes you had come up with in the mere hour that you had together. once you reach a certain navy lamborghini, lando halts his movements and speaks.

“well this is me,” he sighs, “but i do hope we can see each other soon?”

“i’d really enjoy that, lando,” you say as his heart feels as though it has skipped a beat with the sugary way you say his name. 

“then how about tomorrow night? are you available for a date?” he asks quickly.

“i don’t know, i may have other plans with a random stranger i met at a different coffee shop,” you tease.

“ha-ha very funny,” he bites back, “what if i grab your number and we sort this out later,” you smile and hand over your phone while he loads his number in.

“well i have to leave, but it was very nice meeting you, lando. hopefully we see each other again very soon,” you smile back up at him while he gives you his signature smile right back.

“same for you, y/n. i’ll call you,”

“i’ll be waiting,” you give him one last wink and begin your walk away. he was enjoying the view of you walking away when your movements quickly halted and you turned slowly on your heel. 

“holy shit, mclaren!” you look back at him and begin laughing, “that’s why you looked familiar!” you said between laughs, “wow i am so dim, i’m so sorry,”

he gives you a shy smile while nodding, “i actually am quite happy you didn’t catch on, i appreciate some normalcy sometimes,”

“well in that case, if you want something normal, you’re going to have to work for that date, mister,” you reply while giving a sly wink and continuing on your way. lando smiled and hopped into his car. he would definitely be working for his date with you, but it would very much be worth it - and he couldn’t wait. 

[petrichorium]

the merman is back.

it’s a little weird how used to him you’ve gotten. he’d only shown up for the first time a few months ago, but when you’re largely alone out on the boat or in your oceanfront lab there’s no shortage of ways for him to visit with nobody around.

he’s yet to tell you a name, but after the first few weeks of silence he suddenly revealed a passable understanding of english; when he speaks it's rudimentary, but he clearly understands everything you say, even if he doesn’t listen half the time.

you haven’t gotten the nerve to get in the water with him. in fact, you haven’t gotten in the water at all since he arrived, even when your colleagues are around and he’s notably not. he’s massive, his tail alone being well over two meters long and possessing the torso of a man who would tower over you on dry land (a handsome man, you're begrudged to admit, with those broad shoulders and blood red eyes and that ash blond hair that somehow looks good immediately coming out of the water). he’s assured you in his blunt, curt way that of course he doesn’t want to eat you but you still have anxieties about getting out into the open water you’ve always loved and being pulled under by a fucking sea monster.

he’s getting bolder, though. when you take the boat out today, he follows it, like the dolphins used to back when you operated out of the keys; that sleek black body would be terrifying just from the size, like seeing a fully grown orca bump up against the hull.

and when you weigh anchor, almost immediately, the boat keels aftward when he pulls himself onto the deck.

you shriek and he immediately pins you with a steely glare. he’s never done that before. it’s fucking terrifying, though he’s not managed to drag his whole body up and you’re a little comforted by that. it’s just his arms—two massive, heavily muscled things that are flexed and crossed in front of him, holding his head, shoulders, and much of his human-like torso up out of the water with ease. that enormous tail trails behind him and it’s still terrifying to see, your heart skipping a beat every time the shimmering orange markings catch your eye.

you don’t know what you’ll do if he decides to come all the way onto the boat. he wouldn’t be able to maneuver that well, but where the fuck would you go? into the damn water?

“fucking christ!” you yelp. “don’t just do that, motherfucker!”

“calm,” he snaps as he rolls his eyes.

the urge to flip him the bird is overshadowed by the knowledge that he wouldn’t understand, and you’re too frazzled to explain what go fuck yourself means. instead, you turn back around to clean up the cabin that he’s managed to mess up.

“oi, human, come.”

you huff, shouting your name at him and pointedly refusing to turn away from your task. he’s clearly annoyed at that, and you belatedly realize that perhaps if you’re really that terrified of him coming onto the boat you shouldn’t provoke him. luckily, rather than heaving himself up, he jerks the entire hull.

it’s a smooth motion for him, gripping the stern and rolling his tail so that the boat moves with him. it’s like being out in a storm, and though you’re well aware that it’s just your needy visitor, your sea-hardened stomach still lurches at the familiar feeling.

you stumble out of the cabin, careful not to be thrown over the edge. “i’m out! holy shit, i have a damn job you know, i can’t spend all my time catering to your whims.”

he stops as soon as you get back on deck. “calm,” he tells you again, and you're really starting to hate the word, “too loud.”

“who’s fucking fault is that? don’t rock my damn ship.”

“sit,” he demands rather than apologizing.

there are a plethora of reasons not to. you won’t be able to get away quickly if you need to, you shouldn’t be encouraging his demands by obliging immediately, you really do have a job to do instead of… whatever this is—instead of listening to any one of those reasons, you ease yourself down with your legs crossed a little ways away from where he’s holding himself.

he snarls, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. “closer.”

“no,” you snap. “not if you’re threatening me.”

his mouth shuts immediately, brow furrowed and lips pouting in an expression that’s less pleading or apologetic and more contemplative.

“not a threat,” he seems to settle on saying.

you roll your own eyes. “yeah. okay.”

“come here.”

“why?”

“wanna feel you.”

that throws you for a loop. what could he mean by that? you realize that perhaps he’s as fascinated by you as you are by him.

you’ve caught him staring at your body in the past. he’s never reacted like you’d expect—if you’d caught a human looking at you like that and then turning away when you caught his eye, he’d have been checking you out. but when it’s an apex predator of a different species, there’s an entirely different context, one you’re even less enthused about.

you’re standing before you’ve fully thought it through, fully freaked and ready for him to go. you barely get to uncross your legs, however, before he lunges.

it’s far faster than your not-normally-hunted-because-you’re-a-modern-person mind can follow. a cold, clawed hand snaps out to latch around your ankle and yanks you downward, slamming your back into the boat’s coarse deck and then dragging you towards the edge. there’s not even time for you to shriek.

this is it, you think. he’s going to eat you now; he’ll drag you under and rip you apart, or maybe he’ll drown you first as a mercy. you hope he doesn’t want to play with you further, drag you into the water and let go to make you swim because he wants a chase.

the moment your ankle hits the water he stops.

you’re breathing heavily, free leg still braced on the deck, arms finding purchase on a pole nearby. his whole body is underwater aside from his eyes and the very top of his head, but you can still see that massive dark shadow—only little flashes of that pretty orange-gold patterning visible as his scales glint beneath the sun—and it sends a thrill through you. he’s so ungodly enormous.

that hand is still around your ankle, but it’s looser now. his mouth is beneath the waves so he doesn’t speak, but his eyes are soft and almost regretful as he regards you.

“okay…” you move slowly, getting to a better position. it pulls your captive ankle from the water and the movement causes his grip to tighten as if he’s reluctant to remove it—he doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t let you go. you’re forced to sit on the edge of the deck with your feet dangling over the side.

“let me feel you,” he tries again, as if he’s giving you a choice.

“ask,” you decide upon demanding. his words have made you realize, with a burst of shame and a promise to never tell anyone in the future, that you’re not entirely opposed to the strange rude merman feeling you.

you’re gifted a growl, not unlike the snarl from before but lacking the teeth. he’s learning, you realize, not only in not baring those terrifying weapons at you but also in removing his hand from your ankle.

“can i… touch you,” he spits out, like the words and your request are insulting.

and again you think there are far too many reasons to give in just like that. you’ve been around enough children to know that rewarding problematic behavior is hardly the way forward, but there’s a certain part of your brain that’s in control right now and it’s not particularly interested in breaking him of his demanding attitude (quite the contrary, to your chagrin, this very annoying part of your brain is enjoying it).

“are you sure you’re not going to eat me?”

“no eating.” he huffs, wrinkling his nose.

“what, i smell bad or something.”

he regards you, approaching a little closer, and you resist the urge to pull your legs up to hold your knees to your chest.

“smell good,” he says, “not like food.”

all right.

“fine, then. if you’re not going to take a bite out of my calf, then… sure. feel me, i guess.”

he’s just as fast as before, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence before he’s lashing out and grabbing your leg again. this time, he’s not looking at your face; he’s focused entirely on your feet, those big hands inspecting them thoroughly.

it’s rough, and you’re a little glad because if he’d been gentle it would have likely been too ticklish. he’s still careful with his massive claws; you’re sure they’re sharp enough to pierce your skin with ease, and he’s clearly skilled enough to avoid it. you’re more than thankful, because you’ve seen how he hunts with them (he’s dropped disemboweled fish in front of you before as strange gifts) and you don’t want your legs to end up like his prey even if he doesn’t eat you.

he moves on from your feet, both hands latching onto one calf and almost massaging it in reverence. his face is even closer now; you really ought to be more worried by the proximity of those teeth to your skin, but the fascination on his face is so enthralling.

by the time he reaches the back of your knee, you're tensing. while before he’d been mostly in the water, he’s very nearly at your height now, holding himself up by his grip on you and an awkward hold on the deck with his spare hand.

and then he’s at your thigh, and your breath is heavy.

because he’s basically laid out on your lap, one arm wrapped entirely around your upper leg such that his large palm rests flush, fingers spread, against the plush flesh of your inner thigh. and he’s no less fascinated, expression no less sincere, as he pulls further up to get closer.

“warm,” he says, more to himself than you. he blinks, as if shaking away a daze, and his eyes jump up from your thighs to look at your stomach. “soft…”

his head drops. you jump, caught up in the strange haze he's brought with him but snapping out of it as he lays his head on your lap. your heart thumps erratically, your breath long bated. he’s not looking at your thigh anymore, and not your face either—he’s locked on your stomach, your loose t-shirt having ridden up slightly to reveal more bare skin.

you ought to see it coming, really, but when that big, cold hand moves from your thigh to your torso, sliding smoothly beneath your shirt and running up your bare stomach, you yelp and jolt back.

he startles, and then he’s gone, slipping back off you and disappearing down into the murky water. you’re left panting, with nothing but a very wet body and the ghost of his touch on your legs…

and the heat of your face at the knowledge that, while you’d been surprised, you kind of wanted him to go further.

[brainddeadd]

Imagine telling Joseph woll you’re pregnant, then finding out it’s more than one.

Joseph had always been a steady presence in your life—calm, reliable, unwavering. But right now, as he stared at the positive pregnancy test in your hand, his blue eyes were anything but steady. They were wide, flickering between your face and the test as if he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing.

“You’re—” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “You’re pregnant?”

You nodded, suddenly nervous. “Yeah.”

For a second, he just stood there, completely still. Then, in an instant, he surged forward, wrapping you in his arms and lifting you off the ground in a breath-stealing hug.

“Oh my god,” he murmured against your hair. “We’re gonna have a baby?”

You laughed, clinging to him. “Yeah, Joey. We’re gonna have a baby.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face like he was trying to memorize every detail. “I love you so much,” he whispered. “And I love them so much already.”

— A Few Weeks Later —

“Alright,” the ultrasound tech said, moving the probe over your belly as you and Joseph watched the screen with nervous excitement. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

The grainy black-and-white image flickered to life, and within seconds, the tech let out a little laugh.

“Oh! Looks like you’ve got more than one in there.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

Joseph, who had been gripping your hand the entire time, stiffened beside you. “More than one?” he echoed, voice slightly higher than usual.

The tech nodded, grinning. “Congratulations—you’re having twins!”

For a moment, silence. Then, Joseph let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a breathless curse. He dropped his head onto your shoulder, his grip on your hand tightening.

“Twins,” he mumbled, like he was trying to convince himself it was real. Then, lifting his head, he turned to you, his expression a mixture of awe, terror, and overwhelming love. “Babe, we’re having two babies.”

You nodded, feeling your own emotions catch up to you. “Yeah. Two.”

Joseph exhaled a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Holy shit.” Then he looked back at the screen, his eyes softening as he saw the two tiny heartbeats flickering on the monitor.

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Guess we’re gonna need a bigger house.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “Guess so.”

And as overwhelming as it was, seeing Joseph—your rock, your partner, your love—look at that screen with nothing but devotion in his eyes, you knew you’d figure it out together.

[gingerteafairy]

THE GREAT GUIDE FOR JAILBIRDS IN LOVE

warren lipka x fem!reader part one part two final

summary: It had never been a secret, but now it was more than just imagination: Warren wanted to have a family, and if it depended on him, he would create the best one with you.

tags n warnings: language, implied intimacy. word count: 9.6k

A/N: this was supposed to be a (final) single chapter, but i had to divide it because it's really long, face it like the first part <3

Rule #8: Know How to Choose.

"Hey, kid. Did you like the lemon Pepsi?" Warren asked, his mouth full, chewing lazily as he crumpled the napkin between his fingers. He wiped some stray burger crumbs from his cheek before tossing the paper onto the table in a nonchalant flick.

"It's really good." Luke smiled, picking up a fry, biting off the end with slow, deliberate movements as if savoring the moment.

"Told you. Coke is overrated. Pepsi’s where it’s at, always has been." Warren raised his half-empty cup toward Luke before taking a long, relaxed sip. "Did you know Michael Jackson did an incredible commercial for this stuff?" He leaned forward slightly, eyes lighting up with enthusiasm, shaking the cup between his fingers like it was some secret treasure.

"Who’s Michael Jackson?"

Warren froze mid-sip. He blinked, his throat tightening as he swallowed quickly, eyes widening in disbelief. His brow furrowed, and his lips parted as if Luke had just uttered the most insane thing imaginable.

"Holy shit. Are you fucking serious, kid?" Warren slammed his cup down onto the table, the dull thud echoing in the quiet moment, his face a picture of utter disbelief. Luke opened his mouth to respond, but Warren held up a hand, his expression serious. "Sorry for the cursing, but come on. How do you not know who the King of Pop is?"

"I don’t know, I’m just not into pop music," Luke shrugged, reaching for his straw and taking another sip of his Pepsi, completely unfazed.

"I’m not a pop music guy either, and I love Michael Jackson," Warren clicked his tongue, pulling his phone out of his pocket, already starting to type with a sense of urgency. "I’ll show you some real music later. Damn, those kids nowadays…" A smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes locked onto the screen, his fingers swiping through playlists. "Even a guy like me has his moments and Smooth Criminal is fine shit."

Before he could find a song, Luke interrupted:

"Is it true you went to jail?"

Warren’s fingers froze on the screen, his heart skipping a beat. A chill ran down his spine, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to pause. His stomach tightened, and he blinked slowly, processing the question. Luke wasn’t looking at him with judgment or fear, just pure curiosity.

"At school, they said my mom was dating a guy from jail and you're the only man she talks to."

Warren slowly placed the phone down onto the table with a sigh that felt like it came from deep within his chest. He rubbed his eyes with his palms, his face tired, before clasping his hands together, letting them rest on the table in front of him.

"Yeah... It's true. I was there for a while, like 7 years or something like that." The words felt heavy in his mouth, more than he expected.

Luke leaned forward, his eyes wide with interest. "And what did you do to end up there?"

Warren hesitated, a dry, rough feeling crawling up his throat. He ran his tongue over his lips, the words struggling to form as the weight of the past seemed to hang over him. The silence between them thickened.

"I did some really bad stuff. Tried to steal something precious and important... ended up hurting someone in the process. It was a nightmare, I regret it with my soul," His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible, and for the first time in a long time, he held Luke’s gaze. The raw honesty, the unspoken understanding between them, felt like a crack opening in his chest, raw and real.

"Wow." Luke’s eyes widened, processing the gravity of what Warren had just confessed. He shook his head slightly, trying to grasp it all, and then, without any hesitation, said something that made Warren’s heart feel like it skipped a beat:

"But you’re cool, Warren. I don’t care what the other kids say about you. You're the best and they don't know anything about you."

Warren blinked, completely thrown off. The tension in his shoulders, which had been there since he walked in, seemed to loosen just a fraction. But deep down, something bitter and sharp flared inside him. Who were these little punks talking about him to Luke?

"Really?" He forced a smile, his voice a little tight, but his eyes—his eyes were already calculating how he could get back at the gossiping kids.

"Yeah." Luke said it matter-of-factly, his expression sincere. "I wish you were my dad. You'd be pretty cool and I bet my mom would be happy with this because she really loves you. She says that all the time."

Warren’s body went rigid, his muscles locking up as if the very air had changed. The hum of the food court around them faded into nothing. His mind raced to process the words. Did he just—

Luke didn’t just want a guy who showed up for the occasional burger. Luke didn’t just want someone who hung around now and then. He wanted a dad.

Warren’s chest tightened, but not with regret or guilt—no, this was something different. It was like something inside him clicked into place for the first time in forever. A small, flickering light ignited, and for the briefest moment, Warren realized he had value. He made a difference in this kid's life.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to snap back to reality, his expression softening into something far more uncertain than usual.

"Okay. I need to stop by somewhere," he said abruptly, standing up, grabbing a fry and shoving it into his mouth before stepping away from the table.

Luke jumped up, following him without hesitation. "Where are we going?"

Without thinking, Warren grabbed Luke’s small hand. He didn’t notice the way the boy squeezed back, but Luke did—and his fingers tightened just a little more, a quiet act of trust.

"You, kid." Warren turned, impulsively picking Luke up into his arms, making the boy burst into giggles. He moved quickly through the mall, weaving through crowds of shoppers, his footsteps steady as they approached a jewelry store.

Luke’s eyes went wide as they stopped in front of the store. "What?"

"You’re gonna help me pick something out for your mom. I’m counting on you, this is a serious mission and you're my best agent, you hear me?" Warren beamed, his voice unusually calm. 

Warren gently set Luke down before anyone could intervene. He didn’t want to risk being thrown out for making too much noise or knocking something over. Luke, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, blinked up at Warren, his face full of questions. 

"Seriously? What is it?"

Warren smiled, but there was something more in his gaze—something soft yet determined. "A ring. And you’re going to help me pick the right one for her since you've known her your whole life and I’m just the guy who came over to your lives."

He stepped closer to the display case, the soft hum of the store’s lights flickering above them. The glass was spotless, reflecting the sparkle of diamonds and colored stones in every hue. Gold, silver, platinum, and metals Warren couldn't even name. Everything was beautiful, polished, and meticulously arranged. He had a clear goal in mind, but even so, his eyes wandered over the choices—large stones, small stones, bright gems, delicate ones. His gaze finally stopped on three different models that seemed like they could be the right fit, something within budget, but with enough meaning to make it count.

“Alright. Between a big stone and a small one, which one do you think your mom would choose?”He turned to Luke, whose eyes were wide with wonder.

Luke furrowed his brow, striking a thoughtful pose, his chin resting in his hand as he leaned slightly to the side, deep in concentration. “She’d pick something smaller,” he said with a sure nod. “She does so much around the house, and she’s always complaining that she has to take her rings off so they don’t get in the way.”

Warren raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “Well thought out, kid.” He discarded one of the options, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. “Now, between gold and silver, which one does she like more?”

Luke grinned, full of confidence. “I like gold.”

Warren snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Not for you, smart aleck, for your mom.”

“But I like gold,” Luke insisted, “and I think it looks better on her.”

“Alright, alright. But if she doesn’t like it, the blame is all on you.” Warren let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head but unable to suppress a smile. 

The boy blinked, a flicker of doubt crossing his face, but he quickly regained his confidence. Warren let out a quiet chuckle before calling the attendant over to finalize the purchase. Luke watched intently as Warren signed the receipt with a theatrical sigh, as though he had just committed a crime.

“Man, that price just reminded me why I used to steal stuff…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"What?" Luke’s eyes went wide. “You still think about stealing?”

Warren let out a sharp laugh, snorting through his nose. “Nah, kid. I mean, sometimes it crosses my mind. But then I remember that jail sucks.” He shoved his wallet into his back pocket and picked up the small jewelry bag containing the ring.

“Is it really that bad?” Luke asked, his curiosity piqued. “In the movies, they rather die than live in a place like that.”

Warren stopped, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced up, trying to find the right words. “Worse than you can imagine. It’s like… school, but without being able to go home at the end of the day. And without the internet, everyone there is just looking for a fight. And you don’t have your mom around either, which is a huge downside 'cause we both love her.”

Luke wrinkled his nose in sympathy. “Wow. So, it’s really like school, but worse.”

“You’re not wrong. But at least at school, you get fries.” Warren chuckled, reaching over and ruffling Luke’s hair playfully. 

“True. I love school’s fries. They're the best part,” Luke agreed, his tone thoughtful. “Did you make any friends there?”

“Hmm… ‘friends’ is a complicated term.” Warren’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. 

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I ended up there with some of my friends. We did this together. My best friend Spencer was there, but we had some fights and it got weird, especially with Chas. He did well in jail, me on the other hand… Not so good,” He sighed, looking around the mall as if searching for an answer in the air itself. “Well, there are people there who’ll stick by you because they need to. It’s dangerous to be alone. But deep down, everyone’s really just looking out for themselves.”

“Then you never trust anyone?”

Warren turned his head to look at Luke from the corner of his eye. The question caught him off guard, and he paused for a moment before responding, his voice a bit quieter. “Depends,” he lit up. “I trust you. That's a lot coming from me.”

Luke’s face lit up with a wide smile, clearly pleased with the answer. It was small, but in that moment, something shifted in the air between them—a kind of understanding, unspoken yet clear, that made it feel like Warren was starting to feel like more than just a guy who’d walked into the boy’s life randomly. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to feel like he could be the kind of person Luke needed.

They started walking through the mall, the buzz of people and the sparkle of store displays creating almost a magical scene. Suddenly, Luke grabbed Warren's arm, stopping him in the middle of the walkway.

“If you had a superpower, what would it be?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Warren laughed out loud. “You’re hitting me with that question now? Alright, let me think...” He struck an exaggerated pose, hand on his chin like a philosopher deep in thought. “Maybe stopping time or time travel. That way I could go back and undo a bunch of dumb things I’ve done.”

Luke scrunched up his face. “That’d be kinda boring. I’d pick super strength. No one would mess with me at school.”

Warren smiled, but his expression quickly shifted to something more serious. “Is someone messing with you?”

“Nothing major. But sometimes they say stuff about my mom… and about you.” Luke shrugged nonchalantly. “Some people just love to talk and it pisses me off. They almost suspended me after i punched one of those guys.”

Warren’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Look, if that stupid boy Caleb kid is bothering you again, I swear to God…”

“It’s fine,” Luke quickly cut in, shaking his head. “But, if you had super strength, we could totally freak them out.”

“Nice try, kid. But you don’t need superpowers to teach those punks to show you some respect.”

 “So how do I do that?” Luke looked up at him, genuinely curious.

“Remember what I told you,” Warren recalled, placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Be smarter than they are. You don’t have to fight. Just show them that nothing they say affects you.”

Luke thought for a second, then a grin spread across his face. “Like you do?”

Warren hesitated, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. But then, he smiled. “Something like that.” Luke nodded, looking thoughtful. Then, he pointed to a nearby video game store. 

“Can we check that out?”

Warren raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I already spent a kidney on that ring, and now you’re trying to bankrupt me?”

 “I just wanna look! Promise!” Luke laughed. Warren sighed, defeated. 

“Fine. But if you start eyeing the consoles too much, I’m fucking dragging you out of there. Be aware, Lucky.”

“Yes!” Luke cheered, grabbing Warren’s hand and pulling him toward the store. “Now where’s the Mario session… Just for a look...”

Rule #9: Don’t Be a Coward.

Luke quickly got out of the car, rushing to the front door of the house with his eyes sparkling, barely able to contain his energy. His hands trembled with excitement as he grabbed the hidden key beneath the flowerpot and gently opened the door with a soft click.

“Mom!” He called out, his voice high-pitched as he sprinted through the hallway, heading straight for the kitchen where you were. You had changed into a more relaxed outfit, now far more at ease than earlier in the morning.

“Did you just get home?” Warren asked, his voice heavy with contained excitement, closing the door behind him and walking toward you.

You were standing with your back to him, in front of the fridge. He watched your every movement, the way you moved so naturally that it almost seemed like a dance between you two — a constant exchange of glances and synchronized gestures.

“I just got in a little while ago, took a quick shower, and came to grab something to eat. You guys must've had a snack at the mall, right?” You smiled, shutting the fridge door and crouching to hug Luke, who ran into your arms with a wide grin. His small arms wrapped around your neck with the intensity of a child completely overcome with joy.

“We had a huge burger!” Luke answered, jumping up in the air, his enthusiasm evident in every motion.

“Burger, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, the doubt and sarcasm playing in your expression as you glanced at Warren, who, with his hands raised in a mock gesture of surrender, wore an embarrassed smile.

“And what did you guys do there?” You slowly stood up, your fingers running through Luke’s hair, which caused him to look up at you, his eyes sparkling before returning your affectionate kiss on the top of his head.

“We went to the giant octopus, and Uncle Daniel was there. He seemed kind of sad, but then we went to eat burgers and drive around.” Luke spoke quickly, his eyes still wide with excitement as he relived the day’s adventure.

“Daniel?” The name came out abruptly, and your body tensed for a moment.

The smile that had once lit up your face faded, and you looked at Warren, who let out a muffled sigh, putting his hands in his pockets and briefly looking away. The silence between you two grew heavy, but you forced yourself not to show the tension that had started to build inside you.

“Yeah, he talked to Warren, but he said he was in a rush and left.” Luke explained, his childlike innocence leaving him unaware of the subtleties in the conversation.

You took a deep breath, relieved, but still left with a lingering unease in your chest. Your gaze turned toward Warren, a silent plea for a private conversation later. He nodded, understanding.

“Sweetie, go take a bath before bed. I’ve already prepared your water. I need to talk to Warren, okay?” You made a conscious effort to change the subject, turning to Luke with a smile. He looked at you with a slight pout, disappointed but not wanting to argue.

“Mom!” He grumbled, his body going limp in mock defeat, ready to begin his typical child’s drama.

“Luke.” You responded firmly but with affection, your eyes closing momentarily in a silent exchange that only the two of you understood.

He huffed, throwing his arms up in a theatrical gesture before heading toward the bathroom, his small, pudgy form walking slowly, his head hanging low with an exaggerated sense of irony in each step. You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene, and when you turned back to Warren, the atmosphere felt a bit lighter.

“What happened at the mall? I know it wasn’t a friendly conversation.” You asked, walking toward him with a soft voice but persistent curiosity. The concern in your eyes was palpable, but there was also an underlying search for answers.

“Yeah, not really.” Warren replied with a tired smile, pressing his lips together in an effort to keep his emotions in check. His eyes wandered up to the ceiling for a moment before finally meeting yours. “He seemed off. I was listening to him ramble while Luke was at the octopus.”

“And what did you guys talk about?” The question slipped out easily, but as soon as the words left your mouth, Warren’s expression shut down, as if the weight of what he was about to say was too much to bear. He paused, his fingers lightly touching his pockets, and his posture became rigid, as if weighing each word.

“He was upset because he broke up with Honey,” he said, his voice quieter now, as though afraid that any other words would shatter the fragile peace between you two.

“They broke up?” You exclaimed, the surprise evident in every fiber of your being. You crossed your arms, brows furrowing in disbelief, and your eyes locked on his, trying to understand, trying to fit this new piece of information into the image you had of Daniel and Honey.

“Yeah, on the wedding day. We made a real mess of things.” Warren replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his voice laden with a tone of regret you knew all too well. You nodded, processing what he said before releasing a deep sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with you.

“That's crazy.” You murmured, your face softening, and your eyes met Warren’s.

Unintentionally, a smile tugged at your lips as you caught him lost in his own thoughts. The soft kitchen light reflected in his eyes, making them appear even more captivating, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but get lost in that gaze.

"Thank you for today." You spoke sincerely, the gratitude evident in the smile that accompanied your words. He responded with a slight nod of his head, his lips curling into a small but meaningful smile.

"It was nothing. I actually enjoyed spending time with him. He's a good kid, I got a lot to learn from him," Warren nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, his eyes fixed on yours in a way that made you feel exposed, yet comfortable at the same time. "Hey... I wanted to tell you something, if it’s okay."

"Go ahead..." You blinked innocently, a gesture that, unintentionally, made Warren’s heart skip a beat. The question was caught in his throat, almost tangible in the air between you.

"Would you go out with me tomorrow? For... A date?" He asked, surprised, his voice laced with a subtle anxiety. His head tilted slightly as he waited for your answer. He seemed vulnerable, but the sincerity in his gaze made your response come easily.

"Go out?" You repeated, your eyes sparkling with excitement as warmth spread through you. Warren nodded slightly, his gaze locked on yours. "With you? Of course, Warren."

"Great. How about dinner? I know a fantastic place." He said, now more confident, his smile widening. He stepped closer to you, his body relaxing as he leaned slightly against the wall beside you, almost as if he wanted to envelop you with his presence.

"Dinner sounds perfect." You smiled, the tension in the air intensifying. You took advantage of the proximity, moving just a little closer, your shoulders brushing lightly against his.

Warren bit his lip with a mischievous grin, feeling the energy between you two grow. His free hand slid around your waist, his fingers grazing the skin just beneath your shirt. He leaned in closer, his breath growing heavy and slow, the patience almost torturous as the space between you both shrank. You took a deep breath, your lips slightly parted, anticipating the touch, your eyes fixed on his, waiting for the perfect moment.

"Mom, I can't find my shark." Luke’s voice cut through the building tension, causing both of you to break apart abruptly. The world around you seemed to return to normal, but the energy between you and Warren was still there, lingering in the air.

"I’ll be right there, sweetheart!" You shouted, trying to mask your discomfort with a firmer tone, though it sounded a bit awkward.

Your fingers subconsciously tightened around the fabric of your clothes, still feeling the warmth of Warren's touch. He lowered his head in embarrassment but chuckled softly, the sound of his laugh naturally breaking the tension.

"I… better go." He winked, running a hand distractedly through his hair, attempting to shake off his own embarrassment. He took a step back, starting to walk away, but not before casting one last look at you, almost challenging the silence that hung between you two.

"We’ll see each other tomorrow." You said, your voice soft but filled with anticipation. You opened the door for him, watching him as he passed.

"Rest up so we can catch up." He whispered, his gaze warm and full of promises before he leaned in just enough to steal a quick kiss on your lips. "I love you. Like, i fucking love you. For real."

You didn’t try to hide your smile anymore, intertwining your fingers with his. You leaned in for a more tender kiss, ending with one last light peck on his lips.

"I love you too." It was the answer you both had known from the first glance, but you were finally brave enough to say it first. Oh, how you wished you had said it sooner, stopped being so stupid. How Warren wished for the courage to say it. He felt grateful to be the one to say it first.

As he stepped back, he walked toward the car, his hands in his pockets and his heart still racing from the lingering tension between you two.

You watched him for a few more seconds, your gaze fixed on Warren as he walked away, until reality, like an abrupt tug, snapped you back. It was time to put Luke to bed, but in that moment, you wanted more than anything just a little more time to keep dreaming about Warren. Every thought seemed still soaked in him, like a mark left on your very dreams.

And that night, you dreamed of him. So many different scenes, but all intertwined, all summarizing to him, like a single movie playing on the screen of your mind. In the field, your head resting gently in Warren’s lap, the cozy checkered blanket wrapping you both as the flowers around you seemed to grow toward you, as if wanting to follow the calm rhythm of your breathing.

On the road, Luke singing joyfully from the backseat, his voice blending with the sound of the wind that messed up Warren’s hair, the sun setting and casting a golden light on his face and brown hair, the laughter in the air seeming to echo like music.

In a cozy café, at an intimate restaurant, in a welcoming bookstore. On a distant beach, at night, walking hand in hand along the shore, the wind tousling your hair, the salt and sand clinging to your bodies, and Warren lifting you in his arms, your dress floating, light as the breeze, laughing with you under the starry sky.

Your light laugh was inevitable as you slept, the sweet sound slipping from your lips, while the warmth of the night seemed too little compared to the dream unfolding.

The night felt far too brief, and soon, the day came, the soft morning light filtering through the window and invading your field of vision. It annoyed your eyes, forcing your body to wake from the cloud of sheets that felt like the same space where Warren had also laid. It was as though your senses were playing tricks on you, but you swore you could still smell him on the pillow, a lingering reminder that he had been there, beside you.

"Mom..." Luke’s voice woke you, sweet yet tinged with distress. You immediately sat up, worried, when you saw his watery eyes and red nose, and your heart tightened at the sight.

"My baby, what happened?" Your voice came out softly but hurried, filled with concern, as your fingers instinctively reached for his forehead. Your question was interrupted by a loud sneeze, and Luke quickly grabbed a cloth to wipe his nose, his face filled with discomfort. "Oh, sweetie..."

"Do I have to go to school today?" He asked, immediately following it with a strong cough, his voice hoarse and weak. A wave of worry hit you.

"No, sweetheart. We’re staying home today." You reassured him, the furrow in your brow deepening as you saw him cough once more. Your hand instinctively went to his forehead, feeling the heat radiating in waves. "Oh my God, Luke. You’re burning up."

"I feel all lazy and floppy and weird..." He whined, lazily leaning against you, seeking comfort. His small body nestled against yours, and your heart ached even more at his fragility. "Am I gonna die, mom?"

"No, Luke. You're not gonna die." You laughed softly, stroking his back, trying to comfort him with your calm assurance that everything would be okay. The warmth of his skin against yours made you feel even more responsible, as though it was your duty to protect him. "It’s probably just a cold. We’ll take medicine, rest, and if it gets worse, we’ll go to the hospital."

"Hospital?" He suddenly sat up, his eyes wide with fear, and the distress on his face deepened. He shook his head quickly, so full of fear that it seemed to overflow. "I don’t want to, Mom. I hate the hospital. You know how I hate that place. It smells so weird."

"I know, sweetie." You sighed, feeling the tightness in your chest as you stroked his damp hair. His body was relaxed against you, but his gaze still carried an edge of fear. "We’ll rest, okay? Mom will take care of you."

"Okay..." He cooed, still pouting, but he walked slowly back to his room, his small, exhausted body dragging itself with the slow pace of someone who had no strength left.

You sighed with concern, your hand absentmindedly running through your hair as you tried to gather your thoughts. The day didn’t seem ready to start, but it was time to take action.

You needed to message Warren to take care of the groceries while you prepared Luke’s tea and cold compresses to help ease his fever. You put your phone aside with a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing on your chest, and made your way to Luke’s room. When you entered, you found him tangled in the sheets, his small form nearly disappearing in the mess of blankets.

"Here, sweetheart. Drink this." You spoke gently, crouching beside the bed to help him sit up.

With a careful movement, you poured the medicine into the spoon, looking at him with affection. Luke opened his mouth, but then immediately scrunched up his face in a grimace of disgust, his expression making you smile faintly.

"Swallow it, Luke." You insisted, your voice firm but filled with patience. Luke whimpered, his body curling in resistance, but there was no way around this task.

"It’s horrible. Tastes like piss and I've never drank it." He complained, sticking out his tongue as if trying to expel the bitter taste just by moving it. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly inside, but you remained calm.

"That’s why I brought you tea." You responded with a soft smile, lightening the mood. With the warm cup in your hands, you handed it to Luke, who reached out to take the drink as if it were a refuge. He immediately brought the cup to his lips, relieved by the sweet taste, trying to wash away the bitterness from his mouth.

"Thanks." He murmured, his smile still shy but grateful as he handed the cup back to you.

You placed it carefully on the nightstand, your heart squeezing a little at how small and vulnerable he looked at that moment.

"Good, now lie down and let me put these compresses on your forehead." You added, watching him adjust himself in bed, pulling the blanket up with tired effort.

He snuggled in further, his expression one of wanting nothing more than the comfort of your arms, but you knew he needed to calm down first. With gentle hands, you placed the cold compress on his forehead, watching as he shivered slightly from the chill. He tried not to show it, but you noticed the discomfort, and soon he began to relax little by little, growing accustomed to the cold touch.

"You’re going to feel better really soon." You comforted, your voice soothing as you stroked his hair almost automatically.

"Promise?" Luke asked, his eyes hopeful, pulling the blanket up to his chin, seeking comfort in something beyond the fever and the weariness. His gaze, so innocent and fragile, made your heart ache.

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming need to do everything possible to reassure him. With a tender gesture, you leaned down and kissed his small hand, a sign of affection that, for a moment, seemed to heal more than any medicine ever could.

"I promise." You said firmly, the smile on your face showing that, despite your concern, you were there for him, ready to care for every little detail.

Two streets away, Warren quickly checked his message and returned to his work. The market was strangely busy that day, with people coming in and out to buy something or just to check the prices. Despite the higher customer flow, it was still easy to handle, even with just one person, and that made the day pass faster than he had expected. Though it was busier, he felt comfortable, focused on the tasks at hand.

When his shift finally ended, he made one last round of the store to ensure everything was secure. Then, he headed to the bathroom, where he swapped his work clothes for something more decent for the date, feeling a light but growing nervousness.

He splashed some water on his face and sprayed a bit of cologne, the sweet scent calming him down. He took the time to brush his teeth, thinking about the long distances he’d need to travel to get home, but it didn’t bother him. He knew that, in the end, everything would be worth it. With one final glance in the mirror, he adjusted his clothes and prepared for the moment that awaited him.

When he arrived at your house, he rang the doorbell, but what he hadn’t expected was for the door to be unlocked, with silence taking over the atmosphere. Odd, he thought. He looked around cautiously but still decided to go in, curious and a little wary.

Everything felt so quiet.

He quickly checked the kitchen, but nothing seemed out of place. Then, suddenly, he heard something almost inaudible: a sneeze. His smile appeared effortlessly, and, discreetly, he followed the sound. What he found was, without a doubt, the most adorable scene he could imagine.

Luke was fast asleep, completely tangled in the blankets, his head resting on your chest as if it were the most comfortable pillow. You were there too, also resting, a children's book in your lap, your head gently resting on Luke’s. The moment was serene, almost ethereal. Luke let out a soft sneeze, so adorable it made Warren’s heart skip a beat. The scene was so sweet and intimate that he couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction.

He moved closer silently, the softness of his movements contrasting with the warmth that began to fill his chest. He gently pulled the blanket up, covering both himself and Luke, careful not to wake them. Then, with a tender gesture, he kissed your forehead, the touch light and full of affection. Smiling to himself, he stepped back, detaching from the moment to ensure that the tranquility would be preserved. He turned off the light, leaving the room enveloped in an even deeper calm. With one last affectionate glance, he left the room, feeling a comforting sensation as if he were exactly where he was meant to be.

A little while later, your eyes began to slowly open, drawn by the irresistible aroma that filled your nostrils. The smell of freshly made food was delicious, warm, and comforting, but something felt strange. You didn’t remember putting anything in the oven before you started reading to Luke. Confused, you stretched, raising your arms above your head as a light shiver ran down your spine. With a sigh, you got up from the chair and made your way to the kitchen, your bare feet making almost no sound on the floor.

Entering the kitchen, your eyes quickly found Warren, who had a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, moving around with the ease of someone who already knew every corner of the house. He was placing the dishes on the table carefully, his movements graceful, as if each gesture was thought out, almost choreographed. The contrast between the tranquility of the scene and the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind made your heart beat faster.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Warren smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face. He looked at you almost in admiration, taking in your sleepy eyes and messy hair, a sight that made him feel even more drawn to you. “It was hard to find these plates. You hide them very well. I’d even say you’re afraid of a certain thief.”

You felt a slight warmth rise to your cheeks, but quickly remembered what was happening. “Dinner…” The word escaped your lips, and your heart tightened. You walked toward him, your steps slow and heavy, feeling the guilt begin to form within you. “Oh, Warren, I’m so sorry… I…”

“I promised you dinner, so I made it,” he gently cut you off, his voice low and comforting, as if he already knew exactly what you wanted to say. In a tender gesture, he pulled your face toward him for a small, but affectionate, kiss on the forehead. “Actually, it wasn’t me. It was the restaurant. I don’t know how to cook, but you got the idea.”

“Why?” The question slipped out quietly, almost a confession of guilt. Your eyes couldn’t meet his directly. You felt a slight tremor in your hands as you stared at his face. Warren then tilted his head slightly to the side, his look sweet and understanding.

“You seemed like you needed it. And besides, I didn’t want to delay our date.” He spoke with such softness, his voice full of sincerity, that it made your chest tighten. With a discreet smile, he stepped away to take the meals out of the bags and set the boxes on the table. “I brought Indian, Chinese, Mexican… I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought everything.”

You blinked, speechless for a moment. His gesture was so simple, but so full of affection, that you didn’t know what to say. With a shy smile, you sat down at the table and picked one of the options. Warren did the same, settling across from you.

“Wow… I… I’m at a loss for words.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Warren beamed, grabbing his fork and beginning to dig into the food with gusto. “I like to see you smile.” He watched you for a moment, as if each of your movements were a small victory. Then, he changed the subject, not taking his eyes off of you. “Is Luke sick? He looks like Rudolph the red-nosed.”

“Cold,” you answered, swallowing a bite before looking at him with a thoughtful expression. “I dreamt about you last night.”

“You did?” Warren raised an eyebrow, amused by the direction of the conversation. The taste of the food seemed even more special now, the atmosphere around them becoming light and intimate. “And what happened in it?”

“Er... there were many things, but it was nice. I remember that in one of them, we were at the beach,” you said, taking another bite and feeling the flavor more intensely than you expected.

“I dreamt about you too,” Warren returned your gaze with a mischievous smile.

“Really?” You smiled, excited and more interested than you wanted to admit, curiosity taking over you. “What happened in your dream?”

“Well, it’s not as elaborate as yours. You were wearing way less clothes in this kitchen.” He laughed, the sound of his laughter light and spontaneous, making you laugh along. His smile was so genuine that you rolled your eyes, feeling a wave of growing affection.

“You’re unbelievable.” You laughed, taking a sip of the water he had left next to you on the table, savoring the ease of the conversation and the closeness of something deeper between you two.

Warren looked at you with his eyes locked on yours, and suddenly, he asked, as if it were the most natural thing, but with an intensity that made your heart race:

"Will you marry me?"

You almost choked on your water, your throat tightening as your eyes widened. The glass stopped halfway to your mouth, and for a moment, your mind just froze.

"What?" Your voice came out hoarse, a mix of surprise and disbelief.

On the other side of the table, Warren leaned back in his chair, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement, as if he were testing your reaction.

"Nothing." He quickly backpedaled, shrugging his shoulders as though he hadn’t just said something monumental. You blinked, trying to process what had just happened, before letting out an incredulous laugh.

"Oh, so you did say it."

Grabbing a napkin, you absentmindedly wiped your mouth, still recovering from the shock. Your heart was beating a little faster, but you weren’t about to let him off that easily.

"Say it again." Your voice was firm, but there was a playful smile at the corner of your lips, challenging him.

"No." He responded with his mouth full, a laugh escaping between his teeth as he chewed. He quickly grabbed another bite of food, as though doing so would stop him from saying any more nonsense.

"Warren!" You exclaimed, your voice a mix of amusement and mock indignation.

He raised an eyebrow, pretending not to understand while looking around, as if you were speaking to someone else.

"Do you want me to wash the dishes, babe?" He suddenly asked, standing up from his chair and grabbing the empty plates, clearly trying to change the subject.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. "No, I want you to say again what you said earlier."

Warren paused for a moment, his lips curling into a half-smile before letting out a dramatic sigh.

"Hm... I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling." He replied, walking to the sink with the plates. But the way his shoulders were slightly tense, and the corner of his mouth still tugging into a smile, made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. You slowly got up, crossing the kitchen and stopping beside him.

"So you just throw that out there and pretend nothing happened?"

Warren glanced sideways at you while turning on the faucet. "Throw it out there? Me? No, no, I’m a very serious guy. I never throw things out there."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could retort, he leaned his head towards you, his eyes still full of amusement.

"But..." He continued, his voice now softer, distracting himself from his nervousness by soaking the sponge in soap. "If I had said it, would you have said yes?"

Your heart skipped a beat. He was joking, but there was something hidden in his casual tone. You stared at him for a moment, defiant.

"Why don’t you try again and find out?"

Warren let out a nasally laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, now I’m getting nervous. Look at me, a tough guy, getting cornered in the kitchen. This is your job, you know? Make my dream come true and sit on this counter, okay?"

You laughed, giving his shoulder a playful shove. "You're a damn coward."

He leaned a little closer, and the scent of soap mixed with a woody cologne filled the air between you.

"Are you challenging me, princess?" He murmured, the smile still there, but his eyes darkening slightly.

The atmosphere in the kitchen shifted. The playful banter was taking you both to a different territory. "Maybe." You replied, feeling the tension between you both increase.

Warren held your gaze for a moment before letting out a theatrical sigh, licking his lips as if he were pondering something.

"Then... if I repeat it, will you stay quiet, not say a word, and just say yes?"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "Say yes to what, Warren?"

He smiled, shaking his head as though about to do something ridiculous. He took a step forward, his eyes gleaming in a new way, and pulled a small box from his pocket, spinning it between his fingers before slowly opening it, as if confirming that this moment was truly happening.

"Fuck. Do you, like... wanna marry me or something?" He murmured, his voice slightly hesitant, as if he were saying the most important words of his life in the most casual way possible.

The ring, chosen with Luke, gleamed inside the box, and your heart skipped a beat.

But instead of responding immediately, you let out a laugh. "What kind of proposal is that?"

Warren rolled his eyes, snapping the box shut in a quick motion and stuffing it back into his pocket, already regretting saying anything at all.

"Forget it," he grumbled, running a hand over his face and looking away, as if wishing the ground would swallow him up.

"No, Warren," you laughed, gently cupping his face in your hands to make him look at you. But before you could say anything, he was quicker, pulling you into a kiss by the back of your neck.

The kiss started slow, but soon grew in intensity, fueled by the moment. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, holding you tightly as if afraid you'd slip away. Your body molded against his, your hands slipping into his hair, tugging slightly as the kiss deepened.

When he pulled away just slightly, his gaze was full of hope. He was looking for something in your eyes, something he already knew, but needed to hear.

His breath was still shaky when you murmured, your voice thick with emotion, "I didn’t imagine you’d ask me to marry you like this, all messy. My hair looks like a net and I'm sure I got Luke's cold." You laughed softly, feeling the tears threaten to rise, mixed with the overwhelming happiness of the moment.

Warren smiled, his lips trembling as much as yours. "That's when I think you're most perfect," he whispered, his thumbs gently caressing your face. "Now can you please just say yes or no? There's a guy here about to die."

The sparkle in his eyes made your heart ache.

"Yes, Warren." Your voice was steady, filled with certainty. "Yes, a million times yes."

Before he could react, you jumped into his arms, and Warren quickly held you, burying his face in your neck. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, his heartbeat thudding against yours. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped.

When you pulled back a little, a thought crossed your mind, and you couldn’t resist the playful jab. "But you're going to propose without even asking me to date you first?"

Warren scoffed, rolling his eyes with a crooked smile. "You're dating a guy with a criminal record, what did you expect?"

You laughed, but he didn’t give you time to respond, grabbing your face with both hands and squishing your cheeks into a forced pout before sealing your lips with a quick kiss.

"That's right, I forgot about that," you teased, and he took the opportunity to shower your face with kisses, giving lingering pecks on your cheek, forehead, and chin.

“Hey, Warren.” You called, and he stopped the kissing session, tilting his face to look directly into your eyes.

“Yeah?”

You grinned, biting your lip slightly before letting out in a mischievous tone: “Do you want to skip a few more steps and consummate the marriage in my room?”

Warren raised an eyebrow, taking in your words before letting out a low laugh. He ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes darkening slightly as he studied you.

“You're the boss, sweetheart.”

His smile grew as he held your waist, already preparing to fulfill his promise.

…

“I lied about dreaming nonsense about you.” Warren broke the silence, his voice hoarse and dragged out, his fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair. His head rested on the pillow, while yours lay on his chest, feeling the warmth of his bare skin and listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“Then, what did you dream about?” You slowly lifted your head, your eyes searching for his in the dim light of the room. 

Warren hesitated for a second, his lips curving into a soft smile as if gathering courage. “Actually, I think I’ve been lying this whole time.” The way he said it made your heart skip a beat. You gently slid your fingers across his chest, a gesture that made him close his eyes for a brief moment before continuing.

“I’ve dreamed many nights about you. About everything.” He began, his hand slowly trailing down to your back, pulling you into a tighter embrace, as if he wanted to hold on to the feeling of having you there. “I dream so much… I couldn’t even tell you everything.”

You gave him a small smile, leaning in to kiss his chest. “We have all night.”

Warren’s laughter vibrated against you as his fingers traced a lazy path over your skin. “True... But won't Luke wake up with all this noise?” He asked, raising his head slightly and glancing toward the door, as if the little boy might suddenly appear there.

“No. He took anti-inflammatories; he’s sleeping better than we are.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. 

“We’re not really sleeping, you know.” Warren winked at you before leaning in, giving you a quick, playful kiss. “Then I’ll consider your case.”

“Thanks for the consideration.” You murmured, laughing softly before stretching to steal another quick kiss. His hands slid to your waist, holding you firmly as he deepened the kiss slightly, as if savoring every second before releasing you again.

There was a brief silence, only filled by both of your breaths, before Warren whispered, almost like a secret: “I love you."

You smiled, reaching up to touch his face, your fingers tracing a soft path along his jawline before brushing his cheek. Your heart was overflowing, and you didn’t hesitate for a second before responding:

“I love you.”

You leaned in, placing a kiss on his forehead—a gesture you often did with Luke, but with Warren, it felt different. Special. Warm. A kind of protection in reverse, where, instead of you holding him, it was him who carried all the bad things so you could be free.

Warren closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing that, before opening a lazy smile.

“So… the dream?” You teased, reminding him.

He blinked a few times, coming back to reality, and laughed softly. “Oh, right, I almost forgot, looking at you like this, so fucking cute without your clothes. I got distracted.”

"Cute?" You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended, but he only smiled playfully, tightening his grip around your waist before sliding his hand up your arms in a gesture that seemed to warm your skin, as if his touch alone could make you feel safe and at ease.

"Alright, alright…" He sighed, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he seemed to drift into his own memory. "I had this specific dream about a week ago."

You shifted a little more comfortably on the pillow, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I'm listening."

Warren took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as if searching for the right words. "I was with you, in the market…" He paused, letting his voice trail off for a moment, lost in the vividness of the dream. "Then I just turned to you, and I knew that if I pushed a little more, if I went a little further, I could have you."

His words hung in the air, and for a brief second, it felt as though the world outside of that moment disappeared, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble. You waited, feeling his breath deepen as he continued.

"Then you looked at me. Really looked, deep into my eyes, the way you do when you're happy."

A soft smile crept across your lips, and you tried to mimic the look he described, tilting your head slightly as you gazed back at him. "Like this?"

Warren let out a small, amused laugh through his nose, turning slightly to look at you better, his eyes narrowing with that warm, fond expression. "Exactly like that."

His voice dropped to a near whisper as he continued, his eyes far away, almost like he was reliving the scene in his mind: "And everything around us started to glow. I got closer to you, and suddenly, everything felt so light, like I could have anything, like I could have you."

The way he spoke, with such a soft tone, a slight smile playing on his lips, made it clear he was lost in the memory of that moment, his words painting a picture of something far beyond just a dream—it was almost like he was describing a reality that was so vivid, it seemed to blur the lines between sleep and waking.

"Then I asked if you wanted to be mine forever. If you’d let a guy like me into your heart."

Warren let out a small laugh, shaking his head, as if embarrassed by the rawness of his confession. "And you said yes. Then I woke up." His expression shifted, becoming more serious, almost wistful. "I never wanted to wake up from that day."

You bit your lip, feeling a tightness in your chest as your heart swelled with emotion. Slowly, you reached up and placed your hand on his shoulder, your fingers tracing the outline of his dinosaur tattoo, still there as a reminder of a younger version of Warren—before everything, before this moment.

"But you woke up." You murmured softly, your fingers brushing against his skin, feeling the pulse beneath. "And you’re here with me now."

Warren took a deep breath, as if absorbing the weight of your words, and gently held your hand over his, locking your fingers together. "Feels like a dream," he whispered, his voice hushed and full of wonder. "Actually, I think it's better. I can touch you. I can feel you. It's better than anything else."

You smiled, feeling your heart melt with affection. If this was a dream, you never wanted it to end. "So, what song do you want to walk down the aisle to?"

"Isn't it just the bride who gets to choose?" He teased, his fingers lightly tapping against your skin, the playful glint in his eyes still there.

"No, you can choose too," you replied, laughing, running your hand affectionately over his chest. "And the bride's song isn't always the same, you know. It can change. But I wanted to know about yours."

"Hmm…" He thought for a moment, his eyes glimmering with amusement. "I think I’ll go with Smooth Criminal by Michael Jackson."

"Wow, really?" You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his choice.

"I don’t know," he shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Just felt like it…" He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a brief moment, as if sealing that playful thought into something more real.

Extra Tip: Appreciate the Little Things.

Your eyes slowly began to wake up, adjusting to the soft morning light. A warmth enveloped you, and a spontaneous smile spread across your face when you noticed Warren’s arms wrapped securely around your waist. He hadn't left—you could feel the solid presence of him behind you. He had stayed, and it made you nestle back deeper into the sheets, savoring the warmth of being close to him.

"Warren?"

Luke's voice broke the peaceful moment, making your heart almost leap out of your chest. You shot up in bed, pulling the blanket up to cover you, panic setting in for a brief second.

"Mom? What’s Warren doing here?" Luke's voice was filled with curiosity, and it made your pulse quicken even more.

"Shhh!" You frantically motioned for him to be quiet, quickly glancing to your side to check if Warren had woken up from the noise. Nothing. He simply rolled over, mumbling something unintelligible in his sleep.

"He slept here," you explained, trying to keep your voice as calm as possible.

"I didn’t even get to talk to him." Luke pouted, stepping closer, but you immediately raised your hand, signaling for him to stop.

"Wait outside, son. Mommy needs to get ready to make your breakfast, okay?" You whispered urgently, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

"But why is he sleeping in your bed?" Luke furrowed his brow, suspicious. “I don’t sleep on your bed!”

You blinked a few times, mentally scrambling for a quick explanation. "He... um... lost at rock-paper-scissors."

Luke narrowed his eyes. "You guys played rock-paper-scissors to decide where he’d sleep?"

"Yes! Now go to the living room and close the door." You smiled awkwardly, trying to keep the situation light.

"Okay," he shrugged, still looking doubtful, and slowly headed out, closing the door quietly behind him, as if he might catch you two in the act.

"Thank God." You sighed in relief, rubbing your face.

"I told you he’d find out about us," Warren's muffled voice from the pillow startled you once again, causing you to jump in surprise.

"Were you awake all this time?" You shot back quickly, and Warren shook his head, eyes still closed.

"I was startled when Luke appeared, but I’ve learned how to play it off." He yawned, stretching lazily before sitting up.

"Damn it. I need to get ready; he almost saw us like this," you muttered, walking over to the wardrobe to grab a change of clothes. Warren stretched again, scratching his head as he picked up his clothes from the floor. "How do I look?" You asked, gesturing to yourself after getting dressed.

Warren stepped closer, giving you a warm, affectionate look before answering. "You look great. I just won’t kiss you because I probably have horrible morning breath."

 "Good to know you’re aware." You laughed, shaking your head.

Both of you left the room, heading straight to the kitchen. Luke was already sitting on the couch, watching something on TV. You grabbed a few things from the fridge and noticed Warren sneaking up behind you. He placed a soft kiss on your neck before moving toward Luke.

"Hey, champ, did you sleep well?" Warren asked, ruffling Luke’s hair affectionately.

Luke grimaced and pulled away. "I did, but you should brush your teeth before talking to me."

You had to stifle a laugh as Warren placed a hand dramatically over his chest, feigning indignation.

"Wow, man, you’re really crushing my self-esteem first thing in the morning," he joked.

 "I’m just being honest." Luke laughed and shrugged.

Warren sighed playfully and looked at you. "See? This kid’s already picking up your sarcasm."

You smiled, watching the two of them playfully banter. That scene—so small, so everyday—made something inside of you warm. The sound of laughter at breakfast, the light teasing, the ease of having someone by your side.

How much you needed that.

How much you needed Warren Lipka.

[mynicosensesaretingling]

I have an ideaaaaa!

So, reader is a journalist and she's relatively new, she's supposed to be somewhere but she's super lost and bumps into Nico and she's like 'holy shit it's Nico Rosberg' and he's like 'oh wow she's so pretty' so he takes her where she's supposed to be and they talk the whole way cause it's like across the paddock and when they get there he's like "you're very adorable please let me take you to dinner after the race Sunday"

Chinese grand prix meet cute cause Nico slayed this weekend

To get lost is to get found

Note: Another request I have taken quite some TIME for, so once again my sincerest apologies <3 But life is busy and I genuinely loved this request so much, that I wanted to write it in peace. I genuinely hope you enjoy this and that it can make the long wait at least somewhat worth it :) <3 LOVE TO ALL OF YA!!

The Chinese Grand Prix paddock was alive with the frenetic energy of a race weekend, a cacophony of voices and activity swirling around (Y/N) as she navigated the maze of trailers and hospitality suites. Her head buried in her notes and her mind racing with thoughts of the impending pre-race meeting. Even after working in this position for several months now, the race weekends still gave her a rush of nervousness and excitement. Lost in thought, she unknowingly took a wrong turn and felt herself colliding with something…no, rather someone, sending her papers scattering in all directions.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, flustered as she scrambled to gather her notes from the ground.  "No worries, happens all the time." a somewhat familiar voice responded. Noticing the amused tone in his voice, (Y/N) looked up to find herself face to face with Nico Rosberg, the former Formula One champion, offering her a hand up.

Almost immediately, she could feel her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, ever so slightly. "Nico Rosberg," she murmured, feeling a rush of excitement at the unexpected encounter.

Nico grinned down at her, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Guilty as charged. " His gaze studies her for a few seconds “Not to make broad assumptions, but it looks like you have absolutely no idea where you are going…”

“(Y/N)” she responds, a chuckle escaping her lips, as she took Nico's hand, her cheeks still tinged with pink. "And yeah, I seem to have gotten a bit lost." she shrugged sheepishly, as she dusted off her pants with her free hand.

Nico's smile widened as he gestured for her to follow him. "Well, lucky for you (Y/N), you ran into me. I’m an excellent tour guide you know, I can show you where you need to go."

Grateful for his offer, (Y/N) laughed “How kind of you.”, falling into step beside Nico as they weaved through the bustling paddock. 

Despite her initial nerves, she found herself surprisingly at ease in his presence, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they talked about everything from racing to journalism and everything in between.

"So, what brings you to the Chinese Grand Prix?" Nico asked, genuine interest shining in his eyes, as he turned his head to look at the journalist. Glancing over at him, (Y/N) absentmindedly tapped her stack of papers, "I'm here covering the race for my publication. It's my first time in Shanghai, and I have to admit, it's quite the experience."

Nico nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, as he shifted his focus back in front of him. "It's a unique circuit, that's for sure. I'm sure it’ll offer you plenty to write about." He paused, a cheeky smile on his features, as he turned to her once again. “And in case it doesn’t, you can always interview me, you know.”

Furrowing her brows in a teasing manner of thought, her eyes find his. “Oh and why do you think people would want to read about you?” 

Stopping in his tracks, Nico raises his hand to his chest, gasping in mock hurt. “Excuse me, I am THE Nico Rosberg, former World Champion, excellent reporter and the world’s best paddock guide. What isn’t there to like?”

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at Nico's playful banter, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie growing between them with each passing moment. "Well, when you put it like that, how could anyone resist?" she teased, playfully nudging his shoulder as they resumed their walk.

Their conversation continued to flow effortlessly, weaving through topics ranging from their favorite racing memories to their shared love of travel and adventure. As they walked, (Y/N) found herself completely engrossed in Nico's stories, his passion for the sport evident in every word he spoke. 

"So, (Y/N), tell me," Nico began, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What made you want to become a journalist?"

The woman smiled, a nostalgic gleam in her eyes as she thought back to her childhood. "I've always loved writing," she explained. "And I've been a fan of Formula One for as long as I can remember. So, combining the two just seemed like a natural fit."

Nico nodded, a look of understanding crossing his features. "I can relate," he admitted. "There's something special about being able to share your passion with others."

The former driver paused for a second "It's incredible how our passions can shape our paths in life," he remarked. "I've always felt a deep connection to racing, ever since I was a child watching my father compete. It's been a part of me for as long as I can remember."

(Y/N) listened intently, captivated by Nico's words. "That's amazing," she said, her voice filled with admiration. "To have such a strong connection to something from such a young age."

The blonde shrugged modestly, his eyes reflecting a hint of nostalgia. "It's just always been a part of who I am," he said. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

For the rest of their way through the paddock, (Y/N) found herself sharing a comfortable silence with Nico. There was something about his easygoing demeanour and genuine interest that made her feel at ease.

Before she knew it, they had reached their destination – the room where the pre-race press meeting was being held. Reluctantly, she bid Nico farewell as she prepared to enter the meeting, a sense of warmth lingering in her chest at their unexpected encounter.

But as she turned to go, Nico's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Hey, (Y/N)," he called out, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone.

(Y/N) turned back to face him, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Yeah?"

Nico hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching hers before he spoke. "I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner with me after the race on Sunday. I'd love to get to know you better."

Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected invitation, a smile tugging at her lips. "I'd like that," she replied, feeling a surge of excitement coursing through her veins.

“I’ll make sure to find you then.” Nico promised, the softness in his smile and tone threatening to melt her right then and there. Reaching a hand around (Y/N), he opened the door for her. “You better go inside now though, can’t have you fired before I get that chance to take you out to dinner, can we.”

"Yeah, I wouldn't want that," (Y/N) replied with a playful grin, feeling a rush of warmth at Nico's gesture. "I'll see you on Sunday then."

With a final smile, she stepped into the room, the door closing softly behind her. As she settled into her seat among the other journalists, her mind was still reeling from the encounter with Nico.

Throughout the entirety of the meeting, her thoughts kept drifting back to him – his easy smile, the warmth in his eyes, the genuine interest he had shown in her. She couldn't shake the feeling that their dinner date on Sunday was going to be the start of something special.

As the meeting finally drew to a close and the other journalists began to filter out of the room, (Y/N) lingered behind, her mind abuzz with anticipation. She couldn't wait to see Nico again, to continue their conversation and see where this unexpected connection would lead.

With a smile on her face and a flutter of excitement in her heart, she gathered her things and made her way out of the room. 

Sunday couldn't come soon enough.

[moonylovegoodsposts]

Back To You | David!Clark Kent × Plus Size OC!

Wordcount: around 4K

Warnings: fluff, no use of Y/n (no matter how hard I try, I just can't get myself used to write using the Y/n thing, I'm so sorry about that!). Plus sized Oc, because why not? and Latina(Brazilian) Oc, because again, why not? Suggestive ending.

Oc! Lianna Torres

ps: guys I AM SO SORRY for being late with this one, I really lost myself. english is not my first language so im sorry for any mistakes.

faceclaim for Lianna Torres: Brianna Marquez (@/brimarqz)

I drop the last box on the porch, sighing as I watch the moving truck drive away. What trouble have I gotten myself into... actually, they have gotten me into. I love my family very much, but did they really need to leave me with... this?

Okay, let me explain. My grandmother died a while ago and, well, like every decent American, she had a will. What I didn't expect was that I would be forced to leave Brazil to inherit a farm that is falling apart. She hadn't lived here for a good few years when her illness began to take over, so the farm was left empty and the animals were given to someone who could take care of them, probably to a neighboring farm, from what I remember.

I stare at the large wooden door, the key in my hand. I take another deep breath, walking to the door at once, turning the key, trying to get it to open. Well, as everything that is great can get better, what is shit can get worse too. "Shit!" I exclaim, kicking the door, more to try to relieve stress than to try to open it.

And I thought I was the favorite granddaughter...

I roll my eyes, my head falling forward and my forehead hitting the door. "Holy shit... Why didn't you leave this to Matthew, huh, Grandma?" I ask, as if she could hear me, wondering why she didn't leave it to my cousin, who lives, like, two hours away.

"Do you need help?" I hear a voice that makes me turn back to the entrance of the farm and see a ridiculously tall guy wearing a blue flannel shirt and jeans, standing in front of the porch steps. "Excuse me?" I ask, not understanding where the man came from. I look a little behind him and see a blue pickup truck parked at the entrance of the farm. How did I not hear him coming?

"My parents said you came to live here permanently, so I thought it would be a good idea to come and help you... and it's summer, I have nothing to do on my parents' farm, so..." he continues babbling, as he walks up the steps, looking nervous about something but only one thing goes through my mind: Who is this guy?

"Excuse me, who are you again?" I ask, very confused, making him stop on the last step, his expression changing a few times. "Do I look that different?" He asks with a smile, staring at me. I open my mouth to reply with some ironic shit, but my brain freezes when I finally recognize the bright blue eyes. "Clark?"

It all seems to make sense now. I mean, why on earth would a random guy show up at my grandmother's door? Which is now my house...

Clark and I used to play together when I came here, in the summer when I was a kid. And sometimes in the winter too. And not just when we were kids...

I watch him smile and climb the last step. "I thought you forgot..." he says, pulling me into a tight hug that I return. "You look different, but I could never forget you!" I say, pulling out of the hug and he walks to the front door, touching the doorknob.

"It's stuck, you won't be able to open it that easily..." I say, trying to warn him, but when I see him he's practically broken down the door. "What the..." I stare at him, who seems to have made the minimum effort to open that door while my toes are still sore from the kick I gave him. "Ladies first" he says, gesturing for me to enter the house and I do. My heart skips a beat as the first wooden plank creaks beneath my feet.

The house is in a state of disrepair, that's for sure. Cobwebs are the least of it. All the furniture is falling apart and the musty smell is unbearable. All the wallpaper is peeling and everything is a mixture of mud, dust and bugs. I reach for the light switch, trying to turn on the light. The light stays on for a total of five seconds before the bulb simply explodes into sparks. "Shit."

"Okay, so... we have a lot of work to do..." Clark says, crossing his arms beside me and I glare at him "You don't have to..." I try to argue but he interrupts me "I'm not going to let you take care of this house alone. Are we going to start now or not?" He says, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

Oh my God, when did his arms get so... huge...?

Holy shit, Lianna. Focus!

"Okay, let's go..." I say, taking off my own jacket, throwing it over some boxes outside.

_

I sigh, sitting on the porch steps, trying to regulate my breathing. Most of my boxes are still outside and it's already the third day, but every hour there seems to be a new problem with the house.

Why does it have to be me?

The sound of the pickup truck pulls me from my thoughts. I see Clark getting out of the truck in his boots, jeans, and green flannel shirt.

I've really been away for too long... when did that teenager I knew get so...

I guess I'm thinking too much. I'm definitely thinking too much, thinking so much that I almost didn't notice the clump of white fur getting out of the truck and running towards me. The dog circles me, smelling me and wagging his tail, stopping in front of me, tongue out, as if smiling. "Oh, hi!" I greet the dog, my hands going behind his ears, the look in his eyes bringing back memories of my teenage years. "Wait, is that Krypto?" I ask Clark, who approaches the porch.

"That's him!" He sits down next to me, his hand stroking the dog's head. "Wow! He's what? 15 years old?" I look at Clark, seeing his blue eyes looking between me and Krypto, stuttering a little "Yeah... yeah, I think so... about 15 years old, yeah..." he says, coughing a little, looking a little nervous. "Uhm, my mom sent this" He hands me a paper bag "for your lunch".

"Oh, she's so sweet!" I smile, taking the bag "I miss her!" I say, looking inside the bag, the incredible smell of food reminding me that I didn't have breakfast.

"She misses you too, she asks me every now and then if I've heard from you..." He looks at me as if he wants to talk about something that I know exactly what it is. "I'm sorry I disappeared... life got a little more complicated when my dad died and coming back here..." I try to explain myself, but Clark puts his hand on mine, interrupting me. "It's okay... I mean, you could have sent me an update, but you're okay, that's what matters," he says, looking into my eyes.

I take a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of his hand on mine and those sky-colored eyes staring at me.

"I wish I had called..." I say, a feeling of not having done what I should have taken over me "written, I don't know... sent you an update..." I laugh, without any humor. "I didn't call either..." Clark says, shrugging, but looking at me with a little guilt in his eyes "I could have called..." he says, intertwining his fingers with mine, looking at the rain that has started to fall.

"Things were as they were supposed to be..." I say, letting my head fall to the side, resting it on his shoulder, smiling when he rests his head on mine.

"What do you think about changing that wallpaper? It's kind of cheesy, right?" He suggests completely changing the subject, in that way he always did to distract me from difficult subjects. "That would be great!" I chuckle, leaning into his touch.

_

"So, I brought the best ones I could find..." Clark says, entering the house with many rolls of wallpaper. Many. "There's this blue one and there's this one with flowers..." he shows me "I think you'll choose the one with the flowers, but I needed to bring the blue one in case you changed your taste in prints..."

I laugh, looking at him, finishing sweeping the dusty floor. I put down the broom and walk over to him, looking at the options he brought me. He really knows me well. He still knows me well. I smile, picking up one of the rolls of wallpaper with a white background and flowers in pink, blue and violet. "I loved this one!" I say "Thanks, Clark!".

"You're welcome! I'll return the blue ones to the store later..." he says, dropping the box of blue wallpaper on the porch. "You're amazing, you know that?" I say when he stops in front of me, holding the box with all the rolls of wallpaper in one hand. He smiles at me, with that smirk as he says: "You've told me that a few times..."

I can barely contain the smile that tries to appear on my face, as he places the box on the new couch, identical to the old one, but without rat piss. Krypto doesn't take long to climb on the couch, watching as we work, enjoying his nice little life. It's quite possible to say that Clark's more excited about this renovation than I am. He's been here every day for almost two weeks, without fail. I have nothing to complain about, but it's funny and gratifying to see how much he's dedicated to making this house at least decent.

I see him enter through the back door with a ladder, his perfect hair dragging on the doorframe and I notice that he slightly lowers his head to get through.

"So..." he begins, positioning the ladder on the wall near the door "my mother invited you to dinner at my house today..."

"Today?" I ask, incredulous. "Today." He answers me simply, as he begins to install the wallpaper.

Is it wrong to find the guy I've had a crush on since I was a teenager extremely attractive while he's installing wallpaper? Ah, the wonders of adult life...

"Oh, I..." I try to say, but he interrupts me. "You know she doesn't take 'no' for an answer, right?" I confirm, knowing this very well. "And also, she's already started thinking about the dinner menu, so..." he argues, leaving me with no way to refuse.

"I have nowhere to run, right?" I ask, just to confirm.

"No."

_

And here I am, standing at the Kents' door, wearing a dress. A dress! A white sundress with blue flowers. My God, I haven't worn a dress in years. I ring the bell next to the door, taking a deep breath. The door opens and I see Clark on the other side, smiling, wearing his denim jacket and the white t-shirt underneath, and his glasses askew. "Hi! You're early!" He smiles, making room for me to pass. "My mom's in the shower and my dad's out back finishing fixing the back door." I walk into the house, slightly embarrassed to be back after so long. "I brought this..." I hand the dish to Clark, "I didn't have much time to make something better, so I made it with what I had at home..." Clark takes the container from my hand, removing the cloth from the top, revealing the sweet treat my mom taught me to make. "Lily, you didn't have to..." he begins with a smile forming on his lips and I feel a shiver down my spine hearing my old nickname come out of his mouth after so long. "I did need it, Clark. I wasn't going to show up here empty-handed." I smile "It's called 'pudim', it's typical in Brazil..."

"You're amazing, you know?" He smiles, taking the pie to the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow him. I close the front door behind me and head to the kitchen. "You've told me that a few times..." I smile, watching him finish setting the table.

There's still a small feeling of being home hidden in my chest. Everything seems as comfortable as I remember, the couch in the same corner as always where Clark and I used to watch all the cliché Christmas movies and romantic comedies – because he always let me choose what to watch.

"So..." he approaches me, drying his hand on a dish towel "here hasn't changed at all, has it?"

"Even the couch is in the same place... it seems like it was yesterday..." I say, trying not to sound too nostalgic.

"It really does!" I hear a familiar voice at the kitchen door and turn around, finding Martha, smiling, coming to hug me. "Martha, I miss you so much!" I hug her back, smiling.

"I was so happy when I found out you were moving here for good! I called Clark right away, he was in Metropolis, putting off coming to spend the break here!" she says, ignoring her son. "Mom..." Clark says, a warning and a little embarassment implied in his voice. I look at him, curious, since he had made me understand that he was already here.

"Lianna! My God, you're such an adult!" Jonathan appears next to Clark, smiling at me, repeating Martha's action when she hugged me. "The last time I saw you, you were wearing glasses and pigtails!" he says, not even humorously, making me laugh. "That's true!" I agree. "Thank God for contact lenses!"

"Come on, let's sit down and eat!" Martha gestures to the table. "Mom, Lianna brought a typical Brazilian dessert, it's called 'pudin'." He says, with his cute American accent. "Pudim." I correct him playfully, emphasizing the 'm' with my Brazilian accent.

"Pudi-m..." he tries again, making me laugh. "Almost that..."

We finally sit down to dinner, Clark in front of me, next to his father and his mother next to me.

Dinner goes by peacefully. There's never a lack of conversation with the Kents, even after so long. His parents ask me how things are going in Brazil, how my mother and brothers are doing, what I do for a living, if I like what I do. That's the kind of thing you talk about when you haven't seen each other for many years.

"I'm a journalist..." I say, as Martha cuts a piece of the pie she made, placing it on a plate with the dessert I brought. "Are you a journalist too?" Jonathan asks me. "I am! I used to work in audiovisual journalism in Brazil..."

"That's really cool!" Clark says, picking up his own plate of sweets that his mother placed on the table, "Do you have a job around here yet?"

"Not really... I dropped everything to come and take care of the farm..." I say, taking a bite of the pie.

"That's really nice of you..." Martha says, "We kept some of your grandmother's horses when she got sick... the cows went to another neighbor, but they're all well taken care of!"

I look at all of them, sighing in relief, "That's good to hear! I admit I was worried about the little animals, I loved them!"

"I remember! I even thought I was going to be a vet..." Clark says. "I almost was... but I don't think I would have..." I laugh.

The evening continued as pleasantly as before. Clark's father was the first to leave while Clark and I worked together, washing and drying the dishes. His mother tried to stay a little longer but soon followed her husband, claiming that she no longer has the same energy as before. Clark and I finished putting away the dishes and I was ready to leave when he took two bottles of beer from the fridge and handed me one, inviting me to stay a little longer.

And here we are. On the roof of the Kent house. Looking at the stars. Just like when we were teenagers and used to go up here, sneaking drinks from the adults. Now we are two adults and it's so weird to think about.

"Can you believe that nowadays we don't have to smuggle a bottle of beer here anymore?", I ask, breaking the comfortable silence between us. "I was thinking the same thing!" he says, letting out a laugh.

I hear a few small pops and look to the side, seeing Clark sitting down, resting his arms on his knees, staring at the trees behind the house. I sit down too, trying to adjust my dress to cover my thick thighs. Damn, this is why I don't wear dresses!

"Is everything okay?" he asks, seeing me struggling with the dress. "It's okay, it's just... that's why I don't wear dresses... I'm too big for them..." I say, taking a deep breath, finally managing to keep the skirt in place and I see Clark frowning. "I think it looks great on you..." he compliments and I can't help but laugh humorlessly. "I know it doesn't." I reply. "I guess I was trying to impress, or something... I don't know..." I say, laughing at myself, taking a sip of beer.

"I think you should wear it more often..." he says, looking at me with an intensity I haven't seen in a long time. "You look beautiful..." he smiles with that sideways smile, his blue eyes staring deep into my soul, and that's enough to make my heart beat faster, as if I were that teenager again.

He looks forward again, as if coming out of a trance, shaking his head a little, his curls bouncing cutely. I turn back to the front, staring at the trees and the stars. "Thank you..." I say, "For helping me with the house... and for the compliment, too..." I lower my head, trying to hide my flushed cheeks. "I think you're the only person who can compliment me so... openly...".

"I just told the truth." I see him shrug, taking another sip of his beer and I look at him, searching for some sign of joking or lying in his eyes. Nothing. "You know, I missed you in the summers. And in the winters too..." he admits, leaving the bottle leaning against a tile.

"I missed you too." I confess, hugging my legs, feeling the cold night breeze chill my bones. "You were by far the best company to spend the holidays with..." I smile without showing my teeth, remembering the chaos that the holidays became as soon as all the grandchildren arrived at the Farm.

"I guess I can say the same thing... your cousins ​​were very..." he smiles, unfolding a blanket he brought when we went upstairs. "Chaotic?" I suggest, feeling him place the blanket over my shoulders, our faces being inches apart for a few seconds, making me hold my breath until he was back in his place.

"Yeah... 'chaotic' is a great description for them..." he laughs. "I'm glad it's just you now... I can visit you without fear of leaving all covered in paint..." he remembers one of the last summers I spent here, when my twin cousins ​​played a prank on him. Well, the victim wasn't really him, but rather anyone who walked through the door at that time, and well... Clark was the first. "Maybe I'll call Fred to help me prank you, one of these days..." I laugh, teasing him a little.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll love that!" Clark says sarcastically, making me laugh even more, and I barely notice the way he's staring at me.

I take a deep breath, wrapping myself even tighter in the blanket, and my heart skips a beat when Clark keeps staring at me in that intense way he's had before.

Something in his gaze reminds me of the last time I was here. On this roof, just the two of us. The first time we kissed. I almost let out a laugh, a slight snort escaping my nose as I look straight ahead, avoiding his gaze.

They always say that the first kiss is always bad, and... yeah, it kind of was. We came up here, smuggling some cheap liquor I found at my grandmother's house. We were trying to get away from my cousins, obviously, but we ended up drinking too much and kissed. And it was really weird. We got down from the roof, and he took me home without saying a word. The next day, when I wasn't drunk anymore, I could barely go to town with my grandmother to go shopping, afraid of running into him and afraid that he would never want to look at me again because of that horrible kiss. But of course, Mrs. Celina dragged me with her to the market and made me hold all the bags while she picked out the things. That's when Clark showed up to save the day, as he always did. He helped me with the bags and walked us to our farm. And then, when my grandmother came in, he kissed me again, at the front door. Infinitely better than the day before, I must say.

"What's wrong?" I hear his voice next to me, pulling me out of my trance of memories. "Nothing..." I answer with a smile, but he raises his eyebrow, not accepting my answer. "It's just..." I start, looking at my hands holding the blanket "I was remembering...".

"First kiss?" he asks, his eyebrow raising a little higher and I suddenly feel so shy around him. "Yeah..." I say, looking straight ahead again.

I hear a laugh beside me but I don't dare look at him, the embarrassment making my skin flush.

"I always remember that when I come here... and I come here a lot..." he says, looking down, his arms resting on his knees, his tone almost like a confession. "I think... maybe I missed you more than I care to admit." he says, his voice almost in a whisper, as if he were saying it only to himself. But I hear him, and I look at him, my eyebrows furrowed and my gaze too curious, too hopeful, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn't. He just stares at the roof, as if he's said enough for now.

"Me too." I admit. It's not a lie. In fact, it's the honest truth. "I love Brazil, but spending my vacation there, alone, isn't the same... and by alone I don't mean without my cousins..." I say, a small laugh escaping, but my smile slowly disappears when he looks at me again. Those bright blue eyes. "I missed you. A lot." He presses his lips together in a thin smile, playing with the empty beer bottle in his hands. The subject seems to disappear between us, but it's not an unbearable silence. It's actually quite pleasant. In fact, everything is quite pleasant around Clark. I used to think it was all in my head, from when I was a teenager, but... the feeling is still the same.

I take a deep breath, staring at the stars, imagining what it would be like to fly among them, as if all the weight of my body were null. I smile at the idea of ​​a small and light body, as if it were even funny. Me, small and light.

"It must be cool, right?" I ask, out of nowhere, still looking at the stars, and Clark looks at me with a question mark on his face. "Flying," I clarify. "Like Superman. Being so powerful that you can just jump and fly around... or being so light that your body simply floats near the stars." I say, smiling, but I can see the gears in his head turning and turning and turning.

"I wrote and directed a video journalistic report about him, you know?" I ask, more to tell him something I think he'd like to know. "Superman is a huge hit in Brazil, everyone loves him. That neat little hair, the blue eyes and the underwear outside his suit. The kids love it." I laugh, taking a last sip of my beer while looking at Clark.

He's still, staring at me. I frown at him, as if to ask "What's wrong?" But the gears in his head seem to keep turning. "Clark?" I call to him and he swallows hard, looking down and then back at me. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, sure, it's great!" he says, shaking his head and looking at me with a little smile. "It's just that you reminded me of an article I need to write about Superman too... but... but what about this video journalistic report of yours? Can I watch it any time?"

"Sure! Tomorrow, if you want I'll show you... speaking of which, it's getting a little late, right?" I ask, staring at the phone screen. "It's almost midnight... I think I should go..." I say, worried about the time.

"Oh, yes! Of course, it's late!" Clark agrees, standing up, offering me his hand and I gladly accept, following him slowly, avoiding making too much noise on the tiles.

He goes down the stairs first, reaching the grass. I go down soon after, foot by foot, step by step, suspicious of the old wooden stairs. But even so, I think I trusted him too much. When I was almost on the grass, with a few steps left, a damn nail broke, making the wood give way under my feet and all my balance disappear. My body falls backwards and I feel like it's in slow motion as I try to reach the stairs to hold on and balance myself, but at the same time, I embrace my fate that I'm going to fall backwards on the ground. I just close my eyes, waiting. But the thud never comes. In fact, there is a fall, but on two strong and enormous arms that are now surrounding me, somehow, saving me from falling on my ass. I open my eyes, wondering how and when Clark became so strong, but as soon as I open my eyes, I see him. His eyes. So close. After so many years.

He puts me back on my feet, without any apparent effort, but he continues to hold my waist. And now that I realize, I continue to grab his biceps – which I don't even remember how I started holding in the first place.

I let go of his arms, a little embarrassed by the situation, but his eyes don't leave me, they don't stop studying my face, and it may have been my imagination, but I'm almost sure I felt his hands squeeze my waist lightly, making me look into those eyes again and for a moment, I almost don't realize how close we are. I almost don't notice when he leans a little more towards me, and the way my body simply responds, even after so many years.

But it's impossible, impossible, not to notice when he presses our bodies together. The way his eyes wander to my mouth every now and then. The way our breaths mingle as the tips of our noses touch as we continue to lean into each other.

And it's almost otherworldly when he finally kisses me. When my eyes close as my arms instinctively wrap around his neck. And when his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer.

I almost let out a moan in the middle of the kiss when he tangles his fingers in my hair, angling my face better as the kiss gets deeper and deeper.

I don't know how long we stay there, or anything like that. I just know that we need to break the kiss when the need for air becomes greater. Our breaths, still mingled, and completely out of control, almost make me laugh. But nothing really matters to me now, when all I feel is wanting more.

More, more, more.

I tilt my face again, searching for more and he obliges. The kiss now feels more desperate, more passionate, more... hotter.

"I think you can stay here tonight..." He murmur against my lips and in a few seconds I feel his hands going down to my ass, squeezing a little and then going down to my thighs, making me wrap my legs around his waist, and I almost let out a little scream at the way he holds me so easily.

"Yeah, I think I can..."