#idk I didn’t watch the last movie so maybe he is

[qveerthe0ry]

My Man 😌 - four characters who make you yell MY MAN MY MAN

Tagged by @perotovar thank you bby 😘❤️

As I do this it has become glaringly obvious that I have a type. If you have big sad brown eyes and the weight of the world on your shoulders— steer clear or you will also become my man.

I already annoyed a bunch of people today with a tag game so anyone who sees this and wants to do it, I’m tagging you! 💕

[galariangengar]

💭

[chelseeebe]

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here. 

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?” 

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking. 

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.” 

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?” 

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.” 

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.” 

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched. 

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room. 

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it. 

-

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message. 

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something. 

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much. 

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave. 

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now. 

not if you were sleeping in his bed. 

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it. 

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done. 

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly. 

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process. 

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.” 

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze. 

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation. 

-

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie. 

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house. 

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre. 

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered. 

tonight it’s different, you get to pick. 

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it. 

you land on edward scissorhands. 

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble. 

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath. 

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way. 

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary. 

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on. 

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you. 

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone. 

-

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive. 

it’s torturous. 

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding. 

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night. 

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know. 

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land. 

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act. 

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core. 

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour. 

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case. 

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him. 

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief. 

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips. 

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red. 

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears. 

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt. 

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand. 

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?” 

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up. 

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?” 

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off. 

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away. 

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek. 

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window. 

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?” 

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started. 

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out. 

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please. 

-

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him. 

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article. 

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,” 

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making. 

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did. 

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across. 

if only she knew. 

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.  

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria. 

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now. 

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties. 

-

eddie can’t take it anymore. 

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer. 

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure. 

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport. 

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women. 

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand. 

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down. 

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful. 

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose 

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones. 

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much. 

“you want some help with that?” 

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs. 

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager. 

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame. 

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric. 

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house. 

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin. 

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking. 

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears. 

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was. 

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch. 

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere. 

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house. 

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute. 

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life. 

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.  

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

[quarterlifekitty]

first, im a bit new to cod but idk…

thinking about ghost’s spouse visiting him on base or some shit, and everyone else wondering how tf he was emotionally flexible enough to bag a bad bitch 🫶

note: this is just my personal little fantasy world headcanon lol so take it with a grain of salt!

Simon maintains a vaguely human lifestyle by adhering to one very strict rule: rigid compartmentalization. You don’t come up at work, and work doesn’t come up around you. Never the twain shall meet, he thinks. And he’s not exactly a watershed of information when he’s with his mates. And it’s not like anyone is asking “When was the last time you got fucked, Ghost?” and seriously expecting a response.

He tells you about the crew, but not about what he does with them. Killing, espionage, torture– that kind of thing stays off the dinner table.

Let it be known that you do not surprise him at work. You respect his boundaries too much, which is why he’s so fucking serious about you, honestly. He calls, asking if you can run something to him. This is maybe the greatest symbol of trust he can bestow, as a man who has only a fraction of an existence in the eyes of the government: he asks you to bring a document of his. He gives you the instructions on how to find it, and trusts that you won’t look at anything you don’t have to.

You know Johnny lets out a low whistle when he sees you coming up with a manilla folder in your hands.

“Who’s that bloody bombshell, then?”

You spy Simon and jog up to him with a smile. He’s the one who embraces you, short but strong. Cue the nigh audible gasping.

“LT, you absolute dog.”

Simon rolls his eyes as the two of you are crowded in short order. You make polite introductions, but have a previous engagement– you really did only have time to stop by.

Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.

Everyone is wondering how this could’ve happened. For the record– I think in this scenario, Johnny and Gaz go through a constant string of heartbreaks, and John is kinda married to his job. So in a cruel twist of fate, Simon is actually the only one currently with a partner, much less a spouse.

“How’d you manage to bag a right beauty like that, LT? C’mon, spill it–”

Simon doesn’t mean to diminish your value or anything, but his answer is not going to be satisfying, because he doesn’t find it that difficult to get women. And also, you’re his true love, so you’re perfect for each other and growing close to you was as easy as breathing. But he doesn’t say that.

“S’not that hard. Remember the stuff she says, don’t keep no secrets… dick ‘er down the way she likes.” He doesn’t mean to be crude about it, but from his perspective, is one of the main reasons why you tolerate him. Soap howls at the response.

He’s telling the truth, though! He has a scarily good memory. Remembers every friend you’ve ever told him about, every movie you’ve ever mentioned, every meal he’s cooked for you and how you liked it. He remembers dates, times, and lists with no issue whatsoever.

And he’s never kept anything from you. He tells you how the fuck he’s feeling, and you return the favor, even if it isn’t pleasant. The only thing he doesn’t mention to you are the gorey details of his work.

And you have never had more of a communicative partner, ironically. There were times in the beginning when he didn’t know all of the ins and outs of coaxing pleasure from your body, so he asked you to show him how you like it. And that scary memory is at work yet again– every sensitive spot, every offhand mention of a kink you’ve not yet explored together, every arch of your spine and clench of your cunt. He’s got it down to a science. Could write novels about making love to you specifically.

What I’m trying to say, at the end of the day, is that Ghost bagged a bad bitch by being autistic.

[cannibalizedlove]

jus stumbled on ur acc and IM IN LOVE I jus read the stalker!donnie fic and was wondering if there's a scenario where reader actually knew the entire time and is equally obsessed (basically self inserting LOL). but anyway idk if u write smut so maybe reader teases him abt it when they're having a lil makeout sesh in the couch and readers all like "its kinda hot" and says some crazy shit that makes donnie. whos as deep in the pool of obsession as you gets hellaaaa flustered EEEK I'm going crazy I fucking love donnie

Thank you for the request!! I think this is such a good idea, mutual obsession is just.. chef kiss. I hope you enjoy <3

The feelings mutual.

Information and warnings — smut!*, part twoish of “watching you”, male reader, donnie and reader being horny messes, donnie’s first time so you ruin him :((, reader being a kinky freak which is perfect for him, heavy corruption kink, donnie being a loser bottom bitch (affectionate). this is so long, i apologize ahh, i just love him so much.

You had been going with Donnie for about three months now, and you were infatuated with everything about him.

You loved hearing him talk about whatever new conspiracy theory he bought into, and you were always there to help him during his hallucinations.

Donnie was completely and utterly obsessed with you, he did everything for you. Even though you were perfectly capable of doing your homework, Donnie would always snatch it from your backpack and do it for you, he never let you lift a finger. It was crystal clear that you had him whipped.

Before the two of you got together, Donnie was just as obsessed with you. The huge perv was constantly watching you through your windows, following you home, and of course, stealing your underwear. What Donnie didn’t know is that you were completely aware of his stalking, and how you were completely turned on by it.

The two of you were sitting on his couch in the living room, his parents and siblings were out to dinner while Donnie was supposed to be at his therapy session with Dr. Thurman, but skipping it one time wouldn’t hurt, right? Seeing how you were like his medication, except you actually worked and didn’t just make him drowsy.

The two of you were watching a corny horror movie, you had already connected the dots and figured out who the killer was, though, it didn’t matter anyways because neither of you were paying attention. You were leaned against his warm body while Donnie was squeezing and touching every inch of you that he could grab.

You let out quiet moans as he began to kiss behind your ears and onto your collar bone, reaching up and softly running your hands through his short hair. The two of you had never gone farther than this before, and it was slowly killing Donnie.

He needed you more than he needed air, you were the most angelic thing he had ever seen, he wanted nothing more than to ruin your pure image.

“Donnie, I know a lot about you.” You softly spoke, your words interrupted by little moans and laughs when his lips would tickle your neck.

“Yeah? Like what, angel?” Donnie smiled against your skin, drawing invisible circles on your exposed skin.

“I know that you have extensive knowledge on time travel.. and that your favorite cartoon is The Smurfs..” You chuckled at the last part, earning a playful eye roll from the boy and a gentle push; “..and I also know that you like to steal my underwear.” You finished your sentence by grabbing his jaw.

Donnie instantly froze and his heart sank into his stomach. His eyes were wide and he swallowed thickly before coming up with a lie on the spot.

“I don’t know what you mean, I wouldn’t do that.. That’s a total invasion of your privacy!” He began to breathe heavily, he felt like an animal caught in a cage with no way out.

“Oh, and you would never invade my privacy, right? You would never follow me home.. or sit by my window and watch me?” You had moved positions from laying on him to now straddling him sitting on his lap. You drew out your words softly into his ear, feeling him shake from anxiety.

Donnie knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this, he knew he was caught, and he was terrified. Was this the end? Were you completely disgusted with him and you were just stringing him along to hurt him? He couldn’t believe that, you were too sweet, too perfect, he didn’t want to lose you over his uncontrolled attraction to you.

“Do you.. hate me.. for it?” Donnie looked up at you with glossy eyes, trying to swallow his fear but failing miserably.

You couldn’t keep playing with him like this, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but you couldn’t help but find him attractive with his quivering voice and worried eyes.

“Oh, Donnie.. I could never hate you.” You lifted his chin to hold eye contact with him, and ran your free hand through his hair. “If anything,” You paused, letting his jaw go, and leaning forward, leaving your lips just an inch away from his.

“It’s kinda hot.” You finished your sentence, pushing your lips into his with a hard kiss, leaving Donnie completely surprised.

He couldn’t believe it, he was afraid of you being horrified of him, yet here you were making out with him because of it. Donnie knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the tent that was growing in his pants.

The kisses were only broken by the loud moans that left both of your mouths, the two of you couldn’t get enough of each other. You began to grind down on his crotch, pulling on his hair. Donnie bit down on your lip, resulting in a sharp moan from you. He latched onto your neck, attacking it with bites and wet kisses. You were in complete bliss, the only things you could think about were Donnie’s teeth pulling on your skin and his hand creeping up to your throat.

Donnie pulled away, placing his hand on your throat harshly. Both of your lips were swollen, and Donnie’s face was completely flushed, he smiled as he watched you pant like a dog, and he began to palm you through your jeans that had become 2 sizes to small, enjoying every moan that you cried out.

You looked incredible like this, he thought, your eyelashes wet from the tears that welled up from Donnie’s painful bites, your hair completely unruly, falling perfectly infront of your face, every bit of your sight was driving him crazy. It honestly amazed him how he was able to keep himself from ripping every bit of fabric off of you and making you cry, but Donnie didn’t wanna scare you off; so he kept his composure, at least this time he would.

You began to roll your hips into his hand that had a tight grip on your painfully hard bulge, moaning loudly into his open mouth, holding onto his wrist of the hand that was on your throat, causing him to squeeze ever so slightly harder. You felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough, you needed to feel him.

“Please.. Donnie.” You said breathlessly with your eyes screwed shut. Donnie didn’t know if this was real or a hallucination, he had thought about this moment every time he masturbated with your stolen underwear, but now that it was actually happening, he felt wildly intimidated.

“I’ve never.. I’ve never done this before.” Donnie halted his movements, hanging his head low in embarrassment, worrying that the fact he was still a virgin would turn you off; only to find out that it made you want him ten times more, if that was even possible.

“That’s okay.. I can teach you, I promise.” You grabbed his chin, lifting it back up to your gaze, watching his already red face turn brighter.

Donnie nodded wildly, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you stand up in front of him, taking your jeans off. He swore that if you looked hard enough, you could see a pool of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. When you had finally gotten your jeans off, which felt like years to the poor horny mess, you sat back down on his lap, kissing his forehead gently.

You gestured to Donnie to lift his arms up, and he instantly followed the command, lifting his arms up and swallowing thickly as you took his shirt off. Your lips ghosted over his as you ran your hands down his chest, taking note of how he bucked his hips subconsciously when you ran a finger over his nipple.

“We can start off simple, is that okay?” You smiled sweetly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, watching his every movement to make sure you didn’t cause him any discomfort. “Yeah.. yeah that’s okay.” Donnie said, completely out of breath, his hard on becoming increasingly more painful.

You brought his hand down to your bulge once again, giving him a soft kiss as he circled your tip through your boxers. “You can take them off — please, take them off.” That simple command was all it took for him to completely rip off your plaid boxers, exposing your dripping cock to the cold air of the boys house. Donnie gripped you instantly, running his thumb over your slit with a half swallowed moan escaping his mouth.

“Fuck, Donnie..” Your face was buried in the nape of his neck, kissing it every once in a while to try and stifle your increasingly louder groans. Donnie had his free hand on the back of your head, holding you close to the sweet spot behind his ear you kept attacking. “You’re so fucking pretty..” He cried while continuing to work your length, he could feel his own pre completely soaking through his underwear. You began to roll your hips once again, feeling like you were on cloud nine, but just before you could come undone in his hand, he pulled away, holding your waist tightly.

“Can I.. you know…” Donnie whined, despite the fact that he had the nerve to stalk you, and break into your home, he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words ‘fuck you’, it was pathetically adorable.

You chuckled and nodded your head, kissing his cheek before sitting on your knees and helping Donnie remove his jeans. Something about you doing everything for him, and teaching him how to fuck you was deliciously exciting to him. He loved the idea of him being completely tainted by you, even if he had originally dreamed of the roles being reversed. With his jeans now removed, you kissed him one final time before curling a finger in his waistband, pulling his boxers down to his ankles.

Donnie looked away bashfully, his length twitching quickly, leaking pre like a hose. You bit your lip, taking a mental photo for use later. You hovered over him, holding his hard cock tightly as you lined it up with your hole.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, kissing the top of his head, making sure that he was ready to be taken like this. Donnie whined out in frustration, he was never good with patience and it was on full display here. You laughed at his needy response, and slowly began to sink down onto his dripping length. Donnie instantly threw his head back, grabbing your waist and digging his short nails into your skin. Your mouth hung open, sinful noises filled the room from the both of you as you bottomed out onto him.

Donnie’s eyes began to water from the sheer pleasure, and he held you like his life depended on it. It took you a second to adjust to his size, but you started slowly moving up and down, making Donnie completely loose it. His quiet demeanor was totally lost at this point, nothing but whines, cried out moans, and loud “fucks”, and “please’s” left his mouth. Nothing filled his mind except the feeling of you wrapped around him, and your pretty facial expressions. The poor boy was totally overwhelmed, fat tears began to fall from his eyes as he got closer to his climax.

The sight was enough to push you over the edge, he looked completely wrecked, and it was a gorgeous sight. You pushed yourself forward, latching onto his lips and grabbing his face tightly, his tears transferring onto your cheeks as you kissed. You became undone onto both of your chests, thick ropes covering Donnie’s frail body. Donnie broke the kiss with a loud cry, hitting his climax and losing himself inside of you. He held you tightly to his body as he pumped you full.

After a few moments of silence, that let both of you gain your composure, you let out a breathy laugh, kissing your fucked out boyfriend all over his face. You watched as his chest heaved up and down as he blinked tightly, trying to regain all of his senses. Donnie kissed your lips softly, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug.

“Hey.. how did you know all that stuff? Have you like.. done this before?” Donnie said, a thick sense of jealousy flowing through every word.

“No, I just watch a lot of porn.” You chuckled, a devilish smile running across your face.

Donnie let out a breathless moan as he flipped you onto your back, just the idea making him ready for a round two.

[the-californicationist]

hi cail! this is sizzleee2 from another account 😅 i was wondering if you could possibly make a fic with anyone from tf141 with fem!reader who immediately after sex feels asexuel and gets a little distant, doesnt need aftercare because shes never had any and then finds out how good aftercare feels??? idk, if you dont want to then no pressure! you r just my favourite writer and i love to read your fics!!

-sk0 <3

I’m slowly making my way through my ask box, and you probably forgot about this but I didn’t! lol 😂 I don’t think I fulfilled this request though. Epic fail on my part. Aftercare?? Maybe. If you squint. I’m so sorry. I just got too horny for Gaz. Forgive me? 🩷🩷

TW: female reader, the expected amount of Kyle sass (see gif)

——— MDNI ———

Tethered

—

The skin-searing warmth of his body left you as he finished, falling away and leaving you cold and lonely. The air of the room rushed across your skin, reminding you that he was done with you. He’d used you, and much like the tarred end of a smoked cigarette, you were filthy, you were wet and sticky from his mouth, and you were no longer smoldering from his burning affection. You had been savored and snuffed out, and that was that.

As soon as his heavy frame rolled off of you, you flung the sheet away and darted into the bathroom, ready to be clean again.

You wished you could be like those girls in the movies; the ones who curled around their emptied lovers, laying her head upon his chest, letting him squeeze and fondle her as he dozed, playing in the sweaty mess of her hairline, skirting his brutish fingers along the slope of her brow.

But you weren’t. You were something else. You weren’t sure exactly what, but your past partners had called you all sorts of things. Low-maintenance. Easy-going. Little Miss Quickie.

“Hey,” the door to the bathroom was wrenched open, and in the dark portal of its frame stood your most recent conquest: Sergeant Kyle Garrick, scowling down at you.

He was still naked, as were you, and now that the sparkling fire of your pleasure had been extinguished, it was less exciting and more practical than it should’ve been. Sure, the heavy musculature of his neck and shoulders were still beautifully aggressive. The broad span of his chest was yet as inviting as it had been at the bar last night. The deep v-cut of his Adonis belt was just as tantalizing, particularly when it lead to a softer, shinier, well-used cock, still dripping desire from its gleaming slit.

“What?” You asked, turning to face him, your washcloth in hand.

“Where’d you go? I’m not done,” he asked.

As Gaz stepped forward into your space, you turned to give him your back, watching him in the mirror, feeling and seeing his enormous arms curling around your shoulders and belly like a giant kraken, ready to pull you back into the sea of his bed.

“You felt done to me,” you shrugged, continuing to wash your face, “Was it not good for you?”

The incredulous look in his eye froze you to the spot, and the suds of your soap foamed and popped across your cheek as you waited for his reply.

He pulled himself away, unwinding himself like ribbon from a spool, slipping through you like sand through loose fingers.

“It was proper brilliant. You know it was. You were there,” he laughed, a hint of bitterness tinging the edge of his mirth, “Am I wrong, babes?” Then, his timbre darkened with a quiet uncertainty, “Am I wrong?”

“No,” you turned to face him, wiping your cheek clean, “It was really nice. It’s not you. I’m just usually Ubering home by now.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, pushing back. But he didn’t shy away. He smiled, almost knowingly, as if he expected you to say as much.

“Not much of a cuddler, is that it?” He smiled a bit wider, reaching his arms around you cautiously, waiting for you to pull away again.

You shook your head, and he held your chin in one of his large fists, lifting you up to face him. He studied you, looking into your eyes as if trying to see your mind working away behind them,

“Want me to show you how?”

You met his gaze, and you didn’t know what expression you wore on your face. It was hard to even describe the emotion you were feeling, much less name it. But, when he looked down at you, he seemed to know.

Gaz grabbed your hand in his and dragged you over to the large shower behind him. He turned the water on hot and coaxed you inside. For a few moments, you thought it may be too warm for you to stand it, but as your skin became accustomed to the steam and the heat, you felt your body relax. He didn’t bother with soaping you up or washing your hair; he simply held you against him, your head tucked into his chest, shadowed by his hulking form, covering you in the oppressive warmth of his affection and the pouring water. It flooded your senses, and you felt yourself becoming more pliant to his whims, more open to suggestion, blooming under his touch like a reluctant bud, afraid of the bite from the frost you knew too well.

Because this wasn’t forever. He’d say goodbye eventually. You’d feel the sting of loneliness one way or another. Better to rip the bandage off now and get it over with. Right?

“Hey, come back,” he held your jaw in his strong fingers, making you meet his eyes again, “That’s it. Stay with me, baby. You don’t need to go anywhere. Don’t need to do anything. Just be here, right now, with me. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t know why, but you rejoiced to hear those words. There was something in the way he insisted, something in the comfort of his steady, unhurried embrace that allowed you to melt down into his arms.

When he began to rub you down, chasing the rivulets and currents of the cascading water, you didn’t feel rushed. There was no urgency. He fondled you and caressed you; he squeezed your soft breasts in his palms, but he wasn’t after an orgasm - not yours nor his. He just wanted to touch you.

You felt his hand find your tender pussy, his fingers stretching their way into your hole, still sore from taking his challenging length, still slick from the sticky mixture of your come.His fingertips pressed inside of you, and it was his turn to sigh, his body relaxing into yours, warm to his bones from how joyful he felt at being so welcomed into your hot core.

Pressing your head into his chest, you let yourself live in the moment. You were allowing yourself to be in this steamy limbo with him, feeling him as he was feeling you and yet in no rush to the finish line.

“I’ve got you, babes,” he kissed your forehead, pushing into your cunt even deeper, rocking rather than thrusting his hand against you, letting you grind your hips into the heel of his palm, “I don’t wanna stop. But, if you —“

You shook your head, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you felt him smile. You whispered into his chest,

“It’s alright. We don’t have to stop.”

“Come back to bed with me, then,” Gaz demanded gently, his voice holding a stronger challenge than it had before, steeled by your precarious consent.

You looked up at him, unsure if you could give him what he wanted, but you were willing to try.

You nodded, and he flipped off the water, reaching out of the door to wrap you in a big towel. You watched him dry off quickly before leading you back to bed. He climbed in before you, turning back the duvet, giving you a shadowy little burrow to stuff your body into. You turned away from him, your back to his chest. You held your breath in your lungs still for a moment, wondering and waiting, but once you felt his skin on your skin, you could relax again.

Reaching behind you, you found his hard prick and guided it so that he would slip between your legs, nestled right below your lips, curving through your chubby thighs and up against your mons. The trembling sigh that came from his throat as his cock slotted itself into place lit a fire in your chest again, reigniting the once-cold embers.

He thrust himself against you, testing the waters, waiting for you to reject his advances, but you canted your hips, letting the wetness of your hole glide against the body of his cock, licking him like a mouth as he rutted between your legs. His tongue was on your neck, his hands were on your breasts and belly, his scent invaded your nose; he was everywhere. You didn’t have a chance to second-guess yourself or your smoldering excitement because he was like the steam from his shower; he suffocated your doubts with his desire.

“That’s my good girl,” he muttered against your kiss-bitten flesh, “Use her on me like that. Just like that.”

Gaz reached down to cup your mons, his fingers cradling his head each time he fucked his cock against your folds, keeping it pressed into the slit of your wet quim, nudging your clit every time he shoved himself forward. You helped him, rocking your hips back and forth, matching his rhythm, listening to the soaked, milking noises your sex was making with him.

“See?” He whispered, slurring his words from the pleasure that he was stoking inside of himself, using you to build his fire back to a high roar, “A cuddle isn’t so bad. That’s why you gotta stay here in bed with me, baby. Give me a chance to get hard for you again, yeah?”

You nodded, moaning in agreement, arching your neck to give him more room to work his mouth on you. He took advantage of it right away, feasting on your sensitive skin, raking his sharp teeth across you like the flat edge of a knife, stinging but not ready to draw blood.

“Wanna take you again. Let me have you,” he snarled, all his gentility burning away against his blazing want.

Before you could so much as whimper his name, his hand pressed down until his cockhead was prodding against the soft mouth of your cunt, waiting for your body to swallow him whole. He held his breath as he dipped inside of you. He went slowly, inching his way through your soaked walls, drowning his long shaft in its familiar sheath, groaning and shaking from the bliss of it.

You twisted your hand in the sheets, nearly screaming from the pleasure, too full to move, overstimulated and yet begging him for more with the hungry grind of your hips.

Then, he used his heavy body to shove you beneath him, rolling you onto your belly, pinning you beneath his chest and wrapping his arms around you, stealing away any chance of your escape. But you didn’t want to escape, not anymore. All of your thoughts had been rewired and rewritten with his ink pen, reminding you that you were his to take.

“Ungh, fuck!” He bit down on the nape of your neck, whimpering in a dark, gravelly tone, “Just like that. Squeeze me, baby. Use that fuckin’ pussy on me.”

“Gaz…” You keened, feeling the edge of your orgasm rising within you like a white-hot sun.

“What?” He snapped a little cruelly, “Still wanna go home? Fuck that. Not done with you, baby. Gonna make this tight little pussy remember the shape of me, yeah? I’ll keep you hungry for it.”

As your legs began to shake, Gaz fucked himself into you even deeper, reaching too far and stretching you too wide, forcing a wall of pleasure to slam into your core, making you clench around him that much harder. You felt yourself flood with your own sticky come, and right at the top of your blinding joy, you heard him hiss against your ear, chuckling in a teasing, devilish tone,

“That’s what I thought. Not goin’ anywhere, are ya?”

[redocity]

I've been really stuck on Buck having a secret relationship with Bobby's niece. Idk much else for the request it's just been thought recently and I was wondering if you could do something with it. Your writing is insanely good I've loved literally every piece you've written! 💗

PLAYING WITH FIRE — E.BUCKLEY

why did buck always have to fall in love with really complicated people?

buck x bobby’s niece!reader | 1.0k | fluff? | masterlist.

a/n — thank you so much ml, enjoy 🫶

Buck had always been good at compartmentalising.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he buttoned his shirt in the soft glow of the early morning light.

Behind him, you shifted in the bed, a soft smile on your face even in sleep. Your quiet breaths spilled over the pillow, your arm stretching to find the warmth of the spot he was leaving.

He paused, letting his gaze linger on your peaceful form, just for a second.

Bobby Nash’s niece.

Buck exhaled, rubbing his hand over his face.

You’re playing with fire, he thought. And wasn’t that just his specialty?

The fact that Bobby had no idea made the whole thing worse. Or maybe better, depending on how you looked at it. You weren’t just Bobby’s niece; you were like his second daughter, the one he got to raise like he would’ve his own—smart, compassionate, and fiercely independent.

You worked as a trauma counsellor at the hospital, often crossing paths with the 118 during the rough calls.

That’s how him and you met.

And now you were in his bed. How did he end up here?

It hadn’t started as anything serious.

At first, it was just a shared coffee in the hospital cafeteria after his embolism. The kind of conversation that left Buck’s hands shaking and his heart heavy. You’d found him there, in a hospital bed with a cup of black coffee that had gone cold, and offered him a warm smile and a quiet space to unload.

“It’s okay to talk about it,” you’d said gently, your voice like a balm to his frayed nerves.

And for some reason, he had.

From there, it became a habit. You’d meet him for coffee, sometimes under the fluorescent lights of the hospital, other times at a little café a few blocks away. The conversations started out light—music, movies, shared anecdotes about the job. But then they grew deeper. He told you things he hadn’t told anyone else. About Abby, about his parents, about Maddie and Daniel.

You listened. You saw him.

And somewhere along the way, coffee turned into dinner, which turned into stolen kisses in the shadows of parking garages, and eventually nights like this one—ones that ended with skin-to-skin underneath the sheets, with a connection that felt equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

But every time he looked at you, a pang of guilt twisted in his chest.

Bobby.

He’d be furious. No—furious didn’t even cover it. Protective didn’t even cover it. Bobby would see this as a betrayal. You weren’t just family to him—you were his heart, one of the last pieces of a life he’d spent years rebuilding after unimaginable loss.

Buck knew he should tell him. Every time you looked at him with those soft, trusting eyes, the words sat heavy on his tongue. But then you’d smile, and he’d think, Just a little longer. Just a little more time.

Now, as he stood by the edge of the bed, watching you stir, he wondered how much longer he could keep this up.

“Buck?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but there was a warmth in it that made his chest tighten.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head slightly, giving you a small smile, trying to play it cool even though his heart was suddenly pounding.

“You leaving already?”

Your eyes were still half-closed, but there was something undeniably familiar in the way you looked at him, like you belonged here with him.

He stepped toward the bed, sitting on the edge, his fingers brushing over your temple. “I have a shift,”

You nodded, but then your hand reached out, gently pulling him from the nape of his neck down to your lips. "Stay a little longer. Just... a few minutes."

Buck hesitated. It wasn’t like him to linger, to let himself be drawn into something that might complicate everything, but something about you made him want to be selfish, just for once.

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting himself believe—for just a little while longer—that the world outside didn’t exist.

That Bobby wouldn’t find out.

That the fire he was playing with wouldn’t burn everything to the ground.

—

By the time Buck arrived at the station, the weight of the morning was firmly back on his shoulders. He was distracted enough that he didn’t hear Bobby approaching until the older man clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“You look like you’ve been up all night,” Bobby said, studying him closely.

“Didn’t sleep great,” Buck pressed his lips together in a smile. He wasn’t completely lying.

Bobby’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. “Well, shake it off. We’ve got a long shift ahead. And hey, I invited my niece to come by the station later. Figured it’d be good for her to meet the team properly.”

Buck froze. “Your niece?”

“Yeah,” Bobby said with a warm smile. “You’ve met her at the hospital, right? Smart kid. You’ll like her.”

Buck swallowed hard, his mind racing. “Yeah, I think we’ve crossed paths.”

Bobby didn’t seem to notice the way Buck’s voice tightened. “Great. She’s got the day off, so I told her to swing by around lunch with Athena. Be on your best behaviour, huh?”

Buck nodded numbly, watching Bobby walk away. His stomach churned as he imagined the storm brewing just over the horizon.

You’re playing with fire, Buck, he thought again.

And this time, the flames felt impossibly close.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 8 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: you and stanley go fishing 

warnings (TW): swearing, panic attack/panic-inducing scenarios, slight gore/violence 

tags: mutual-pining, fluff, angst, action, affection

notes: idk anything about ice fishing so pls don’t get my ass for this okay, this was v different to write than my usual long drawn out heart gutting character analyses that I love (not that that is NOT here) but all the movement was deffff hard so it took me a minute but hey this is what I wanted imma do it ya know 

Also i configured this chapter in like three separate ways in my head and it was so hard to chose? But i think the one i did end up writing is most true to their dynamic so far. To be of note for the v stubble reference im giving here but yall know The Kiss by painter Gustav Klimt? Ya… that…. Thats here (spot it if you can) as always thank you for the kind messages and notes and comments, love yall <3 also comment below if you'd like to be on a tag list I should maybe organize that hehe

word count: 6.5k

| masterlist | ix |

January, 1987

She had found them both nice fold-out chairs at the flea market just that last season, along with fishing poles the nice old man insisted went with the seats also. Talked her ear off about how he used to go ice fishing with his son, before said son went off to college. 

Now he wouldn’t be home during the ice fishing season, so he saw no use for his chairs or his poles. But she did. 

Stan would tell her flippantly about his youth from time to time, usually if not always said stories incorporated Stanford in one way or another. It seemed that the two barely, if ever, separated during their youth. Something that upset her more, that her friend had never spoken of his brother to her in the six years they had known each other. She didn’t think he would speak of it all as fondly, these memories, considering he never confided in her about Stanley, to begin with. 

Stan would speak of the shoreline in New Jersey, of the sharp sand beneath his feet and hidden caves along the coast they both would trek through. Talk of the setting sun, of racing his brother home in the dark down paved streets back to their shared room. 

He spoke most fondly of a boat though, one that had taken both twins years to configure. 

She figured the fishing poles could be some sort of link, at least in her mind. 

That and they spent some of their summers down by the dock at the local lake anyway. Splashing in windy tides off the dock and watching boats go by until sunset was a great way to cool off. That or revisiting the pool, where Stan would insist upon ice cream for the short drive home. 

She figured he would wait for the season opener to go fishing. Considering she gave him the poles and chairs in December, a quick wave to Christmas, a holiday he laughed off on the regular. He would routinely celebrate it with her, just for the holiday cookies and cheesy movies he wouldn’t admit he loved. But he was Jewish, after all. At least raised in a Jewish household, he told her flippantly, after opening his gift this last December. Laughing at her blushing face, and flabbergasted stuttering, asking him why he would bother with all this. She sat straight when he said it was for her. Because she wanted to, so he would. Not that he was a religious man, anyway. 

He found it amusing this holiday season then, to find her struggling to make some traditional dishes his mother would make each year come December for the holidays. Nothing he necessarily missed, but something he found endearing nonetheless. Her usual attention to detail, and odd need to ensure his comfort. 

The fishing poles were a welcomed gift though, and he lit up at them and the differing tackles the nice man at the flea market had also gifted her. Hugged her into his side, while he ranted and raved about being able to fish off the docks come summer. 

But he didn’t want to wait. 

Something she thought rather glumly in the very early morning that January weekday. The sun not even having made its appearance, she had stumbled out of her bed around 4 a.m., having promised to reluctantly go ice fishing with said enthusiastic man. They stood before the porch door now, while he knelt in front of her, lacing up tall winter boots and pulling over her snow pants. Tucking her in, layer upon layer. Putting to use some winter clothes they both had rangled out of donation bins that very first cold season. The snow pants and boots had only ever really been used when they would trek through the outskirts of the woods, searching for clues to Stanford’s other journals. 

She was still half asleep on her feet, falling forward into Stan’s bent shoulder in front of her to groan. For some reason, he was wide awake, and grinning like a fool despite it being 4 a.m. That dumb look on his face reminded her why she even crawled out of her cacoon of blankets. He was beyond happy to be able to go fishing. Something he couldn’t even wait for a warmer season to do. 

He seemed a smidge like his younger self when he was closest to water. Some of his favorite memories are those ones with Stanford by his side and sand intertwined in his hair. His skin dark in the sun and his toes were deep in the tide of the sand. 

It seemed more distant now, as distant as Ford was to him now. He wanted to ground himself here too, and some of his new favorite memories are of them hanging at the end of the dock. His feet in the cold water of the lake, and her nudging his shoulder. Teasing him, edging him off the docks’ wood and into the cold water with her. He preferred the summer to the snowy winters, but he figured they could make some new memories by the water now also. Even if they were colder ones. 

So he more or less begged her to join him. Promising that he would handle the fish after she made a disgusted face at the thought of stripping the fish of their skin and bones for the meal they would make of the catch. She agreed though, happy to tag along if it pleased him. 

He stood from his knelt position in front of her, standing to reach behind him to grab his red coat from the coat rack. Turning back to her to fold her arms into the coat also, her eyes still blurry as she smiled at him slightly giddy. 

He had a gift for her that last December also. A coat folded into shitty wrapping newspaper he had thought to repurpose. She smiled at the blue coat but quickly became confused when she pulled it out of the wrapping to find it was far too big for her own physique to be for her. He had quickly pulled out another present for her, presenting her with another newspaper-wrapped gift. Which she tore open with haste, and rocked up quickly to her feet to dance around their small living room, his old red coat in her arms. 

It was hers now, and she reveled in the shitty coat. His smell still lingered in the seam line, and when she leaned her head far back into the hood she could pick up on his shampoo. It kept her warm, despite also not fitting her physique. 

He had woken up earlier than her that morning, putting the appropriate supplies for ice picking into the trunk next to their foldable chairs, the tackles, and the fishing hooks. So they made their way out into the dark, ducking into the car next to each other to make for the lake in the early morning. 

She hummed along to the radio as per usual, random songs interspersed in between the local morning forecast. She stopped though now, picking her head up from the back of the seat to look over at Stan. 

“We missed the entrance to the dock.” 

“Nah there's another one we can go to. Farther down, less people.” 

She hummed, smiling over at him. What he actually meant was there would be no lake office to report to. So no need to register them for the lake that day, and no stupid state fee to pay for fishing on the lake. Amused at his shortcuts, she turns back to watch the pine trees pass out the car window. 

It was a sharp, nose-burning 10 degrees Fahrenheit that day, according to the radio forecast. Only made worse somehow with the creeping darkness from the horizon line. The sun slinked slowly in the coldness of January. 

He made his way out first, the car’s cabin light flashing on as he grinned over at her. Securing his blue coat closed quickly before getting out to stomp a path in the fresh snow around the car. Pulling around the sides to pull open her door, before chugging around to the trunk to unload the supplies he claimed they needed. 

She knew how to fish, but had never ventured into ice fishing. Mainly because the cold was beyond unappealing to her. But the thermos Stan had presented to her before making out the door that morning heated her hands enough to dismiss the onslaught of negativity thrumming through her. And partially woke her up on the drive over. Stepping out into the crunchy cold snow to help Stan gather supplies. 

He shuffled her chair into her hands, slugging everything else into his own broad arms. He could reasonably carry everything, stomping forward in the snow to make a path for her to follow in. 

They had made a spot on the ice, the snowy shoreline a good bit away. Stan claiming the best spots must be farther out. Because the farther out, the bigger the fish. She sat, glancing around the empty ice. When Stan meant fewer people he meant no people. A frozen dock far off near the shoreline also, its wooden structure covered in ice. She watched him now, the fishing poles cradled in her lap, and the thermos warm in her hands. He’s bent in front of her, his mittened hands working an ice auger to break a solid hole through the thick layer of ice. 

Grunting, he stands back up, hands on his hips admiring his work. 

“Is the ice too thin here?” She observes. 

He tilts his head left, turning to her now. “No, doll. Perfectly fine right here. We’ll only be here until a little after sunrise anyway.” 

He sits in his own foldable chair that she had set up for him while he was finagling with the ice. Their chairs positioned side by side, a little distance between them and the whole he had just made. He reaches between them, opening up the tackle box to shuffle around drawers, looking for something in its depth. 

“Close your eyes, hun.” 

She rolls her eyes, closing them, while shuffling the thermos between her thighs to hold out her hands in wait. He places something in her mittened hands, it’s slightly heavy in them now. 

“Open ‘em.” 

She opens them to see an odd black contraption in her hands. Two knobs, a dark screen, and a long antenna on what she presumes is a battery-powered electronic. Almost too dark to make out what it was, but it hit her and she gasped. 

“Ta-Da!” 

“A radio!” She sings, clutching it closer to her chest and swinging in her seat to knock her knees with his. Clawing at his shoulder to fold herself into his neck and coat’s furry trim. She wouldn’t question where he got it, just revel that he had thought to, for her. 

“I know you weren’t too eager to go fishing with me, doll. But I figured this could make up for some of it.” He chuckled, readjusting his hat on his head after they pulled away. Knee’s still knocking between them. 

“I’d do anything with you Stan.” She hums, unthinking, as she looks down at the device in her hands. Tweaking around the knobs and the antenna to turn it on. She misses his flush next to her. 

She gets it working quickly, the music faintly staticy in the background of Stan attempting to put lures at the end of their poles. 

He gets her’s ready first, leaning forward in his seat to situate the pole in her hands. Pointing out the slack line and the type of lure he put on the end of her pole. She’s too distracted, like she always is when he’s probably explaining something vaguely important. 

The music hums between them, perched on the tackle box he had closed. His cheeks flushed from the cold, his hat slumping down the back of his head, hair peeking out around the rim and sticking to his forehead. He leans in closer, his knee and thigh along her own. His own covered hand reaching for hers, folding it around the pole for her to hold. 

They enjoy each other's company until the sun peaks up along the horizon, a good hour in. As they pass the coffee-filled thermos back and forth, she hums to the radio. Enjoying stories Stan told about tourists from the end of the last season. Telling her about their ridiculous questions he had to work around last minute. 

“Then he asked me if they were extinct!” 

“What you tell him?” 

“Well he couldn’t have been more than eight years old, and he got all teary-eyed when he asked me.” Stan waves his hand around, drumming up the memory of when a child had asked him if the fake displayed plady-beaver was the last of its kind. 

“Annnnddd?” She hums, sipping on the last of their shared beverage. 

“And I may or may not have said they were not.” He shrugs. “Was easy to convince the kid’s dad to buy him a plushy.” 

She laughs, thinking about the stupid merchandise she’s still not used to, that she sometimes restocked in the front of the house. But of course, Stan didn’t have the heart to really crush the kid’s spirit. Sad kids equaled less money probably, in his mind. That and he had a weird affinity of being about to communicate with them like no other. 

There’s a tug on her line suddenly, not the first in the hour they’d been at their spot, but the first real strong one she’s ever felt. Jerking her pole, bending it forward. Both her hands met the pole, yanked straight in her seat suddenly. 

“Woah!” He says, sitting forward and reaching for her pole also. His hands encased hers around the pole. “Hold it tight, hun.” Grunting in her ear. 

But the pulling got worse, had them both standing from their chairs. His arms around hers, helping her reel back the pole, pulling it back towards his left shoulder. His arms encasing her, pulling her flush with his front. 

“I gotcha.” He grunts again, close to her ear. 

“Do you?” Gasping at the strength of the pull along the pole. 

It seems to drag them closer and closer to the ice hole he had put in the ground not even an hour ago. His feet planted firm, yet scrapping against the ice. Hers fumbling, dipping under the strength of being pulled forward. Her hands tight, beginning to sweat and ache in the casing of her mittens. A heat around the ring of her hat. He’s hot behind her, warmth seeping out from his coat and onto her back. He feels firm, and yet they both continue a slow crawl forward. 

Until it tugs. It tugs so hard that she instinctually releases her grip. Her hands were still steady against the pole though, still beneath Stan’s own hands. 

The jerk has them both flung forward, his feet no longer steady, flipping against the ice. She’s still between his arms when they fall forward, inching towards the hole. He turns them somehow, taking the brunt of it on his right shoulder. 

Her head swims, having met the ground rather suddenly. But she’s between his arms, her hands having let go of the fishing pole. He’d let them slip from the pole, his arms tight around her, trying to take the force of the impact. 

“Stan.” She mutters, mushy between them. Her head pounded for a minute, as they continued to slide against the ice. His chin propped on her head, warm around her still. 

He doesn’t respond, because he’s given no time to. Another harsh tug on the pole sent him forward quickly towards the hole. He thinks fast though, bending his arms, hooking his feet along her legs, and pulling her out of his grasp. 

She slides along the ice and snow, his push along her legs and waist burned. She turned, pushing herself up on her hands. Grasping at the snow to get some balance. She had run into the chairs and tackle box. All their supplies scattered along the ice. The radio was static behind her. 

It had all happened so fast, her voice cracking in the cold air. Calling his name but not finding him. One moment he was there, the next gone. The water still. 

They had been pulled forward so suddenly, a quick five-second span between the tug and her head meeting the ice. And he was gone as soon as she had lifted herself again, the ice cracking along the sides of the former small hole. 

“Stanley!” Scrapping, crawling towards the hole. The surface wet and slick from the cold lake water that had seeped through the cracks along the hole now. Stan’s visage far from view, the top of the water dark. 

She stares in what feels like forever but is only quantifiable in the movements of the sun. It’s rising now, around her. Sparkling on the ice and water around her. Something she’d marvel at, have her grasping at Stan’s shoulder. Nudging him to see as she does. 

She thinks only briefly before shucking off her hat and gloves, beginning to unlace her boots. She’d follow him, into the dark depths. 

A deep continuous thump. Running along the ice. First near her feet, then farther and farther from her. It has her racing towards it, the vibrations along the ice guiding her along. It must be him, must be that something that pulled him into the dark murky water. The rhythmic thudding has her racing back to the supplies. Fumbling for the axe Stan had packed to help pick out the ice in the hole. 

Running full force back, the ice cracking beneath her legs. Shoelaces dancing around her feet, her fingers nippy and uncovered around the wooden handle of the axe.

It cracks, sickenly loud and sudden. Water bursts beneath her shoes, seeping up and around her. The ground opens up in front of her, splitting along the horizon line. A flash of blue precariously balanced in the large maw of a blurred creature. 

It shakes the ice, splintering and fracturing it below her feet. The weight of the creature resting the front of its body along the ice. Shaking the striking blue figure in its jaw, trying to subdue it. 

She stands still in the ankle-deep water, trying to make out the blurry figure in the maw of the anomaly. It strikes her then that it could be nothing else but Stanley, confirmed by the sputtering grunts the figure heaves, coughing up cold water from his lungs. 

She stands frozen only until then, stepping forward into the slowly sinking ice bath. Ax swung behind her shoulder, ready to slice along the neck of the beast in hopes it would release her husband. 

He clamors in the cage of teeth above. Raised his large hand into a well-practiced fist, blindly throwing said fist to meet the eye of the beast. 

The hit startles the beast, cracking open its jaw to release Stan, a sudden sharp screech creeping up its large neck through its throat. Rattling her bones as she leaps forward in the ice and water, bringing the ax into the meat of the beast's neck. 

It crawls back further, slinking back into the dark cold waters. She stumbles back through the ice and the water until she feels snow beneath her unlaced boots again, the ax gone from her grasp and embedded in the skin of the anomaly. The beast is there and gone in a flash, scrambling back beneath the water. 

Stan has the air knocked out of him, having landed on his back. His head cracked against the ice and water below, the cold creeping in through his clothes. He opens his mouth to groan but finds only his shallow breath and the puff of heated air leaves his mouth. The sun creeping above the horizon now, something he can only gauge by the heat on his face. The rest of him rock solid and shivering under the weight of his wet clothes. 

A sudden eclipse above his head, the sun, and shadows shaded by a beautiful face. Her face shadowed by the sun, her hat gone and her hair spilling all around her head like a halo. Her cheeks flush from the cold, from the adrenaline. It could be the cold or the way the light looks around her head, but he swore she must have been an angel. 

He’s muttering when she finally reaches him, stumbling through the cracked ice and wet water. Her only thought was getting to him. He was beyond sense when she did make it to him, clutching at his tattered and soaked blue coat. He was soaked, drenched to the bone. His hat gone and his hair icy along his head, his gloves gone also, a boot missing from his left foot. And he’s drenched. It all stuck to his body, freezing quickly in the icy temperature. She had to get him home, get him out of these clothes, and heat him up. 

She runs her hands along his coat first, checking for punctures, for blood. He had been dragged several yards under the water in the toothy jaw of said beast. But no punctures and no blood made themselves apparent through his coat. Something she’ll have to access later. 

A thump along the ice has her whipping her head around. The vibration rippling along the ice and the shards of the broken lake surface. The beast lingered in the area, waiting for them to be off guard again. 

She wastes no time, lifting Stan’s large arm up and above her shoulder. Leveraging his body up to be leaned against her side and her back. All those stories about mothers and daughters and adrenaline ring in her head, a truth to the stories of women and abnormal strength in times of strife. She would ache tomorrow, and be glad of it anyways. 

He unconsciously shuffles his feet, and she makes note that he’s somewhat conscious. The ice helps her slip them both along the good hundred yards she has until they reach the shoreline. Their supplies the least of her worries, and the anxious thought of the beast meeting her back out there in the wreckage of it all. She does not turn back to look when abandoning it all. 

It’s harder folding his stiff body into the passenger seat. His legs flopped into the car last. She curses, reaching over him to buckle him in and then making for the driver's side. She rarely drove them, it was more of a special occasion between the two of them. She had only ever driven once in the winter and had been deeply scared of the slipping ice and heavy snowfall. But the sky was clear and she’d put the thought of ice away for a long while. 

She curses again, reaching over to Stan to feel up the inside of his coat pockets for the keys. He stirs at the movement, shrugging off her touch, shivering in his seat. 

“Not Doc’.” He mutters, his head spinning. 

“What?” 

“You’re not Doc’.” He grunts again, his lips loose. His head hurts like a motherfucker. 

“I am!” She hisses, hands pushing his away, reaching for his pockets again, looking for the keys. 

“Oh.” He looks back, eyes blurry under the odd pressure along the back of his head. This person sounded like his wife, he’d admit. Shifting his head to lean against the back of the long bench, making out the flush on her face and the halo of hair around her head. He thought this was his angel? He guessed it was the same thing in his mind, anyway. 

She’s still ruffling through his soaked half-frozen jacket. “Hi, angel.” He says, smiling down at her frusstrated face. Why was she so frazzled? 

He’s grinning like an idiot, and he just acted like he didn’t know who she was. Like she wasn’t her. Calling her angel? He’d only ever done that in her dream. That achingly sick dream she had of them, of them in this very car. Of his weight above her, of his breath along the crook of her neck. Of his kiss. 

She shakes it off. Finally finding the keys folded into a very frozen and flat pocket along his chest. Turning back to the wheel, starting the car up, and peeling out of the parkway backward. Leaving the same way they had come in. 

She races home, glancing over at Stan stiff in the passenger seat. His eyes hadn’t left her figure but seemed distant. His thoughts far beyond him, and his coat and pants were frozen against him. His hair melts off his head in the car, still wet but no longer frozen to his scalp. Messy wet hair tucked around his big ears. 

She parks and throws open doors as quickly as she physically can. Slipping in the snow, tripping over her loose boots. Fingers frigid when she reaches for him to move him out of the passenger side. 

She knows the signs of hypothermia. Knows the dangers of prolonged exposure to cold, and dropping body temperature. Doing math in her head, hoping he had been exposed short enough for her to physically raise his temperature before his heart began to slow. Before blood began to sludge its way through his veins. 

He looks as blue as his coat, his arm slugged back over her shoulder as she attempts to get him up the stairs. The slurred speech, the confusion, the dulled skin. It made her heart race, taking steps two at a time to drag him to the upstairs restroom. To the bath. 

She sets him against the open door, running and slipping along the tile, turning on the bath to its warmest temperature. The water would be scalding against his cold skin, would sting and tingle in contrast to his wet clothes, but it was the only way she thought to raise his temperature. 

She rushes back to him, kneeling in front of him, grabbing at his coat and pants to pull the wet clothes from him. He’s smiling again, giggling at her attempt to uncloth him. 

“Could have asked hun.” He jokes, but she cries. He’s so out of it, so gone from this reality and it shakes her bones. He’s here and not all at once. 

He thinks he sees her clearer here in the yellow bathroom light, hot fog swelling around them from the facet. She has her hands all over him, eager to get him out of wet clothes that stick hard against his body. Didn’t she know? That all she had to do was ask and he would shed any layer to get closer to her? He giggles again, leaning into her hot hands against his cold blue body. 

She manages to get everything but his boxers and socks off him, a flush to her face. Not for lacking of trying though, but Stan would laugh and shake her hand away. Muttering under his breath between them when she would reach for the waistband of his usual blue loose boxers. So she luggs his wingspan along her back again, leveraging him up to move him to the scalding water. Heat bubbling up in clouds around the water. Bruises along his chest have begun to form from the pressure and weight of the beast's teeth and jaw. They’d turn purple and swell soon, a good sign she sighed. A swell meant blood was flowing fast still.

He hisses, his head rocking back along the edge of the clawed tub when he finally is able to sit in the water. It’s hot, too hot. It hurts to breathe in the heat, and he attempts to lift his lungs above the water to gain air again. The muggy water hurts his skin and burns him. But her hand meets his chest, pushing him back into the scalding water. 

“Stay.” She commands, eyes wavering when she looks at him now. Melted into the porcelain of the tub. He’s still shivering. He doesn’t even register it but his body has been shaking, vibrating, this entire time. Moving his muscles in an attempt to warm him up. 

She reaches to turn the hot water back on, cursing, beating her hand along the rim of the tub when the water comes out cold. It’s all gone. She looks down at him again, her hand moving along his chest, trying to generate heat where her hand was. “Stay, Stan. Stay in the fucking water.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He mutters, still smiling at her like an idiot. God, she was pretty, god her hand felt nice along his cold bitter skin. She was out the door so quickly. Was it possible to miss someone who was just in the other room? 

She’s barreling down the stairs, flipping on every gas burner in her wake on the kitchen stove. Stumbling to the cupboard, pulling out saucepans and the like to put water in. She’d boil it, damnit. Like her grandmother used to do for her when she was preparing her bath. 

She doesn’t breathe until every corner of the stove is full. Leaned over the countertop next to the burners. Her hand rubbed along her chest, along her heart. Self-soothing, the purpose of the continuous motion above the erratic beating. She had tunnel vision up until now, suddenly noticing that she hadn’t even flicked on the kitchen light. Hadn’t even closed the front door. 

She had been scared. Still was. Shaken beyond something she knew. It pained her to be in the next room, afraid of looking over her shoulder and not finding him there. She’d never lead them through crowds again, never let him stray far from her peripheral. Because then he would be gone, could be gone. 

Ice seeps in through her snow pants, and she tugs off her boots too. Socks wet against the kitchen tile. Her hands shake as she pulls her boots loose. 

She had almost lost him. Lost him for good. It was a shell shock beyond her, beyond her imagination. For the last five years, it was hard to conjure up adventures and trips without him. The thought of flippantly leaving him behind never crossed her mind. Hadn’t ever left her mind. Not after storming in through the shack's door, not after his confession to her across the dim kitchen table, across their kitchen table. 

She sits there now, feeling like it was a lifetime ago, but knowing she could blink and mistake the past for the present. He had reached across to her that night, across the table. Held his palms face up when he asked for help. When he confided in a four-second mistake he had made. She had hesitated then, to reach for him. To reach across and find assurance between them, to fold her hands into his own. She had judged initially. But they had both made mistakes. Both made mirror image mistakes, it felt. She didn't want to hesitate to reach for him ever again. She just feared he would be gone before she could. Feared he would disappear along her shoulder line. 

She had thought it was obvious, the unspoken agreement between them. That they both meant something to the other. That her dreams threaded into a deeper reality, and that the jokes they shared weren’t some passing balm to deal with it all. That the late nights in front of the T.V. analyzing movies were for the thrill of each other's company, and that their yearly poker game was a silent promise of convergence. That the shitty driving lessons weren’t so she could drive away from him someday, that chalkboard lessons were so he wouldn’t scoff when she said he was smart with her whole chest. That the yearly diner dates were just that, just dates. Not something flippant, not something as unkind as the upkeep of an image. That he opened doors for her for a reason and tucked her below his chin because he cared enough to. That he reached across tables, palms up, because he never feared her hesitation. 

Something unwritten between them she believed, everything shared in everything but words and letters. She was a calculating woman throughout her years and didn’t know how to trace the beginning of the feelings she had amassed all the way to the end of it. She didn’t know how to explain that her heart clenched when he leaned over the seat to buckle her in or explain how her hands shake when he reaches for the chalk from her now in the middle of a lesson. It was inconsequential, improbable, and entirely unexplainable to well… explain the sum of him to her. It felt little in comparison to his constant devotion. 

The two front pots begin to boil over, she lifts her head, turning off burners and carrying a stem to a pot in both hands. Taking the stairs two at a time again, uncaring about the burning water running down her arms in her haste to make it back to him. 

He’s still the same shade, but he lifts his head to look at her when she enters now. His smile less doppy, more genuine. His hair beginning to dry along his head, no ice to be found in its dark strands. He’s still leaning heavily along the back of the tub, not yet able to hold himself up. Color coming back to his cheeks, to his face. She kneels beside the tub, the floor wet as it seeps in through her pants. She pours in one pot at a time, swiping the water around to acclimate it to the bathwater. His hands move unconsciously, grabbing a strand of her hair to fold behind her ear. To be able to look at her more clearly through the fog of hot water. 

She begins to pour the next pot into the tub, but he tugs her forward, folds her body against the rim of the tub. Something in her makes her stand, lifting her feet into the tub. The way he looks at her, so disorientated and shivering still. It moves her forward, has her crawling into the tub completely clothed just to lay her cheek against his chest. To make sure it continues to rise under her. Like when she sleeps, and he lulls her back to sleep by simply being there. She wants that, for him to lull her racing heart now. Make her forget about his disappearing visage and still water. He does that, hums like he always does, folding her head under his scruffy chin. Comforting her despite his weakened figure. Hoping she wouldn’t notice how cold he still was against her. 

Something unwritten she believed, something she had never had to say out loud because she had never felt this weird depth before. But he was slipping from her grasp now, heavy against the rim of the tub. And so very quiet it made her sick, made her heart chase up her throat. Made her anxious beyond words, because the thing she meant to say to him would stay unwritten. If he was gone she’d only voice such fantasies in her dreams. The dreams she had of him as hers, those other realities her mind conjured where he wore a golden band and called her his. Where she was his. 

“You're mine.” Her voice was unwavering, something unwritten between the syllables of her words. It blooms and bursts from her throat, a growth that had sprouted long ago, stumbles out of her mouth searching for light. Still folded under his chin, along his chest. Her shirt wet from the water, bunched up along her waist where he had put his hands. 

He gets that look in his eyes despite her intensity, a joke on the tip of his tongue. Something to soothe her racing heart, to stamp down the distant look in her eyes. How she had looked in the car scared him, the rush of her chest but the focus of her eyes. Like they had been driving in the dark, through a neverending tunnel. But she chases it away before he can open his mouth, her hand meeting and cupping his scruffy jaw, pulling back from her comfort to look at him. Turning his eyes to her intense ones, ones that held something unspoken. 

“No.” A shake to her voice, eyes blurry. “You’re mine.” 

He nods, his voice stuck in his throat. Running his hands up her back, his warmer hands. 

“Y-you aren’t allowed to leave me like that, Stanley. You can’t l-leave me all alone like that.” Flashes of a towering beast are nothing compared to turning over her shoulder. Of searching the horizonline. Like she does for Stanford, eyes drifting to tree lines. She wouldn’t, couldn’t compartmentalize doing such a thing for Stanley. She’d take back hesitancies and reach across tables palm up if it meant he wouldn’t leave her again. 

“I promise, angel.” He takes her again, tucking her back to his chest. Her racing heart fluttered against his warming chest. “I won’t leave.” 

Her hand fall into that crook in his chest, the other clutching along his back, trying to bring him closer, trying to make the space between them disappear. She sniffling, from the cold and stress, against his chest and he doesn’t think twice about his words. Thinking of reaching for her, of meeting her across bridges and tables and in tunnels to meet her open palms, her warm hands. Unfurling her from his chest to lean down and place his lips near her ear, something unspoken between syllables. 

“You’re mine, too.” 

His lips traveling to her cheek, hovering against the flush skin before tracing her warmth. Kissing the apple of her cheek as she leans into the front of him. His lips warm against her cheek, like she had dreamed of. He had never been this close in the waking world, something she craved more with each passing day. She never pulled away, sniffling as he brings her forward again. No hesitation to be found in the nod of her head along his scruff, a nudge, and nestle of agreement. Something unspoken, unwritten. 

She forgot about the pots and burners. 

[tacobacoyeet]

Hello! Can I request a harry potter x slytherin reader story where they are in fifth year and the reader has the biggest crush on harry but he likes cho, but one day the reader didn't want to go to any of the D.A meetings anymore because seeing cho and harry broke her heart. But time has passed and Umbringe finds out about the club and like we see it in the movie she makes them writes stuff with that horrible quill and even though the reader didn't go to the meetings anymore she finds herself doing those detention and after one of them harry takes her to the Gryffondor common room and try to heal her hand but she decide to go because having all those contact with him makes her just fall more in love and she doesn't want to because she knows that he likes cho and not her. But after that whole valentines thing (idk if you have read the books) cho and harry do not talk anymore and some weeks after he starts to realise that he actually do not like cho but the reader so he goes talk to her (maybe in the astronomy tower) and tell her about his feelings and they kiss!!

(also like they are best friends and harry is very worried that he did or say something wrong at first or because Ron said stuff like "those slytherin's are just stupid to love that umbringe" so he was probably thinking it was because of that that she don't talk to him any more)

not too late | h.p.

a/n: i can never resist writing for harry. there's not enough love for him on this website.

warnings: harry james potter being just the best as always, a touch angsty, tooth-rottingly fluffy, NOT PROOFREAD!

fifth year at hogwarts had been a whirlwind of chaos, change, and confusion. for you, a slytherin caught in the crossfire of house rivalries and divided loyalties, it was even more complicated. but nothing—nothing—was more consuming than the way your heart clenched every time harry potter smiled.

you didn’t know when the feelings had started. maybe it was in third year when he had smiled at you after you had helped him find a misplaced defense against the dark arts book. or perhaps it was when you partnered together during a potions class last year, and his determination to brew a perfect draught of peace had lit a spark of admiration in your chest.

but this year, that admiration had bloomed into a painful, unreciprocated crush. every glance at him made your stomach flip, and every moment spent together in the d.a. meetings made your heart ache. especially now that cho chang was in the picture.

watching harry laugh with cho, the way he looked at her as if she hung the stars, was unbearable. it felt like a knife twisting deeper each time you saw them together. so one day, you made a decision: you wouldn’t go to the d.a. meetings anymore. you told yourself it was to protect yourself from umbridge’s wrath if the group got caught. but deep down, you knew the real reason.

weeks passed, and you buried yourself in your studies. harry had asked about your absence at first, his emerald eyes filled with concern. “is everything okay? did something happen?” he’d asked after charms one day, his voice tinged with worry.

you had plastered on a smile and waved him off. “just busy with homework. you know how snape is.” he hadn’t pressed further, though you noticed the slight frown that tugged at his lips as you walked away.

but now, you were regretting your decision to distance yourself. despite avoiding the meetings, you weren’t spared from umbridge’s wrath. the moment she got wind of the d.a., she dragged every name associated with it into her office—including yours.

“you may not have attended every meeting,” she had said in her sickly sweet voice, “but you’re still guilty by association.”

that was how you found yourself seated in her dimly lit office, gripping a cursed quill as it carved i must not tell lies into the back of your hand. tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

when the session was over, you stumbled out of the office, cradling your bleeding hand. harry was waiting for you outside, leaning against the wall with a stormy expression on his face.

“let me see,” he demanded, his voice tight with anger.

“i’m fine,” you lied, hiding your hand behind your back.

“no, you’re not.” his hand shot out, gently but firmly grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand into view. his face darkened as he took in the angry red cuts spelling out the words. without another word, he took your uninjured hand and started leading you toward gryffindor tower.

“harry, what are you doing?” you protested, though you didn’t pull away.

“i’m helping you,” he said simply, his tone brooking no argument.

in the gryffindor common room, he sat you down near the fire, fetched a first aid kit from his dorm, and knelt in front of you. his touch was gentle as he cleaned and bandaged your hand, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“you shouldn’t have been in there,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “this is my fault. i should’ve stopped her before it got this bad.”

“don’t blame yourself,” you said softly, your heart aching at the guilt in his voice. “it’s not your fault.”

he looked up at you then, his green eyes filled with something unreadable. the closeness made your breath hitch. you wanted to reach out, to brush a lock of his hair away from his face, but you didn’t trust yourself. not when every moment with him made you fall even harder.

“i should go,” you said abruptly, standing up.

harry blinked, startled. “what? why?”

you forced a weak smile. “i just… need some air.”

before he could protest, you slipped out of the common room, your heart pounding in your chest.

weeks passed after that night. you avoided harry as much as you could, though it hurt to see the confusion and hurt on his face whenever you brushed him off. valentine’s day came and went, and you heard whispers of harry and cho’s disastrous date. you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it, though the rumors suggested they weren’t speaking anymore.

then one evening, as you stood alone in the astronomy tower, gazing out at the stars, you heard footsteps behind you.

“i thought i’d find you here,” harry’s voice said softly.

you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets. his expression was uncertain, almost nervous.

“harry—” you began, but he cut you off.

“why have you been avoiding me?” he asked, stepping closer. “did i do something wrong? if it’s about the d.a. or ron—he didn’t mean what he said about slytherins—”

“it’s not that,” you interrupted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“then what is it?” his voice cracked slightly, and the vulnerability in it broke your resolve.

tears pricked at your eyes as you turned away. “because it hurts, harry,” you admitted. “being around you hurts. you like cho, and every time i see you with her, it’s like a reminder that i’ll never—”

“stop,” he said, his voice firm but gentle.

you felt him step closer until he was right behind you. slowly, you turned to face him, and the look in his eyes stole your breath.

“i thought i liked cho,” he said, his voice low, “but i was wrong. it’s you. it’s always been you.”

your heart stopped. “what?”

“i didn’t realize it at first,” he admitted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “but these past few weeks, when you weren’t there… i missed you. i wanted to see you, talk to you, make you laugh. i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

his words left you speechless, your mind racing. before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek.

“is it too late?” he asked quietly.

instead of answering, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. the kiss was soft and hesitant at first, but it quickly deepened as you poured all your bottled-up emotions into it.

when you finally pulled away, harry rested his forehead against yours, a small, breathless smile on his lips.

“it’s not too late,” you whispered.

for the first time in what felt like forever, your heart felt whole again.

[slafastri28]

The Favorite Child - OP81

Summary: The first year of reader and Oscar's relationship, families give the other special treatment when they are around!

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Idk nothing really

Note: Is this loosely based on my life, maybe... yes it is... ENJOY!!

Winter 2023/24

“Mom, Dad, I have someone I want you to meet,” those words were so nerve-racking to you. They knew who Oscar was, you met him during your internship and had become best friends, but things escalated quickly after your boyfriend mistreated you, not trusting you in your work environment as you were surrounded by men your age. You tried to introduce him over the phone to the people you would be spending the most time with, but he refused. Long distance was clearly not meant for the two of you as it resulted in constant fighting and a lack of trust. You two broke up during your Thanksgiving break and you immediately called Oscar. He comforted you, but little did you know he was waiting for you, since the early moments of you two spending time with you he fell hard for you. Now here you were bringing him home from the airport to stay with you for a week before you both left to work again. He naturally walked in through your front door behind you, your parents both smiling.

“You must be the famous Oscar we hear so much about,” your Mom smiled greeting him with a hug, causing your cheeks to flush feeling embarrassed.

“Mr. Piastri,” your Dad greeted him with a handshake, a friendly welcoming one, not very protective over his daughter. The four of you sat down for dinner as your parents began asking about Oscar’s life which was a lot different from yours. It was full of adventures in different cities, countries, and continents, where your last vacation was when you were seventeen. 

“It really is beautiful, once you start putting your shoes up high,” he laughed. He looked so in place at the table across from you talking to your parents. Something in your stomach told you this would be a recurring event. Dinner ended and you showed him where he would be staying for the next week before the two of you traveled to your new shared apartment to start your job. It seemed natural for you to live together, two separate bedrooms which you would both keep clean and orderly, you had similar lifestyles, similar habits, similar everything and you wouldn’t mind living with your best friend. He made himself comfortable in your older brother’s former room, he moved out a long time ago and now it was vacant, and was conveniently right next to yours if he needed anything. The week went on and you showed him all around your hometown, your favorite places to eat, the park where you would play in the snow with your friends, your school, all core parts of who you were. You went shopping gathering last-minute essentials before leaving, it started to feel surreal. You knew deep down you had feelings for Oscar but seeing him in your hometown fitting in perfectly made them even stronger. It was the second to last night you would be staying with your parents. It was late, the two of you were alone in your living room watching a movie when you suddenly felt his head on your shoulder. You couldn’t hide a smile but didn’t say anything you didn’t know what to do. The TV was apparently too loud and startled your Mom out of sleep, because in a few seconds, she was at the top of the stairs asking you to lower it, scaring both you and Oscar out of the position you were in. Once she left his head went immediately back to your shoulder, and you rested your head on top of his. These were normal instances throughout the week, as you would be walking his hand would occasionally brush up against yours, he would look at you longer than he needed to, and he was so attentive in everything you spoke about your town.

“Y/N,” he said softly, you picked your head up as he did the same to look at you. 

“Yes, Oscar?”

“What are we?” That question, that wonderful, stressful question that put the ball in your court, you tried to come up with a response that you hoped wouldn’t scare him off.

“What do you want to be?” You asked, feeling a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

“I- I don’t know,” he replied, your faces moving closer to each other. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest.

“I hope this isn’t too straightforward,” you said before placing a kiss on his lips. When you broke apart he had a big smile on his face.

“I want to be with you Y/N, your boyfriend,” he smiled, kissing you once more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” you sighed with a grin. As your movie came to a close the two of you went upstairs hand in hand before parting to go to your separate rooms. 

You woke up the next morning trying to be as discrete as possible with Oscar around your parents, you two would sit under a blanket and hold hands underneath, or when your parents weren’t looking he would rest his hand on your lower back, it was one more day you figured it would be easy, nope. Your parents quickly caught on, it was a moment when you were alone with your Mom that it got loose.

“You know I know about you and Oscar,” SHE WHAT?! 

“What? How”

“The way he looked at you it was obvious. Relax, your father and I like him very much, I just want to make sure you’re okay it’s barely been a month since…” her voice trailed off.

“I’m fine Mom, I was done with him in October, but I didn’t want to be a jerk and do it over the phone especially while the guys were with me, they all knew, and all encouraged it but I couldn’t do it over the phone,” you explained. 

“So you’re okay,” you nodded. The two of you left the next morning driving the hour to your new apartment. You two began unpacking the boxes that were waiting for you, you caught him looking at you as a distraction.

“So my parents know,” you blurted out.

“Uh-huh, and I thought we were going to wait a little to tell them as per your request,” he said with a hand on his hip.

“My mom figured it out, you made it REALLY obvious,” you teased.

“I can’t help looking at you, you’re finally mine let me enjoy it,” he said before pecking you on the cheek. You two continued unpacking, building furniture that was delivered, and making your apartment feel like home.

The winter season ended and you would be going into the 2024 Formula 1 season as Oscar’s girlfriend. 

Spring 2024

You took supporting Oscar very seriously. In the time you had while he had winter testing, you purchased any merchandise you could find with his name on it, and things you thought were cute that matched the Mclaren colors. Although you couldn’t travel with him to every race due to your job, you still went to as many as you could sporting his last name. He was always happy to see you after no matter what the outcome was. When you were there he would rush over to you, when you weren’t he would call you from his driver’s room immediately after. It was when you leaked to him your parents would be coming to a race he got an idea. You two were lying in your shared room, leaving the other bedroom to quickly become an office/guest room thinking out loud. 

“You said your parents don’t travel much,” he said.

“Well, no one we know travels as much as you, but no not really, why?” you asked.

“I feel like I should get them something, I don’t know, I travel so often, I feel like it would be nice, and you know make them like me more,” he smiled.

“Please, every time we go to their house Mom acts so much different, Dad texted the one time asking if you were coming for dinner because he smelled ‘the good food’, you're their favorite child,” you laughed. 

“No she doesn’t,” he knew secretly it was true.

“Denial is not something I would pin on you but here you are,” you teased. 

“Well maybe I’m the favorite child because I start bringing back souvenirs,” he said with confidence.

“Mhm okay,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “so what are you going to get them?”

“Your Mom loves tea, right? And your Dad coffee?” You nodded, see he knew these things after not even six months of dating. 

“So I’ll bring back mugs or coasters,” he said, “something useful so they will think of me every time they use it,” he said proudly. 

“Favorite child,” you teased again. He shrugged and kept brainstorming.

“So they are coming to Monaco this weekend, but after that, I’ll be in Canada, perfect, a Canada mug,” he smiled.

“Maybe some maple syrup,” you giggled.

“See you’re in on it, you think they will like it,” he grinned.

“They will love anything coming from you, believe me,” you kissed his cheek, “Good night idea man,” you said rolling to your side and drifting to sleep with a smile. 

The weekend approached, and you met your parents for dinner the night before the race, you were surprised by Oscar meeting you there too, he made no clarification he would be there. He was holding a small bag.

“There’s our boy,” your Dad said patting him on the back as he came and sat next to you.

“Hi Darling,” he kissed your cheek, “hope I’m not encroaching on your family time, I knew you would be here, and I can only be alone for so long the night before,” he smiled.

“Oh please, you could never intrude,” your Mom laughed.

“Favorite child,” you whispered in his ear, it became a running joke every time you saw your parents, your Dad was in on it too.

“Y/N don’t whisper it’s rude,” Your mom looked at you sternly, and your Dad winked. 

“What’s in your bag Osc,” you said changing the topic. 

“Something for you two actually,” he said gesturing at your parents, reaching and placing the bag in front of them. 

“What a nice mug,” your Dad said pulling it out of the bag, it was a Formula One-themed mug with the word Monaco across the top, it had different cars, a map of the track, helmets, and the flag of course. You sat there stunned, thinking this wasn’t starting until next week, but Oscar had mischief.

Your parents continued to thank and praise him for the mug as the weekend continued, and each week that followed with a different mug being sent to your parent's house or hand delivered they became more and more loving towards him as if they weren’t already. Your parents became Oscar’s second parents, they loved having him around. You were invited to stay with them the summer break but declined, you two had your own vacation in mind, where you were sure Oscar would bring a mug back from there. 

Summer Break 2024

Here it was, the moment you would meet Oscar’s family. You two were in the middle of the flight and woke up out of your sound sleep with the fear of meeting his family. That and you always got flight-sick. You rushed to the airplane bathroom, completely disregarding the empty seat next to you. There meeting you in the isle was Oscar,

“Aww again,” he sighed knowing where you were going.

“It will pass, we are almost there anyway,” you sighed trudging to the bathroom. Moments later you were back in your seat, you could see the sun rising out of the window, he took your hand rubbing his thumb gently across the top. 

“You have no reason to be nervous,” he smiled knowing that was also making you sick. Your flight continued into an eventual bumpy landing sending your stomach into orbit. Oscar rested his hand over it as its shield, he knew where you would be going in the airport first. You went to the bathroom and after you finished your boyfriend was no longer standing alone. You recognized the figures, quickly rushing your hands into your pockets waiting for them to notice. Oscar’s eyes moved from his youngest sister’s to yours. You made your way over comfortably, but could still feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Everyone,” he announced, “this is Y/N L/N, my best friend, and beautiful girlfriend. " He smiled, resting his hand on your back, urging you to come closer. You hid your nervousness with a smile,

“It’s so nice to meet all of you finally, he’s told me so much,” you could feel the heat of your face flushing away. His mom was first to greet you pulling you into a hug,

“Are you kidding, we’ve heard so much about you,” she laughed. His sisters all greeted you next, looking forward to having a new girl in the house for a couple of weeks, finally, you reached his Dad,

“He looks good, he hasn’t given you any trouble has he,” he smiled.

“No sir,” you laughed, feeling the tension and nerves ease away. The day began with lunch right after the airport pickup, although you could barely get a bite to stay down. 

“Darling where are they,” he said gesturing for you to hand him your bag. His whole family felt horrible. You weren’t feeling well, and they were ready to accommodate plans to suit your needs. The day continued and everyone was catering to your every need, crackers you had it, ginger ale right along with you. 

“You don’t have to-” you were cut off.

“We insist,” his mother said rubbing your shoulder as you made your way into their house. Oscar was getting you unpacked when he found the small bottle of heaven, it always saved you from motion sickness and jet lag when traveling, you must have put it in your suitcase by mistake. There you lay on his bed, looking around at his childhood bedroom, as he did the same when he first arrived at your house. You noticed all the little details, pictures of him growing up, little trophies he had from karting, all the important moments of little Oscar’s life. He joined you handing you the bottle. You took the tablets and rested your head in his lap already feeling a lot better. 

“See, no worries, they love you, favorite child,” he laughed.

“No no you cannot call me that, we haven’t even been here a day,” you shot at him. 

“My mom would tell me to suck it up, and they certainly wouldn’t make me a special meal like they are for you,” he crossed his arms, “so yes I can, I already know.”

“Maybe if I wasn’t sick-”

“Please they love you, and as they get to know you better they will love you even more,” he smiled. 

“So, you told them about me,” you said sitting up and adjusting to look clearly at him. 

“Y/N, my sisters wanted to know every single detail, well everyone in the family always needs to know every single detail,” he groaned.

“And?”

“And the questions would never end, you just wait for dinner tonight, they are going to tell you everything they know about you and more,” you laughed, but he seemed so serious. Dinner approached and he was right, you had a lot to talk about, it was the opposite of your house, where everything was always Oscar, tonight everything was you. 

“So Y/N, Oscar tells us you studied business,” his father began. The next thing you knew many many details of your life had been shared with his family, your hobbies, your interests, …your intentions, a lot of information. You two went to bed early that night feeling tired from the flight, you lay silent in the dark of his room, the only light of the little plug-in near his door. You were both awake staring at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, were they too much,” he said turning to face you.

“You met my parents, nothing is too much,” you grinned. 

“So they didn’t scare you off,”

“Of course not,” you placed a kiss on his lips. 

“I love you,” he sighed before pressing his lips to yours once more. You two slept peacefully awaiting the weeks ahead of you. 

The trip consisted of Oscar taking you to all his favorite and important places in his life. You two were so in sync, you listened to all his facts and as you experienced all these places he took pictures with you at each one, wanting to remember forever. You two had been stopped in a few places by fans and he was so good about it. You even had some recognition as you were now dating a famous racing driver and were plastered on social media more than you knew. Girls would come up to the two of you squealing with delight asking you personal yet intrusive questions about dating Oscar, he could see your discomfort and would act in ways that would make them even more crazy. He would stare at you lovingly, he would wrap his arms around your waist or over your shoulders, would press little kisses to your cheeks giving you compliments.

“She truly is the best,” he said during one of your fan interactions “I wouldn’t ask for anyone else,” your heart melted. You fell deeper and deeper in love with him this trip, seeing him in his home, now you know how he felt seeing you in your hometown and why he was so infatuated with you. 

As your trip came to a close you didn’t want to leave, it was so amazing. His family became your second family, his home was your home, and you were invited to stay with them at the Australian Grand Prix next year, it was wonderful. You said your goodbyes at the airport before boarding the plane. As you were waiting for take-off, he looked at you smugly, as you had a mixture of joy and sadness on your face.

“Believe me now favorite child?” he teased.

“I think your sisters wished it was me instead of you, I would have killed to play dress up with them when you were all young, you look great in pink by the way,” you laughed, you would miss his family. 

“Okay, it’s only natural for little girls to dress up their older brother, you can’t tell me you didn’t do the same,” 

“I tried, but he’s five years older, he was a teenager when I was at the dress-up age, however in high school he did let me put a pink strip in his and his best friend's hair, so I call that a win,” you smiled talking about your brother. You two grew distant once he moved away, you missed that bond you had when you were little, now he acted as your third parent, you couldn’t talk to him without constant disapproval. You were lost in your thoughts when the plane taking off interrupted them.

Fall 2024

The season carried on, you found yourself longing for Oscar those weekends he was away, and you began to go crazy. Your parents constantly wanted you to visit, or come and surprise you at your apartments on weekends. You knew they meant well but it was starting to become too much. It was different when Oscar wasn’t there, they felt that they could finally give you their real opinions on your lifestyle, and make things the way they wanted in your life. You found yourself crying most nights when he was gone after long days with your parents as sometimes they would make you question your relationship. 

“Does Oscar love you for being like this?” Your mom said to you one weekend, you kicked both your parents out that day and didn’t even bother calling Oscar you were in such a fit of anger and sadness that you were thinking of all the ways you wanted to change yourself in that very moment. Times like this continued and you felt the courage to tell these things to Oscar once again. At first, he didn’t believe you but the more time he spent with them he began to see it. He was always reassuring, but you began to overthink feeling so bad that every weekend he was gone you were upset when he was out scoring points and having a great time.

“Y/N, come with me this weekend,” he finally said one night. That sounded like the best idea to you ever, and work was becoming more of a hybrid position than on-site, it seemed perfect. 

“I would love that,” you sighed. 

“I know there’s only a few races left, but please come with me, I would love to have you there and give you a break from all this stress,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“You have a deal,” you smiled.

“So you’re going to tell them right now, you can’t do anything for the next month,” he pointed a stern finger at you. You picked up your phone sending a message to both of them, they seemed fine in their responses but still in those weeks you were traveling they found ways to pick at your travel plans based on your media posts, commenting on what you chose to wear, the meals you two were eating, the late hours you were up, they saw your life start to merge with Oscar’s life, and were concerned. 

Winter 2024-25

You two were spending a week with your parents for the holiday, and eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and exploded. You scolded your parents in front of Oscar, your boyfriend of almost a year, you thought he would leave you then and there as he had never seen you this upset but he stood in support of you.

“I’m proud of you, you are an adult and they need to see that, I know you don’t think they will change, but they are your parents they mean well, but when you are with me you do not need to doubt yourself at all, I love you for being yourself,” he said as you two sat on the floor in your room. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes once more. You cried all the pain you had been realizing that was influencing your whole life flowed out. He held you to his chest and continued explaining all the thoughts you didn’t realize were influenced by your parents, you felt free. 

“This new year I will help you with all those things darling, I promise you, I am not going anywhere,” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“I love you Oscar Piastri, thank you for making me, me again,” you kissed him once more.

“I love you Y/N L/N, no matter what.”

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hi! I didn’t find any information of you ask box is open or not so I hope I’m not bothering!!

But if it’s open could you please do a bayverse or 2003 turtles x reader Headcanon of maybe their first makeout sesh as either a couple or crushes and the sexual tension is so THICK it leads dry humping? To them maybeeeee both 💦 undone while at it? Pls and thank you

(Also random comment since we are already here: Idk why ppl don’t talk about dry jumping anymore !!!!! Something about it is so vulnerable and passionate, the heavy breaths, the heat between each others bodies, the touch between both lips, the uncertainty of both parties if pushing boundaries… but if so then why does it feel so good? and the craving for more!!!! AH !!!! anyways it’s intimate it’s hot and ppl should write about it, thanks for coming to my Ted talk )

First Makeout Session (18+)

2003!Turtles x reader

A/N: The information about my Inbox is under my request rules, but luckily for you, they are open😉 I decided to let the lucky wheel decide between Bayverse and 2003, and it picked 2003💚 I’ve focused more about the makeout session itself, with a little bit of dry humping. I like the idea, so if you want me to make one mainly focused on that, then please let me know. Other than that, I hope you’ll enjoy💚

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Makeouts of course, dry humping, grinding, groping, implied sex, implied first time.

Leonardo:

You and Leo’s first kiss was sweet and passionate, coming shortly after the two of you had admitted your feelings for one another. But your first makeout session came a few weeks into your relationship.

It was late at night in Leo’s room, where you had decided to stay overnight. You and Leo had been cuddling for hours, talking in the low light of the lamp on his nightstand, when you found yourselves tangled up in each other’s arms, with your lips locked in sync.

It started off rather soft, but slowly took up momentum, until your tongues were dancing together, exploring each other’s mouths, small sounds escaping your mouths.

Leo couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips against you, enjoying the sounds that it made you do. He could keep going. He could flip you onto your back and take you right then and there. But in the end he decided against it. It was too early in your relationship.

Instead he stopped, kissed you all over your face and told you he loved you. And you in turn smiled, understanding what was going on, before snuggling closer to him, hiding your face against his plastron.

Raphael:

You and Raph’s first makeout session came as soon as it was possible. It was what came right before Raph finally confessed his feelings for you, while the two of you were still catching your breaths, arms still wrapped around each other, minds still clouded with love, lust and wonder.

It happened at your place. Raph had decided to stay over for the evening, so the two of you could do as so many best friends do, and hang out, talking about anything between heaven and earth, watching a movie or a tv show, or just enjoying your time together.

How the kiss came about however, is something neither you or Raph is fully aware of. One moment you were talking on the couch, laughing and having fun. The next moment he was on top of you, your lips locked together in a battle of dominance.

Your legs wrapped as far as they would go around Raph, welcoming him as he grinded against you, pushing his cloaca against your clothed core, causing sounds of pleasure to escape the two of you.

In the end, Raph won the battle of dominance, wrapping a hand around your throat, keeping you breathless in place, placing one last on your lips, before leaning back to look you directly in the eyes, your arms came up around his shoulders. And there, he told you the worlds that would start your relationship.

Donatello:

It’s hard to say when exactly you and Donnie had your first makeout session, as it was a slow progression, starting from your first kiss, to the day there was definitely no doubt what was on your mind. It was a natural progression that took place, ever since your first - sweet and innocent kiss - to the hot and heavy kiss that led to your first time together.

The first time your kiss took the first step from sweet and innocent to something more steamy, was a few weeks into you and Donnie’s relationship. Donnie was following you home, making sure that you got there safely. It was there, on your fire escape, as Donnie kissed you goodbye, that your kiss turned from a small peck, into something more intense, your lips moving together and your arms around each other, feeling each other’s shoulders, arms and torso. But at that time, it didn’t move much further than that.

The second time it took up a little more steam. With Donnie in his lab, you decided to take a seat directly on his thighs. Here your kiss just felt natural, and it felt natural for Donnie to rest his hand on your rear end, before giving it a squish, feeling your hand roam up and down his chest.

The third time was when there was no longer any doubt, that your kissing now was comfortable enough, to evolve into a full blown makeout session. This time Donnie didn’t just follow you home, but found himself pushed up against you on the fire escape, your back against the wall next to your window, grinding against each other, before you invited Donnie inside.

Michelangelo:

You and Mikey’s first makeout session was probably the most lewd and sloppiest, hot and heavy, yet a very playful thing. It was very early in your relationship with Mikey. You were over in the lair late one evening, playing video games with Mikey in the dark. It was long after the rest of Mikey’s family had gotten to bed, leaving the two of you alone on the couch.

Here the two of you laughed, playing one round of your favorite games after the other, playfully teasing each other so that you could get the upperhand in the game. It turned into the two of you playfully pushing each other to throw you off your game, to climb over each other to get in order to block each other’s view of the screen.

However, it didn’t take long before you and Mikey dropped your controllers onto the ground, forgetting all about the game playing in the background, as you found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms, you straddling Mikey’s lap, with his hands on your ass, pushing you against him in fluid motions. Small moans escaped your moving lips with every laboured breath, your grinding and humping against each other only growing stronger and faster.

Not only did you and Mikey have your first makeout session on the couch in the lair, but it was on the same couch, that same evening - while keeping quiet so no one would wake up and notice - that you had your first time.

[fictionalreads]

Could you pls do an Armando X reader angst where he shoots her instead of Mike🙈 Idk what their relationship is so you decide lol LOVE LOVE LOVE UR WORK!! I hope I make sense😭💗

AWE THANK YOU! This made perfect sense to me, and I just hope you like it.🥰 Title is from Goodbye by Victoria Monet. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog. Let me know how you guys like it.

After You, I'll Never Really Use My Heart The Same

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Reader

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Warnings⚠️: Angst, canon typical violence, like one or two cuss words

You’d been in love exactly one time.

You found being vulnerable, opening yourself so intimately and trusting them to accept and celebrate you as a person, difficult. Which was crazy because your job as an undercover cop meant you had to allow parts of yourself to show. The only way to truly fool someone is to stick as close to the truth as possible. You were good at it, faking the openness and trust. But maybe it being fake is precisely why you found it so easy. 

It wouldn’t mean anything.

Armando Aretas was different. He saw through the facade you’d adopted while in Mexico, working on a joint task force. He’d made his way past your usual defenses, no one else in your life ever bothering to try to truly know you as deeply as he did. It was like he saw straight through you, through all the hurt, through all the bullshit and pushed you to be the most honest you’d been in a while, even to yourself. 

The first time I love you's had been exchanged, it had been a fight. You didn’t want to admit it and he refused to let you hide and not face how you felt. You tried to tell him it wasn’t true, but he just told you he was just as afraid as you were and you could be scared together. You knew it was doomed, you were an undercover cop and he was poised to be a big name in the drug world, but you couldn’t stop it any more than you could stop a plane crash. You were meant to love him and he was meant to love you. Even if it had an expiration date.

So when the shot came, you knew exactly who had done it.

You had been waiting almost a year for him to find you and confront you. You knew betrayal was a sore topic for him so your betrayal would run deep. It would anger him and the longer he went without addressing it, the more it would fester. The longer he went without contacting you, the more you looked over your shoulder. You had signed up for this life, knowing that by showing criminals your face you were putting a target on your back, but you usually handled it well. This, like everything else with Armando, was different. You were genuinely afraid.

You had gone out to celebrate Marcus Burnett’s grandson being born. Lately you had been staying in, avoiding crowds out of an abundance of caution but Marcus had been a great mentor to you and you missed going out. After a couple drinks you felt more relaxed, even agreeing to be the endpoint in the ridiculous race Mike and Marcus were doing in an effort to prove they still had it.

One minute you were watching Mike and Marcus get set for the race and the next you were staring into the eyes of the man you loved. He had his visor flipped up, no doubt so you’d know exactly who it was that did the deed. You saw the anger, the betrayal in his eyes. You also saw the hatred that masked the love and hurt in them.

You knew what was coming next, but it didn’t help you prepare for the searing pain you felt. The bullet ripped through your chest, the feeling of fire in its wake. You watched as he watched you fall from the impact before speeding off. For a minute it was like everything had stopped. You couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anyone else. It was just you left behind like nothing. You turned your stare to the dark sky, too polluted for stars and wondered if this was the last thing you’d ever see.

Slowly, the world started to creep back into your senses. You felt the hard, cool ground beneath you. You saw the group of cops standing protectively around you, holding guns as if the attack would continue. You smelled Mike’s cologne as he hovered over you, pressing into the wound in an effort to stop the blood. You tasted the metallic blood in your mouth, knowing that was a bad sign. You heard Rita screaming, asking if anyone had eyes on the shooter.

Even in this state, you knew they wouldn’t. Armando was good at what he did, he’d be long gone by now. Oddly, you were okay with that. Despite everything, current situation included, you were glad he managed to get away. Maybe it was because if he was caught he’d tell the people you worked with the truth and you didn’t want to face their judgement. Maybe it was because you still loved him and the thought of him in a cage hurt.

By the time the ambulance got there, you were fading fast. Marcus kept telling you to keep your eyes open and you tried but your eyelids were so heavy. You were okay with dying. You were okay with this being your end, with knowing they’d never find the connection between you and the shooter. If you lived, you would have to come clean, face him again and you weren’t sure you could do that. Death was easier.

Death at the hands of Armando was forgivable.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ photograph ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) decides to fly out to Philly for Valentine’s Day after watching Jamie say in an interview that he’ll probably be spending the day alone

warning(s) : just some tooth rotting fluff with no angst for once, a heavy makeout

author’s note : this is just a (not so) lil fluff filled thing bc i wanted to write something for belated valentine’s day. sorry or you’re welcome (idk)

༺═──────────────═༻

“Yeah, uh, I don’t actually have any plans tomorrow,” he explains to a reporter through the screen on her phone. “Everyone I know here does have plans and everyone else I know is across the country so I’ll most likely spend the day putting together furniture in my new apartment.”

That was the moment she decided that she was getting on the first flight she possibly could to Philly so Jamie didn’t spend Valentine’s Day alone. No one should have to spend the day alone. She doesn’t have any plans and she’s off from work for about two weeks because they’re doing renovations so a little trip to Philadelphia doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Last year he spent the day with Trevor on the couch and watched movies in their shared apartment. This year, he is in Philly and Trevor actually has a girlfriend. Not very ideal for Jamie.

She isn’t Jamie’s girlfriend, but she is one of his best friends and could never let him be alone on Valentine’s Day. Especially not after hearing what his actual plans are for tomorrow. She’s going to at least help him put furniture together in his apartment.

A flight out of LAX is scheduled for 10 that night. It’s six so she has about two hours to pack for a week long trip to Philly. She even buys a ticket for Saturday’s game at MetLife since she wants to see Jamie play a game while she’s in Philly.

By eight, she’s out the door with a suitcase that’s packed full of clothes and non-liquid toiletries. The jersey Jamie sent her about a week after the trade is neatly folded with the rest of her clothes. She orders an Uber to drive her to the airport.

While in the Uber, she debates texting Jamie and telling him that she’ll be at his new apartment early tomorrow morning since she’ll be landing a little before six in the morning. It’ll probably take about 45 minutes after she lands before she’s on Jamie’s doorstep.

Maybe a surprise wouldn’t be the worst thing so she puts her phone away until she has to pull out her plane ticket.

Getting on the plane takes an hour between getting past TSA and buying snacks for the nearly five hour flight. She boards the plane twenty minutes before it takes off so she has time to get comfortable.

She’s asleep before the plane even leaves the ground.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All the snacks she bought before the flight are going to be the snacks she eats while she’s in Philly because she slept for the entire flight. It didn’t feel like she slept for 5 hours but she did.

By six, she’s at baggage claim and grabbing her suitcase. She orders an Uber to Voorhees while she waits for her things. The car is waiting for her when she get outside.

It’s a lot colder out than she thought it was going to be. All she has on is a Ducks hoodie that Jamie gave to her the year before and a pair of leggings with Uggs on her feet. Her feet are warm. The rest of her is not. She shakes as she puts her things in the trunk of the car.

She gives the driver Jamie’s new address and she’s off to surprise her best friend.

The closer she gets to Jamie’s, the more nervous she gets. What if he found someone after moving to the Philly area? What if the whole putting furniture together comment was a lie so he didn’t announce to the entire world he was in a relationship? What if he doesn’t want her there in general?

Maybe a spontaneous trip across the country without at least letting Jamie know she was coming wasn’t the best idea she’s ever had.

A call comes through from Trevor. Confused, she answers the phone. “Good morning?”

“Are you in Philly?” he asks.

“Maybe,” she slowly replies as she watches the Philly skyline pass. “Why? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Not for you apparently,” he retorts. “I looked to see where you were because Mason said you weren’t replying to his texts so I wanted to make sure you were okay and I see that you flew across the country.”

She smiles and shakes her head. The way Trevor would find out she’s in Philly is by checking her location. He and Jamie are the only ones that have her location because she’s closest with them.

“Just wanted to surprise Jamie,” she tells Trevor. “That’s all. Tell Mason I’ll call him later because I’m about ten minutes away from Jamie’s apartment.”

“You gonna tell him you love him?” Trevor questions. She opens her mouth to object but he keeps talking. “It’s so freaking obvious so don’t even lie to me.”

A nervous laugh passes her lips. “We’ll see,” she replies. “I’ll talk to you later, Z.”

“Tell me how he’s really doing,” he tells her. “I worry about him sometimes.”

“Will do,” she says as the driver pulls up to Jamie’s place. “Talk soon.”

The line goes dead and she looks out the window at the apartment building. Jamie’s somewhere in there asleep and she’s about two minutes away from calling him to come let her into the building.

She gets her things out of the trunk and thanks the driver before he drives off to pick someone else up. She sighs and pulls up Jamie’s contact.

When she presses the ‘call’ button, it rings about four times before Jamie answers. The entire time, her hands are shaking and she isn’t sure if it’s because of the cold or if she’s nervous to see Jamie for the first time since the trade.

“It’s like four in the morning,” he croaks when he picks up. “Are you okay?”

She smiles at the sound of his morning voice. “Actually it’s almost seven in the morning and I’m currently freezing my ass off outside your apartment building so if you could come let me in, that would be great,” she says.

It sounds like Jamie falls out of bed when she says that she’s outside of the building. If he broke anything then she’s going to have to explain to Torts why Jamie will be out for six weeks.

He isn’t holding any body parts when he swings the door open and blankly stares at her from the top of the steps of the building. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to decide if he’s still dreaming or if he’s awake. She waves and a barefoot Jamie runs down the stairs to hug her.

A laugh passes her lips and she wraps her arms around his torso. “You’re actually here,” he says against her ear. “I thought you were lying to me.”

“Nope,” she replies. “I’m here. I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d come surprise you. Help you put together some furniture for Valentine’s Day.”

Jamie pulls back from the hug just enough to look at her. “You saw that interview?” he asks.

With a nod and a smile, she replies, “It sounded like a very boring way to spend Valentine’s Day so I thought I’d come keep you company. Maybe watch you play at the outdoor game this weekend. I have another week off from work and spending it in the Philly area with my best friend didn’t sound like the worst idea.”

“You are actually insane for buying a plane ticket without knowing if I’d be here or not,” he tells her. “I could’ve left for Toronto before you got here since we play them tomorrow.”

“Yeah I know how your travel schedule works,” she retorts. “That’s how I knew you’d be here.”

He shakes his head and grabs her suitcase. “You have some of the best timing because I took a maintenance day today so I have a day off from practice, but I leave tomorrow morning for Toronto,” he says to her as they walk into the building together.

“Listen, I’m spending a week in the area,” she replies. “I get to watch you play at the outdoor game on Saturday when I wasn’t planning on being on the east coast at all. If you’re gone for a day or two then it’s fine.”

The smile that forms on Jamie’s face makes her heart do somersaults in her stomach.

She can tell how excited he is that she decided to visit him. She knows how much he has been missing Anaheim so she brought Anaheim to him for a week.

When Jamie opens the door to the apartment, she is very surprised by how decorated it is and how much of the stuff he had in his Anaheim apartment has made its way to this one. It still needs some work done, but that is why she’s here. She’s here to help him finish putting it all together.

“I need to build some shelves,” Jamie tells her. “And put together the guest bedroom. The frame still needs to be built for the guest bed too. This is what my plans were for the day.”

She turns her head to look at him as he closes the door behind them. “So it wasn’t come ruse so you didn’t have to admit to the world that you had a secret girlfriend?” she questions.

If she should expect Jamie to have a girl over then she might as well get the girlfriend question out of the way early on in her visit.

“Uh, no,” he replies. “No secret girlfriend. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had any time to find a girlfriend. Yorky has tried but he’s not the best wingman.”

She can’t help but laugh. Jamie smiles and rolls her suitcase to the unfinished bedroom.

She decides to make some coffee for the two of them so they can get started on the day’s plans. They have to put together the guest room and build some shelves. It can’t be very hard to do either of those things. Right?

Wrong.

It turns out that Jamie can’t follow simple instructions to save his life. She has had to refrain from throwing whatever is in her hand at him so many times because he can’t read a piece of paper.

“Jamie, what am I supposed to do with this screw?” she asks as she holds up an extra screw. “Do I have to put it in your head so you can use your brain or something? You missing one in there? Do I need to get Trevor on the first flight out of LAX to come help you figure out how to read the instructions?”

Jamie looks up from his spot on the floor and throws the instructions at her. “Here, you try to read this and tell me if it makes any sense,” he retorts. “It’s all confusing. My parents helped me build shelves when they came to visit a few weeks ago. I didn’t have to do this. Maybe it’s just an extra.”

She grabs the pamphlet and reads the directions. The screw was supposed to be put in when putting the shelves in place. A shelf is missing a screw.

“You dumbass,” she says. “It’s not an extra screw. It was supposed to be put in on the bottom shelf to make sure it is secure and even. You now have an unsecure shelf in your guest room.”

Jamie flattens out on his back on the carpeted floor with a groan. “This is why I’m a hockey player and don’t work in home improvement,” he says as he rubs his eyes. She laughs and tries to keep her eyes on his face instead of on the sliver of skin that peeks out between what is a new Flyers t-shirt and pajama pants. “This is so dumb. I am not about to take that whole thing apart to put one screw in.”

She walks over and slaps the pamphlet on his stomach. He gasps and sits up with the paper in his hands. “Then get it together, Drysdale,” she tells him. “We have a bed frame to build.”

“Fuck the bed frame,” he sighs as she grabs the box in the corner and drags it into the center of the room. “You don’t need a bed to sleep in tonight.”

With a light laugh, she teases, “If we don’t get it set up then I’m gonna be sleeping in your bed until we get it put together.”

Jamie mutters something that sounds like “would be okay with me” but she pretends she doesn’t hear it. She can’t hear it or else she will just say “fuck it” and sleep in Jamie’s bed the entire time she’s here instead of putting the bed together.

The mattress is sitting up against the wall next to where the box with the bed frame was. He has everything he needs to put this bed together and he hasn’t done it yet. Not even over the All Star break when he had a few days off before going to Mexico with the Flyers.

Putting the bed together takes less time and a lot less arguing back and forth. Within an hour, the mattress is on top of the bed frame. Five-foot-eleven 185 pound Jamie flops on the mattress to make sure it’s secure and won’t fall apart if someone were to jump on it.

They do not need to have another shelf problem with the bed that she will most likely be sleeping on while she’s in the area. If it is like the shelf and it’s not safe to sleep on then the couch is in the living room for a reason.

The two of them stand in the doorway and look at their work when they decide the bed is secure. “We make an amazing team,” she comments. “Aside from the shelf.”

Jamie groans and walks down the hallway to his own room. “Shelves are stupid anyway,” he replies. “Who is actually going to use them in this room aside from me just putting a handful of books and pictures on them?” She laughs and goes to unpack her stuff now that it’s safe to do so without stepping on wood, metal or a screw on the floor.

The Flyers jersey that he sent her gets hung up in the closet along with her shirts, hoodies, and nicer pants. She’ll pull bras, panties, and socks out of the suitcase as needed. The beanie she brought to wear on Saturday is put on the bedside table.

Then she pulls out the gift that she brought for Jamie. It isn’t much but she’s hoping that it means as much to him as it does to her. The pictures she brought were taken at such important moments in Jamie’s career and she hopes that he doesn’t mind having a few pictures of his best friend around the apartment.

She walks down to Jamie’s bedroom and knocks gently on the door. There are footsteps behind it before the door swings open. “I, um, had these printed and framed in case I ever came to visit you,” she tells him as she holds out the three picture frames. “Thought you might need some décor.”

Jamie looks down at the pictures and shifts through them.

One of them was taken on Jamie’s Draft Day. He has on a Ducks jersey and she has on his Ducks hat. He looks so happy. He has an arm around her shoulders while he holds up six fingers and is smiling at the camera. She has a smile on his face and is looking up at him with a proud look on her face. Messy ponytail and all.

The second one was taken the day Jamie made his NHL debut and scored his first goal. It’s a selfie she took of her, Jamie, and Trevor at dinner that same night. They’re both holding their pucks because they went right from the arena to a restaurant to eat.

The third one was taken during the 2021 World Juniors tournament where Canada placed second. She’s putting the silver medal back around his neck after he had given it to her. “Silver just means you lost” is what he had said to her a moment before this was captured. She had told him that she was a winner to him and put the medal back around his neck. There is heavy eye contact between the two of them in their matching jerseys.

It was as the third picture was being taken she realized that she loved Jamie. The first two pictures, she knew she had feelings for him, but the third was when she realized that she wanted to be there for him as more than just a friend.

“I had no idea you had any of these,” he says after he’s done looking through them. Jamie looks up at her. “All at different points of my career.”

“Been with you since day one,” she replies with a smile on her face. “You didn’t think that I wouldn’t be here with you while you succeed in a whole new city, did you?”

Jamie laughs and shakes his head. “Absolutely not,” he tells her. “You always make sure you’re a presence in my life.” He pauses and looks right at her. “It’s one of the things I love most about having you in my life.”

She could almost cry when he says that.

There have been so many times over the years where she thought she was annoying or that he wanted her out of his life. She followed him to California when he started playing with the Gulls then the Ducks. He asked her to come with him, but she thought for months it was out of pity.

He has erased years of insecurity with one comment.

“Thanks for keeping me in your life,” she replies after a brief moment of silence.

“You’re like Trevor,” he teases. “You’re always around. It would be hard for me to get rid of you.”

She smiles up at him. “Except he would never fly across the country to see you,” she retorts. “Especially without at least telling you he was coming to see you.”

Jamie laughs. “No, he wouldn’t.”

They look at each other for a second before he walks past her. He has the picture frames in his hand as he walks into the living room. She follows him even though she is confused with what he’s doing.

He puts the picture of himself, Trevor, and (Y/N) on the coffee table under the lamp next to the couch. It’s the most public place in the entire place so it makes sense that that’s the picture that is put in the living room.

The picture of the two of them on Draft Day goes on a little table that leads to the hallway with both bedrooms and bathrooms. The table is under a little mirror that’s been hung up. A little less public but it also joins the other pictures that were taken that day. It looks like it belongs.

Jamie glances at her and walks back into his bedroom. She follows right behind him and stands in the doorway of his room. Her eyes are on the picture of the two of them at the 2021 World Juniors as it’s placed on Jamie’s bedside table.

“This one means the most to me so it deserves a little more privacy than the others,” Jamie tells her without a look in her direction. “You were there for me and picked me up when I was down. I didn’t want anyone else there but you. You were the one that convinced me silver was okay. The team worked hard to get to that moment. The medal was very well deserved because we did everything we could to make it to that game. I did everything I could to get the team to that game. We just came up a little bit short.”

She pouts and walks further into the room. He finally looks over at her. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she softly says to him. “I didn’t know that I was the person that convinced you it was okay to wear silver around your neck.”

“I needed silver because my gold medal was you,” Jamie shakily admits. His voice is soft. “You’re my gold medal.”

His words have her speechless. Her jaw drops in surprise. She has no idea why he’s saying this to her now.

He reaches out to her and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She takes a step forward and feels her heart race in her chest as she looks up at him. Her body shakes as she realizes that their relationship is changing.

A line that she never expected to cross is about to be crossed. She can see it in Jamie’s eyes as they examine her face, landing on her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nods because she doesn’t trust herself to speak. She is afraid that she’s going to admit how long she’s been in love with him if she says a single words.

So she nods, and Jamie leans down to capture her lips in a soft, hesitant kiss. He’s testing the waters to see if she’ll push him away.

She’ll never push him away.

Not when she finally has him like this. Not when she finally knows what it feels like to kiss Jamie Drysdale.

When she feels him begin to pull away, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans more into him to deepen the kiss instead of Jamie breaking it. Her fingers find a home in his hair.

She is scared he will regret it if the kiss breaks, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to see that look. It might break her if he looks at her like that if the kiss breaks.

Jamie cups her cheek and brushes his thumbs over her cheekbone. She melts against him with a sigh.

“(Y/N),” he mumbles after a second. “I need to breathe.”

That’s when she lets him pull away. The sight of his red, swollen lips and unruly hair is almost too much for her. There’s a hint of a smile on his face and something overcomes her.

“I love you,” she tells him. “I’ve loved you since that was taken.” She points in the direction of the picture on his bedside table. “It’s always been you, Jamie. That’s why I flew across the country on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to be with you today because I miss you and I love you.”

Jamie smiles and brushes his thumb over her own lips that are as red and swollen as his are. “I love you too,” he says. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I saw you at my first NHL game in my jersey. I’m very happy you came to the east coast to watch me play in the Stadium Series game this weekend. I was going to probably fly you out anyway.”

She laughs and shakes her head before burying her face in his chest. They’ve been in love with each other for years and are only now saying something about it after Jamie was traded to Philly and she’s stuck in Anaheim for right now.

“Only took me bringing you pictures to finally kiss me,” she teases.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up and come here.”

Their lips meet in a heated kiss. Everything they’ve been feeling is coming out in the kiss. Jamie tugs her until she is sitting on his lap while he’s sitting on the mattress. She drapes her arms over his shoulders.

It’s that moment when she realizes they put together a whole bed for no reason because there is now no way she is getting in that bed now.

She pushes him down until Jamie is lying flat on his back and their chests are flush against each other. Her hair creates a curtain around their faces despite his fingers curling in her locks.

“Wait, hold on,” Jamie says. She pulls back from the kiss. “Have something to ask you before we get distracted.”

“Hm?”

“Will you come to family skate on Friday before the game at MetLife?” he asks. “As my girlfriend?”

The biggest smile forms on her lips. “You’re going to have to give me skating lessons because despite watching you play hockey for years, I have no idea how to skate,” she tells him.

“I will give you skating lessons,” Jamie laughs. “You’ll come though?”

She nods and kisses him. “I’ll come.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

yourusername

liked by jamie.drysdale, philadelphiaflyers, and 193,872 others

yourusername life recently w my 🤍

view all 15,982 comments

fan1 JAMIE HAS A GIRLFRIEND ????

masonmctavish23 ig i forgive you for not answering my texts last week

yourusername we can hang out when i get back into cali on wednesday

masonmctavish23 good. i’m mad that jamie stole you from us

fan2 oh my god. this is so cute

fan3 you were at metlife ??? i think i walked past you at one point

yourusername i had on the drysdale jersey

trevorzegras oh this is all i’m gonna hear about when she gets back

leocarlssoon it’s about time. i was praying this would happen bc the way jamie talked about you was insane

jamie.drysdale let me live !!

philadelphiaflyers Thanks for coming out

jamie.drysdale skating w my girlfriend for the first time was the best feeling 🩵

yourusername being your girlfriend is the best feeling

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[lustnhim]

‘ little sister. ‘ — elvis x fem! reader

note: based on ‘little sister’ by elvis (obvi) + requested / warnings: MDNI, non-specific age gap (elvis is 26 but idk abt the reader lol),  innocence kink, purity kink, cheating (kinda), p in v sex, fingering, no protection, car sex, panty stealing elvis cause’ i'm self indulgent. / summary:  elvis is dating your big sister, but after he sees you much you’ve grown– he can’t help himself.

Elvis couldn’t believe what he saw. A grown girl in place of the little doll he knew before. Upon walking into your house for dinner, he didn’t even realize it was you till you took your place at the table. His breath was caught in his throat, he couldn't even focus on what your sister was saying– every other word, in and out. Like nothing. Sure, he thought your sister was pretty, and it was true he loved her, but something was different. Something about you just..stirred something in him. Elvis' heart raced as he took in the sight of you. You still wore your hair in pigtails. Smirking to himself he nodded mindlessly as your father started talking about his work, he watched as you took small bites of your food, your head was downcast, your pretty lil’ eyes, god. He wanted to see them so bad. ‘Just raise your head, yittle un.’ He thought letting out a breathy groan. 

“You alright, El?” Your sister said, his mind went blank. Snapping back to reality he looked around the table, seeing that you had finally raised your head up, confusion etched on your soft features. “Ah, yeah m’ alright. Just tired, the Colonel’s got me workin' like a dog.” Elvis joked, and your father laughed. “I’ve heard that, seems like everyday you’re in the papers.” Elvis felt his heart flutter as he made eye contact with you, trying to act casual, but his nervousness was palpable. You didn't seem to notice the tension between the two of you. Your sister, however, did. She could tell something was off, she could tell from the moment ya’ll sat down for dinner. “Can I go to the movies with sis?” You asked your father, and Elvis swallowed hard. Your voice was as sweet as sugar and as smooth as silk, that pretty innocence lingering in your voice. “Course’ honey. If that's alright with them of course–”  Your father looked over at Elvis who nodded in compliance quickly, making your sister scoff. “What? C’mon- I don’t want her to go.” Your sister complained and Elvis looked over at her, his tone gentle. “Oh c’mon honey, let er’ go…she won’t bother us.” Elvis cood, taking his hand and placing it over hers in desperation.  Elvis could tell your sister was annoyed. The way she shot glances at you showed that. Jealous of her younger sister…and rightfully so. A different beauty entirely, perhaps it was the innocence that radiated off of you, your full lips, those sun kissed freckles from bein’ outside, those long eyelashes, and the softness of your skin…things your sister had all but lost. Lost from runnin’ around. It was no secret to anytone that your sister liked to get around, Elvis had known for weeks what she had been doing but he never bothered with it. Too busy. But now you were here, you were somethin’ new and he wanted you. 

Your sister rolled her eyes and pulled her hand out from under his, pulling her hand out from under his she crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine, you can come. But don’t bother us!”  She gave a small huff before turning her attention back to the last little bit of food on her plate. As you all finished eating, your father took Elvis into the living room, showing him the new guns he had bought while your sister started tidying up. In the bathroom, you stood in front of the mirror brushing your hair when your sister came in. “Elvis was jus’ being nice,” She said, smiling cruelly. “But then again, he won’t pay you no mind anyways.” She chuckled and walked to the living room, sitting down on the couch. Scoffing you fixed your hair back-up in your pigtails and smiled in the mirror, feeling pretty. Maybe your sister was right, maybe he was just being nice. But that was beside the point. You still liked him. As you walked into the living room, Elvis drank in the sight of you, smiling as he spoke. “You girls ready?” You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips as you walked over to Elvis. "Ready when you are, Elvis." Your sister rolled her eyes, but you ignored her. "Alright, let's go then." Your sister stood up, and grabbed Elvis hand, leading him out the door. 

The theater was packed, you recognized a few people you knew and some of your sister's friends who she chatted with before the three of you went to take a seat. Elvis took a seat in the middle, between you and your sister. The lights dimmed, and the movie began. Your sister chatted with Elvis throughout the movie, making jokes and laughing. You watched the movie, enjoying it but also feeling a bit left out. You wanted to talk to Elvis, to get to know him better, but you felt intimidated by your sister's presence. Halfway through the movie, Elvis leaned over to you, his arm brushing against yours. "This is a great movie, isn't it?" He whispered. You smiled, feeling your heart race. "It's amazing." You whispered back. He gave you a small smile before turning his attention back to your sister, who had been jerking on his arm so he could look back at her.  During the intermission, Elvis stood up, stretching his legs. "Want anything from the concession stand?" He asked, looking at both of you. Your sister shook her head, but you nodded, biting your lip. "Um, could I get a coke and some popcorn, please?" Elvis smiled, nodding. "Sure, be right back." He winked before making his way out of the theater room.

Walking to the concession stand Elvis could feel how shaky his legs were, how fast his heart was racing, and how disappointed he was that your sister was hogging him. He should’ve just ended stuff with her a long time ago, but she stayed. In a way, he was glad. He wouldn't have been able to see you as much as he did, let alone spend any time with you. Ordering his two cokes and a large popcorn he started to head back to the theater room before hearing a familiar giggle. Your sister. Peeking around the corner he saw your sister and some fella, he had her in a corner, his arm raised above her head as he leaned close to her. Elvis watched as they kissed, a short sweet one before he took her hand and the two snuck out the backdoor. Elvis was mad, in short. She had run off with another man mid-date, shaking his head and taking a deep breath as he walked back into the theater room, finding you sitting alone. “Elvis- uhm she said that she felt sick n’ had one of her friends take her home…I-I told her that she could wait on you n’ you could take us home but she didn’t listen to me!” You explained and Elvis laughed gently, “Don’t worry bout’ it little. I saw her, she done run off.” He said, handing you one of the cokes. “Oh…m’ sorry…” You whispered, seeing genuine hurt in his features. “Ain’t your fault, she's been doin’ that for a good while.” Elvis said softly, looking over at you. “You wanna just head ta’ the car?” Elvis proposed and you nodded. Standing up and walking out of the row of seats Elvis took your hand in his, leading you out.

Truthfully, Elvis was curious. Curious about what he could do with you. The idea of revenge came to mind, get back at your sister for sleeping around. But that would be wrong. It wouldn’t be right, he didn’t want to use you like that. But god. He wanted you. Opening the passenger car door Elvis let you get in before moving around to the side of the car, hesitating before opening the door. He could try. That’s all he could do. “We can just hang out here for awhile, if you’re wantin’ too.” Elvis said, turning to look at you. You looked so pretty, in that white dress n’ those frilly socks…bows in your hair too. “That's fine with me,” You said, crossing your legs in your seat. Elvis swallowed hard, a majority of your thigh exposed. He could see just a sliver of your panties but that was enough for his pants to get uncomfortable. He hated how you made him. All desperate, worked up, needing you so bad but it was just so wrong. “We’ve never been alone together before.” You said, looking over at him, scanning his face- trying to figure out what his expression was. “I guess that’s true, little.” As you both sat in the car, Elvis tried to keep his cool. He was so close to you, so close that he could smell the sweet scent of your perfume. It was intoxicating, and it made him want you even more. He knew that he shouldn't be thinking like this, that he should be focusing on getting you home safely, but he couldn't help it. He was drawn to you, and he wanted you more than anything. You, on the other hand, were feeling a bit nervous. You were so close to Elvis, and alone with him. No sister to stop you from talking to him or batting your eyes at him. “I’ve never been alone with a boy before.” You blurted out, your face flushing a deep shade of red from embarrassment. “Oh, well that’s alright…” Elvis replied, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You look purty.” He finally said, waiting for your reaction. Elvis' words made your heart flutter. "You- You think so?" You said shyly, looking down at your lap. Elvis chuckled, "Aww don't be like that little, you're very beautiful." He said, putting his hand on your thigh. You felt a jolt of electricity as his hand touched you. "You’re…you’re really handsome." You said, a blush spreading across your face. The two of you seemed to stare forever at each other, you hadn’t noticed that the two of you had gotten closer to each other, your noses almost brushing together. “Uhm, Elvis..? Can I- Can I kiss you?” You asked, your heart pounding against your chest. Elvis was taken aback but didn’t hesitate, his hand cupped your cheek as he pushed you closer to him, your lips meeting in a slow, soft kiss. You were shaking, so was Elvis. And neither of you knew why. The bulge in Elvis’ pants became more evident, the fabric of his jeans rubbing him uncomfortably tight, he cursed god as he pulled away from you. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks pink. “How was that..?” Elvis asked, his hand still resting on your thigh, drawing circles on your soft skin. “Nice..” You muttered, biting your lip. “I’ve never done that before.” You confessed, and Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you’re a natural.” He said, kissing your forehead. The two of you sat in silence, the two of you heard the faint sound of the movie theater in the distance, the music from the film playing. Elvis looked down at you, his eyes soft and gentle. He couldn’t help but feel that this was wrong, but the way you looked at him, the way you kissed him…it was hard to resist. “Do..do you wanna go to the backseat?” He asked, his breath caught in his throat. Hesitating slightly you nodded, and the two of you moved to the backseat.

“ Hi…” You whispered and Elvis laughed gently, “Hi there, little.” You were so innocent, so pure, and he wanted to keep you that way. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe from the world. “You’re different from most girls.” He whispered, his hand finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked, and you nodded, you could feel yourself shaking. “You sure? We ain’t gotta do nothin’ if you don’t wanna.”  He prefaced and you took a deep breath. “Elvis please..jus’ kiss me again.” Elvis didn’t hesitate, pulling you closer he kissed your jawline. You let out a small moan, your body responding to his touch, wanting more. Elvis could feel your heart racing, and he knew that you were as affected by him as he was by you. He pulled back, looking into your eyes. “This is so wrong.” He whispered, his hand moving to your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” You smiled, a small and innocent smile. “I want this, Elvis.” You said softly, your hand moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m grown.” Elvis looked at you, his heart aching for you. He wanted to take you home, to keep you safe, but he was also drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He couldn’t resist you, you were too pure, too sweet, and he wanted to savor every moment with you. “Alright, little.” He said, kissing you again, this time more passionately. His hand moved from your hair to your back, pulling you closer, feeling the curve of your body against his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling your heart race as his tongue danced with yours. His hand snaked up to your chest, gently groping your breast with his hand causing you to squeal into the kiss and Elvis pulled away, “Fuck, was that too far?” Elvis cursed, his heart dropping. “No, do- keep doing it.” You begged, taking ahold of his hand and placing it back on your breast. Elvis let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe how far things had gone, but he couldn't deny the desire that was burning between the two of them. He started kissing you again, his hand massaging your breast, kneading it between his fingers, his other hand slowly moving under your dress. You let out a soft moan, your body arching into his touch. Elvis' hand started to explore your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, moving lower to your panties. He could feel your heat through the fabric, and he knew he was getting dangerously close. You bit your lip, your breath hitching as tugged on the edge of your underwear, hooking his fingers underneath and pulling slightly. 

Elvis looked up at you, searching for consent– when you nodded he Elvis pulled them down your legs, taking them off and holding them in his hand for a moment before stuffing them in his pocket. You couldn't help but laugh when he did so– “A keepsake.” He joked before leaning over you and hiking up your dress. Elvis' heart raced as he exposed your delicate, untouched skin. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't resist the temptation. Your eyes were closed, your body trembling with anticipation. Elvis' finger traced the outline of your folds, feeling the wetness that coated them. He bit his lip, his breathing heavy as he slowly inserted one finger inside of you. You gasped, your eyes shooting open as you looked at him, a mix of surprise and pleasure evident on your face. “Can hardly fit my finger…” Elvis noted, moving his finger in and out of you, feeling your walls tighten around his digit. You arched your back, your moans growing louder as he continued to pleasure you. He added another finger, the two of them working in perfect harmony. Your breathing grew heavier, your body trembling under his touch. Elvis could feel your impending climax and he sped up his movements, wanting to push you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, your body convulsing as you came. Elvis watched you, a sense of pride and satisfaction washing over him. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you,the wetness coating them a testament to your pleasure.”God…” He said, admiring his fingers before placing them on his tongue. You looked at him, your eyes hazy. "Elvis..." you whispered, your voice soft and quiet. He leaned in to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue as his hand moved to the front of his pants. He was hard, throbbing for you, and he couldn't wait any longer. Elvis unzipped his pants, pulling out his erection. You looked at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. “Spread your legs, little.” He coached, as you parted your shaky legs wider. He positioned himself at your entrance, and with a gentle push, he entered you. You let out a small yelp, the sensation of being filled by him unlike anything you'd ever experienced. A short, sharp pain causing you to slam your eyes shut, “Ah! E-Elvis…it hurts.” You whined, feeling his continue to ease into. Taking your hand he held it close in his hand, “I know, little..squeeze ma’ hand.” He says, groaning as he struggles to fit into you. You’re so tight, unbelievably warm and so, so wet. Elvis moved slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Slinging your arms around his neck, Elvis gently let go of your hand and gripped onto your hips as you sunk deeper onto him. “So fuckin’ tight.” He groans as he begins to move you up and down onto him, each thrust drawing a soft whimper from you. Elvis' heart thudded against his chest, his eyes locked on you as he watched your reaction to him. He could see the pain, but also the pleasure that you were experiencing, and it was enough to make him want to take you over and over. He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he felt his own pleasure building. You cried out, your body responding to his movements, your walls tightening around him.

"Elvis..." you moaned, your voice catching in your throat. He leaned down, kissing your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Cum for me, little." He commanded, his voice low and gruff. You could feel your orgasm building, the sensation overwhelming you. "Elvis...I...I'm gonna cum..." you gasped, your body trembling. That was all the encouragement he needed. Elvis increased his pace, thrusting into you as hard as he could, his own climax approaching. "Fuck, little..." he groaned, “I’m gonna fill ya’ up. Make you feel all full…You want that?” He said, his eyes locking onto you. Watching you nod frantically, wanting nothing more. Elvis’ thrusts became more frantic as you rested your head against his neck as his fingers dug into your hips. You let out a shaky gasp,  feeling the warmth of his release as he filled you. He moaned out, pulling you close to his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Elvis pulled out of you, his spent cock leaving you feeling empty. 

Still holding you to his chest, he stroked your hair as you shook in his arms, his cum dribbling out of your swollen cunt. As you caught your breath, you clung to Elvis, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. He kissed the top of your head, his hand moving to your hip as he looked at you with a satisfied smile. "You’re so perfect little." He whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. Whimpering in response Elvis smiles at you, adjusting himself before pulling your dress back down in place. “Will you be mine baby?” He asks, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Mhm…” You smile gently, and he tilts his head curiously before yanking gently on your pigtails. “You gonna be mine forever just…” Elvis starts looking out the window of the car which had humorously fogged a bit. 

“don’t you do what your big sister’s done.” 

i tried alternating perspectives, give more on what elvis’ is thinking— so i hope it makes sense :3 this was really fun to write tbh, i listened to the song like 7 times while writing 😭 hope y’all enjoy!

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @wildhorseinkansas @elvisiana @spookyeagleflower @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 @elvisalltheway101 @cherrycolaride @sloppyzengarden @faeolwen @slayingjd

if you wanna be added or removed lmk!

[mllersjoel]

you're obsessed

you're obsessed

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!actress!reader

Warnings: swearing, no use of y/n

Summary: jamie tartt fic where he has a huge crush on an actress and sees her at a richmond event and she flirts w him he’s really shy bc he likes her but they hook up after idk

Wordcount: 1.6k

A/N: didnt manage to write any smut bc this was getting way too long teehee :D general warnings for swearing.

writing comms are open!

“Oi, Tartt! Stop stalking your actress and give me some laps,” Roy yells, shaking Jamie from his reverie. Jamie is not stalking her instagram. He’s just not; because a stalker would have notifications on as they obsessively checked their profile at least four times every minute. Jamie is only checking once every five minutes, and he doesn’t even have her notifications on. So there. Suck it, Roy.

“Fine, don’t give yourself an aneurysm,” he mutters, taking a quick minute to stretch before he’s running around the pitch. He just has a crush. That’s all. A little one. He first saw you in some thriller that came out last month, and something about you had him hooked. Initially he thought it was just the character you played, a regular yet charming civilian, pulled into the crime world. After watching (admittedly, way too many) interviews, he realised it wasn’t the character. It was you.

You with your witty remarks and comments. The way you laughed good naturedly and poked fun at your costars. The way you were clumsy and scatterbrained, in a terribly endearing way.

It didn’t help that you were also gorgeous.

So, yeah. Jamie had a slight crush. It was fine, though, because you were currently based in Los Angeles (you were in a new Marvel movie) and had no plans of coming to the UK anytime soon. 

“She’s right fit, though,” Isaac says, nudging Jamie as he runs past. 

Jamie feels his stomach tighten with jealousy before he catches himself. Why was he jealous? He didn’t know you and you probably didn’t even know he existed. Well, maybe you did, because he was sexy and a hot football player. Did you even watch football? Would you watch it if you knew he was in it?

Jamie remembers hearing something about a parasocial relationship from Keeley and resolves to not think about you.

At least while he was training.

***

He’s spraying on cologne in the locker room when Keeley bursts in, all smiles and pep.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!”

“Is everything alright?” Ted asks, breaking away from Coach Beard who as far as Jamie could tell, hasn’t said anything but is managing to have a full conversation with Ted.

“You will not believe who I booked for this years’ Gala!”

Roy’s ears perk up at this as he slides into the conversation. “The Muppets?”

“No, Roy,” Keeley says, exasperated, “not the fucking Muppets. Only the hottest new actress on screen right now!”

At this point, all the boys have gathered around Keeley, jostling each other and trying to see the screen of her phone. Jamie fights his way to the front, and when his eyes focus on Keeley’s phone, he’s pretty sure his heart drops into his stomach.

It was you. There. With your smile and your eyes and your name and a headline.

You were coming to their Gala.

You.

He feels his heart drop into his stomach. This couldn’t be real. Maybe it was a mistype, or someone accidentally said they scheduled you but in reality you were on the other side of the globe. It was faked. It had to be.

He broke away from his team, practically running back to the changing rooms. Opening up your instagram, he pulled up your story. There, you had reposted the announcement.

Oh. Oh fuck.

***

On the day of the Gala, Jamie seriously considers hiring a stylist rather than just going with his gut. He needs to look good. Tonight is most probably one of the most important days of his life. His favourite actress, coming to his club’s Gala. Maybe, if he plays his cards right, you’ll bid on him.

Wait. Who was he kidding? He’s Jamie fucking Tartt. Of course you’ll bid on him. He could wear a trash bag and you’d bid on him, because he is just that fucking sexy.

Right?

He shoots a quick text to Keeley, desperate for a second opinion.

Me:

[image0.png]

thoughts? Xx

Keeley:

Ur hot babes!!

Gonna knock em dead xx

Lose the tie u look like a prick <3

He takes one last look in the mirror, running his hands through his hair. Yeah. He’s gonna show up and be so cool. He’s so cool.

***

They’re taking pictures on the carpet, and everyone can tell Jamie is not all there. He barely tells the paparazzi to take pictures of his good side, following it up with “And that’s any side.” His eyes keep darting around, every scream and shout of delight sending his stomach in knots in case you’re the one to step out of the limousine.

Maybe you just won’t show up. Maybe you were already inside.

He can’t decide which option is worse.

When he’s at the end of the carpet, about to head inside, he hears whistles and screams, different from the ones before. These sound a lot more excited, filled with more adrenaline and anticipation. Or maybe he’s just projecting. 

He turns, and sure enough, you’re there.

Stunning. That’s the only thing he can think of. You smile beautifully at the photographers, working the crowd with ease. It was as if you were friends, had a solid rapport with them with the way you were conversing back and forth.

“Close your mouth. You look like a fucking basking shark,” Roy says, elbowing Jamie in the stomach.

He flinches back, giving Roy a shove in return. “Oi, what was that for?”

“You’re not gonna make a good impression with you gawking like a fucking idiot. Go say hi or something. Be fucking normal.”

Jamie sends Roy an affronted look. “I am normal, you old bastard. Just because we don’t act like how you did in the 1800s doesn’t mean I’m being an idiot.”

Roy just growls, shoving past him into the building.

Jamie takes a step forward to follow when a voice catches his attention.

“Hey! You’re Jamie Tartt, right?”

He turns on instinct, a winning smile already plastered on his face. “I’ll do autographs once—you.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly, waiting for him to go on. “Once I what?”

“You’re, um, you’re her.” He says your name, almost reverently.

Your grin widens, almost giddy. “You know who I am?”

“I follow you—” before he could say more, your manager rushes in behind you, ushering you inside. You wince at him, apologetic, before heading inside.

Jamie stands there, dumbfounded. 

I follow you?  That’s what he had to say? Now he really does sound like a stalker. He scrubs his hand over his face, groaning in disappointment.

He’s gonna make it up to you. He has to.

***

Inside, he sees he’s sat with Ted and Roy as well as a few other people and an empty seat next to him. He largely ignores his own table, trying to catch sight of you and not succeeding in the slightest. He huffs a sigh of annoyance, sliding into his seat.

Ted notices his glum aura, nodding sagely. “It’s the oysters, isn’t it? Because I know they have to try to make the flavour appeal to everyone but adding this much lemon is just downright insultin’.”

“It’s not the oysters, coach.”

Ted frowns. “The placemats? I was never really an eggshell white person myself but—”

“Jamie’s pining over an actress he thinks I don’t see him stalk on insta when he’s supposed to be running drills,” Roy cuts in, tired of Ted’s guessing.

“I’m not pining,” Jamie pouts, crossing his arms in a decidedly not childish way.

Before Roy could get another rebuttal out, the seat next to him is being filled, and once again he sees you, smiling at him. “Actresses are overrated,” you say, placing your napkin over your lap, “trust me.”

Jamie’s blood runs cold, convinced the universe is playing a cruel trick on him. Running into you is an absolute dream, he’d never deny that, but running into you with both Ted and Roy there? He may as well be taken out back and shot.

He must’ve been sitting there agape for too long, because before he knows it, Ted is reaching a hand over and giving yours a shake.

“Ted Lasso, it’s a pleasure to meet ya’. I absolutely loved you in that thriller that came out last June. Had me on the edge of my couch! And I know Jamie here liked it as well, he was bawling a right mess by the end of it.”

You turn to look at Jamie, and having the full force of your attention on him made him nearly choke on air. “Were you really?”

Jamie licks his lips, trying to gain some composure. “Bawling is sayin’ a lot, really. More like a reasonable cry.”

You nod along, clearly not buying it. 

“I’ve been keeping up with your games this season. The goal you scored against West Ham the other day was seriously impressive. You were practically miles away from the net.”

Immediately, Jamie perked up. “You like football?”

“Well, I’m no expert, but I definitely try to watch all your games if I can.”

Jamie leans in, feeling bold and taking your hand in his. “Richmonds games? Or my games?”

You shrug. “Depends on the hair.”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair, body turned towards you. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

[fictionalwh0ree]

the gang dating a stoner hcs

warnings: mentions weed and alcohol

a/n: as someone who's a lowkey stoner, i wrote this with the reader being someone who doesn't look like they'd be a stoner.

johnny cade

definitely doesn’t mind that you smoke

he’s maybe tried it once but never enough that he felt anything

one day he tries it with you

he immediately understands why you do it

johnny has a lot of issues and has a lot of baggage, smoking weed helps him calm down

you’re happy that it makes him happy

but that can also be dangerous

you worry about him getting hooked to the feeling, so you make sure he only ever does it with you

thankfully its illegal and since johnny is kind of skittish, he doesn’t go after it on his own

smoking with him is a mix of calm and paranoia

hes paranoid while you’re smoking

worrying about the smell, who’s around, your eyes, etc

but once its done, he’s calm

you spend many late nights just dozing off in each others arms after smoking

also many deep talks

overall, he’s grateful for you (and it) and he accepts your habits

dallas winston

he LOVES that you’re lowkey a stoner

there’s something about how you look when your eyes are all droopy and red that turns him onnnnn

(he also finds you being able to roll hot, idk why)

he definitely does it here and there

but he loves to smoke with you

on a rare night, you two will get crossed at bucks and will probably end up fucking

high sex is his favvvvv

he’ll take you to the drive-in after you smoke

those are probably the only times you’ll pay attention to a movie around him

he’s very rebellious so he doesn’t worry about you getting caught very often

he’ll even steal snacks for you

he lets you crash in his bed if you’re super slumped

you love cuddling with him if you’re high

something about the warmth and skin to skin just feels so much better

he definitely finds it funny when you’re high

he’ll laugh about you demolishing your food

he definitely laughs when you start sharing your high thoughts with him

and he finds it especially funny when you find something funny and can’t stop laughing

you’ve definitely been caught in some dumb ass situations where you look at each other and have to find a way to hold in the laughter

ponyboy curtis

definitely has never smoked

he knows its illegal, so he was definitely surprised to find out you do it

at first, you kept it separate from him

you know his brother would kill him if he tried

you didn’t smoke around him and were never really high around him

until one time you were headed home after a smoke session with your friends and you ran into him

he invited you to the drive- in with the gang

steve and dally could definitely tell

ponyboy could tell something was off but couldn’t pinpoint it

he bought you a popcorn and you couldn’t shut up about how much better it tasted

“has this popcorn always been this good?”

“it doesn’t taste any different than the last time we had it”

“are you sure?”

“are you okay”

dally definitely broke the news to him and it hit him quick

after that, pony started asking you questions about weed

“what does it feel like to be high?”

“does food actually taste better?”

“does it taste like a cigarette?”

you asked him if he wanted to try it one day so you waited until a day where his house was completely empty and smoked

after one hit, he was coughing like crazy

no amount of cigarettes could’ve prepared him for that

he couldn’t smoke very much because of the coughing but he got high and finally understood the food thing

tore apart any food available

he really loves to watch the sunset when he’s high

he thinks the colours and scenery are so much more detailed and pretty

he’s the type to turn into a poet when he’s high

but in the end the coughing was not worth it so he only does it very rarely (and only with you)

its a very special occasion when pony smokes, so you always make sure its a good experience and you do everything so darry will never find out

sodapop curtis

he’s definitely tried it before

he was not a fan

(he wasn’t inhaling it right so he never felt it and thought it was pointless)

he was very surprised when he found out you smoked

he always makes sure you’re careful with it

he takes extra care of you when you’re high

he makes sure you don’t have to talk to anyone

will take you to go get whatever you’re craving

he’s also a fan of the high eyes

he thinks its cute when you laugh at dumb things you wouldn’t usually find that funny

he’s very observant so he can definitely tell when you’re high and even if you’ve smoked at all

you taught him how to inhale

unfortunately he’s a bit of a paranoid high person so you don’t smoke with him

he always feels his senses heightened

this boy will hear a cop car coming from five blocks away and then panic as if you’re not sitting inside his house

however he is the type to EAT when he’s high

he’s like a bottomless pit

but hes also sodapop curtis so he’ll stay skinny anyway

darry curtis

darry definitely tried weed in high school

i mean he was on the football team

but he’s not a fan

too much risk not enough reward

so when it comes to dating a stoner

he’d probably rather not

but if he is

you just have to keep it separate

you don’t smoke around him and you’re never really high around him

he doesn’t mind the habit as long as you don’t let it affect your ambition

darry is a workaholic, he looks for a partner with drive

so as long as you smoking weed isn’t interfering with your job its fine

he would never date someone who is always high

he’s okay with it if its more of a couple days a week type thing

once you’ve been dating a while, he makes it clear that you can smoke and be high around him

because he’d rather you do it around him then alone or out on the streets

he thinks its cute when you’re high

he likes how you’re giggly

he’ll cook for you

and he likes how affectionate you get

he smoked with you ONCE

he, like sodapop, is the type to eat like there’s no tomorrow

after it was done, the entire gang unexpectedly showed up at his house

they could tell

darry’s eyes were practically bloodshot red

ponyboy took advantage of calm darry and got to stay out late

“get him high more often y/n”

they tried to keep their laughs to themselves but it didn’t work

two-bit especially could not contain himself around darry and couldn’t look at him without laughing

you definitely fucked after and the high sex was almost enough to get him to smoke again

but he could never EVER let the gang see him like that again

he only got high with you again after you learnt how to make edibles

two-bit matthews

two-bit loves that you smoked

funniest couple ever

you love smoking with and around him because he makes you laugh so hard

funny sober = super funny high

you two will laugh until you’re clutching your stomachs in pain

he’ll finish a whole chocolate cake high

two-bit is not a sit down and relax type of high person

there’s two potential reasons

a) he’s just like that

b) he’s always a little drunk so he just ends up slightly crossed

he’s super social and bounces off the walls

so sometimes you have to let him just go out with his friends

once he comes down from it all he’s super tired

you guys WILL take naps together

you’ll sleep from 11am-4pm

or you’ll go to bed at 2am and wake up at 1pm

it all depends but the two of you are heavy ass sleepers after smoking

the house could’ve blown up and neither of you would notice

steve randle

he has also tried smoking before, but never too much

he had basically forgotten it existed until you

he doesn’t like it when you smoke alone so if you’re not with friends, sometimes he’ll smoke with you

it actually helps him focus a lot

if he can work on a car high, he will

it becomes the only thing that matters

gets you dx discounts on snacks

he’s pretty quiet high so the two of you will often spend your time watching a move with his arm around your shoulder

he’s lowkey strict with it because he doesn’t want you to get caught

so he doesn’t let you smoke in very public places or in broad daylight unless you’re somewhere safe

doesn’t let you meet your dealer alone

he’s protective of you when you’re high because he thinks it makes you a bit more vulnerable

he’ll do all the talking

he doesn’t like people who spend their entire day high

he’s okay with it as long as you’re not a bum because of it