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we-out-here-simping · 3 months

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You, Me, Lonely.

(s.h. x reader)

from the river to the sea (educate yourself and help however you can)

Summary: you love Steve, Steve loves you. But maybe you both want different things from life.

Warnings/tags: reader menstruates (reader has uterus), abandonment issues, the ‘six nuggets’ talk, suggestive

Word count: 3.4k

masterlist

a/n: huge huge huge thanks to @procrastinationprincesses for helping me out with this fic and giving it an ending (ur amazing sanjana <3)

writing and posting something because i might have to go MIA for a lil bit (miss me while I'm gone will ya?)

fic is inspired by ‘You, Me, Lonely’ by FIZZ i absolutely love this song like its so close to my heart ughh what can i say I'm a little bitter about the six nuggets scene

also if you couldn't tell already I have major abandonment issues and an anxious avoidant attachment style. It will reflect in what i write soz :(

In the quiet of the night, you wish for this to last forever. That you'll have him forever.

When you came out of the shower you found him asleep on his side of the bed. His side– the one closer to the door. ‘so I can protect you from anyone who'll try to steal you from me’, he had justified it when you asked him why he was adamant on that side.

you had turned off the bedside lamp ten minutes ago, slipped under the duvet, as quietly as possible so as to not wake him up. on your side of his bed. your bed.

He always sleeps on his stomach, one hand under his pillow and the other extended a little towards yours. His body moves with steady and slow breaths, back rising and falling under the covers, head peeking out from under the rumpled up duvet. his cheeks are squished against the pillow cover. His hair is a mess from the lack of hair product, and still damp from the shower he took before you. There's a few strands of his brown hair sprawled across his forehead too. With your softest touch you brush them away from his eyes.

You wonder what he was dreaming. you hope it was something nice. He looks calm, at peace, and very, very pretty.

You look at him and you know you love him. You want to love him forever.

Love had never seemed like the type of thing you’ll get– like it wasn't meant for you. But then you met him. This boy. This boy who you never thought to be your type. You never thought you even had a type. But his boyish charm and stupid grin won you over.

Your heart doesn't skip beats around him anymore, and you’d think that that means he doesn’t have that same effect on you anymore but that would be wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone as much as you do to him. You don’t look at him and get butterflies in your stomach, you look at him and… you’re sure. your heart is quiet and sure. You don't think you’ve ever been sure before.

You want to be sure forever.

He feels like the comfortable still of rain after a scorching hot summer, like the calm and cold breeze that cools you down. Like standing at the top of the mountain, looking at the clouds and valleys below, he feels like the crisp air that fills your lungs. Like the comfort meal your mom makes– the one you can never really recreate, the one that tastes the best when it comes from her.

You love him and you know. You know. You know he likes you, loves you even.

Steve Harrington loves you like a dream, and you're worried that one day he’ll wake up, look at you and realise that he deserves so much better. He’ll wake up and he’ll leave for work and he’ll bump into a pretty angel of a girl with a disposition as bright as his. And he’ll never return. people fall out of love. People fall out of love all the time.

You wish for him to love you forever.

How long is a forever anyway?

You wonder what it'll be like. When you're older, with wrinkles, white hair and weaker limbs.

It's like you see it.

You and him in a bed– just like now but older, wiser, more tired. His back turned to you. There'd be distance between you two, you’d want to move closer and hold him– but you wouldn't. You’d just stare at the back of his head, counting all the grey hairs you’d memorised like all the moles and wrinkles on his skin.

You’d notice his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest and you would have known him so long and so well that you'd just know that he wasn't actually asleep. you'd know why he wasn't asleep.

there'd be a pain in your chest. You would know what it is, why its there. You would gulp and try not to think about it.

“Do you always stare at me in my sleep?” his groggy voice pulls you out of your own head.

You blink, multiple times. Forever, right.

He softly smiles up at you. You blink away before moving to lay on your back, the sheets rustling with your movement. “sorry I woke you up”, you mumble an apology, staring at the ceiling, you fail to hide the shake in your voice.

“Y’kay?”

“Yeah.” the sheets beside you ruffle but you keep your eyes trained on the ceiling. it seems inevitable. You know, one day it'll happen and despite having expected it, it’ll be the greatest heartbreak of them all.

“Thinking ‘bout somethin’?” he sounds a bit more awake.

“When am I not?” you shake your head and laugh hoping he doesn't notice that it isn't real, thankful that the curtains didn't let in any moonlight and that you had turned off the lights.

“What is it?” but this is Steve, he doesn’t need to see you to know how you’re feeling.

“Nothing.”

“Were you lying about liking the pasta I made?”

“No, Steve it was good”, a real laugh slips out of you, and you finally look at him. He’s leaning on his elbow, the messy head of hair in his hand, looking down at you. You suddenly wish it wasn’t so dark so you could see the colour of his eyes, the moles and freckles on his skin.

“Then what?”

“Nothing.” your gaze moves back to the ceiling.

“Must be something if it's keeping you up”, you feel him shift closer to you. He smells of fresh shower, mint, shaving cream and washed laundry.

“No, I'm just…. not sleepy.”

“Yeah?”, he raises his eyebrows with a sly smirk, “Well, I know a way to make you sleepy”, he leans down– both arms caging you in, landing a kiss on your neck before trailing further up to your lips. and its lovely, so god damn lovely, you don't want it to stop but this hurts.

“Ste– mmph– Steve stop”, you turn your face away, because if he keeps going, you think you'll cry, palm pushing flat against his bare chest, “I’m– I'm not in the mood.”

“Okay, I'm sorry”, he moves back onto his one elbow. The silence gestates for a while, you can feel his eyes on you. The ticking of the clock is the only thing heard through the room before he softly says, “Hey, please tell me what's happening?”

“Nothing”, you shook your head, “I’m just tired.”

“You just said you're not sleepy.”

“J– just go back to sleep okay? sorry for waking you up”, you turn onto your side, face away from him.

He sidles up behind you after a second or two, warm breath across the back of your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut. “yeah, like that's gonna put me to sleep", he mutters behind you.

His arms snake around your waist, pulling you in closer, “C'mon, you know I wont be able to sleep after fighting”, burying his nose in your hair– he sighed.

“Did you just sniff my hair?”

“Yeah, I do all the time. smells s’good."

"You pervert", you both laugh lightly at that, your hand going for his around your waist, before your smiles fall and silence takes over once again.

You lick your drying lips, you forgot to put on lip balm again, “We’re not fighting, Steve.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You take in a deep breath in, fingers drawing patterns on the back of his hand, you breath out, “m’sorry.”

His arms squeeze tighter around you, he lets out a quick sigh before placing a kiss on your shoulder, “I’ll forgive you if you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Steve…”, your voice trails off, you're not even sure what you were going to say.

“Is it— Is it your…. Uh, that time of the month?”

That makes you want to roll your eyes at him and smack his chest but you restrain yourself, you’re not sure if you want him to see your eyes right now anyway. Instead, you sigh, “I had it last week, Steve.”

You got it in this very same bed. Awoken by cramps in the middle of the night. and Steve, your lovely Steve had given you a hot water bag while he took off the sheets and put on fresh new ones and then gave you a soft massage that put you to sleep.

“right... yeah, sorry," he says all sheepish, “So what is it then? Did someone say somethin’ at work?”

“No.”

“Did I.. " he hesitated a little, "did I say something?”

“...no”, you curse yourself for pausing before saying it.

“I did, didn't I?”

“No, no. you–”

“honey, you should tell me if I ever say stupid shit– you should call me out immediately–”

“You didn't say anything stupid or whatever. I'm the one who's being stupid.”

his hold on you loosened, he shifted back to give you space to turn around, “What did I say? Hey, look at me,” you finally turn in his hold, facing him “what did I say?”

“We’d have the cutest little kids, won't we?”

“..what?” You stood infront of the kitchen sink. your hands stopped their scrubbing at the pot you were washing. You tilted your head towards him who had his head rested on your shoulder, his arms around your waist.

“Little Harringtons”, you could hear the smile on his lips.

“Harringtons?”

“Or maybe we get our names hyphenated. That works too, it’d be cute”, his hands hold your waist, his duty of drying the plates abandoned. “They’d have my fabulous hair, and your pretty, pretty eyes– cutest kids around the block”

“Our kids?” you repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, and six of ‘em. six little nuggets. They’ll make up half of a football team”, he giggled, warm air hitting the side of your face, “Doesn’t that sound lovely?” he smiled at you.

“...yeah. Yeah, it does.” you smiled back at him which only made him grin wider. His arms tighten around you again, and lips start a trail from behind your ears to down your neck.

You scoffed softly "You’re supposed to help me wash dishes you filthy animal."

“Oh, fine,” he gave you an over dramatic sigh, before his hands left your sides, skin feeling lonely as ever.

“No, it's fine. I’m almost done anyway", you went back to scrubbing at the bottom of the pot, "Just go and take a shower, you reek.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll go!” he groaned, playfully as a kid, before he leaned against the counter, looking at you with his ‘Harrington charm’. His voice is silky when he asks, “Will you join me?”

“Steve." you said it almost as a warning.

“I don’t hear a no.”

“Okay then, no.”

“Tomorrow morning…?”

“I have an early shift tomorrow, you horndog.”

“We'll make it work.”

“No.”

“Okay", he sighs, “come up quickly though, I wanna be the big spoon today”, pecking your cheek before leaving for the shower upstairs.

Looking at him, you brush the now mostly dry hair falling on his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Your fingers lingered there, you smile, “nothing, Steve.” your thumb rubs back and forth on the apple of his cheeks. “You didn’t say anything. it's stupid.”

His hand reaches up to hold your fingers in place, he turns his head a little to kiss your knuckles, “okay, I didn't say anything” he kisses your knuckles again, gaze stuck to your face, “but could you tell me what it is you think you’re being stupid about?”

God, I love him, you think. “Don't worry about it”, your voice barely a whisper as you attempt to give him a smile. You move closer, planting a slow kiss on his lips which are so much softer than yours– he never forgets his chapstick.

And god, you needed this, your brain stops when you kiss him. thoughts quelled and its quiet again. After some time though, your throat starts to burn and your chest is on the verge of a sob. So, when you pull away, you fail to hide the stuttered breath that you take in.

Steve knew there was something to worry about, but when he hears your breath that almost sounds like a sob, he’s immediately on high alert. Before he can brush your hair out of your face to look at you, really look at you, you bury your face in his chest.

It takes him a second to realize that you’re crying and it breaks his heart because you’re trying to hide it.

“Baby..” he feels you curl in further, your face warm against his skin. He moves to pull you in closer, palm holding the back of your head. He just wanted to take away whatever it was that was bothering you. He tried to pull away to get a look at your face to help you calm down but you wouldn't let him. He settles on carding his fingers through your hair, rubbing circles on the little sliver of exposed skin between your t-shirt and shorts, hoping it gives you some sort of comfort.

"Honey", it is then that you finally let in a shaky breath. he feels the skin where you hid your face get wet maybe with tears, sweat, snot, he didn't care-- he just wanted to take all your pain away.

You both stay that way, and you're suprised by how much you sob, how hard you heave. You weren't sure how long you stayed that way, maybe minutes, maybe hours, however long. It feels like forever.

At this moment, encased in Steve's arms, breath hot against his skin, despite the nose plugged with snot, lashes clumped with tears, eyes squinted shut, you think this is comfortable. Yet it hurts. Because you'll have to pull away. It hurts so damn much because you know how this can go, you know it can hurt so, so much more. You know it will hurt.

You want this to last forever, however fucking long one of those is.

So, you hold on longer because, you’re selfish with your love for Steve. You're selfish because despite the heartache, you’ll have him, for as long as you can.

His hold on you gentle yet firm, as if afraid he'd break you. In your head, he already had. He tries to pull away again, to look at you but you can't. Your eyes still squinted close, willing it all to be a stupid dream. “Honey, I promise you whatever it is, you can tell me”, he says, voice soft as feather. Of course it's not a dream.

Your tongue betrays you, “Its…s–” stupid. Silly. It really doesn't feel stupid or silly, but god, you're so scared that you can't say it, you didn't want to say it because if you do it’ll come true, wont it?

“Whatever it is that you think is stupid," he assured you as if he could read your mind, "I still want to hear it because I know I won't think it's stupid."

suddenly it burns, and you need air. you sit up and try not to think about how ridiculously not pretty you probably look with snot running down your face, “What if- what if we- we end up hating each other?” you manage to say through hiccups.

“What?” he sits up as well, he says as if you had said the most ridiculous thing, “I'll never hate you, honey.”

For some reason, tears fill your eyes again at that, “Steve, you don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No. Ste– people fall out of love, Steve- all the- all the time.” It terrifies him how convinced you sound of it.

“Do..... do you think you’ll fall out of love with me?”

The question startles you, its evident in your wide eyes, “Wha– what?”

“Do you think… you’ll fall out of love with me?" he repeats, "You think you’ll hate me?”

You shake your head, the tear that had been sitting on your lower lash finally slides down your already tear-stained cheek.

“Good." he wipes the wet trails left behind with his thumb, "then, why would I hate you?”

Your face twists into an expression that Steve wasn't sure what to describe it as. a deep frown on your lips, chin wobbly, brows scrunched up together, eyes red and tired yet nostrils flared. “‘Cause", you start but before you could continue another sob leaves you. you look down at your lap, trying to catch your breath. it takes you a minute before you begin again, "do you remember.... what you said about our kids?”

He nods, heart clenching at the way your voice breaks, “I don't think I can… do that”, he doesn't think he's ever heard you sound so broken. “I– I don't think if I– if I want that.”

He sits silent and you think this is it. maybe forevers aren't that long after all.

More tears fall, more sobs leave you, you don't bother to wipe them. What's it matter anyway? He hates you already. He's probably thinking of a way to let you down easily because he is kind like that “Honey.. I want a family..” you feel your heart ripping in two and you just can't look at him.

“And I want you to be a part of that family. I– I want you to be the person I built a family with, no matter the size." He wipes at both your cheeks again, making you look at him, "even if its just us.”

The relieved smile he expected from you isn't there, instead, you frown, the crease between your brows deepens. the part that hurt the most was that you push his hands away, “you’re saying that now, but what happens when years down the line, when we’re old, you– you end up resenting me. Y- you love me right now, I know. But how do you know you wont end up hating me like, ten years later?”

“I dont want to watch you grow old and hate me and then leave me, Steve. I’d rather end this now if we’re destined to just end up unhappy together.”

“We’re not. Okay? We’re not. I know I wont hate you, ever.” He reaches for your hands again. He kisses your fingers before continuing, “And I know that I want you, just you and whatever that– that that comes with. We could never have kids and I would never hate you for it.”

“You won't be happy", you say meekly, like he'd be mad at you for speaking what was on your mind to him, “You wont hate me but you wont be happy either”, you muttered, chin ducked into your chest.

“Honey”, he hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head to make you look at him, to make you understand. “you’re what I need to be happy. You make me happy. And.. I’d hope you need me to be happy too”, a wet chuckle escapes you at that. A hint of a smile on your face despite the tears.

“You do, don’t you?” he clarified with a soft smile of himself.

You nod, "yeah", letting out a loud sniffle.

“Good. I know its scary but you’ve gotta put your trust in me. Trust me enough to believe in me when I say that you are what makes me happy. and I am happy."

He wipes away gently at your face, ridding it of the tear stains, “Sometimes, you’ve just gotta trust. I promise I’ll never break it.”

You sob again but it's lighter than before, you wrap your arms around his neck and feel the weight you felt get lifted, you sniffle into the crook of his neck, "thank you."

You feel his lips on your hairline, "Let's go back to sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah. You still wanna be the big spoon?"

"yeah, I think you need to be the little spoon today." he pulls you down with him, your back to his chest, kissing the skin behind your ear he finally settles in beside you.

You call out his name, he hums in response. "how long do you think a forever is?"

"I don't know, honey."

"Can we stay like this forever?"

"Um.. if you mean us staying forever then yes, definitely forever. But, if you meant me being the big spoon forever, baby, I'm not sure if I'll be able to commit to that."

You laugh, "I love you." you confess.

"I love you too."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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loveshotzz · 11 months

Text

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap two/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Fancy Meeting You Here

chapter one <-

summary: A peek out your bedroom window has you flustered, and a late night run in makes it worse.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. no minors! some good ol tension building and ogling 😉

Series Masterlist // Playlist // The tune:

Sunday -

You were able to unpack most of your ‘chaos’ the next day. Fun distractions in every box as you slowly put your life back together one side step at a time. Your A/C was working over time by mid day, the temperature outside almost breaking 90. Stuttering every so often with the heat trying to get the best of it, the sun shines through your window with harsh light directly on your freshly hung Ivy. The intensity of it at its peak in the sky threatens to fry them before they even have a chance to start.

“Gotta get some curtains,” you mumble to yourself, adding it to the long list of things you already need.

Licking sticky red lips, you grab the plastic cup you just drained the last of your wine from, the warm buzz of the alcohol making you sweat as you rinse it haphazardly. Water splashes all over the sink before you fill it up to the brim, your bare feet pad with low quick thumps against the wood floor, skin a little slick with every step to your window.

The Cure’s ‘Just like heaven’ cuts off the loop you had it playing on all day when you get a notification on your phone, but you keep humming along as you step up on the ledge, kicking away the newly added throw pillows. The wrath of the summer sun makes sweat bead at the crown of your hair while the soil absorbs what you give it like it hasn’t been watered in days. A flash of color catches the corner of your eye, stealing your attention to the window.

That's when you see Steve.

He wears red running shorts this time, the color making his bronze skin pop while the black tank top that hangs loose off his shoulders has his arms on full display. The darkened patches from the heat on the front and back of It makes the damp cotton dip to tease the curled hair on his chest that matches his legs. His jog stops once he hits his gate, pulling out his AirPods his shoulders move up and down with his heavy breaths. He looks even better than yesterday, the sheen that covers him making him glow.

That’s when he does it, he takes it off.

Long fingers find the bottom of his shirt as he pulls it over his head, abs flexing when it gets caught at the bottom of his chin for a second. He pushes back his hair with both hands catching that stray that never seems to go away. Cold water hits your toes, a squeak leaving your mouth at the sight.

“Shit, shit, shiiit.”

You set the cup down cursing under your breath and you know you should look away but when you see the dark happy trail that runs down into his shorts you can’t. Not yet.

If he can feel you staring he doesn’t show it when he sits down on his porch swing, the muscles in his thighs bulging against the nylon. He dabs his forehead with his discarded tank top, letting his neck fall slack and his head tilt back using it to shield his eyes when he’s done.

Watching past the point of what feels appropriate you pry yourself from the view suddenly needing the coldest shower.

Wednesday -

Job hunting day was long and hot. Your feet are sore from hours spent walking in the haze of the sun, the bottoms of your converse peeling against the pavement with each step. The trains were more confusing than you’d bargained for, opting for the bus and expecting some reprieve but somehow managed to get on the one that offered you none. Packed tight against strangers in a heat that was somehow even worse than the one outside, you glowered at your feet.

Oh yeah, and you hated that every song on your shuffle reminded you of the man you spent all of ten minutes with.

The biggest glass of wine you could humanly pour calls your name by the time you get to the end of your block. Your pace is quick with annoyance, and the need for A/C is urgent when your thighs start to rub together, stinging in the humid air.

That’s when you see him. Again.

He’s getting out of BMW M6, a dark red one with black trim, shiny with the kind of paint that glitters in the sun like just went through a car wash. The tint of the windows is just dark enough to give you a glimpse at the silhouette of the car seats and the air freshener that dangles over his rear view mirror. He’s fully clothed this time, a white long sleeve dress shirt that clings to him like it’s custom tucked into dark gray slacks that look freshly pressed. The black oxfords on his feet look polished with no scuffs in sight, and when he goes to answer his phone by the bluetooth in his ear the silver of his watch reflects off the light. The look is thrown though by the familiar blue of a Cubs hat, backwards on his head - that loose strand hangs out the front. Ray Bans cover those eyes that a few days ago couldn’t stay off of you.

“Of course,” you grumble to yourself, trying to ignore the hope that starts tightening in your chest.

“Hey Ron! It’s Steve.” The whites of his teeth show themselves in a confident smile that’s not directed at you.

He stops at his mailbox as you reach your gate thinking there’s no way he hasn’t noticed you. You just want him to at least acknowledge you.

He hums in agreement to whatever ‘Ron’ is saying on the other end, throwing in an ‘exactly’ every now and then. You watch as his expert fingers pop the buttons up at the bottom of his sleeves, before rolling them up to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms moving. The few seconds in the heat already getting to him.

“Don’t worry, I got you seats right behind home plate for helping me make this right on such short notice.”

He keeps his head down and he sifts through envelopes, humming a ‘no thank you” before the noticeable click and end of the phone call. The metal of your gate seems to creak louder than usual, but the noise still isn’t enough for him to look your way. Not even when your steps mirror each other’s as you both make it to your respective doors. You keep peeking over as you jiggle your lock, silently trying to get his attention.

He tucks his mail between his teeth as he searches for his house key. A muffled ‘aha!’ when he finds them, quickly unlocking his own door before freeing his mouth to greet Bandit. The sound of his nails pattering excitedly against the floor fills the quiet between you two before the slam of his door.

Friday -

It had been two days since you even caught a glimpse of your confusing neighbor, making it easier to get back to your normal brain chemistry. Instead of running through your first day here over and over again, you focused on prepping for the interview you got called back for.

The bright glow of the moon breaks through the sheer curtains of your room competing with the warmth of your bedside lamp. Your bluetooth speaker is set at a volume that is only meant for you to hear while The Marias Care For You becomes the soundtrack to finally organizing your room.

You dance a little as you make your way around your space, smiling as you walk past the window. The flick of a light breaks your concentration making you search for where it came from, the regret is instant when you find the source.

You don’t know how it took you a week to realize his bedroom was right across from yours, but the way he’s walking around in nothing but a low slung towel makes you think he doesn’t know either. Water drips from the tips of his hair and down his chest, curling the dark thatch that connects to the happy trail that you’d been teased with earlier in the week. There’s a subtle dip between his hips, a soft V that taunts you.

The books in your hand slip from your grip, the hard spine connecting with the top of your toes.

“Ouch - fuck!”

You scream loud enough to duck, scared that your outburst caught his attention while your hands wrap around your foot in an attempt to soothe the pain. You rock back and forth a little until the aftershock subsides. Still too scared to stand, you crawl towards your window to see if your worst fear actually came to life.

Your fingers rest on the window pane as you slowly let your eyes peek above the wood. He’s not looking at your window, but his towel is now replaced with just as low hanging dark green mesh shorts. His back is turned towards you revealing even more freckles and moles than the ones you’d discovered on his arms and nose. His shoulder blades move as he texts someone on his phone. The glow of the screen lighting his face in the reflection of the mirror over his dresser.

You groan as you slink back, laying on your floor with a huff. Staring at the ceiling with a sweaty palm on your forehead, the image of him in the towel is etched in your mind, making your blood run hot. You’ll need better curtains for your bedroom too.

Trash, you’ll take out the trash.

There’s a chill with the breeze when you get outside, the humidity disappearing with the sun for once. The street lamp flickers over the alleyway, the glow of the full moon doing more to light your path. Goosebumps dance over the exposed skin of your legs, while you keep your eyes on your feet as you move over the uneven ground. completely focused on not rolling your ankle again, you don’t notice the sounds of sports highlights getting closer.

“God, of course he choked— umph!”

Steve’s voice catches your attention too late for you to stop the slam of your face into the hard muscles of his chest. The sound of glass breaking in your trash bag echoes loud through the quiet when you drop it next to your feet, quickly followed by the skid of his phone. Your cheek bounces lightly off of him, the material of his gray shirt soft against your skin. The hair hidden underneath is still wet enough for you to feel the way it dampens the cotton, while the mint and pine of his body wash overwhelms your senses. His hands find your hips to steady your balance, fingertips accidentally brushing the top curve of your ass when they spread wide to get a grip.

“Whoa! Easy tiger.” There’s a smirk in his words and tobacco on his breath, the heat of it fanning across your face.

Your eyes finally meet the greens of his and the golden specks are just as easy to get lost in as the first time. There’s less peppered stubble covering the sharp edges of his features, the shadowing of it signaling that he must have shaved since the last time you saw him. The moon reveals a new set of moles that sit like vampire bites on the underside of his jaw, a placement that makes you wet your lips. Your heartbeat pulsing through your fingertips wrapped in his shirt. His grip on your hips stays unwavering while he takes in your face like he missed something he didn’t know he lost.

The sound of a car honking signals its presence down the alley breaking you two apart, the headlights making you squint when they hit your line of sight. His hands drop quickly and you untangle yours, taking a step back as the car drives past at what feels like a snail's pace. There’s a beat of silence before you clear your throat.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you offer as a bad attempt at breaking the ice. It makes him snort a little, sidestepping you briefly to grab his phone that landed on the gravel next to your feet. The score of the Cubs game is still playing from the small speaker.

The low light conceals the way your eyes wander when the back of his shirt rides up as he bends down. The baseball game drowns out the sound of you swallowing hard when you don’t see an outline of briefs under his shorts. He clicks the button on the side, cutting the sportscast off abruptly and for the second time you wonder if he can hear your thoughts.

He smirks when he brings his attention back to you, almost missing the way his gaze wanders around your curves when he drops his phone in his pocket.

“You’re telling me, I thought this was an exclusive spot.” He laughs, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

There’s a beat of awkward silence this time.

“Well, not gonna force you to chat. Have a good night Steve.” You try not to let it show how much it bothers you as you pick your trash back up.

“How’s your ankle? Did the ice pack help?” He blurts out before you can walk away.

You stare at him for a second, eyes raking over his face as you try to decipher his mood swings.

“Yeah, it helped a lot. Thank you.” Your smile is small but it makes his whole face light up. “Tell Bandit I said thanks too. Maybe give him another kiss for me.”

You watch the way his ears turn the rosy color of his cheeks as he looks down, kicking the rocks at his slipper covered feet.

“I’m sure he’ll be very appreciative of such a kind gesture.” He looks at you from under his lashes, the playful spark from the day you met slowly coming back.

“I hope I didn’t do anything last week to make you uncomfortable - “ you start out, determined to address the elephant in the alley between you, and his eyes get big when he finally registers what you’re saying.

“What? Uncomfortable? No, honey - look, you didn’t do anything to make me run off like that. There’s some things about me that you don’t know, it’s just - I’m sorry,” he huffs out, shoulders slumping defeated when he realizes how he’s come across.

“I’m just trying to make some friends around here. Thought I had one in you and Bandit, but I guess not.” You try to lighten the shift in his mood when you look up at him with an exaggerated sullen face, and it works when the whites of his teeth start to show, eyes crinkling at their corners.

“We can be friends.” He chuckles with his signature nervous tick, long fingers running through damp hair. “Bandit can be a little high maintenance though.”

It’s your turn to laugh, a giggle bubbling past your lips and Steve thinks it’s one of the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard. He wants to make you do it again.

“I think I can handle him, it’s his owner I have to worry about.“ You roll your eyes before you peek over at him with a smirk.

“That old guy next door? I heard he’s pretty lame, you might give him a big head if you wanna be his friend.” He lays it on extra thick by taking the trash bag from your hand, walking the few short steps to the dumpster for you.

He tosses it in with ease, his shoulder blades moving under his shirt. The lid closes loudly, drowning out the way your heart is trying to jump from your chest when he makes his way back.

“That was a very friendly thing for you to do, Steve. Thank you,” you tease, making him snort at your bad play on words.

“Gotta make myself indispensable, tough girl.” He winks not missing a beat, lips stretching into that million dollar smile you saw him give on the phone the other day. Only this time it’s just for you.

“Well you’re really starting to build your case.” You bite your lip to try to hide the way you want to mirror him.

“Oh, you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me with good conscience.” He stops in front of you, eyes meeting yours like they did the first time. The smell of his body wash takes over again while the stray he’s always pushing back makes a reappearance. “Do me a favor though? No more taking your trash out this late. At least not alone.”

“Are you going to come over and help every time I need to take it out past nine?” You grin, crossing your arms, only half way teasing when you see a rat scurry by.

“What are friends for?” He shrugs, playing along with ease, whatever nerves he was battling with before retreating when his smile turns lopsided. The rake of his fingers through his hair seems intentional this time, especially when he licks his lips.

You wonder if he can hear the flaps of butterfly wings in your stomach, or how your breath hitches.

“Already working your way to best friend status Steve, careful,” you warn, trying to hide your nerves in humor and it works, earning a full belly laugh from him.

“Have a good night honey. I’m right next door if you need anything.” His hand reaches out as if to touch your arm, but he pulls back at the last minute, fingers flexing looking for that ‘missing’ ring again at his side.

“See you around, Steve.” You smile warmly trying to save him from whatever internal spiral you saw him trying to fight off again.

Your touch is gentle when you do what he was too scared too. His skin is warm against your palm, the muscles moving underneath the simple gesture. You trace the pad of your thumb over the same cluster of freckles twice before you let go with a squeeze, heading back to the wooden gate that closes off your shared backyard.

He doesn’t answer till you’re almost all the way through.

“I hope so!”

The smile that spreads across your face can’t be contained any longer, hidden from him when your back presses to the wooden door as your gate latches closed loudly behind it. You wait until you hear him get inside, silently trying to decipher whatever he was mumbling to himself the whole way there but failing.

You can’t help but replay the whole interaction back in your head as you make your way back upstairs, trying to manage your expectations. The words ‘there’s some things about me that you don’t know’ stick to the front of your brain like glue, just like the word ‘friends’.

You avoid your bedroom window for the rest of the night, and vow to get better curtains in the morning.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

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chapter three

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harringont smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #steve harrington slow burn #older!steve harrington

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munsster · 2 years

Text

goddamn chest hair

A/N: i mean how can you??? not???? just go heart eyes at him all the time

Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

Summary: This new development on Steve’s upper body is incredibly attractive and too good to be true. 1.7k words

Warnings: porn no plot tbh, smut, simping (LOSER HAHA. ha. i’m so lonely), kissing, teasing, body worship (?), licking/marking/hickeys, ch*st ha*r🤤, hair grabbing (?), unprotected sex (do not, or else), very mild insecurity

It’s Friday night, so it’s only fair that your boyfriend is underneath you on your bed, humming softly with a kiss-wrecked grin and his hands kindly fondling your bare ass. Naturally, the last time you had this kinda time alone was before the world nearly ended and some gooey, shithead monster totaled your car. Naturally, you were half naked before Steve even had the chance to shut the door. And so naturally, your boyfriend looks good enough to eat underneath you on your bed.

Only, he’s fully clothed, and both of you get a little hot and bothered ‘cause of it. He hasn’t stopped giggling for fifteen minutes—unless you count the split second he choked when you rolled your crotch against his skinny-jeans-boner. Other than that, yeah, he’s fully clothed. In fact, he’s wearing two shirts, which is ridiculous considering it’s Hawkins’ hottest summer yet.

So you dip your fingers beneath his polo and tug him upright, apparently rocketing him into action because he whips both tees onto your floor and wraps his arms around you to scoot you closer. Right up against his chest where you swear to God you feel his steadily ebbing heartbeat against your ribcage. He shivers when you rest one hand on the side of his neck and the other against his chest, sliding your thumb back and forth. And cocking an eyebrow. And looking down. At his full-on chest of rough, dark brown hair.

“Woah there, heartthrob. What’s next, the Magnum P.I. ‘stache?”

“God,” Steve whines, rolling his eyes and pressing his open palm to your bewildered face as he bounces back into your pillow with a thud. “Can you not tease me about this one thing?”

Your face scrunches into a little smile and you hold his wrist to press a wet kiss to the plump and worn skin of his hand.

“‘M not complaining, Harrington.” So he tenses when you lean down, your bright eyes flicking up to his, but he’s too busy running his hands over his face to watch you dip your tongue against the warmth of his lower belly. Barely grazing the tip of his happy trail and sucking at the awfully tender spot, leaving a soft pink bruise next to his belly button.

“I like it,” you whisper against his navel. So busy exploring the soft skin, you forget he’s completely red in the face. Embarrassed and in-love and rapidly discovering the two aren’t so different, after all. Discovering he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s halfway to sweating himself dry, and you’ve got not a care feeling over each rib and dip and making him irrational with his own bones. He bites back a laugh and runs his fingers over your hair because he loves you.

And each of your wet bites makes him antsy and gives him a solid sense of longing once your mouth picks up. His blunt nails scrunch the hair at the back of your neck and he bucks his hips. You slip your hand up his chest and whisper simple nothings against the buzzing column of his throat.

Then you sit up with this stupidly coquettish charm and make him want to explode.

“Jesus!” Steve wheezes. You settle into his lap and lean down to nip just below his ear, leaving him starry-eyed and officially tethered right here between your thighs.

“Get a grip, Harrington, ‘s only been a couple’a months.”

He groans with his hands firm on your hips, and nevertheless smiling just a tad despite himself. “‘It’s only been a couple’a months,’ says the nympho who totally jumped me the second I walked in. Who’s gonna buy me a week’s worth of turtlenecks?”

He’s manic in all the right ways, and deep down, you both know how cute he looks riled up like this. Feathers ruffled and undeniably proud that his little speech went off without a hitch. You slide your fingerpad over the hickey above his collarbone because, goddamnit, he looks good with traces of you pinched into his skin. He could keep you in a glass jar like a fiery bug with torn wings until you molded over, and you’d be all the better for it.

“No?” he says with that cocky smirk spread across his pretty mug. His tell. That’s his hand. And God, could he still make you fold. Even with a royal flush, you’d fold, just to know you know. He’s a real handsome bluffer.

“You’d look cute in a turtleneck—”

He wants to be so mad. You’ve cursed him. Left yourself over on his body and forced him to remember, remember, remember. But he just can’t. Not when you’re so kissable looking down at him like he’s everything.

So, he sits up and kisses you. Like he’s furious, but the only fever he’s got is the one that shares your name. Keeps him on bedrest and cracks his thermometers and looks so pretty all the goddamn time. He kisses you like if you were standing, all you could do is melt into him and trust. That kind of weight is forever his to grin and bear proudly. His mouth is strong and full of fervor and secrets both shared and whispered. But he could go mute, and you’d still love him all the same.

“Selleck,” you mumble into the wet heat of his mouth, cupping the nape of his neck and tilting your head to get at him. To taste deeper into his mouth since he quit cigarettes for you. Since he let himself be boyish and ambery in the pocket of his cheeks.

“Hmm?” He pulls away, wild and messy and wiping saliva from his bottom lip.

“Steve.”

“Ah. Sure,” he mumbles, winking at you with his mouth back against the soft of yours because there’s no sweeter comfort than this. His dream of you doesn’t come close, and he almost wishes you would tease him for thinking chest hair would make him better. Prove he’s older now, responsible and man and worth something. Oh, you’d scold him for that big time between the only praises he’ll actually digest in his life.

He takes you down with him against his body against your gentle mattress, his hands undressing you while your own ruck the jeans to his knees and let him kick the denim away. And you both know, just like this, grinding down with much else but his soft, cotton boxers between could end this much sooner than intended. So when you settle both hands beside his head and move in a sly circle, he huffs out across the corner of your mouth.

His big hands bring you forward-back with his eyes fluttered shut and his mouth only open enough for you to peck his lips. Enough to tilt his jaw wider and let you in. He’s taut against you, pressing harder against your thigh with each aching grind.

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” he mumbles, eyes still shut, hands still grasping down your hips and at your thighs.

“Don’t throw a fit just yet, Selleck.”

“That’s never going away, is it?”

“Nope!”

You peck his slack chin and snake your hand back to pump his cock over the boxers. His breath hitches behind his teeth, which is why you don’t take your time slipping him into you and sliding down pretty with your back arched.

He hisses and digs his fingertips into your ass before letting out that first sigh when you lift your hips. And he wonders how he ever forgot that feeling. Good and warm and living up to his every expectation with one stroke. And if he opens his eyes now, he knows he’ll be done for because of course you’ll look beautiful and already so blissfully undone. Because one kiss can do that to you, too.

Which is why you hide your face in the crook of his neck while rolling your hips, gracing his hot skin with careful puffs of air. Until he hears your tentative ‘missed you’ and ‘sweet boy’ and ‘more than anything’ and suddenly he’s crumbling and wrapping his arms tighter around your delicate frame.

A low moan stutters out from his open mouth but he can’t be embarrassed with you breathing terms of endearment into him like life with every slow thrust. Every ‘baby’, ‘handsome’, ‘everything’, is a testament to his ego. You swell him up until he’s sure of himself and so cocky it’s a crime. Until he’s fucking up into you, sweating like mad, your hands barely able to push his hair out of his face because he’s sliding you back and forth like some self-assured stud. Well, your self-assured stud.

You paw at his chest and sit up to ride him, panting with your head back and singing butterscotch-sweet praises with the mouth of a sailor. His lifts his leg against your ass and you reach behind to grab his knee. Your brows knitting, you jolt slightly and slide down, wringing his cock while your tender muscles twitch, thighs just begging to choke his sides.

Steve sighs through his nose with a heady moan when you whine softly and flop beside him on the bed. He’s breathless and heaving and so glad there’s something stopping him from plummeting. Even if he did he’d be so satisfied knowing he’s yours over everything. You open your eyes and wipe the back of your hand at your damp forehead.

“Somebody enjoyed the space,” he simpers, holding the side of your face and pulling you in for a sweet peck. You cup his knuckles and kiss his palm, and he may never catch his breath if you keep it up. But maybe he’d be okay. After all, he’s braved worse than your pout.

“Never again, Selleck.”

“Deal.”

masterlist

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hyunsvngs · 8 months

Note

Having a girls night with fem!lixie and she confesses that she doesn't really enjoy sex because her bf can't satisfy her so you take it into your own hands to show her how good it could feel

been thinking about this for days and i'm finally answering it baby. bc imagine both of u in cute lil matching shortie pyjamas and ur painting her nails... tw lixie is secretly evil

you're halfway through painting her nails a pretty pink. they're not too long, only just about reaching the end of her dainty little fingers. the colour is sheer, but you're planning on layering it until you look up and see a confused little pout on her face. "what is it, lixie?" you question, tilting your head to the side. "do you not like the colour? i thought this is the one you chose, right?"

"no, the colour's perfect," she sighs. you put the tiny paintbrush back in the pot, screwing the top on and putting it to her bedside table. her whole room is bathed in a soft pink glow, courtesy of a cute salt lamp and her overall vibe. when you turn back to her. she's staring down at her nails, her short blonde mullet wavy against the long column of her neck. "do you ever think you might be gay?"

you almost choke on air. "lixie, baby, i am into women. you knew that, right?"

lixie blinks, and then she's holding back a laugh. "you're right. i knew that," she shakes her head, rubbing her temples with one small hand. "i just mean... i've been dating that guy i told you about for a while now. i just don't feel a spark with any guy i date. they can never... y'know."

you raise your eyebrows. "they can never make you cum?"

she bites her lip, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "no! none of them can. so, i was gonna ask you if like... you'd help me try, since we're best friends, and then i'll know if i can cum, or even if i'm gay, and it won't even be awkward because we love eachother so much and-"

"yes," you cut her off. maybe you're being selfish, because you've wanted to get your hands on her for so long, but who cares. it's what best friends are for, right? lixie gasps at your intrusion, before she's shrugging and trying to act nonchalant. she does this a lot, screwing her cute little face up and her eyes soft but nervous. her pyjamas are soft when you let your hands go to her thighs, the pastel pink satin matching your own lilac ones. "lixie, honey, it's just me. we don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable."

she throws herself on top of you, finally dry nails on her hands going into your hair. she pauses, up close to your face, and you see her eyes flitting to your lips. her freckles are darker than normal, given that summer has just passed, and she looks so fucking beautiful you can't help but sigh. as soon as the noise passes your lips, lixie is kissing you, her tongue desperate as she darts it into your mouth.

"baby, calm down," you giggle, pushing her back onto the bed. her soft blonde waves fan out over her pillow, and she huffs, thrashing her legs. "it's just me-"

"i know it's just you, but i- you're hot, you know that," you shake your head fondly, trying to hold back a laugh. you don't even stop her when she unbuttons her pyjama shirt, yanking it off of her narrow shoulders and exposing cute, perky tits in a white lace bralette. she's just as impatient taking her shorts off, dragging them down lithe legs and exposing her matching panties. you can see how wet her pussy is through the lace, and you scoff. already?

you can't help it anymore. you giggle, shutting your eyes in disbelief. "lixie, was this all a ploy to get me into bed? you're awfully wet already."

when you open your eyes, there's a pink blush beneath her freckles. "okay, yeah, i knew you'd help me cum. he's really bad in bed, and you're sexy and clearly make me very wet. is that... i'm evil, aren't i?"

"you're a little bit evil," you muse, running your thumb over her clothed folds. "i kinda knew all along, though. slut." it's affectionate, but still makes her keen. her toned tummy jumps as you tease her, lithe legs falling further apart.

"mm, touch me more," she begs, her teeth digging into her plush bottom lip. she looks like the cat who finally got the cream. she's evil, she'd planned this, but you're so, so into it. "make me cum, yeah?"

you lean down, kissing her lips again before murmuring against them. "i'll make you cum over and over, evil girl."

#juno’s asks ♡#asks: felix #fem!skz

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dilfspitdrinker · 11 months

Text

Let The Light In | Joel Miller x reader

Description: You’ve been babysitting Joel Miller’s daughter all summer. No matter now much you try to deny it, you know you’re into him. But it’s just a little crush that you thought could never be reciprocated, until one fateful phone call. The shift between you two is irresistible, and you’re in for more than you ever anticipated. A/N: Chapter 3 is already locked and loaded, and things are gonna get good so stay tuned. For now Joel is just being soft and a dad. Should I post these on ao3 as well?? lmk bae Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

You stirred out of your sleep. Your face was tucked into the pillow, breathing in a pleasant musk. Joel’s bed was way comfier than what you had in your little apartment.

Holy shit, this is Joel’s bed.

Coming out of your sleep delirium, you’d thought that falling asleep in Joel’s bed while wearing his clothes was some scenario you created to doze off to. You could hardly believe it actually happened, sitting up to confirm that the room wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The clock said it was a little past 9 am. Good time to get up. You couldn’t place why, but you didn’t want to sleep in too much, not that you had anything to do today. Maybe it would just come off as a little juvenile. Not sure why you cared to avoid that impression.

Getting up, you darted to the bathroom. You inspected yourself in the mirror, making sure you didn’t look too disheveled, smoothing down your hair as much as possible. You just wanted to be presentable.

You heard some clattering from the kitchen, and your gut twisted with anxiety. You told yourself that this didn’t have to be awkward, it’s just Joel, he had just helped you out last night. And fed you. And given you his bed. And called you pretty– you’d almost forgotten about that part. Did he mean it like that? How else could he have meant it? You could still feel the ghost of his arms around you, strong and comforting.

Better to not overstay your welcome. You took a deep breath, hand gripping the doorknob. You just had to go out there and tell him you’re ready to go home, thanks again, see you later. That simple.

You stepped out of the bathroom and moved quickly through the hall, determined to make this quick and painless. The scene in the kitchen stopped you dead in your tracks. Joel was leaning over the stove, making what appeared to be breakfast. Your heart both soared and sank. Why did he have to be such a good host? And why did he have to look so hot doing it? Over the past 12-ish hours, every other thing he said or did made you more drawn to him. Which might even be fine if it was a one-sided crush, but it seemed like he was reciprocating. Or maybe you were delusional. Regardless, your overnight stay had you stepping further into some questionable territory, and he wasn’t helping.

“Good morning,” you finally choked out.

He turned to you and smiled, “Mornin’. Coffee?”

“Please and thank you,” you said, taking a seat at the table.

He poured a mug and set it in front of you, “Sorry I don’t have any of the fancy stuff you like in yours.”

“Black is fine with me,” you shrugged, but inside you were screaming. So he noticed the frilly drinks you’d regularly walk in with? You couldn’t believe he’d pay attention to such a thing.

You peered past him to the pans on the stove, “… But it looks like you’re cooking up some fancy stuff.”

“Naw,” he drawled, “Just some bacon and eggs.”

You dragged your hands over your face, suddenly embarrassed, “You spoil me.”

He didn’t turn around, but noticed your change in tone and chuckled, “I was gonna make this anyway, I felt like it.”

Utter lie. If he had been home alone this morning he would’ve just reached for the cereal.

He fixed you a plate. Bacon, eggs, and buttered toast. It took everything in you to not go feral. You’d always found Joel handsome, but the way he was so insistent on taking care of you made that attraction grow beyond the superficial.

He took the seat across from you with a plate of his own. To his dismay, you seemed a little closed off this morning. “You sleep okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded and tacked on, “Like a baby,” between bites. It made him smirk. Did he think you were funny, or just entertaining? Maybe it was for the best if he only saw you as some aloof little 20-something, but you felt the urge to prove yourself as more. Which could very well have serious consequences. Every ten seconds you flip-flopped between wanting to test the limits and keeping safe boundaries.

Joel’s voice pulled you out of your thought spiral, but you didn’t hear the words. “What?” your head snapped up.

He paused, searching your face. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you answered in the most convincing tone you could muster. His brows drawing closer told you it wasn’t very convincing. “Sarah sleeping in?” you asked, hoping the question could segue into you leaving soon.

He shook his head, “She spent the night at a friend’s house, be back in the afternoon.”

You nodded, but lowered your widening eyes to your plate. So last night it had been just you and Joel, alone, in his house?

“I was just saying you’re under no obligation to come over later.”

You could feel his eyes on you. “I know, I want to.”

He exhaled out his nose. It was overkill to have brought you here, wasn’t it? You were probably too polite to say no. Did you think he’d fire you if you said no? God, you probably felt like a hostage, he should’ve just dropped you off at your own place and assured you he’d stay by the phone.

You interrupted his thoughts, “I’m sorry if this has been uncomfortable for you.”

He stared at you, disbelief crossing his face. He shook his head vigorously, “No, no, you haven’t done anything. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. If you want to leave–“

“You don’t make me uncomfortable at all,” you cut him off. And suddenly you weren’t itching to leave just yet.

He cleared his throat, “I should’ve taken you back to your apartment.”

“No,” you objected, feeling less jittery by the second, “I didn’t want to be by myself there.”

He swallowed nervously, staring into the black abyss of his coffee.

“And I enjoy your company, Joel.”

He lifted his gaze to see you smiling for the first time this morning. It put him at ease.

“I’d love to come back later, what time will Sarah be here?”

“Around 2, I think.”

You nodded. “Thank you for breakfast.” Your mind betrayed your heart as you said, “I probably should get going, though.”

Joel led you out to the truck, holding the door open for you.

The drive to your place was mostly silent, except for the low hum of the radio. Joel was familiar with the area, and only needed directions once you approached your street.

Once in your driveway, you grabbed the door handle to let yourself out, but hesitated. “Thanks again Joel. Don’t know what I would’ve done last night if it wasn’t for you.”

“Anything for you darlin’.”

The nickname reassured you. “I’ll see you later, then,” you tugged at his hoodie you still had on, “And I’ll get your clothes back to you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m in no rush to get ‘em back.”

You were unlocking your front door when he rolled down the window, calling after you. “Let me know if that guy ever comes by to bother you!”

“I will!” you waved.

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Back at home, Joel sauntered to his room. He hadn’t slept the best on the the couch, and since he had nothing else to do, might as well take a nap.

He paused at the foot of his bed. The sheets were rumpled on the right side, where you’d been. The pillow indented where you’d rested your head. Even your clothes from last night were in a little pile on the corner, you must’ve forgotten them. He settled into his usual spot on the left, wanting to leave your side undisturbed. Your side? He willed himself to stop those sort of thoughts, but the mere ghost of your presence was enough to make his mind run wild.

*. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * ·

After a few hours of mindlessly doing chores and channel surfing, 2 o’clock eventually rolled around. You stared at Joel’s clothes sitting on your bed, neatly folded. The right and logical and normal thing to do would be to take them back now since you’re going to his house. But it wouldn’t be so terrible if you forgot, right?

As you drove back to his house, you debated for the thousandth time how you should approach this. So he was a little flirty, but was than an invitation to lean into it? Would he mess with your emotions like that if there was no intention behind it?

You stood at Joel’s doorstep, sternly reminding yourself to be in work mode. As if you hadn’t been here less than 5 hours ago. As if you hadn’t spent the night. As if you weren’t pining over your damn employer.

You opened the unlocked door and announced yourself. Joel called from the living room over the sound of the TV.

He was sitting on the far end of the couch, arms and legs stretched out. “Welcome back. Sarah should be here any minute now,” he flashed a smile.

You’d never really been nervous around him before, he had always been a kind and disarming presence, at least to you. You forced yourself to push down your nerves and say something normal. “Haven’t seen you in forever, how’ve you been?”

It earned a chuckle out of him, “Not bad. How about yourself?”

“Can’t complain,” you managed smoothly, but your actions didn’t match your words as you hovered awkwardly near the coffee table.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” he beckoned. He wanted so badly to coax you out of this timidness.

You gingerly sat on the other end of the couch, eyes locked on the TV.

He shot a sideways glance at you. “I don’t bite.”

A hundred possible responses crossed your mind, none of them witty or charming or funny enough for you to dare speak them. It was all you could do to not throw yourself at him. I wouldn’t mind if you did bite me-

The rattling of the front door saved you. Joel quickly got up to meet Sarah at the entryway.

She hugged her dad tightly. Joel smiled broadly. The sight warmed your heart.

“Have fun baby girl?”

She nodded, then finally noticed you on the couch. She gasped your name and ran over to hug you, and all the tension in you faded. But when she pulled away, a frown crossed her face. She turned to Joel, “Are you leaving?”

“No baby, just thought you’d want some company.”

“Awesome!” she excitedly turned back to you, “I got this new friendship bracelet kit, we can make them for each other, I’ll go get it!”

You and Joel had smiles on your faces as you watched her run off to her room, returning shortly with an armful of boxes. Apparently she had also picked out several board games, which you spent the next several hours playing. You and Joel let her win most of the time, but were cheekily competitive over second place.

Around 5, he kept glancing at his watch, hardly invested anymore. He already had an escape plan, just needed this game to end.

“I win!” Sarah pumped her fist in the air. “We need to play this one again so you can get better, Dad.”

You nudged him, “Yeah, you need more practice.”

He gave you a knowing look, staring right into the teasing glimmer in your eyes.

“You guys want burgers?” he diverted, already standing up.

You and Sarah agreed.

He clapped his hands together, “Alright, I’m gonna man the grill, you two behave,” he pointed.

“Yes sir,” you quipped, getting a laugh out of Sarah who then copied you.

You finally got to making those friendship bracelets, Sarah excitedly showing you all the different patterns you could do.

*. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * ·

“Look Dad!” she held out her little wrist.

Joel came nearer to the couch until he was leaning over the two of you. “Let’s see,” he took Sarah’s hand in one of this, and yours in the other, turning them slightly to look at the bracelets. “That’s some nice handiwork,” he squeezed your hand before letting it go. You glanced up at him, and his eyes were so soft. You exchanged countless sentiments in that moment.

Joel was extremely grateful that you were the one looking after Sarah. Over the summer, he had noticed how quickly you and his daughter formed a bond, and he was glad she had someone like you when he couldn’t be there. But now that he had also been part of your day, all together… He wanted you here all the time. And that was a slippery slope.

“I’ll make you one later Dad,” Sarah said. “Can we watch a movie?”

You stayed at the Miller’s until Joel sent Sarah to bed, and even hung around for a bit after that, just making conversation. He asked about your classes, your friendship prospects, your apartment. You complained about the finicky sink and he immediately offered to fix it.

“You know plumbing stuff?” you asked, wincing internally at your clumsy phrasing.

“I can do anything you need me to, darlin’.”

He noticed the way you got flustered.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow after work, if you’re available.”

“Yeah, my last class ends at 3.”

“I’ll see you then,” he leaned toward you, “Not that I’m kicking you out. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Bed’s all yours whenever you need it, you know that.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not treating your house as a place to crash, Joel.”

“Well you could and I wouldn’t mind.”

He got you flustered again, and enjoyed it a little too much.

On your drive home, you were unable to stop thinking about how… domestic that evening had been. How Sarah squished herself between you and Joel on the couch, something Disney on the TV. He had put his arm around his daughter, his hand not-so-subtly brushing your shoulder. He even poked you when there was an adult joke, Sarah looking between you two and demanding to know what’s so funny.

That night was hot. You turned the up AC until it chilled your whole room, until it gave you goosebumps. Just so you could slip on Joel’s hoodie and sweatpants to sleep.

Chapter 3

Masterlist

#joel miller #tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou hbo #tlou game

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keqism · 2 years

Text

an ice pack and a kiss

⚘ pairing: heizou x gn!reader

⚘ genre: fluff, modern!au

⚘ warnings: pet names, a brief (loving) threat of murder, use of heizou’s full name (because i love it)

⚘ summary: your bratty boyfriend won’t stop cuddling you in the blistering heat, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

summer was never your favorite season.

the heat made your skin sweaty, the hair at the nape of your neck clinging to your sticky skin. your local farmer's market only offered strawberries and watermelon, and apples weren't in season.

and of course, sleeping with your boyfriend was a nightmare because shikanoin heizou is a cuddler.

though he's usually independent around his peers at law school, heizou gets unbearably clingy when he's with you. when the two of you eat dinner together, his feet are pressed against yours under the dining table. when you fry him katsudon, he tightly hugs you from behind, arms wrapped around you and head resting on your shoulder (although he ceaselessly complains about the hot oil burning his face). when you watch law & order together on saturday nights, heizou's curled up on the sofa with his head in your lap, insisting that you play with his hair while he mouths off about the characters on the screen.

no matter how many times you've reminded him of your personal space ("you brat, get away from me!" "babe don't be mean :("), shikanoin heizou sticks next to you like a piece of old gum on a shoe.

just like he was doing right now.

the air in your room felt thick and suffocating, your breathing labored from the humidity. your sight was hazy—from both sleepiness and the heat—and you could barely make out the numbers on your alarm clock. summer nights were brutal in inazuma, and tonight felt especially sweltering. the heat made you cranky, so cranky that you roughly shoved your boyfriend's arm off of your waist and rolled away from his ovenlike embrace.

archons, you are insufferable, shikanoin heizou, you huffed, turning your pillow over to the colder side and closing your eyes to chase the sleep that evaded you. a few blissful moments passed and you felt yourself doze off, drifting closer to your long-awaited dreams—until searing warmth pressed against your back. heizou—that brat!—was hugging you again.

your eyes snapped open, and you abruptly sat up in bed. you could have sworn there was steam coming out of your ears as you grabbed your pillow and raised it above your head before bringing it down on your boyfriend's head with all your might.

whack. heizou gasped, his auburn hair messy as he sprang up and latched onto your arm. "ow ow ow! what was that for?" he whined, his voice hoarse and groggy from sleep.

you smacked him with the pillow again, ignoring his cries of protest. "heizou, i will make you sleep on the floor if you come close to me one more time," you threatened, shaking your pillow as a warning. "i'm sweating because of you and i can't sleep."

"but i wanna hold you," heizou pouted, inching closer to you. "please babe? i can get you an ice pack if you're that hot."

archons, curse his stupid cute face, you thought before pushing him towards the edge of the bed. "fine, but bring two ice packs. and you owe me a kiss," you grumbled.

heizou beamed, pressing a brief kiss on your cheek before scampering to the kitchen. the apartment was silent as he rummaged through the freezer before sprinting back towards your room. heizou leapt onto the bed and pecked your lips this time before proudly showing you the contents of his hand.

"i got three ice packs," he beamed, scooting closer to you and holding his arms out in invitation. "cuddle now?"

you reluctantly sank into his arms and heizou buried his face into your neck, his stifling body heat balanced out by the coldness of the ice packs. fatigue settled into your bones; you quickly dozed off, heizou following behind you.

shikanoin heizou was witty and brash, yet sweet and eager to please. despite his difficult personality, you loved him a lot.

you loved him, even as he accidentally kicked you in his sleep.

"heizou, i'm going to murder you!"

"babe i'm sorry!"

a/n: inspired by this post. this weather is preposterous but i would let heizou hug me <3 reminder that my taglist is available here!

#genshin impact fluff #heizou x reader #genshin impact heizou #genshin heizou #shikanoin heizou #heizou fluff #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fics #꒰ა a memory of forever ໒꒱

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suguwu · 11 months

Text

lover be good to me: part four

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it’s your wedding day.

masterlist

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: we are finally at the end. thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me. this fic truly is dear to me and i can't believe it's finally done.

as always, massive thanks to my beta for both the edits and the endless support throughout the process, especially when i thought writing this fic would never end.

title and part title are from hozier’s “be”

tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, food consumption, non-graphic partner death (not kita), grief/mourning, healing, love as a choice.

wc: 12k

You settle into the farmhouse.

It’s easier than you thought. Maybe it’s the way Yoshida is brusque but kind; she’s not careful with you. It’s a refreshing change of pace.

You find yourself at her side most nights, chopping vegetables or marinating tofu as she tells you about growing up in the country. She spins stories like thread, weaving them together like the expert seamstress she is. Her son joins in some nights too.

You still get lost sometimes, though.

The early mornings are the worst.

The birds sing you to wakefulness, their song high and trilling, and you press your face into the pillow with a groan. “Loud. Shut the window, Aoshi,” you mumble, shoving out at him. Your hand hits empty space and your brow scrunches. You push to your elbows and find a room that’s not your own, though you blearily recognize the suitcase tucked into the closet.

You shift on the bed and realize it’s too small. A twin.

It all comes pouring back in.

“Fuck,” you say, low and quiet. The tears pool in your eyes, burning hot, and you try to blink them back to no avail. You curl in on yourself like a fiddlehead as you lie back down.

You do not move for a very long time.

The world has gone blue when there’s a knock on your door, twilight settling in like the ocean tide, easing its way across the sky. You don’t answer. Another knock comes and then there’s Kita’s voice murmuring your name.

You almost ignore him. But there’s something in his voice you can’t resist, a melancholy thread woven in through the syllables of your name. You get to your feet and open the door.

Kita studies you for a moment. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go.”

You blink. “Go where?”

“My place. I’m cookin’.”

“Shinsuke—”

“I know.”

You bite at your lower lip. Kita meets your gaze steadily, his amber eyes darkened to a deep, sweet brown by the dim lighting. There’s a promise in them too.

“Okay,” you say at last. “Let me get dressed.”

He waits downstairs as you throw on some clothes. You can hear him talking quietly to Yoshida. He gives you a little smile when you join him at the genkan.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

It’s true autumn now and the slight chill in the air proves it. The rice stalks are spun gold, swaying in the wind as the truck trundles down the road to Kita’s farm. You watch a stork wade carefully through the fields. It dips down with its long, elegant neck and disappears from sight.

The radio is playing quietly. Kita hums along with it sometimes, mostly at the old, crooning ballads. You watch the countryside roll by, the farmhouses little ships in the night, their lit windows a beacon as dusk falls.

He bundles you into the farmhouse when you arrive, handing you a pair of house slippers that have little radishes on them. You can’t help your smile.

You follow him into the living room and settle at the kotatsu when he points you there. It’s close enough that you can see into the kitchen through the open archway; he rolls up his sleeves and starts gathering ingredients from the fridge and the pantry.

“Can I help?” you ask after a few minutes, getting to your feet and joining him.

“Sure,” he says, handing you a freshly-washed daikon. “Slice that real thin, please.”

You make a cut. “This thin enough?”

He peers over. “A little thinner,” he says. “Can I?”

You nod and he takes your hands briefly, guiding them to the thinness he wants and pressing down. His hands are warm, his fingers and palm rough with calluses that catch lightly against your skin. He curls his fingers around yours, his tendons going taut, and pushes down. The knife slides through the daikon and stops against the cutting board.

“There,” he says. “Like that.”

“Okay.”

He nods and heads back to his cutting board which is laden down with a bright medley of varying vegetables. “What’re you doin’ tomorrow?'' he asks.

“Nothing,” you say. “Why?”

You sound more defensive than you mean to. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a sharp flicker of amber, but says nothing.

“Was thinking you could come out to the fields with me.”

“I don’t know,” you say.

“It’d be good for you to get outside,” he says mildly. “Rather than being up in yer room all day.”

Your knife thunks against the cutting board. Kita is unperturbed, only glancing your way briefly to make sure you’re not injured. He goes back to peeling carrots, his lean, strong hands moving quickly and with steady confidence.

You study him for a moment, taking in the set of his lips and the soft furrow of his brow. You sigh.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll come.”

He flashes you a tiny quirk of his lips, a smile that’s as fleeting as a summer storm and just as warm.

“Good.”

He keeps cooking as he talks, pulling you from your thoughts when you get lost in them, when the fog starts to roll back in like a marine layer. It’s uncanny, how well he can tell when you’ve been set adrift. He’s a mooring you didn’t know you needed.

Kita hums his thanks as you give him the daikon. He slips them into a pickling mix before handing you a cucumber.

“Peel and cut thin?” you ask.

“Yup.”

As you peel, you can’t help but watch as he moves about the kitchen. He moves as efficiently as ever, no wasted movement, but there’s something soft to it too. You can’t quite pin it down.

“Yer staring.”

“Am I?”

“You know you are.”

You shrug, starting to cut up the cucumber. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing important,” you say, waving him off. “Tell me how Aran is doing, he and I haven’t talked for a while.”

The rest of the cooking goes by quickly as you talk and soon you’re both settled at the kotatsu. It’s radiating warmth. You snuggle deeper into it; with the sun fully set, it’s grown even more chilly outside despite the heat of the day. Winter is still a ways off, but you can feel the first touch of it hidden in the autumn breeze that leaks in through the window Kita had left cracked to keep the kitchen from overheating.

You glance over the food. Kita’s kept it simple but hearty. There’s steam curling through the air in little smoky wisps. You watch as it dissipates and then take the plate that Kita hands you with a small thank you.

It’s a good meal. The two of you talk through it with ease, never missing a beat and rarely with an awkward pause. When you lapse into silence, it’s comfortable.

“I should go,” you say eventually, glancing at the clock. “I don’t want to wake Yoshida when I come in.”

“Alright.”

He drives you home, the headlights of his truck cutting through the night. The moon is out now; it bathes the fields with light until they practically shimmer. The crickets are calling, their song audible even over the low purr of the truck’s engine.

When you pull up to Yoshida’s, there’s a light still on at the engawa, a soft glow to lead you home. It warms something in you.

Kita walks you to the door.

“How early do I have to get up tomorrow?” you ask. “Do I even want to know?”

He laughs quietly. “Ya don’t need to keep my schedule,” he says. “I’ll come get you after lunch.”

“Okay.”

He looks at you. His usual stoicness has faded into something warm and open; you take a deep breath. You bid him a quiet goodnight that he returns just as quietly, his amber eyes knowing.

You go to sleep with your hand wrapped around your wedding rings.

***

“Sunscreen,” Kita says, holding out the tube to you.

“I know, I know,” you grouse, taking it from him. “You don’t have to remind me.”

“You forgot last time.”

“Point taken.”

You apply the sunscreen as he gathers what he needs. He’s still rustling around when you finish. You turn your face up to the sun, letting the rays brush over your skin like a lover, a sweet kiss of heat.

When you open your eyes again, Kita is watching you with a tiny smile, a crescent moon of a thing. Something in you pangs.

You glance away from him and look to the rolling fields instead. In the bright sunlight, they’re Midas-touched, scorched gold with a hint of green at the bottom of each stem. It’s a sea of rice, rippling in the breeze like kelp caught in the ocean’s current, and it’s beautiful in a way that makes you feel small.

Kita comes up beside you and gazes at his farm.

“It’s pretty,” you tell him.

“It’s gotta get cut,” he says.

“I know.”

He glances at you. You blink as he reaches out and smudges his thumb against your cheek. It’s gentle, his touch careful despite the rough calluses on the pad of his thumb. “Ya missed some sunscreen,” he says, rubbing it in with a light sweep. He lingers for a moment before pulling away.

“Oh. Thanks,” you say, biting at your lower lip as he turns away.

“C’mon,” Kita says.

You follow him deep into the field, to a swath of already cleared land. The two of you settle at the edge of it. You watch as he lays out a woven bag with a label stamped on the front of it. He crouches down by the nearest stems of uncut rice and runs a hand over them, thumbing at the panicles with a deft movement.

You don’t think he knows he’s smiling.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask.

He glances back at you. “Can you lay out the bags? One at each pole should do.”

You nod and set to work. He starts cutting at the rice. He makes it look easy, slicing through the stems as if they’re butter. The rice stalks start to pile up beside him as you make your way down the field with the bags.

He’s made a significant dent by the time you’re back. He leans back on his heels as you approach again, wiping off his forehead with the back of his hand. His hair is clinging to him, dark with sweat, deepening the color to slate gray, like the winter sea. He smiles at you.

“Can I try again?”

He’d taught you how to cut last time after you asked, citing the fact that you’ve been coming to the field with him for almost two weeks without trying.

“Sure,” he says. He hands you a pair of gloves; you slip them on. “D’ya remember how to hold it?”

You kneel next to him, wrapping your fingers around a handful of stems. “Like this, yeah?”

“Thumb pointing up,” he says, reaching out and adjusting your grip. “And tighter.”

He tightens his grip around your hand to show you, his strong fingers flexing. You copy him and he lets go when he’s satisfied with your grip. He hands you the knife—curved with a wicked edge—and sits back on his heels again.

“15 centimeters, yeah?” you ask, setting the edge of the knife against the stalks there.

“That’ll work.”

You slice in a downward angle; the stalks part beneath the blade like silk. You hand off the rice to him to add to the pile. You keep working, feeling the sweat start to gather on your back, a few droplets rolling down before getting absorbed by your shirt.

“Good,” he says.

He lets you do a few more handfuls before he takes the knife back. You watch him work. He’s much quicker than you, moving with an easy grace.

“Why don’t ya head back to the truck,” he says, slicing through another handful of stalks. “I’m almost done.”

You listen to him, heading back to the truck and settling in the bed of it, swinging your feet off the edge. You lay back and turn your gaze up to the sky, watching as a flock of birds goes soaring past, their wings dark against the deep blue of the sky.

Kita joins you after a bit. You’ve been watching a hawk circle, riding the current high above you, and you don’t bother to sit up when you hear him approaching.

He climbs up into the truck bed. He settles next to you and then lays down beside you, staring up at the sky with you.

The two of you are quiet. You watch as the hawk wheels and wheels overhead before it dives down, dropping like a shooting star through the sky.

You turn towards him; he’s already looking at you. His amber eyes are soft and you suck in a breath, your stomach flipping.

“Shinsuke,” you say gently. “You know I can’t give you what you want, right?”

“I’m not askin’ you for anything,” he says, just as gently.

“I know. I just—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, with Aoshi gone.”

He studies you for a moment. Then he smiles, warm and sweet and a little bit sad.

“It’s always what you’re willing to give,” he says. “Nothing more and nothing less. That’s the only idea I have.”

You suck in a breath, fidgeting with your sleeve.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay.”

You both go quiet again.

Kita pushes up to his elbows; you peer up at him.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get going.”

“‘Kay.”

He hops down from the truck bed gracefully before holding out a hand to help you down. You hesitate. He waits patiently, looking up at you. You take his hand without a word, his calluses rough against your palm.

You’re both quiet on the drive back to Yoshida’s. You spend the time looking out the window, watching the fields roll by. There are other farmers still hard at work, their blades flashing in the last dregs of the sunlight, like a dance. It’s a sight you never tire of.

The sun has almost set by the time Kita drops you off. You toe off your shoes in the genkan and find Yoshida in the kitchen, scrubbing down the counter. There’s something savory in the air, rich and thick, and you spot a pot bubbling away on the stovetop, steam curling up from it like smoke.

She eyes you for a moment. You don’t know what she sees in your face, but she gestures you into a seat.

“The fields are doing ya some good,” she says, her eyes still on the soapy counter.

“Are they?”

She nods decisively. “Yer different. You’re coming back to the world.”

You bite at your lip, worrying the flesh between your teeth. It doesn’t feel like it to you; some days you think you’ll never be in step with the world again, destined to always be just a few paces behind.

“It’s hard to see it in yerself,” Yoshida says. “But it’s there.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

You can’t help the smile. A smile blooms on her lips too, small but sure.

“I need to weed tomorrow. Could use your help, unless Shin-chan is going to steal you away again.”

“I’ll help,” you say, ignoring the last bit.

She studies you with keen eyes, opening her mouth to say something, but the front door opens and her son calls out a greeting.

The rest of the night is quiet and morning comes before you know it.

You stare up at the ceiling as the sun rises, watery light leaking in through the sheer curtains. For a moment, you consider rolling over and going back to bed, but you can hear Yoshida shuffling around in her room. You resign yourself to getting up for the day.

A light breakfast later, you’re on your knees in the garden. The soil is still wet with morning dew and it sticks to your skin. The scent of wet loam rises around you, like the earth is welcoming you home. You let it fill your lungs.

The garden is a beautiful one, lush with autumn vegetables. You weed around the fat, sunshine yellow squashes, each one brighter than the last. The carrots are just peeking above the soil, little suns creeping up over the horizon. Their greens sway gently in the breeze.

You’ve forgone gardening gloves despite Yoshida’s offer. It feels good to sink your fingers into the dirt, to pinch the weeds’ roots and pull them up gently.

You’re still working when Kita’s truck trundles up the driveway. You sit back on your haunches and wipe the sweat from your brow as he gets out and comes your way.

“Hi,” he says with a little smile. “Hard at work, I see.”

“Gotta earn my keep,” you say, earning a snort from Yoshida who is working just a garden bed over.

“You have time for a break?”

“Depends,” you say, glancing at the bag he’s carrying. “Are those snacks?”

“Yup.”

“Then I do,” you say, pushing to your feet. “Let me go wash my hands.”

You eat together on the engawa, gazing out into the farmland. The wind chimes rustle above you, clinking lightly, a crystalline symphony just for the two of you. You sit back on your hands as Kita unpacks what he’s brought.

It’s onigiri. They’re still warm, steam curling up from them when you break one open. A little bit of the filling spills out but you’re quick to catch it on your thumb, popping it into your mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “They’re good.”

“Yer welcome.”

“You take care of me so well,” you say with a little laugh.

“I try,” he says, utterly serious.

You flinch. It’s tiny, but from the way his gaze finds you, a firefly flicker, he notices. But he doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to take another bite of his onigiri.

“Shin-chan,” Yoshida calls. “Come help an old woman with the watering.”

You glance up to see that she’s heaving a full bucket of water towards the garden. Kita pushes to his feet immediately, crossing to her in a few easy strides. He takes the bucket without even pausing, lifting it with a single hand.

“Granny,” he chides. “Ya could’ve gotten hurt.”

She shrugs. He follows her to the garden beds, glancing back to send you a little smile. You watch him as he carefully waters the garden under Yoshida’s rigid instructions. The sun catches in his hair, bronzes his tanned skin. That same smile he’d flashed you lives on his lips, a quiet contentment tucked up secret into the corner of his mouth.

Kita comes back to you when he’s finished watering, settling at your side on the engawa once more. He eats the rest of his onigiri quickly.

“I’ve gotta get back to the fields,” he tells you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Go do your job.”

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling with it.

He leaves soon after. You watch him go, until all you can see of his truck is the cloud of dust being kicked up behind it, until the horizon swallows him.

Yoshida stands next to you on the engawa, shading her eyes as she watches him go too.

“He’s a good man,” she says casually.

You glance at her.

“He is.”

“You could do much worse in a man.”

“It’s not like that.”

She raises a brow.

“It’s not. It’s just…complicated,” you say, winding your fingers through your necklace’s chain. Your rings clink against each other softly, the sound lost in the myriad of wind chimes surrounding you. For a moment you drift, tears pricking at your eyes before you blink them away.

“‘Course it is,” she says. “Most things are. But ah, pay no mind to an old lady. Let’s go harvest some of the squash.”

You spend the rest of the day in the garden, harvesting away. The first frost isn’t too far off and you need to make sure you don’t lose any of the vegetables to it. Yoshida tells you exactly what to pick and what to leave.

Night falls and you cook the first of the squash, painting it with a sweetened miso glaze that gleams stickily as you serve it. Yoshida makes a few side dishes too, putting them in pretty kobachi dishes. They’re delicate things, the soft silver of the moon, and you find yourself thinking of Kita.

You shake yourself free of the thought before it fully forms. Yoshida’s son pulls you into a conversation and you chatter the night away, until you’re yawning between sentences. You finally trudge up to your room.

The window lets in the faintest hint of gossamer moonlight. You gaze out into the night, into the endless countryside. You can just barely make out the next farmhouse, a lighthouse in the sea of darkness, its lights glittering on the very edge of the horizon.

It looks lonely. You think of Kita again, of the little island of his farmhouse, how it’s tucked between the paddies with no other home in sight. You think of him alone at the kotatsu, reading glasses perched on his nose, and feel something in your chest clench.

You pull the curtains shut and go to bed.

***

The rest of the week rolls by and so does the next. It grows colder each day, winter’s first kiss. The leaves are going orange, as if little fires are catching the edges. It sets the trees ablaze with color. You hop from leaf to leaf as you and Kita walk along the road, delighting in each little crunch.

“Having fun?” he calls out.

You turn around to face him, shading your eyes with one hand. His more sedate pace has left him lagging, but he’s quickly catching up now that you’ve stopped. “Can’t you tell?”

His breath mists in the air, a marine layer, and his lips quirk up into a little smile. “I can,” he says. “Just be careful, yeah? There’s still some frost lingering.”

You hum an acknowledgement and stomp on your next leaf. He chuckles quietly and you fall back to walk with him, shoving your hands into your pockets to ward off the cold.

“Hey,” you say softly. “You know my sabbatical is almost over, right?”

He nods. “I know.”

“I think I’m gonna go home midweek next week,” you say. “Just to give myself some time to settle before I have to go back to work.”

“Makes sense,” he says. “Let me know the details and I’ll get you to the station.”

The two of you keep walking, huddling into each other slightly when the wind picks up. Some of his hair wisps across your face, the touch like silk against your skin. You shiver with it and return your gaze to the countryside, to the rolling hills and the shorn paddies.

One or two of the trees are already fully bare; they reach towards the sky with long-fingered branches. There’s a murmur of swallows nestled in the nearest one, so numerous it’s as if the tree has leaves again. As you watch, they take to the skies, undulating through the soft gray-blue of it.

“I’ll miss it,” you say softly.

“Bein’ here?”

“Yeah.”

“Ya can come back anytime, y’know. There’s always a place for you.”

You glance at him. His stoic face has softened and you think of the thaw of a spring day. How the quiet warmth of it melts the chill away.

“Thanks, Shinsuke.”

“Mhm.”

The two of you walk together quietly before turning around to head back to Kita’s farm when the chilly breeze becomes a whistling wind. It whips through the fields to cut through your clothing and you press into Kita without thinking, seeking the warmth of his solid form. He unwinds his scarf and drapes it around your neck; you don’t bother to protest. He’s immovable about things like this. Instead, you burrow into the warmth of it.

You all but tumble into the genkan of the farmhouse. Kita follows you at a more sedate pace. You toe off your shoes and slip on your usual pair of house slippers. He does the same and you watch as he puts his shoes away carefully, arranging them perfectly within the cubby.

You both settle at the kotatsu, huddling under the thick down of the blanket. You trace a finger over one of the origami cranes patterned into it. They’re perfect, so different from the clumsy paper cranes you’d both made with some of the local children the other day.

Kita turns on the kotatsu. It starts to warm almost immediately and you sink into the heat of it with a quiet sigh.

“What’re you smiling about?” you ask him.

“You,” he says simply.

You roll your eyes. “Okay,” you say.

“D’ya want tea?”

“Sure.”

He slips out from under the kotatsu and heads into the kitchen. You turn enough that you can still see him; you like watching him make tea. He’s careful and respectful of the process from beginning to end, but you like how it loosens his shoulders, how he unfurls, a night-blooming flower.

He rejoins you at the kotatsu once the tea is made, handing you a steaming cup. The scent of it billows through the air. When you sip at the tea, it settles warm in your chest, pushing out the autumn chill.

“You’ll have to teach me how to make tea like this,” you tell Kita.

He smiles into his cup. “It’s not hard.”

“Says you.”

“Might not have time to teach you before you go,” he says with a frown. “The farm—”

“You can teach me when you visit.” You pause. “You will visit, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” you say, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You can teach me then.”

He agrees and the conversation flows until it’s late. You peer out into the darkness and see the moon—full-bellied with light—is beginning to set, sinking through the dark ocean of the sky like an anchor.

“Shit,” you say. “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“S’fine,” Kita says. “I don’t mind.”

“I know, I know. Ugh, I’m gonna wake up Yoshida when I get in.”

“You can stay, y’know.”

You glance at him. He meets your gaze steadily.

“I have a guest room,” he reminds you.

“Okay,” you say after a moment. “Okay.”

“You’ll have to get up early, though.”

“That’s fine.”

He smiles softly. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s finish cleaning up.”

You clean up the kotatsu quickly; despite the late hour, Kita still takes the time to wash the dishes. He washes them with careful concentration and something in your chest pangs.

“Go ahead to the guest room,” he says. “‘M almost done here. I’ll see if I can find you somethin’ to sleep in.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright.”

The guest room is homey, with a handmade quilt patterned with rice plants that almost look like they’re rippling in the wind. You trace a finger over one of them as you glance around the rest of the room, taking in the way the stark cleanliness is offset by the items scattered about: the fan patterned with cherry blossoms hanging on the wall; the plant at the window, lush despite the season; a paperweight on the desk, glass swirled through with blue and white, the ocean roiling within it. It’s not quite Kita, but you can sense him in it all the same.

Kita knocks on the door frame. You turn to look at him. “Here,” he says, holding out a toothbrush and toothpaste. “Thought you might need these.”

“Thanks,” you say, sending him a little smile. “Appreciate it.”

“‘Course.”

“Night, Shinsuke.”

“G’night,” he says. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

He disappears into his room.

You get ready for bed and slide under the covers. The quilt is heavy and warmth builds quickly under it, like a banked fire. You turn your face into the pillow to hide from the moonlight slanting in through the window. The pillowcase smells vaguely like Kita and the simple detergent he uses.

Sleep comes easily.

So easily that it feels like you’ve only been asleep for a second when Kita’s knocking on the guest room door to rouse you for the day. Blearily, you slip on your clothing before trudging into the kitchen.

Kita glances up as you enter. His hair is still damp from the shower; it glistens like the gray winter sea beneath a bleak sun.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Hi,” you grumble.

He breathes out a quiet laugh. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get you home.”

You drowse on the ride back to Yoshida’s, just aware enough to hear the quiet hum of the radio as it fills the truck’s cab. The sun is starting to rise, the first fingers of light painting the horizon orange, like embers just beginning to catch. You turn away from it, curling into yourself in the front seat.

The truck rumbling to a halt wakes you. You grouse and Kita laughs again. He doesn’t bother to dodge when you swat at him.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you say with a yawn, one hand on the car door’s handle, already looking forward to crawling back into bed.

“‘Course,” he says. “You always have a place with me.”

You pause.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I know.”

His eyes crinkle with his smile.

“Go to work,” you tell him.

“Yes ma’am.”

You hop out and head to the genkan. You hear the truck rumble to life behind you, the engine practically purring. By the time you make it to the genkan and look back, Kita is already down the road.

You watch until he’s gone from view.

***

This early, the train station is quiet.

The sun is still rising, casting pale golden rays across the parking lot. It haloes Kita in light as he pulls your suitcase from the truck bed, his muscles flexing with the movement. You take it from him and the two of you head towards the platform together.

“Travel safe, alright?” he says when you come to a halt just before the doors.

“Shinsuke,” you say, “thank you for everything.”

“Anytime.”

“You’ll visit?”

“I’ll visit,” he confirms. “You?”

“I’ll come back,” you say.

“Good.”

He smiles at you, a slow, sweet thing that makes you think of the sun’s rise. It’s steady and sure, unshakeable.

You throw your arms around him in a hug. He stumbles for a second, caught off guard, but he catches himself quickly and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly. You bury your face in his shoulder. He smells like plain soap, fresh and clean, with the faintest kiss of lemon, a touch of sour citronella that you know he uses for the fields.

When you pull away, the tips of his ears are pink.

“Bye, Shinsuke,” you say.

“Bye,” he says softly.

You head inside the station. When you glance back, you can just make out the silhouette of him, lean and strong. He must be able to see you, because he gives a little wave before he turns away.

The train is almost empty when you board it and you settle in a window seat. You close your eyes and turn your face towards the sun, the gentle rays just barely starting to warm as they brush against your skin.

You open your eyes when the train starts to move, peering out of the window as the countryside speeds by. The rice fields are shorn short now but the gold of them hasn’t faded. The remains of the stalks reach towards the great blue sky, two expanses meeting. Beyond the fields, even the hills are going golden, though they’re slower, with green patches scattered across them like lily pads in a pond.

You think you might be leaving a part of yourself in the expanse of the country. That the fields have swallowed up some part of you, like the earth swallows a seed. It makes something in you pang.

Soon enough, the countryside melts away into the suburbs. Then come the neon lights of the city, streaking by like fireflies, little blips of color that blink to life here and there.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed it.

The house is quiet when you step into the genkan; only the musical clink of your keys fills the space. The greeting is on the tip of your tongue, but you catch it behind your teeth and swallow it back down. You take in a deep breath and set your suitcase down before brushing by the photos in the entryway, most of them facedown.

It takes time to unpack. Most of your clothes are clean, but you run a load of laundry anyway, listening to the way the water swishes and spins, the low rumble of it filling the house. You text Kita to let him know you’ve arrived safely and then collapse onto your couch, staring up at the ceiling.

You don’t know how long you lie there before you hear the door to the house open. Muffled bickering floats to you from the genkan and you push yourself up just as Abe comes barreling around the corner.

She skids to a stop just before the couch and grins down at you.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply. “Did you break in?”

“No,” Yoshikawa says, appearing from around the corner. She twirls something around her finger; it glints in the light. “Used the spare.”

“It’s funny,” you say. “I don’t remember inviting either of you over.”

She shrugs elegantly, her long hair swaying like kelp in a current. “Did you really think we were going to miss you coming home?”

“No,” you say with a little laugh. “I didn’t.”

“Good.”

You exchange hugs with both of them, holding them tightly and yelping when Abe spins you in a circle. Yoshikawa is more sedate but her hug is strong and warm. You blink away the tears before they can fall.

The three of you settle into the living room. You catch up with each other easily, swapping stories and laughing together, the sound billowing through the room to fill even the darkest corners with joy. Your heart aches as Abe throws back her head and laughs, her dark hair shimmering in the light, her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

“You’re too easily entertained,” Yoshikawa informs her, but there’s a smile playing at her lips too, downy-soft and deeply pleased.

“Shut up,” Abe says, still giggling.

For a moment, you just watch them, taking in their features, their smiles, the sound of them. You want to commit them to memory, parts of them that you’ve taken into yourself to treasure, to keep. Pieces never to be lost.

“Hey,” Yoshikawa says. “What’s wrong?”

You realize that your cheeks are hot and wet. You scrub a hand over your face as more tears fall.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just really missed you.”

She hums, but doesn’t push you on it, sending Abe a look when she opens her mouth. “We missed you too,” she says. “Do you want us to spend the night?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, thinking of how empty the house was before they filled it. “That would be great.”

“Okay.”

The conversation picks up again, only pausing when you order takeout as night falls. Though you’ve spoken consistently with them while you were in the country, there are still stories to tell. The three of you talk and talk, full of laughter and love, and it only feels a little bittersweet.

As the night deepens, Yoshikawa and Abe go to the genkan and grab the bags they’ve brought, much to your embarrassment. Abe pats you on the shoulder as you bury your face in your hands. Neither of them comment.

You tumble into bed with them in a mess of limbs. When the dust settles, you’re curled up on your side of the bed, almost pushed off the edge by Abe’s starfished limbs. You poke her in the stomach and she curls up with a groan. You reclaim the space quickly.

“Rude,” she tells you.

“You were taking up the whole bed!”

She grumbles but doesn’t bother to argue.

Quiet falls, only the gentle sound of breathing filling the room. You snuggle down into your comforter, pushing closer to Abe and relishing her warmth.

“I invited Shinsuke to visit,” you breathe.

Yoshikawa pushes up to her elbows behind Abe, peering down at you with her dark, knowing eyes.

“Here?” she asks.

You nod, the pillowcase crinkling against your cheek.

She hums, low and sweet, a honeyed thunder. “You’ll let him stay at the house?”

“I don’t know,” you say, thinking of Takao, the way he’d been flayed open when he asked you to not bring Kita to the house. “Aoshi—”

“Isn’t here,” Yoshikawa says gently. “You don’t have to hold on to that promise if you don’t want to.”

You blink against the tears as they swell up, beading on your eyelashes like little diamonds. Abe reaches out and cups your cheek.

“You’ll figure it out,” she says softly. “You don’t need to know now.”

You close your eyes, a few more tears trickling down. The pillowcase is damp beneath your cheek. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re right.”

“I always am,” she says, and then yelps when Yoshikawa pinches her. “Ow, Yocchan!”

Yoshikawa ignores her, settling back down onto the bed with a yawn.

It’s contagious; you find yourself yawning as well and snuggle down deeper into the comforter once more. Abe shifts closer, seeking heat.

You fall asleep with her pressed tight against your side.

It feels like coming home.

***

Fall fades away.

The trees lose their leaves entirely, leaving branches that reach into the sky with scraggly fingers. Frost creeps over the windows in icy whorls, a cobweb of winter, fanning out in intricate patterns that melt when you breathe on them. The winter sun glows in the softened blue of the sky, only to be replaced with gray clouds.

The first snow is falling when you go to pick up Kita.

The flakes are fat and fluffy, perfectly crystalline. They flutter through the air like butterflies, spinning in great, lazy arcs as they drift to the ground. They melt as soon as they hit the pavement.

They catch in Kita’s hair as the two of you head into the house, little dew drops that make his gray hair shine. He’s cherry-cheeked with the cold, his face half-buried in his scarf. It’s cute. Something in you pangs when he sends you a little smile, only discernible by the way his eyes crinkle at the edges.

The two of you peel off your outer layers in the genkan. Kita puts his away carefully, at odds with your slightly haphazard method of kicking your boots away to find later.

“It’s future me’s problem,” you tell him and he just shakes his head, a small smile caught in the corner of his lips.

You show him to the guest room, freshly made up for his visit, and linger in the hallway as he stores his suitcase.

“Dinner?” you ask as he steps out into the hall again.

“That’d be great.”

“C’mon, I’ve got some things ready in the kitchen.”

“Sounds good.”

He follows you into the kitchen and insists on helping. You direct him to the plates as you check on what you’ve made. There’s colorful tsukemono, each pickled vegetable bright in its own way, stained to watercolors by the pickling liquid. The curry is thick and bubbling, with chunks of heavily marbled meat and vegetables coated in the sauce. The rice is steaming lightly and so are the nikuman, each bun pinched shut perfectly.

“Ya didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” Kita says, eyeing the food as he sets the table.

“Too late,” you say cheerfully. “Eat.”

He smiles softly, shaking his head, but sits down when you gesture. You join him and the two of you start to fill your plates.

You talk quietly as you eat, all easy chatter. Part of you can’t help but think of the beginning, when everything with him was stilted and careful. That’s changed through the years but it’s even easier now, the conversation flowing like a river, calm and unchanging.

When you’re done eating, Kita collects the plates and brings them to the sink. He rolls up his sleeves and turns the water on. You sigh but don’t bother to say anything. Instead, you settle in next to him with a dish towel in your hand.

He’s radiating a soft, gentle heat. It takes conscious effort to not lean into him.

He washes and you dry, falling into an effortless rhythm.

“Are you seeing Aran while you’re here?” you ask.

“He’s away trainin’,” Kita says, handing you another dish. “So’s Atsumu. I’ll see Osamu, but you know I’m here to see you, right?”

Your cheeks heat. “I know,” you say. “But two birds, one stone, y’know?”

He hums, rinsing off the final dish and drying his hands. He leaves his sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. For a moment, you watch the play of his muscles, the way they coil beneath his tanned skin as he picks up the dry dishes and brings them back to the cabinet. You look away when you realize what you’re doing.

You both go to bed early that night; Kita’s tired from his usual early wake-up and the travel. You try not to laugh as he bids you goodnight. It’s cute, the way he blinks sleepily, his amber eyes softened to a honeyed brown.

You can hear him as you get ready for bed, the quiet little noises of another person’s presence. It soothes something in you.

You glance at your wedding rings, ensconced in a little jewelry dish on your nightstand. They gleam in the light. You run your fingers over them, tracing the cool metal gently.

You put them away in a drawer before you go to sleep.

***

The snowstorm hits on the last day of Kita’s visit.

The wind whips between buildings, catching the snowflakes and tossing them about like ships on a stormy sea. The snow piles up into thick drifts, the silken white of it gone yellow beneath the glow of the street lights, like a melting pat of butter.

You and Kita watch the storm from where you’re tucked under the kotatsu. You’d pulled it out when you’d heard the forecast, the two of you working together to get it set up. It still works, luckily, and the two of you sit next to each other and bask in the soothing warmth.

The wind slows; you gaze at the snowflakes as they slow, drifting like dancers across the stage, each puffy flake a part of its own ballet. Everything has gone quiet, muffled at the edges. It’s like the world is waiting to take its next breath.

“What are you thinking?” Kita asks softly.

When you glance at him, he’s already looking at you.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice just as soft as his. “All sorts of things.”

He hums quietly.

The wind picks up again; the windows rattle with it. You shiver, snuggling further under the kotatsu. Kita shifts. His leg presses against yours, a line of warmth even under the heat of the kotatsu.

You glance at him. He’s watching the storm. It reflects in his eyes, lightening them, taking them from amber to gold. You think of the rice fields at their peak, when they’re treasured gold, and can’t help the small smile that curls around your lips.

Perhaps he feels your gaze, because Kita turns to face you. In the low light, he’s softened at the edges, a watercolor being. His eyes are aglow, like sunlight pooling. He gives you a small smile.

“What is it?”

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you say quietly, the words pouring from you like a waterfall, something unstoppable.

He goes still for a breath, a statue of old. Then he softens again.

“You’ll always have me,” he says, and you used to hate how true it is. Now, though—now it feels different. Just a bit.

“Thank you, Shinsuke,” you say.

Something flickers over his face like heat lightning, too quick for you to comprehend. You think you might have disappointed him.

You turn your gaze away. It lands on a picture frame placed face-down. You suck in a deep breath. Before you can stop them, the tears are burning behind your eyes, starting to trickle down your cheeks. You scrub at them with one hand.

“Sorry,” you say to Kita.

“S’alright,” he says. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even as another tear trickles down to pool salty on your tongue.

He reaches out, his hand hovering in the space between the two of you. He waits.

You nod.

He cups your cheek and sweeps his thumb under your eye. His touch has the same aching tenderness of a fresh, swollen bruise. You lean into his palm, keeping your eyes on his, your cheeks hot as he smiles at you sadly.

He wipes away the tears before pulling back. You can see the gleam of them on his thumb.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“Course.”

You scrub away the remains of the tears and then blow out a big breath. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

Kita studies you for a moment. You don’t know what he sees in your face, but he nods, giving you a soft smile. “Sure.”

“Great,” you say, pushing to your feet. “You choose.”

“If you want,” he says, standing as well and heading towards the living room. “No complaining, though.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be there in a minute,” you call after him, leaning down to turn off the kotatsu. You tuck the comforter in, tidying it up lightly. You nod to yourself. When you turn around, you pause for a moment, your gaze settling on the face-down picture frame.

It’s a photo you know well, one of you and Takao on the beach, the ocean a vast expanse behind you, glittering with the searing blue of the tropics. You’re caught mid-laugh as Takao plants a kiss on your cheek. It’s always been a favorite.

Before you leave the room, you stand the picture frame back up.

***

You drop Kita off at the train station early the next day. You breathe him in as you hug him goodbye, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He tightens his grip around you with a little laugh.

“I’ll come to the farm in spring,” you tell him. “I promise.”

“Good.”

You wave goodbye as he enters the train station; he glances back right before he disappears through the doors. Something warm blooms in you. It settles in your stomach and flutters there.

When you’ve made it home, you pull out your phone. You settle onto the edge of the couch as it rings, your shoulders stiff.

It rings until the voicemail clicks on and Takao’s voice floods your ears. You close your eyes as his voicemail message plays, letting his voice wash over you like a summer storm, a warm, sweet rain. You listen to Takao talk, relearning the cadence of his voice, the way it rises and falls, the way his tongue curls around words. You hadn’t realized how much of it you’d forgotten.

“Hi,” you say when the tone beeps. “I miss you.”

You’re quiet for a moment; the line carries on, reflecting you breathing back to yourself.

“Shinsuke just left,” you say. “Aoshi—I think I like him. More than I ever thought I could. Is that alright?”

The line is silent.

“I didn’t mean to like him,” you say. “I really didn’t. But he’s good, Aoshi. He’s so good.”

You sniffle.

“I don’t know what to do,” you murmur. “I don’t know how to leave you behind. But I think—I think he’s okay with that. I just—it feels like giving in. Like our choice, the one we made over and over again, was for nothing.”

You take in a deep, steadying breath.

“I know that’s not true. I know that our choice was for everything. That it never really was a choice in the first place, not for me.”

“I just—I really think I like him, Aoshi. Is that alright? Please tell me it’s alright.”

The voicemail beeps; you’ve hit the end of the time you can record. You hang up and bury your face in your hands.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

You lay back on the couch, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands. You curl in on yourself.

You grab your phone and dial again.

“Hi.”

“Natsumi.”

“Oh, shit, no nickname, that’s not a good sign.”

“I think I like Shinsuke.”

She pauses. “Is that a bad thing?” she asks gently.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“It just—”

“Feels like giving in?”

“...Yeah. Was this always going to happen?”

“Maybe,” she says. “But maybe not. You don’t have to be with him, you know. If you don’t want to, that is.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“I think you do,” she says gently.

“I don’t, Nat-chan.”

“Okay. Okay. Let me put it this way: is your only issue with Kita the fact that he’s your soulmate?”

“He’s not Aoshi.”

“No one is going to be Aoshi. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Liking Kita isn’t giving up on Aoshi. It’s not leaving him behind. It’s just moving forward. You’ll bring him with you no matter what, no matter how far forward you move,” she says, and you bite at your bottom lip until you can taste blood.

“I don’t want to be with my soulmate just because they’re my soulmate.”

“Do you really think you might like Kita just because he’s your soulmate?”

“...No.”

“It’s not bad to like him,” she says, not unkindly. “You’re not bad for liking him because of who he is.”

“I don’t even know if I really like him.”

“Sweetheart,” Abe says, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you didn’t.”

You go quiet. As her words settle in, you glance out the window. The snow on the ground is still pristine; it glimmers under the bleak winter sunlight. The neighborhood children are starting to stomp through it. They’re bundled up tight, practically waddling as they play. You take a deep breath.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say that I always am before you believe me.”

“You’re wrong way too much for me to believe that.”

“Don’t be mean!”

You smile. “Thanks, Nat-chan,” you say softly.

“Any time,” she says. “You’ll figure it out.”

As you hang up, you know that you will.

***

Winter melts into spring.

The snow gives way to crocuses, which bloom like bruises, deep purple with stamen peeking shyly out of the center. The trees come to life, budding quickly, little specks of green dotted along the branches like stars.

And on the farm, there are ducklings, tiny and fluffy, their down pollen-yellow.

“Oh, Shin,” you say as he hands you one, dropping it carefully into your hands. It peeps its protest before snuggling up in your palm like a tiny sun. “I love them.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich. “I thought you might. Do you wanna name ‘em?”

“Really? You’ll let me?”

“Course.”

“I’ll have to think of good ones,” you say. “Can I have a few days?”

“Take as much time as you need,” he says. “They’re not going anywhere.”

You nuzzle up against the one in your hand; it peeps again, as if grumbling at you. When you glance at Kita, he has a fond smile playing on his lips.

He takes you around on some of his other chores. There are seedlings in the garden, tiny little things just barely poking out of the ground, a promise of green growth. You water them carefully, wary of their thin, delicate stems.

Finally, you find yourself back in Kita’s genkan. Your boots—a pair of his, really, laced tightly to keep them on—are muddy, so you stop just inside the door. You’re leaning down to untie the boots when Kita kneels before you.

“Shin…” you say and he glances back up at you with mischief in his smile. You decide it’s not worth it to try and stop him.

He makes quick work of the laces with his deft fingers. You watch his bent head quietly, taking in the thunderstorm gray of it, edged with blackened clouds. You catch yourself before you run your fingers through it.

“Up,” he says. You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you step out of first boot; he wraps his hand around your wrist.

It’s not long before both boots are off. Before you can even start to move, Kita has your house slippers in hand. He takes your ankle in his big hand, waiting for you to lift your foot so he can slip on the first slipper.

You almost balk. But he looks up at you with his keen amber eyes and you can’t help yourself. You lift your foot and he slides the slipper into place. He does the same thing with the second slipper.

“Thanks,” you say, cheeks hot.

He nods. He pushes to his feet, a graceful ripple of motion, and tilts his head at you. “Lunch?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “That sounds good.”

You cook together with ease. You know his kitchen by heart now, able to pull pans from their place without looking, knowing which of his fresh herbs to clip without double-checking with him.

It makes something in you ache.

Kita returns to the fields after lunch. You choose to not go with him, deciding instead to curl up on the engawa with a book. You settle into place with your book on your lap and stare out into the countryside.

It’s just beginning to go green with the flooded paddies glinting in the sun, a false ocean. The water glimmers with movement as the breeze rolls over you. A stork prowls through the paddies, long and elegant, moving with slow precision. Its beak flashes as it darts down to snap up some little creature. It takes off after that, spreading its wings wide and soaring into the blue expanse of the sky. You watch until it’s no more than a dot in the vastness.

You curl up and start reading and don’t notice when evening starts to fall. That’s where Kita finds you when he comes home from the fields. You hadn’t even noticed his truck trundling up the driveway.

“Hi,” you say as he comes up on the engawa, marking your place and getting to your feet.

“Hi,” he replies. “Have you been here all afternoon?”

“How’d you know?”

“Just a guess.”

You eye him, trying to figure out what’s given you away. Kita stays stoic, as if carved from stone, and you huff.

You follow him inside, kicking off your outside shoes before he can even try to kneel, and hop up from the genkan. As usual he goes to shower, ready to rinse off the fields. You keep reading.

He comes padding back into the kitchen a while later with a towel wound around his neck. His hair is still damp and you can see a cowlick curling at the back of his head. His tan skin glistens.

“Dinner?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “What do you want to make?”

You discuss your options in front of the fridge, crowded in next to each other to see what he has. He’s still warm from the shower. You press closer to him and see him glance at you from the corner of his eye. He smiles, soft and sweet, and turns his attention back to the fridge.

Eventually, you finally decide. Kita hands you a handful of carrots and you start to julienne them thinly, your knife—perfectly sharp, the most well-maintained kitchen knife you’ve ever seen—flashing in the light.

He starts halving baby bok choy, little gems of green and white. The pan hisses when he drops them in, giving it a good toss before he moves on to his next task.

“Is it really okay for me to be here during such a busy season?” you ask.

He glances at you. “I wouldn’t invite ya if it wasn’t a good time.”

“True.”

“Besides, I told you there was always a place here for you, and I meant it.”

Your cheeks heat. “I know.”

“Good.”

Quiet falls, broken only by the sound of your knife against the board and the hiss of the pan as Kita stirs it again. It’s comfortable, though, and you feel no need to fill the air. The two of you cook away, moving around each other easily in his small kitchen, as if it’s a dance you’ve always known.

It’s comforting in a way you’d almost forgotten.

You take a deep breath, your stomach churning a bit, and Kita glances over at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Just tired.”

He smiles softly. “If you wanna go to bed early, I don’t mind.”

“We’ll see,” you tell him. “Now finish up, I’m hungry.”

He laughs, but the two of you are done cooking not long after. You settle down to eat. You tell him some ideas you’ve had to name the ducks (“Duck is a perfectly good name, Shin!” “If ya say so.”) and he tells you about his day. It’s peaceful. Easy.

You’ve just finished eating when you reach out and cover Kita’s hand with your own. “Shin,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Fer what?”

You shrug, unable to put the jumble inside you into words.

He turns his hand over under yours and laces your fingers together. You don’t pull away.

“Yer always thankin’ me,” he says softly. “You don’t need to.”

“I do, though.”

“You don’t.”

You look at him. He meets your gaze easily, amber eyes gone whiskey-dark. He gives your hand a little squeeze.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything,” he says.

You squeeze back. “I will, though.”

He sighs but doesn’t argue.

For another moment, you both sit there, hands intertwined. You watch each other. You can feel the strength in his fingers and the hint of sweat on his palm. It’s warm and solid and real. Something in your chest stirs.

You’re the one that pulls back first, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Kita lets you go without a word.

The rest of dinner is quiet; you both go to your rooms early, influenced by Kita’s schedule. You murmur a soft goodnight in the hallway. You can still hear him when you’re in the guest room, listening to him rustling around before it all goes silent.

You gaze out the guest room window, taking in the rising moon. It’s waxing, almost full-bellied with light, pouring over the fields. It reflects off the water of the flooded paddies, a distorted mirror of itself. Under the moonlight, the fields go silvery, delicate and gossamer as they start to come to life. It’s beautiful in a foreign way.

You curl up on the bed with your book, texting Yoshikawa and Abe here and there as your phone lights up. When the moon is high in the sky, you finally get ready for bed.

You fall asleep thinking about the weight of Kita’s hand in your own.

***

Something shifts between you.

It’s slow like a dune in the wind, the sand taking on a new shape, but neither of you have mentioned it. Maybe you don’t need to. Maybe it’s all said in each fleeting glance, a language written in the amber of Kita’s gaze.

The days pass in a flicker of quiet moments. You spend a morning naming the ducklings, tucked in close to Kita’s side so he can see which one you’re pointing to. You repeat yourself as he takes them in, his brow furrowed as he notes the name for each nearly-identical duckling.

Some days you join him in the fields, kneeling down into the muck to sow a shoot into place. He guides you with careful hands, his warm fingers wrapped firmly around yours. You eat lunch in the bed of his truck, mud flaking off of your boots, and bask in the spring sun.

It’s easy. It’s terrifying.

You think of the taste of ozone, how it crackles on your tongue. The slow, sharp bite of it.

You know something will give. That the storm will break over you and change everything in its path.

You think you might finally be ready for it.

***

You come awake with a jolt.

The sheets stick to you, caught in the layer of sweat accumulating on you. You sit up and press a hand to your heart, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings.

Once you’ve regained your breath, you stumble over to the window and pull it open. The countryside breeze billows inside. It still carries the sharp bite of winter, but it’s mellowed under spring’s tender bloom. You close your eyes and let it flow over you.

The breeze cools you, your sweat going tacky before it dries down completely. The dream rolls over you again and you shudder.

You find yourself padding down the hallway without realizing it. You stop just in front of the door. You tug at your lower lip with your teeth before taking a deep breath.

You knock gently on the door and then open it.

“Shin?” you whisper.

The lump on the bed stirs. Kita pushes up onto his elbows. He’s bathed in moonlight, his hair haloed silver, the dark tips a moon’s eclipse. He’s bleary-eyed but he focuses on you instantly.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

You hesitate.

“That bad?”

You shake your head. “I just…can I lay with you for a bit? Is that okay?” you ask, heart in your throat. You need to know he’s still here. That he’s real.

His eyes widen before they go soft. He pulls back the covers and scoots over to give you more room. You’re across the room in an instant, slipping onto the futon. It’s still warm with his body heat and you shiver, goosebumps dancing across your skin.

You keep a small distance between you when you lay down, but you let your head turn towards him. He’s still up on one elbow, the muscles in his bicep bunched with it, and he’s studying you carefully.

He’s handsome, you realize, not for the first time. He’s sleep-rumpled, his hair messy and ruffled and his shirt wrinkled and bunched up just enough to show off a silver of his paler belly. The moonlight plays over him like a lover, lingering on the arch of his cheekbones and the dusting of freckles sprayed over his nose. His thick lashes flutter as he blinks, showcasing eyes gone golden, and you almost sigh.

He lies back down when you don’t move. The space between the two of you is small but it feels massive, a gulf between your two bodies, separating the shores of you.

“You okay?” he asks again.

You shake your head.

He reaches out and hesitates halfway, his big hand hovering in the air. In the moonlight, the constellation of his scars is more visible, little nicks and cuts that gleam bone-white in the light.

“Can I?” he asks.

Your nod is tiny; the sheets crinkle with it.

He cups your cheek. His palm is rough against your skin but he’s careful with it, touches you as if you’re made of glass. It’s almost reverent. He sweeps his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

“What did you dream of?” he breathes.

“You.”

“Me?”

“I couldn’t find you,” you murmur, leaning into his touch. “I looked and looked, but you weren’t there.”

“I’m here now.”

You hum.

“I’m here now,” he says again and it sounds like a promise.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “You are.”

You shift on the futon. The sheets smell of him, of the faintest hint of the salt of his skin and his soap, and you close your eyes to let it envelop you. You nestle down into the pillow with a little yawn.

“Go back to bed,” Kita murmurs, caressing your cheek with careful fingers. “You’ll be tired in the morning.”

You stir under his touch, opening one eye. He’s watching you, his amber eyes unbearably fond, and something in you pangs. You press closer to him; he radiates a gentle warmth and you relax into it.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask quietly. “Please?”

You pretend to not hear the way his breath catches.

“You sure?” he asks.

You press closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna regret it when my alarm goes off at dawn,” Kita says, a smile written in his sleep-rough voice.

“I won’t,” you say. “Promise.”

He hums skeptically.

“Maybe you’ll regret it,” you whisper into the salt of his skin. “You might.”

He stills, and then he’s coaxing you up to look at him. His eyes gleam in the dim, a flash of amber, of the richness of the earth. He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours.

“No,” he says. “I could never regret you.”

He always hears what you can’t quite bring yourself to say.

“Never?”

He nudges his nose against yours.

“Never.”

His breath stirs against your lips, and you take it in, make it your own. You sway closer, undulating like kelp, half-dizzy with it, and then you sway closer still.

He waits for you.

(He always has.)

When you kiss him, it’s simple. It feels right.

Kita sighs into it, one big hand coming up to cup your face, his rough palm reverent against your skin. There’s no urgency to him; he’s honey-slow with it, melting into you under the cover of night.

You kiss him again, and again, like the tide against the shore, lapping at the edges of him until you’re etched into his skin. He meets you each time, sweet and steady.

You kiss him until he is all you know, and then you kiss him once more.

You don’t even realize that you’re crying until he sweeps his thumb over your cheekbone.

You part your lips, and he presses a little kiss against them before he pulls back. In the dim, his amber eyes have gone whiskey-dark, deep and heady.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to explain.”

You press your face into the warm crook of his neck again. He smells of plain soap and a lingering hint of citronella from the fields, sweet and stinging. You breathe him in, let the scent of him settle into you, a part of him to carry always.

Kita curls a gentle arm around you.

“Go to sleep,” he breathes, and you pull back to look at him. He watches you, his vulpine eyes unbearably fond, and he smiles against your lips when you kiss him again.

He cups your cheek and pulls you into a deeper kiss before he backs away. He sweeps his lips against yours in a chaste peck and says again, “Go to sleep.”

“Fine,” you murmur. You curl up into him as his breath starts to even out. You listen to the tide of it, the ebb and flow, a balm against a bruise you’ll always have, and close your eyes knowing that he’s right there.

You wake to the quiet beep of his alarm clock. He rises from bed with quicksilver ease, the thick muscles of his back rippling under his sleep shirt. It’s barely dawn; wan light filters in through the curtains like an azure sea, outlining him faintly as he moves around the room. He looks like something out of a painting, sketched out in broad strokes of soft shadows.

He looks too good to be true.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs as you shift on the futon. His sheets are well-worn, the type of broken in that comes with years of use and careful care. “It’s early.”

Instead, you get up with him, slipping out from beneath the warmth of the comforter with a soft sigh. Kita gives you a little smile, a crescent moon tilt of his lips, and your cheeks heat. You glance away and hear him huff out a laugh.

He disappears into the bathroom, and you make up the futon, smoothing your hands over the wrinkles until they disappear.

By the time he pads into the kitchen, the old coffeemaker is hissing and gurgling, spitting out a steady drip of liquid. He brushes by you to get a mug, his hand warm on your lower back as he sidles past. The heat of him lingers.

The two of you eat breakfast in a comfortable silence. He slides his portion of your favorite onto your plate without a word; you push your share of pickled daikon into one of his small kobachi dishes. He says nothing,, but his lips quirk at the edges, the faintest hint of a sweet smile.

He gets up when you’re both finished, pushing to his feet in one fluid movement. His muscles coil with it, going taut beneath his tanned skin. It’s more distracting than you thought it would be.

You peer at him from the corner of your eyes as he starts to clear the table. He moves with careful intent, his big hands steady against the delicate porcelain.

You want to kiss him again.

Instead, you get to your feet and finish clearing the table, handing him dishes when he gestures for them. You wash the dishes together. Over the whisper of the running water, you talk about your upcoming day, trying to decide if you’ll be able to eat lunch together as well. You can’t quite keep the smile from your lips.

When the dishes are put away, you walk with him onto the engawa. He cups your cheek, sweeping his thumb over the arch of your cheekbone, and smiles.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says.

“I’ll be here,” you say, soft and full of promise, and his eyes crinkle with his smile.

You watch from the engawa as he disappears into the distance, into the paddies, swallowed up by the verdant world he’s created with his own hands. He glances back at you once, just before he disappears from sight.

You raise your face to the gentle warmth of the rising sun.

It’s a new day.

#kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #bee writes hq!!#.lbgtm

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asena-graywolf · 1 year

Text

Somnophilia

It was a hot summer night. You went to bed early because you had a stressful day. You came home so tired from work that you drank a glass of milk and threw yourself into bed without even having a chance to eat.

You slept with your head on the pillow. You needed sleep so badly that you could sleep uninterruptedly until the morning.

Unfortunately, a bad surprise from your husband woke you up from your sweet slumber.

Since the temperature exceeded 20 degrees even at night, you slept in an oversized T-shirt and only underwear underneath.

Kuro approached you from behind and took off your underwear while you were asleep. He checked with his fingers that your pussy was wet. Even in your sleep, you were always wet for him.

His palms gripped both of your hips, pulling down his shorts and pulling his hardened cock out of his boxer

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you sweetie" she whispered in his ear

Gently holding your waist, he straightens you to lift your hips a little more towards him.

He massaged his hardening cock and before long he shoved his huge cock into your tight cunt

The warmth, humidity, and wetness of your vagina drove him crazy when he got inside you.

“Ahhh! Y/n…” he muttered

Feeling the presence of a huge dick inside you instantly woke you up from your deep sleep.

You lifted your head off the pillow and jumped

“Huh? Kuro? What are you doing?" you said in a hurry

“Y/n, please baby. I need you so much. Help me"

"So you dare to fuck me in my sleep, at my most vulnerable"

"I am sorry. I needed it so badly, I couldn't stand it"

"Then fuck me hard"

You lifted your hips towards him and embed your head back into the pillow. As soon as you lifted your hips, you got slapped on the ass and Kuro suddenly started to fuck you at ferrari speed like a car on the gas pedal

The pillow you buried your face in suppressed your moans. Your muffled groans delighted Kuro. You discovered a different side of being fucked by your husband without being able to sober properly.

"Ah! Kuro fuck me!”

"How willing you are, ma'am"

You got another smack on the hip. Kuro continued to ebb and flow without a moment's hesitation.

Kuro's monstrous cock was widening your narrow cunt

“I have to widen your narrow pussy a little more, honey. Maybe I'll leave a baby there"

You were not yet in a position to welcome the idea of a baby. Because you were just married. It hasn't even been a year since we got married.

“Ahh! Are you hungry? Don't worry. I will fill you with my semen, my beautiful wife. I'm about to cum"

“Cum now darling! into me”

“Shall I cum inside?” he made fun of you

“Cum inside me, Kuro!!”

You almost screamed and Kuro just shoved his whole dick in your cunt and stuffed all his hot semen into your womb.

He smacked your ass one last time as he was coming out of you and pulled away from you.

He cleaned himself and put his shorts back on.

You lower your hips and lie face down again. Your back ached from bending over. Had the same pain in your knees and legs

You were both out of breath. Kuro lay on your back, resting his head between your two shoulder blades. He tugs at the collar of your shirt and leaves gentle kisses on your back and neck.

“I know it was short, but do you think I was good enough?”

"Is it good? Just don't try well. You were great. Maybe you even left a baby inside me"

He got up from your back and reached for the empty space next to you. He pulled you to his chest and wrapped his arms around you.

“If I did as you said, I will be proud that you carry a piece of me in you”

#hq x y/n #haikyuu x imagines #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuro tetsuro x y/n #kuro tetsuro x reader #kuro tetsuro x you #kuro tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo tetsurou smut #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsuro smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu smut x reader

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lady-of-glass-and-bone · 9 months

Text

Eddie Munson Saves Some Kittens

A/N: Just some thoughts I had while at the rescue. Reader in this is gender neutral. Nothing but fluff and kittens!

Okay. So imagine with me, if you will, that Eddie Munson finds a litter of teeny tiny kittens somewhere, possibly under the trailer porch and the mom is no where to be seen. He gives it awhile, waits anxiously by the window nearly all day and into the night to see if the mom comes back before he decides to bring them inside.

Now he has a box full of tiny, helpless, squirmy, and very hungry kittens and wow he did not think this through. Like. At all.

So he calls you, his lovely and very understanding s/o and rushes through the explanation so fast over the phone that you have to make him repeat it.

"Jesus, Eddie, do you ever think things through?" you laugh lightly on the other end of the line, already making a mental list of what you need.

But you don't sound annoyed and he breathes a sigh of relief at how not irritated you sound. You always have patience with him and he remembers how grossly in love with you he is and ugh.

The kittens are set up in an old pack n' play you found in the basement and lugged all the way over to Eddie's. You layer it with blankets and old newspapers and a hot water bottle that the kittens huddle on.

Eddie thrives on the chaos that is taking care of these delicate little beings. His sleep schedule is weird anyway so feeding them every few hours late in the night and into the early morning is no big issue.

(Wayne thanks God that it's Summer or Eddie would be going for another year as a senior with all the sleep that kid is missing.)

You keep him on track, sitting in the library and writing down all the information you need in one of Eddie's notebooks. You both spend many nights on the couch with kittens curled up all over you like tiny furnaces or in Eddie's room leaning over the side of the pack n' play, half asleep, worrying over the smallest kitten.

When Eddie compares it to practice for a human baby you wack him with a pillow until he cries uncle, laughing.

When the kittens are big enough to start walking on wobbly legs, they follow Eddie around like little ducklings, jumping at his legs and perching on his shoulders. They love to play with his hair.

Eddie nearly cries when a kitten gets underfoot and he accidentally steps on it's tail/paw. You reassure him that the kitten is okay and that it happens sometimes. He babies that kitten the rest of the day anyway.

They all love to cuddle with you when it's nap time and Eddie gets a bit sour about it but you pinch his cheeks and put his head in your lap and he has a kitten sleeping on his chest and neck while he snores in no time.

Uncle Wayne has many polaroids of moments like this. He secretly has a favorite kitten that is always awake to greet him when he gets home from a shift and sits on the counter while he heats up some food.

He knows he shouldn't give them table scraps (you scold Eddie and him whenever you catch them doing it) but he sneaks a few pieces of meat to the kitten. He takes to calling it Junior because its fuzzy black fur and big eyes remind him of a younger Eddie and damn it, he knows he'll have to keep it.

You and Eddie argue over what music to leave on when the cats are alone because:

"So they get used to human voices and stuff" he explains and you look him dead in the eye when you remind him of all the 'concerts' he's done for the kittens.

You agree to leave on a radio station that plays a good mix of everything, volume low.

Eddie wants to name them all after some Ozzy songs or come up with elaborate D&D themed names and give them just as elaborate backstories based on their personalities.

You and Eddie drive 3 hours to go to a free spay and neuter clinic. That is a road trip you will never forget. Mostly because there are little claw marks on the back of the vans seats now and everytime you see them you smile.

One kitten goes to Dustin's mom. Because yeah.

A couple of people that Wayne works with adopt a few.

El even convinces Hopper that it's necessary for her to have a cat and we all know he ends up loving that furry maniac no matter how much he grumbles about the fuckin' litter box.

He gives the cat treats behind El's back and let's it sit on his lap when she's at sleepovers.

Uncle Wayne does end up keeping the runt, which he does name Junior, but never really tells Eddie why until Eddie asks.

When the last kitten is given to it's forever family, both you and Eddie feel a little (okay a lot) emotional. Junior is never in want for snuggles and chin scratches.

When you and Eddie eventually get your own place together it definitely feels a bit empty without a pet. He wants to take all the cats home when you visit a shelter after settling into life living on your own together.

You take home an adult cat that gave Eddie the saddest eyes and nibbled on his finger. And your family feels a little more complete with a furry companion waiting for you at home.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #wayne munson #my magic man #stranger things #duck did it

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star-quill · 1 year

Note

me normally: really big age gaps are not okay most of the time! the power dynamic is bad

me after reading that blurb: I want to be peter’s sweet seemingly innocent young little plaything

mmhm mmhm mmhm!!!!!!

maybe a few people around the neighbourhood find him attractive too, not knowing that you're his girl, the one he comes home to every night. you still stay at your place every so often but most nights you're in his bed, wearing his shirts, his dog tag necklace around your neck.

mornings with him were just heavenly. on the hot summer nights, the pair of you usually slept naked and peter still ran warm, but it was a nice kind of warm. when he wakes up, his arm starts to move, then his hand is roaming around your body. it finds its way between your legs and you then slowly wake up, whining when his fingers slide between your folds. he's kissing your shoulder, your whimpers in his ear are only egging him on.

but nights with him are even better. sitting on his lap, his hands on your waist while he's kissing you. to him, you're absolutely the prettiest thing he's ever seen. he's just absolutely obsessed with you, obsessed with everything about you.

it takes a while for you both to even really think about going out in public together as a couple, fearing the looks people might give you, or the comments people might make. it's not until a fourth of july barbecue at peter's that you kiss him in front of everyone. he's at the barbecue, flipping the chicken and the burgers and you go up to him, ask him if he needs anything. he asks if you can grab him a beer from the fridge inside and you happily oblige, leaning up to kiss his cheek. only a few people notice, but word gets around quick and you soon feel everyone's eyes on you. peter's about to put his hand around your waist before you run out the back gate and over to your place. he tells a friend to keep an eye on the food before he's gone to check on you. he finds you in your bedroom, crying into your pillow.

"baby.. hey, what's wrong?"

"everyone was staring.. everyone.."

"honey.."

he sat down beside you, his hand on your waist as you lay on your side, wiping your tears.

"they can look and stare all they want, you know it's just jealousy.."

"you'd be better off with any of the hot moms in the neighbourhood.. not me.."

"not true.. i hate the nights that you spend here, feels weird wakin' up to an empty bed without you there.."

you smile a little when he says that.

"i want you to come back to the barbecue.. i don't care who stares at us, i want you next to me.. you're my girl and i want the whole neighbourhood to know it.."

you just roll your eyes, smiling and taking his hand as he brings you back over to his. and you do as he says, you stand next to him, one of his arms around your shoulder while the other flips the meat around. a few of the moms are glaring at you but then you realise, you don't actually care. he could be fucking them, but he comes home to you (almost) every night. you then think of how to piss them off even more, getting back at all the times they've made fun of you for saying you think he's attractive. the food's all cooked and served and he's sitting on one of the garden sofas in the backyard. you walk past him and go inside, taking some of the cold food inside to keep cool. you don't even realise one of the moms has followed you until she turns you around.

"oh.. hi.."

"are you fucking him?"

"who? peter?"

"yes."

you just smile and laugh a little.

"well.. yeah.. why?"

"why did he choose you?"

"well, for starters.. he wasn't going to fuck someone who didn't have a tight pussy.. plus, he thinks i'm cute.."

"you know he only sees you as some sort of plaything, someone he can fuck and throw away.."

"yeah? is that why he keeps coming over to mine so he can put his dick down my throat? or put his head between my legs? or push me down onto my bed and fuck me until i'm numb?"

she didn't even say anything then. you just smiled and walked back outside, sitting next to peter on the outdoor sofa, legs tucked underneath you as you lean into his side. his arm slid behind you and around your waist, his hand coming to rest on your hip. maybe at first you were a plaything, someone he could fuck just to let his frustrations out, but now you were well and truly his. more importantly, you were his girl.

but it didn't hurt to mention about being just a plaything to him when everyone was gone, straddling his lap while you grinded down into his lap.

"plaything, hm?"

"mmhm.. i can officially be your girlfriend but what if, on occasion, you fuck me just like that.."

"yeah?"

"mmhm.. yeah.."

#need him so bad u don't understand #like hes so husband bf coded i need him #peter quill #peter quill drabble #peter quill x reader #peter quill smut #peter quill fluff #peter quill angst #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #✎ peter quill #answered #peterqvill

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bluestar22x · 5 months

Text

New Year's Promise

Summary: You and Javier spend New Year's Day alone at your Uncle's lake house in upstate New York. After an intimate night together he surprises you with a question.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader (The same from my Sweet Summer Series - there is a mention of the reader having hair)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2,150(ish)

Warnings: Smut (on the slightly rougher side), fluff, fowl language

Author’s Note: This can easily be read as a regular oneshot if you haven't read the series yet/don't want to. Back in a secluded place with a Pedro character in winter. This one won't be as dramatic as Snowed In. I wasn't planning on writing any follow-ups to Javier and Virgin!Reader's romance but I thought they'd fit this fic idea I had due to a gif I saw on here. Didn't want to write a new reader character paired up with Javi. I like them too much.

xxx

"Javi."

The short form of your boyfriend's name tumbled from your mouth with a sharp gasp as he surged into you deep, powerfully, enough to jolt you forward into your pillow, and you scrambled for purchase with your hands, extending your arms up over your head to brace yourself against the wall just beyond the bed you were laying belly down in.

He was above you, blankets draped over his naked waist, well-toned arms caging you in on either side as he took you from behind, intimately close, his head tucked into the crook of your neck as he sucked on your pulse point.

"Hermosa," he moaned as he plunged into you again, setting a harsh, rhythmic pace, the kind that would build you up perfectly.

Despite the freezing temperatures outside and the chill seeping into the room from its poorly insulated window, you both broke out in a sweat from shared body heat and passion, your breaths coming out hot and heavy.

You were far from quiet as his movements stoked the fire within you, as he pressed against that sweet spot that made you see stars. He felt so good inside you, rutting against you as he was, that your heart pounded in your chest.

A part of you wished you could see his face contort with pleasure as he got lost in you, but the sounds he was making, the words of praise he panted against your skin, were enough alone to drive you crazy, ensuring your fall before his.

You reached up behind you to clutch the back of his head, arching towards him as your body seized up, and you unraveled underneath him with a breathless cry, convulsing around him so tightly that he had to still his hips for a moment before he could finish chasing his own orgasm with sloppy, rough strokes, gritting out your name as he finally pulsed inside you.

You both flopped onto your backs after, basking in the pleasant haze of euphoria that followed, trying to slow your labored breathing.

Once you'd both calmed Javier rolled over onto his side and kissed your shoulder briefly, then your neck, and finally your chin before nuzzling his nose against your ear.

"I love you," he murmured, nibbling on it.

You giggled at the sensation. "I love you too, Javi." You heart fluttered at the joy that sprung up in your chest over how easily he'd said those words, remembering a time when he'd been afraid to admit it and had felt undeserving of being loved in return.

A lot had changed in the seven months since you'd met him in a restaurant in Laredo, two lonely strangers with no idea of what was to come, how much you would end up meaning to each other.

You couldn't imagine going back to before. Hadn't realized before him just how much you truly had craved the love and affection you'd gotten from him since.

He hesitantly pulled away from you to dispose of the condom he'd been wearing and began slipping back on his night clothes as you walked over to the bathroom to clean yourself up. His body quaked when it was completely exposed to the brisk night air inside the oil heated lake house you were staying in.

"I don't know how you convinced me this would be a nice getaway," he grumbled as he finished putting on his clothes, turned off the lamp on the night stand, and jumped back into bed, teeth clacking. "I'm too thin blooded for this."

You barked out a laugh. "Upstate New York too much for you, Peña?"

"In the winter it is."

"Now you know how I felt last summer," you told him. "I'm not sure I'll ever get used to the heat in Texas."

You'd lived most of your life in New York, only moving to Texas for a job, and to gain some independence from your family.

"Cold's worst," he argued as he shuddered involuntarily.

"At least with the cold you can bundle up," you retorted as you joined him back in bed, tugging the sheets up to your neck. "Can't strip naked in public."

"Damn shame," Javier commented and you shoved him without much force, a smile playing on your lips. Javier was insatiable at times, his mind in the depths of a gutter more often than not. To be fair though, since he'd entered your life you'd spent a lot of time daydreaming about him and what he was capable of doing to you, so you were right there with him.

You lifted his right arm and huddled into his side, laying your head on his chest. "Thanks for braving the cold for me," you said eventually. "I know it meant a lot to my mom we could both visit for the family New Year's party, especially since she and dad couldn't fly out to Laredo for Christmas."

"It was nice of your uncle to let us stay at his lake house," Javier relented. "Even if it's drafty."

You yawned and he glanced down at you with an amused expression. "Am I boring you?"

"It's almost three am Javi," you answered pointedly, letting your eyelids fall. "We've gotten zero sleep since our flight early yesterday morning, we rang in the new year with my whole family, including my super loud younger cousin, and you just outdid yourself. I'm exhausted, not bored. I'm not used to going a whole twenty four hours without sleep, mister I-used-to-be-an-agent-hopped-up-on-caffeine."

"Outdid myself, huh?" You could hear the grin in his voice.

You couldn't help but smile too. Of course he'd caught that. "Don't let it go to your head. It was my idea."

"I loved it too," he told you, tucking your head under his, his right hand rubbing your arm. "Loved being able to kiss you while I took you like that."

As hot as him saying that was, you only managed to hum your agreement before you nodded off.

It was nearly ten in the morning when you roused from a deep sleep, eyes blinking furiously, trying to adjust to the bright light of the first day of the new year shining through the bedroom window.

Javier was still sound asleep beside you, a soft snore emitting from him on occasion. You loved seeing him this way, so at peace, so unlike he'd been before he'd listened to you and gotten some therapy to learn to cope with and move on from the trauma that had been tacked onto him in Colombia, in ways that no longer involved nicotine and excessive drinking.

You very carefully untangled yourself from his limbs and left him in bed, heading for the kitchen as soon as you'd taken some time in the bathroom.

Usually you'd head for the nearest bag of coffee first thing in the morning, but that day you opted for hot chocolate, not having had it since you moved out to Texas. It was part of the stock your uncle kept at the lake house but you were sure he'd be okay with you stealing a packet or two.

After boiling some water and mixing a whole packet of chocolate powder with it in a reindeer mug (that had to have been bought by your aunt) you bundled up in your winter jacket, scarf, and gloves and headed out onto the porch.

While you didn't particularly love the cold, you had a high tolerance for it, and there was something about being by a lake, surrounded by wilderness, that made you want to step outside under the morning sun and breathe in the crisp, fresh air, even though it threatened to take your breath away.

So that's what you did, with your mug of hot chocolate in both your hands, the heat seeping through your thin gloves, keeping your fingers warm.

You were quiet, listening to your surroundings. There were no sounds to hear, except the occasional call of a wintering bird and the rare rustle of wind.

Javier found you still out on the porch ten minutes later, drinking from an almost empty mug.

You heard him rather than saw him approaching, the sliding door scraping along its rails as he exited the house. His boots crunched the snow that had been frozen to the porch overnight and then stopped as he slipped his arms around your middle and buried his nose in your hair. You smiled and leaned back into his solid form.

"Morning," you greeted him, shutting your eyes to focus on the feeling of being encased by him.

"Mornin'," he returned, before he shivered. "How long have you been standing out here?"

"Ten minutes."

"You're not cold?" There was disbelief in Javier's voice and you chuckled.

"It gets way colder than this," you informed him. "There's hardly any wind. And I had some hot chocolate with me."

"What are you doing out here anyway?" he inquired, confused, glancing around at the snow covered evergreens surrounding you, except close by the lake.

"Listening to the silence," you replied with a sigh. "There's something about the silence that comes with snow covered land. It's nice."

Javier nodded, and you knew even though he didn't have much experience with snow, he did understand the part about liking the resulting muted landscape. For a long time he hadn't known quiet.

"I wonder how Chucho and Trix are doing," you mused.

Javier's father had offered to dog sit while you were in New York, that way Trix wouldn't have to endure a long flight in a cramped crate for a trip that would only last a few days.

"She probably ended up sleeping in his bed, on his feet, knowing pops," Javier guessed. "He's got a soft spot for dogs."

You didn't bring up the fact that he had a soft spot for them too. Since you and Trix had moved into the Peña household in November the dog had gained a pound in weight, and you were pretty sure it was from Javier sneaking her scraps of table food, even though he denied it.

"Is there a packet of hot chocolate for me?" Javier asked after a few beats of complete silence.

"Of course."

He pulled away from you but lingered on the porch when he noticed you weren't headed for the door with him. "Come, cariño, I have something for you inside."

You perked up at that and spun around to face him, curious. "Like a gift?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Of sorts." He gestured for you to lead the way and you entered back the house.

After you kicked off your boots you scanned the open floor living room and kitchen areas, in search of a gift wrapped box. "Where is it?"

You didn't have even an inkling of what was about to happen. One second Javier was standing just behind you, and the next you heard one of his knees hit the ground.

You twisted around to see him in the classic proposal pose, one you'd never thought you'd see him in for some reason. You'd always thought he'd go a less traditional way of leading up to the question. But you liked this. Him earnestly kneeling before you, big brown eyes vulnerable and honest. You barely paid attention to the ring he was holding up to you. "Will you - ?"

"Of course!" you shouted, so excited you didn't let him finish. You tugged him back up to his feet and kissed him hard. He laughed happily after, his chest rumbling with the sound, and he reached out to glide the modest but delightfully gorgeous diamond ring onto your ring finger. You recognized it and your heart skipped. "Is this your mother's ring?"

He nodded. "Pops gave it to me when I told him that I intended to propose to you while we were here. I wanted to do it when we were alone and I wanted to do it when you'd least expect it."

"Well, well done on both accounts," you said, smiling, touched that he and Chucho would trust you with one of the few items they had left to remind them of his mother. "I'd have never guessed you would do it on our way to mix up a mug of hot chocolate, still dressed in our pajamas."

He cringed a little at your summary. "Was that okay?"

"More than okay," you assured him, flinging your arms over his shoulders. "Now I have a question for you."

He hummed. "What's that?"

"Do you still want hot chocolate, or do you want to head back to the bedroom?" you asked like you didn't already know what he was going to say.

He beamed at you and grabbed your chin so he could guide your face towards his and claim your mouth hungerly, his mustache gently scraping your upper lip. "Bedroom, now."

"I thought so, fiancé."

You led the way to the room and you both crawled under the bed sheets once more to celebrate.

xxx

Tagged: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @yoursoulsunbreakable @harriedandharassed

xxx

Sweet Summer Series

Main Masterlist

xxx

#Narcos Fanfic #Javier Pena Fanfic (Mine)#Fanfiction #X Reader #Mine #Follow Up Oneshot #Pedro Pascal Character Fanfic #Sweet Summer Series

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cloveroctobers · 10 months

Text

EM HAYWOOD — summer prompts 🍋

A/N: writing this quickly with a cold and before that vertigo has me spread out like Anderson Paak in that one music video lmao. This was meant to be out last month during pride but there is no limit to that sugar in your tank if you catch my drift! 😜 Also we’re always spreading love to THEE mother Keke so I thought why not? Hope ya’ll are still out there reading and it might be time for me to give NOPE another watch this summer! This is a mixture of fluff & humor mostly since the last one I wrote ages ago! really wasn’t that. Although I love a little spookiness too, otherwise I wouldn’t be called “Octobers” for nothing! You’ll find that out towards the end ❤️‍🔥

PROMPTS are from here & I’m using: “i know it’s hot but we have to go grocery shopping, get up...” + “roll the windows up, I’m about to put the AC on.”

ੈ✩‧✧.* ↟ ੈ✩‧✧.* ↟ ੈ✩‧✧.* ↟ ੈ✩‧✧.* ↟ ੈ✩‧✧.*

The sleep was hitting okay!

Especially when it took forever to get comfortable in this new home and you were managing the electric bill. Emerald was used to the heat SoCal would bring growing up in Agua Dulce but moving out to Lancaster? That dirt was bringing up a different type of heat—despite being only twenty something minutes away! But she didn’t mind spending the extra money so that the both of you could be comfortable.

With the way inflation is set up and companies are increasing everything every month just because they felt like that was the answer to their problems was a problem. You weren’t having it and settled on opening windows and fans majority of the time while Emerald let it slide…except for today.

You’re sleeping on your stomach, cheek pressed into a pillow made for hotels, covers a tangled web over your now room temp body as you rest peacefully. Which was a contrast to what started at the beginning of the hot uncomfortable night, you were home alone dressed in nothing but a oversized white t-shirt and Em was hanging out at the ranch with OJ and Angel. The invitation was always open for you to join but you needed to get some last minute things done for work, so you stayed behind to meet that deadline.

It was funny how that worked out, you being a digital journalist who fell in love with a charming woman, who went through a unexplainable experience that is still talked about to this point in time. If you thought Emerald Haywood was a talker, then that made you a believer and combined? That made the both of you a invested duo.

You thought you had it all figured out, since the trio received a nice “settlement” if that’s what you want to call it—once the higher ups were involved but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to put in the effort towards this home. Em’s name maybe on the deed and she wanted you to live with her but you’re the piece that made this feel like home.

Emerald’s dreams were always big and bright, she had no issue being a hustler but with you by her side you had to level her out just a bit and so she wouldn’t get too crazy when it came to home shopping. Sure house shopping was actually kind of fun; you personally didn’t think too much about it before, since you were still scrapping for money once living underneath your elementary school teacher mother’s home. It was just the two of you since your brother moved off to Texas with his girlfriend; that your mother didn’t particularly like but respected that her eldest wanted to start a new chapter elsewhere.

She just didn’t expect her daughter to go off and do the same thing a year later. Your mother tended to be harder on you than she was on your older brother but you stemmed that as your mother being dependent on you. Relax! Y’all were finally in therapy working that out and it definitely wasn’t with the help of Em’s ex, that would be a huge red flag.

So yeah there was some things going on along with some heat? You were going to do everything in your power to ease that electricity bill. Even if a nagging throbbing headache started to occur? Ice packs were in your reach for your dear forehead and back of your neck. If the walls were getting sticky? Put the fans on blast and rotate and open up those large windows to allow some fresh air in. You had it figured out and definitely was known as the DIY queen.

Emerald was staring down at you adoringly, kiss going right to the side of your neck before she lightly shook your shoulder, “wakey wakey, baby.”

You huffed, keeping your eyes closed, normally Emerald was the heavy sleeper but for some reason she wanted to be up and at ‘em, “huh?”

“We got things to do.”

“…like?” You croaked, knowing you needed some water soon.

“Plenty. First we need to get more gas and fill up the portable tanks, then we need to pick up Bam Cooke and Cathaway.” Emerald started counting your to-do list as she began pacing beside your side of the bed.

You honestly forgot your mom had your dog and cat (they were named after some soulful legendary singers, name creds completely go to emerald for this one!) for the weekend.

Peeking over at your nightstand you squinted trying to see the time and settled on snatching your phone instead.

8:56am.

Unlocking your phone you checked the weather and sighed, “there’s also a heat advisory today and tomorrow.”

“Girl what else is new? We also need to eat. I know it’s hot but we have to go grocery shopping, get up.” Emerald stated with her hands digging into hips, after she just yanked the curtains open to reveal the sunlight.

Slapping a slighty damp arm over your eyes after resting your phone back on the night stand, you exhaled, “can’t we just do a delivery service?”

“Yeah, we can. But you’ve been cooped up in this house for who knows how long. Like when’s the last time you’ve been to the office or been interacting with people?”

You’ve interacted with plenty people! That’s the perks of working remotely, you chatted only when necessary—although that also started to feel like a ghost town? Ghost server? it was still enough socializing for you with a employer that was basically a chatty Kathy that loved video calls and phone calls that could go on for hours every other day.

“Interacting with you and my mom is more than enough,” you mumbled, “plus we still have to get this house together, things are still in boxes, and we’re still waiting on backordered items.”

Emerald scoffed with a fan of her hand, “we’ll worry about that in due time! There’s no timeline to when this place has to be together, it’s about what we make of it.”

Which didn’t stop her from having a house warming with her group of close friends and your best friend. You wouldn’t have minded if it was just family but having friends over when the decor wasn’t even in the state was a little annoying. However emerald was open to sharing with everybody, her success was basically everyone’s success, although you tried to hint that one of her friends out of the group seemed to be moving a little funny after Emerald came into that money.

True tea.

You repeated after a yawn, “Grocery shopping?”

Emerald nodded as she approached the bed in her bra, brief’s, and rodded hair. She then climbed up onto the bed, standing over you as she lightly sang, “oooowoaaahyeaaah!”

Snorting you teased with some snaps, “Okay, Hannah.”

Winking, Em spun off the bed as you pushed up onto your elbows, ��you need help taking your rollers out?”

“I got it, baby, thank you.” Emerald called out as she entered the bathroom, “you can help me pick it out though…never mind yo ass is heavy handed.”

“Compared to who?”

“Me myself and I.”

You rolled your eyes as you tossed the covers back, reaching for your tumbler so you can down some water, before joining your girlfriend in the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Now…drives to the grocery store was just as if you were in the south. This you knew since you were originally from North Carolina but finished your senior year and attended college in California. Emerald was always in the driver’s seat out of your relationship but it was amplified with the new car y’all were leasing. You offered to get out and pump the gas along with refilling the extra jugs, leaving Emerald to sit sideways, checking social media while her elbows dug into her knees with the door wide open, legs begging for some air since…you guessed it! wouldn’t drive with the AC on either.

Gas stations were never far from the house living in Lancaster but going to the grocery store? That required at least a thirty-five minute drive on the highway and there was a accident, which was taking this little outing much more time than usual.

Emerald was getting impatient while you sat with your legs up on the dash of your Honda sport, hands throw up and locked behind the headrest while you gently nodded your head along to the Afrobeat mix.

The side eye game was strong as Emerald peeked over at you, completely at ease in this weather. Yeah she should be used to this weather and normally she is but with a heat wave with barely a breeze brought on some agitation for real.

Sitting bumper to bumper, tumblers of water in the cup holders, heat rays roasting the brown on Emerald’s hands and arms, and the drip of sweat sliding down the back of her neck towards her back was enough for Emerald’s Patience to wear very thin. With one hand on wheel and the other shooting out to mess with the knobs and buttons on the dash, caught your attention.

“roll the windows up, I’m about to put the AC on.” Emerald started before sitting up straight and glanced over her shoulder, “I’m also about to float this motherfucker.”

Your eyes went wide after cautiously rolling your window up and latching onto the door before Emerald whipped the car out of the slow lane, now flying down the emergency lane towards the next exit, quickly influencing some cars to follow right behind.

You breathed, “Excuse me, Samuel L. Jackson.”

“You ain’t know? That’s my uncle.” Emerald curled her lips into a smile, proud of herself before increasing the volume of the music by the steering wheel.

Shaking your head, you lowered your feet onto the floor, stretching before sitting up on the passenger side. You were already comfy before but now you had to reach into the backseat to reach for your crochet blanket you made last winter to toss over your bare thighs.

“Sorry but we’ve been inside the house with no AC during ninety degree weather and there ain’t no type of breeze outside! If we’re gonna be outside, we need to survive.” Emerald claimed as she paused at the stop sign before turning right.

You shrugged, “We got a full tank now so it’s whatever.”

Emerald hummed at this before holding her hand out to rest on top of your blanket, “Guess that means now we can be cute and hold hands without being sweaty.”

“Uh uh, both hands on the wheel Ms. Float this muthafucka.”

A laugh bubbled out of Emerald’s lips at this, “Fine, if that’s how you wanna do me.”

“Safety first,” you raised one finger in the air before pushing your glasses up the bridge of your oily nose.

“You right, can’t have nothing interfering with my baby and I.”

“That’s riiiight.”

“Oooh, alto.”

You laughed.

Eventually the both of you made it to the grocery store after eleven, the parking lot wasn’t packed but had a nice little crowd filling the area.

“Good, now we can use the corporations’ air instead, knowing they’re about to sell us some overpriced eggs.” Emerald told you as you walked the aisle, making a elderly woman glance at you two.

You laughed, watching as the woman slowly smiled at your conversation before carrying on. Emerald was pushing the carriage and you were rotating between hanging onto the crook of her arm and holding onto the side of the carriage.

“That’s my girl.” You praised as Emerald pointed at you.

Stopping at the vegetables section, you bounced up on your toes as you noticed the organic section up ahead, “Ooh, I see that tangerine juice we like. Let me grab that before there’s none left.”

“Yes please do! I’m gonna get into these bell peppers and zucchini.”

“Alright,” you tapped the carriage before departing.

Folding your arms and humming to the soft 80s jams the store played, you took your time heading over to the organic section, briefly glancing at the other sections before getting to the main one that sparked your interest. Standing in front of the mid-sized section, you scanned the various of drinks and decided on three main ones.

First you picked up the tangerine juice, tucking it underneath your arm, some kombucha that people were raving about on tiktok, and finally when you reached for the small bottle of pomegranate juice, you paused as another hand was reaching for the same thing.

“Oh,” the voice says, making you turn to them.

Hey listen, normally you weren’t the type to say much on anyone’s appearance but the woman with the sun hat and wicked smile made you feel some type of way. Her green eyes were large, almost too large that they looked too big for her tight pinched face. Her ears were also pointed and stuck out from her long frizzy jet black hair, lots of teeth, thin barely there brows, and pale skin the color of powder.

“Looks like there’s only one left of the little ones.” The woman spoke, taking note that your eyes went to the four large bottles to the right of the smaller bottle.

“Mhm.”

The woman’s eyes almost widened as she said, “A little goes a long way, don’t you think?”

“Sure does. My mimi—my grandmother, used to have a pomegranate tree. Learned to love them from a young age.”

“How wonderful,” the woman commented, “I sense southern roots…where about? Princeville?”

You halted and pushed your glasses further up the bridge of your nose at that. You knew your history regardless of being a journalist or not but this didn’t feel like good ‘ol southern chat with this woman. It felt invasive and unsettling.

Clearing your throat, you pulled on the top of the bottle, weighing the juices in your arms as the woman cradled the basket that held small amounts of pink petals that grew from the lengthy green leaves and stems. Almost as if she pulled the shrubs up herself, which you noticed she had lace gloves covering her hands. You’ve never seen flowers like those and planned on picking up some here later but there was a feeling in your gut telling you otherwise.

“A much bigger city,” you responded with a small smile, “my family leaves their mark wherever they go. We tend to be active in many communities. Excuse me, I have to get back to shopping.”

The woman kept a smile on her face as you talked, not blinking once as you conversed. She turned while you walked by her before she called out to you, “Yes, Miss. we all have to finish our deeds before God pours the storm on us. You should enjoy that juice to ease his suffering and return.”

You didn’t grant the woman a word or a glance as you sped-walked back to Em who also happened to be chatting with a bald buff man. You caught their attention as you placed the items back into the carriage, almost roughly.

“Hey baby, this is my new friend, Duncan. He listens to Angel and I’s podcast…matter of fact, why don’t you snap a pic on our phones so I can send it to him and our socials?”

“Really? Oh no. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Oh please! Anybody that’s a supporter of mine, can get something as simple as a conversation and a picture. Don’t be shy on me now, Duncan!”

The man grinned as he cautiously held out his phone to you, “Only if you don’t mind?”

This was nothing new.

Ever since operation nope hit the internet and radio stations, people were intrigued to know the people who took it on. You didn’t feel any sort of way when people would come up to Emerald, you admired how she handled herself with grace, chatting with people with ease as they inquired about the what and the how.

Although she was advised not to speak much on it, with hush money, her and Angel still touched on some of it on their supernatural podcast: UNO U KNOW U.F.NO! Yes it was lengthy title that was abbreviated when you search for it but it makes sense if you’re observant and think about it. The listeners that get it, get it and those that don’t?

They don’t listen.

You seemed to be on autopilot, taking the phones as you snapped a few pictures, which Duncan thanks you two for before the both of you carried on shopping. You didn’t see the woman around anymore and that still didn’t make you feel alright.

“Can we hurry out of this section, em?”

“Yeah sure,” Emerald responded as she finished up some texts before shoving her phone into her back pocket, “we only need some fruits then we can head out into the main aisles.”

“I think we’ll be fine with frozen fruits, we don’t eat the fresh ones fast enough.”

“Speak for yourself, there’s nothing wrong with stocking up.” Em leaned on the carriage as she pushed forward, “don’t worry about a thing, I’m buying.”

Quietly you responded, “okay,” eyes still searching the area around you.

Emerald raises her brows at this, stopping in front of the pineapples, “…you okay? Is The AC making your head hurt again or something? Usually you’re all up for debating on who wants to pay.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” a look of uncertainty passed on Emerald’s face as she wrapped the pineapple in a plastic bag for protection before placing it into the carriage.

The tension in your shoulders almost faltered as the both of you went through the main floor, breezing through two aisles until you got to the third one. You stood in front of the carriage while Em voiced her complaints on oat milk and coconut milk. She had her back to the opposite end of the aisle while from your peripheral you saw a flash of black.

Turning your head, you glanced out the aisle and saw no one for awhile before a customer walked by with a carriage.

“I mean I don’t even care for oat milk like that, I think it messes with my stomach. Almond milk ain’t all that and coconut milk is only good for certain meals…wait a damn minute they got rice milk? How do they do that?!” Emerald browsed the milks in awe.

It was when you turned back, you saw her. She was walking by the aisle, raising a few fingers to wave at you, sickening smile planted on her lips, except her green large eyes were almost see-through, a silver tone that flashes as she went by.

Hell. nawl.

Leaving the carriage behind, you backed up in the other direction and took off into a sprint.

“Aries?” Em called out to you.

However you didn’t look back until your back was pressed up against the car. Emerald was only seconds behind you, hands on her knees as she finally caught up to you.

“…what…the…hell…was that? you never told me you were a track star?!”

You pulled yourself from the heat of the car that seeped through the thin material of your shirt and yanked on the car door handle. Emerald was completely confused but something was clearly going on as she rested a hand on your waist.

“Hey, tell me what’s going on?”

You swallowed, “There’s a shapeshifter or some shit in there that’s been following me—or us around!”

“Say what now?” The look of seriousness washed over Emerald’s features as she let go of you to start patting herself for the keys.

You nodded your head, not showing a ounce of humor on your own face and Emerald knew she had to ask questions later. Unlocking the doors, you threw yourself inside, waiting for Emerald to jog around the car to get into the driver’s side. She locked the doors and stuck the key in the ignition as specs of rain began to platter against the window shield.

Before she could turn the key, the both of you turned to the right parking space to see a yellow Volkswagen beetle pulling up beside you with their window down. It was the same woman with the bow sun hat, smiling and her eyes flickering silver like a coin about to be spun in circles, just watching you two before she sped off.

That action alone made your glasses fog up more than the humidity outside.

You sank into your seat, ripping your glasses from your face, other hand holding onto the strap of the seatbelt as you croaked out, “Did you see that?”

“Uh uh. And I don’t want no damn parts,” Emerald stated as she started the car, putting it in reverse not bothering to use the back up camera this time, “Let’s get the hell up outta here and call OJ.”

You pulled out your own phone with shaky hands as Emerald led the both of you in the opposite direction. As the phone rang on the Bluetooth, Emerald reached out to grip your hand in her’s.

The touch was comforting enough but you couldn’t help but to think:

Here we go again.

However it was round one for you and round two for Em but with the warmth of her hand in yours, maybe you’ll make it out just fine with her by your side.

Or you could both simply ignore this?

Yeah…

Right.

ੈ✩‧✧.* ↟ ੈ✩‧✧.* ↟ ੈ✩‧✧.* ↟ ੈ✩‧✧.* ↟ ੈ✩‧✧.*

Continue along with my summer anthology prompts here.

#nope #nope film #nope 2022 #jordan peele #keke palmer #emerald haywood #em haywood #emerald haywood x reader #emerald haywood x f! reader #emerald haywood x black! reader #em haywood x reader #em haywood x f! reader #em haywood x black reader #summer prompts #queued

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