#pink brownie boxes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iridescentblued · 1 month

Text

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 !

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: geto x afab!reader

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 && 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw / 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni! geto is a college algebra math tutor && reader is failing, written in lapslock, geto is a tinie, TINIE bit of a perv (but we love him), not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls geto ‘senpai’ until she doesn’t, size kink. wc; 8.5k

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔. . . this is my first fic on this blog and also my first jjk fic in my entire life so please go easy on me aha i tried to keep it relatively tame, but based on my plans for the future, this will not be a trend sjfigjsfgj. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what suguru had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway.

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one geto suguru for college algebra. you were eager for summer, suguru had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for suguru, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable.

and the more he remembers about you, the more suguru wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. suguru has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire.

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more.

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you.

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” suguru reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.”

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.”

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, senpai?”

“hm?”

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.”

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” suguru smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, senpai, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.”

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, suguru can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.”

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily.

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at.

it had been your idea, not his, so why did suguru feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. suguru had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it.

senpai, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together.

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try.

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. suguru supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features.

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, suguru’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question.

by the end of the week, suguru’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors.

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort suguru offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips.

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and suguru robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.”

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. suguru chuckles.

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.”

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.”

“what kind of rewards did she give you?”

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” suguru says, amused.

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.”

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is.

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. suguru packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile.

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly.

“you were serious about that?” he laughs.

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

suguru takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next.

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.”

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so.

when suguru pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking.

“senpai, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.”

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for suguru to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that.

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and suguru notices you’re less than focused.

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours.

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, suguru had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact.

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and suguru even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you.

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, suguru reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one.

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features.

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?”

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. suguru grins.

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.”

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and suguru chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading.

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.”

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.”

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand.

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad suguru wants to hear it in those exact words.

“tell me what you really want, then.”

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, suguru wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — suguru claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and suguru always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later.

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and suguru knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

suguru’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it.

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders.

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, suguru is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced.

“senpai, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all suguru does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.”

in all honesty, suguru would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more.

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth.

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for suguru to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him.

“senpai, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it.

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and suguru’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force.

“senpai — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

suguru wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt.

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue.

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him senpai, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you?

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, suguru finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you.

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis.

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?”

“color me impressed,” suguru replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“proud enough to give me a reward?”

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be.

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?”

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —”

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.”

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” suguru trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do.

“please, senpai?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

suguru chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.”

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you.

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.”

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and suguru feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips.

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — suguru wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. suguru drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come.

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “senpai, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not senpai. suguru. call me suguru, angel.”

“s—suguru,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered.

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?”

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance.

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

suguru drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit.

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as suguru pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

suguru doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm.

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, suguru — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.”

“but—”

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.”

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. suguru’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you.

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.”

“suguru,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—”

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.”

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.”

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to suguru, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head.

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. suguru reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly.

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice.

“fuck me, suguru,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.”

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.”

“of course you can, angel.” suguru doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and suguru wants to stay here for as long as he can.

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.”

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. suguru works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume.

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“su— suguru!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—”

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you.

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?”

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “suguru, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.”

“m’close, so close, closecloseclose—”

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.”

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and suguru wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out.

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off.

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and suguru almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, senpai.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down.

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and suguru chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck.

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x you #suguru geto x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x you

2K notes · View notes

xzaddyzanakinx · 6 months

Text

| So, So Right | pt.1

Stepbro! Anakin Skywalker x Innocent Reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: eventual smut, inappropriate relationships

Info: Modern AU, Anakin is whipped, Anakin literally worships the ground you walk on, Not Profread

It had been almost 4 months since your world was shattered and the pieces were glued haphazardly back together. Everything had happened alarmingly fast, one day it was just you and your mother, the next she was bringing home a stranger. He was nice, he made your mom happy and that was enough of a reason for you to love him as well.

That was until one night Obi-Wan and your mother came in to the living room where you sat typing away on your laptop for a college class. Obi-Wan cleared his throat to catch your attention, once you looked up and saw the nervous smiles on their faces you got a nauseous feeling in your stomach.

“Can we talk for a second?” Your mother asked tentatively, almost afraid to ask.

“Yeah sure. What’s up?” You raised an eyebrow and carefully put your laptop on the coffee table.

“We’ve decided it’s time for you to meet my son.” Obi-Wan smiled, “the year is almost over, he will be coming home for the summer.”

Your mind spun, this could mean the end of your normalcy. This was a serious step, of course you knew he had a son, but you had never even spoken to him, much less seen him.

“That’s a couple weeks away. Uh- well thanks for telling me?” You said confused.

“Yes but, honey, look at me.” Your mother’s sweet and calming voice pierced through the fog attempting to form in your mind. “He’s coming to visit this weekend!”

“Like this weekend? As in tomorrow?” You asked, standing up abruptly.

“Yes, he will be here tomorrow afternoon. We want to take you both out to dinner.” Obi-Wan nodded, reaching out to encourage you to walk over.

“Okay,” you forced a smile, trying to hide your nervousness, “what’s his favorite desert?”

Obi-Wan chuckled, pulling you into an embrace where you were sandwiched between him and your mother.

“Blondies.” He whispered and gave you an affectionate shoulder squeeze.

You tossed and turned all night, unable to get comfortable and desperate to turn your thoughts off. You so badly wanted to make a good impression on him. You knew enough about him to know he played Lacrosse, he was such a good player and had so much passion for it that he had considered majoring in sports management. Though quickly realized engineering and mechanics was the perfect fit for him. He was tall and pretty, a scar across his eye from his teenage years. That was it, that was all you had. Plus the fact you now knew he liked Blondies.

So the moment your alarm had went off you rolled out of bed and got to work. Baking was your passion, culinary school was the perfect fit for you. You dreamed of opening a pastry shop, and you used every spare minute to hone your skills. The process was easy, cookie dough and brownie batter, slap it all in a pan and throw it in the oven.

Now that you’d taken them out to cool, you found yourself restless and incapable of sitting still. This was going to be a long day.

Over the next few hours you packaged away the Blondies in a cute pastry box with a pink tag that you’d written ‘Anakin’ in beautiful calligraphy, showered and watched a few episodes of your favorite show, and now you sat at your vanity.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, hyping yourself up to meet the most important person in Obi-Wan’s life. Carefully applying your makeup, not too much, just enough to accentuate your natural features and lengthen your eyelashes. Painting your nails and nude-ish pink and slipping on a soft baby blue dress with matching shoes.

Descending the stairs while your hair flowed gracefully down your back in loose curls. Obi-Wan and your mother sat at the kitchen table chatting, immediately looking up when you entered the room.

“Oh! You look lovely!” Your mother clapped her hands and her lips curved into a genuine smile.

“Beautiful.” Obi-Wan beamed, he had really taken to the roll of father figure for you, and it showed in moments like these. He treated you as his own flesh and blood.

The car ride went quickly, and soon you were entering the restaurant. Watching the crowd from the waiting room, in fitted black dress pants and a black button-up stood a sandy haired boy. Obi-Wan rushed over and clapped a hand on his back, pulling him into a crushing hug. You stood with your mother, watching the scene unfold with adoration.

“Ani!” Obi-Wan outstretched his arms to gesture to you. “Here she is!”

His gaze lingered on your face before traveling down and back up, his cheeks a bit pink and his eyes wide.

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you again Satine.” He nodded and took your mothers hand between his two large ones.

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Anakin turned to you, his height making you feel smaller than before. You introduced yourself as Anakin seemed to drink in every word.

The hostess soon called for your party, and brought you to a large round table near a floor to ceiling window. The view was gorgeous and the table setting was just as elegant. The dinner was going smoothly, Anakin was easy to get along with. He seemed genuinely interested in everything you said, you were so relieved that you didn’t even notice the hunger in his gaze.

That had been weeks ago, and it felt like an eternity. The dinner ended with a bombshell of an announcement, Obi-Wan and your mother were engaged to be married.

Now Anakin had moved in, the wedding date was set and Obi-Wan had put his house on the market. Your room was right next to Anakin’s, and you had a shared bathroom connecting the rooms. You didn’t mind, in fact you quite enjoyed being so close to him.

The friendship had blossomed beautifully, spending time with Anakin was your new favorite thing. He kept you company when you were flitting about the kitchen with your apron covered in flour, helped you with chores, read to you at night and he even walked through the neighborhood with you and quickly discovered your fear of the large dog at the end of the cul-de-sac when you practically jumped into his arms when it barked at you. He didn’t make fun of you like you expected, he held you to his chest and whispered calming words until you were ready to continue, after that his hand was practically glued to yours in a comforting grasp at all times.

Today was the beginning of his new summer job, he’d be working at the local car shop as a mechanic, he was absolutely ecstatic. Of course you were equally excited for him, but you held a bit of worry in your heart, what would you do all day without him here?

“Goodmorning princess,” he called from the shared bathroom, you almost always kept your doors open so you could easily get to his room and vice versa.

You hopped up quickly and rushed to sit on the bathroom sink while he brushed his teeth. He greeted you with a sleepy kiss to your forehead, leaving a soft smile on your lips.

“Are you excited?” You asked.

“So excited.” He grinned, spitting toothpaste foam into the sink and rinsing it down.

“Good! I-I’ll bring you some lunch okay?” You said.

“Perfect. I’d miss you too much if you didn’t.” He gathered you up in his arms, hooking his forearms under your thighs to hold you close to his chest while you wrapped your legs around him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. He walked you over to his bedroom, gently laying you in his still-warm sheets.

“Ani?” You asked as you watched him strip from his pajama pants and sleep shirt.

“What is it babe?” He asked as he walked to his closet in just his boxers.

“What am I supposed to do all day while you’re gone?” Your lip stuck in a pout.

“We talked about this,” he said gently, sliding a white shirt over his head and throwing some jeans on the bed before making his way to you.

“I’ll be back everyday at 5:00. You’ll have from 8:00 to 5:00 to do whatever you want! Call up one of your friends, see if they want to set up a weekly hang out or something.”

He carefully tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, you could see the pain in his eyes at the thought of you being upset.

“I know. I will.” You sighed, scooting closer to rest your head on his knee.

“I gotta do this to get the experience, so I can open my own garage. How else am I gonna make sure you get that big cake shop hmm?” He caressed your cheek with his thumb, making you nod in agreement.

“You’ll see me at lunch, and once I get home, I’ll take you out to see a movie. How that sound?” He asked, taking notice of your sour expression.

You perked up at the thought, it had been a while since you’d been to the theater.

“Yes! That would make up for it I think.” You said playfully.

“Good. Now I gotta go before you convince me to stay.” He laughed, smoothing your hair and standing up.

Throwing on his jeans and a belt before tugging on his brand new pair of work boots. He took one last look at you, pressing his lips to his thumb and transferring the kiss to your bottom lip in a gentle swipe. He left you there, alone in his room. His blankets smothered you with his scent and you slowly let yourself fall asleep.

You groggily awoke to the feeling of the mattress being weighted down. A gentle hand shaking your leg to get your attention. Your sleep filled eyes barely registered the figure at the foot of the bed, Obi-Wan. You rubbed your eyes with your knuckles as he spoke.

“What’re you doing in here?” He asked.

“I came to tell Anakin bye and I fell asleep.” You laughed, sitting up.

“You almost had me worried,” he smiled, “I didn’t see you in your room when I stopped to tell you that your mom left for work and I was on my way out.”

“Sorry!” Your eyes widened, “oh I didn’t even think- I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay, don’t apologize.” He stood up, getting ready to leave. “Have a good day!” He called as he left the room.

Once you gathered the energy to pull yourself out of the cocoon you’d made in Anakin’s bed, you headed downstairs to make yourself breakfast and to assemble a bag lunch for Anakin.

You called a few friends, only one being free every week. Your childhood friend Ashley was more than happy to have a standing date with you every Thursday, she seemed excited to spend more time with you. As you ended the call you hopped into your car and set on your way to Anakin’s new job.

You stepped out onto the pavement with your old beat-up sneakers and shorts with a black crop top. The ground around you practically sizzled from the heat and you quickly made your way inside into the sweet relief of air conditioning. You strode up to the desk and tapped the bell on the counter, a man came out from the back after a few seconds.

“What can I do for you missy?” His voice was gruff and his shirt was stained beyond repair.

“I’m Anakin’s step-sister, I brought him lunch.” You lifted up the bag and smiled.

“Right, he told me you’d be coming.” He smirked, taking in your appearance before turning on his heel and yanking open a side door.

“Skywalker! Your girl is here.” He shouted, and moments later Anakin came rushing through the door, unzipping his work jumpsuit so that it hung from his hips, his white undershirt covered in sweat.

“There she is!” He grinned, enveloping you in a tight hug, breaking the embrace to place a possessive hand on the small of your back, leading you outside and back to your car.

“How is it? Is it fun? Do you like the people? Who was that guy? Is he your boss?” Your rapid fire questions had Anakin laughing as he cracked open his can of Pepsi.

“Slow down,” he grinned, pulling out his sandwich and chips. “Yes, it’s fun and all the people are super nice. And yes, that man is my boss, his name is Gary.”

“He doesn’t mind that I’m gonna be here everyday does he?” You asked.

“No, I told him you’d be bringing me lunch. He’s fine with it, gave me a teasin’ though.” He laughed.

“Why?” You questioned confused.

“Ah no big deal, he’s just jealous that I’ve got such a sweetheart like you.” His hand found yours and his thumb brushed your knuckles lovingly. “Thought it was weird my step-sis tolerated me enough to bring me food.”

“Huh? That’s mean!” You huffed, “I don’t tolerate you, I love you!”

“I know baby. I know.” He brought your knuckles to his lips and placed a chaste kiss there before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Guess I’m just lucky.” He shrugged with a teasing smirk.

You watched with adoration as he downed his food, he was starving, as if this was the only thing he’d eaten in days.

“I’m gonna have to pack you more tomorrow.” You said, dusting crumbs off his shirt. “Do you need me to bring you a snack? Are you still hungry?”

“I’ll be alright for today, we’ll just get some food before the movie tonight.” He said, taking his palm to your cheek.

He stared, his pupils blown wide as he gazed down at you leaning into his palm. He was always so soft and gentle with you, he made you feel so loved.

“C’mere.” He whispered, cradling your head now between both hands as he drew your face closer. Pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your forehead. “Thank you for always bein’ so sweet to me.”

“You deserve it.” You grinned, quickly pecking him on the cheek. “You should probably get back.”

“I know.” He sighed, putting his trash into the lunch bag and setting it in the floor board of the car.

His gaze lingered on your lips, and quickly shot over to the garage doors, all four were shut and so was the public entrance. He shook his head slightly.

“What’s wrong Ani?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing princess. Just thinking.” His voice was soft. “I love you.”

“I love you!” You responded happily, throwing your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. A soft groan escaped his mouth at the feeling of your lips grazing accidentally across the sensitive skin.

Anakin’s head swam as he thought to himself, about the last few weeks, the way you so willingly gave him affection, how you didn’t seem to realize how your touch affected him, that you didn’t seem to understand that the attachment between the two of you was far from normal. He should be ashamed, taking advantage of your innocence like this, you didn’t know any better. He should be disgusted with his actions, with his anything but pure thoughts. But he couldn’t help himself. You were you, and that was enough of a reason for him to throw his morals and better judgment out the window.

He made a decision right then, with your arms around him and his lips pressed against the crown of your head. He was yours, you were his.

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics

@tsugumiholic

@kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch

@cherrylooney

@star611

@tahliac11

@exquisit3corpse

@jellydodger

@arzua10

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed!

#anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x you #darth vader #darth vader smut #star wars #star wars fanfiction #starwars fandom #anakin skywalker x you #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #Stepbro!anakin

638 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 24 days

Text

death by a thousand cuts

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

an: a wild taylor as gojo has appeared. enjoy. satoru as taylor swift anon who is always in the asks, this is for you. i see you and i hear you.

“holy shit. there’s no way you’re on his fucking linked in during class?” megumi whispers.

you feel your eyes widen as you look to your left to find a very, deeply distraught megumi staring at you. and it’s almost like clockwork, the way he abandons his accounting spreadsheet – and quickly slides into the messages app on his laptop.

the three consecutive buzzes of your phone thrum under your thigh come before you see nobara and yuuji turn their heads back, two rows ahead of you in the lecture hall, and looking awfully more distraught than megumi.

“you’re kidding.” nobara mouths.

“freak!” yuuji whispers, earning you a set of weird glances from the group at your right.

you glare at the two of them, before turning to megumi and bringing your foot down on top of his. megumi winces, giving you a very characteristic and unbothered eye roll, before he returns to finishing up his spreadsheet.

you pull your hood up over your ears, cheeks warm and pink from embarrassment, before you focus back on the screen.

you know that he’s right. that there is really no point at looking at his account – not when you have all of the details memorized.

Satoru Gojo Senior Data Science Student @ Tokyo Technical Institute

three work experiences. data analytics intern for the justice project. hackathon project lead. meadow investments development engineer.

two degrees under his education. because he’s dual enrolled and set to get a bachelor’s in computer science and a masters in engineering by the end of his term next year.

and one organization. alpha kappa psi, the business fraternity.

the only reason you were at the scene of the crime.

it was all miwa’s fault. and partially yours, for being so willing to come to her aid – at all times. when she asked you to accompany her to the bid party – just because she wanted to support mechamaru fresh in their new relationship and didn’t do too well in social situations – you had all but obliged. at the most, you would get a cheap shot and brownie points to get miwa to run the errands for the entire month.

except when it came to it, miwa wasn’t nervous at all, only because mechamaru had spent the past few weeks hyping her up to his pledge class. which left you alone, stuck to roam around until she was ready to leave at the end of the night.

the floor was sticky with beer, there was an almost rancid, putrid smell lingering in the air that you couldn’t pinpoint, and you were stuck with sixty of your peers – shitfaced to a point you didn’t even know was humanly possible.

and with miwa long gone, doing god knows what with mechamaru and you were stuck leaning against the fridge, bored out of your mind. that’s when he found you – pawing your way through the food.

his smell was the first thing that caught your attention, second to the fact that he was hovering over your shoulder, cheeks brushing against each other. it was almost minty and stark – almost eradicating the lingering smell of weed that was burning your nose.

the skin on his cheek was soft, featherlike when it brushed against yours.

“whatcha doing, dollface?”

you immediately curl your nose, turned off by the unnecessary sweetness. you had your fill of dirty frat boys during orientation week, three years ago, and knew damn well that you had to steer clear of whatever was happening here.

“playing where’s waldo, genius. i’m obviously looking for food.” you state.

you reach for the closest box, a perfectly cut slice of cake, encased in a wrap. the plastic is covered in messy scribbles on the top – spelling out satoru in loopy letters.

“you’re just going to eat someone else’s cake?” he asks.

“how do you know it’s not mine?”

“intuition.”

it’s only then that you stop yourself to look up at this stranger whispering in your ear, only to find glimmering blue eyes, peering over the top of a set of sunglasses. the sunglasses are god awful – even worse with the combination of the tanktop and the snapback he’s wearing backwards.

you swear there’s a faded, glittery pink lipstick mark indented at the top of his cheek.

“you-you’d be shocked.” you stutter, as you pull the box out of the fridge and place it on the counter.

he momentarily walks away – which is when you take the second to ogle him in full. a toned back, a tattoo on the top of his shoulder that you can’t entirely make out. white hair, veiny arms, and a silver necklace hanging against his collarbone.

he returns back, two forks in hand, before making a dramatic display of handing you one.

“for you, my sweet lady.”

“i’m not sure why you brought two forks. who said i was going to share with you?”

he grins, leaning his head back to laugh like a little kid, before he scoots closer to you – the sweet scent coming back.

“c’mon.”

he reaches for your hand, before lifting it to place it against his chest. you can feel his heart beating under the feeling of your fingertips, his eyes wide and expectant as he waits for and answer.

“do me a favor, yeah? let me share my cake with a pretty girl at a party. there’s only a limited amount of joys in this life.”

you scoff, before pulling your hand back.

“you’re corny.”

he shrugs.

“you’ll get used to it.”

you groan, as you slam your computer shut – the image of his shiny headshot staring back at you getting burned into your eyes.

stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid.

one stupid joke, a slice of cake, and somehow you woke up in his bed the next day being spooned by him. and one thing led to the next because he was somehow taking you to brunch, then settling his head in between your legs before dinner, and then back at your house the next day.

it was an arrangement at that point. the dinners, what happened in between, and the morning after.

you’re not sure what the terms and conditions are in a predicament like yours – with a guy like satoru. you know for a fact that he still flirts with other girls, because you’d see him walking with a different one every time you stopped at the coffee shop. but then he’d invite you to dinner, honey sweet words falling from his lips before he tucked you in for bed each night.

friends with benefits. but he buys you gifts and takes you to dinner. and calls you beautiful. comes to your house after frat parties, with the faintest scent of a flowery perfume on his neck that you swear you’re imagining.

letting him walk out of your apartment was your own personal tourture, of death by a thousand cuts, because every step farther away from you was closer to someone else.

and that sinking, deep rooted dread, only got worse as time went on.

you feel a hard smack against your head.

“do your fucking homework.”

satoru gojo has distinct features that you always find yourself staring at. a mole on his shoulder, a scar on his pointer finger, and the rings he wore. sometimes, you find yourself asking them about him.

you reach forward, locking your fingers in on the chain around his neck, and using it to pull him closer. it's of a little postage stamp, though the silver looks rusted – like he’s worn it to death. he’s quick to oblige, a warm kiss on your cheek, before you yank again.

“what, baby?” he whines.

“where’d you get your necklace?”

he leans back, looking down at the chain, before his eyes meet yours again. there’s a dim fluorescent glow coming in from the blinds of the window, sun far gone in the horizon, and it’s the only thing that makes this bearable.

that his piercing blue eyes somewhat subdued from the lack of light.

“you want it, princess?”

“what? no. i just like it. i wasn’t –”

it’s a boyish giggle that comes out of satoru’s mouth as he quickly unfastens the clasp from his neck before tangling it in his fist.

you’re not an idiot – because it’s his freezing cold fingers pulling your shirt over your head – before he pulls you into his lap.

this was one of satoru’s favorite things to do. pull you close, till you’re straddling him in his lap, and you can feel his breath tickling against his collarbone as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

you wonder if he can see your blush in the dim light. if that’s part of why he likes it – seeing the effect he has on you.

he reaches forward, pulling your hair to the side and pressing a kiss to your collarbone, before he fastens his silver necklace around your neck.

“you know. when i said i liked your necklace, i said i liked it on you. i wasn’t asking for it.”

“but i like seeing you wear it more.”

satoru’s eyes are focused as he fixes the tangles in the chain, letting the little charm hang right in the little divot where your collarbone ends. and then he brings his hands in around your face, nearly squishing the softness of your cheeks together, before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“will you wear my hoodie?” he jokes.

you scoff.

“are we in sixth grade? also, it quite literally says ‘yuuta’s big’ on the sleeve. that’s not obvious at all.”

satoru rolls his eyes.

“you would love yuuta, though. he’s your pseudo little brother, because you’re with me, you know?”

you shake your head, as you crawl out of his lap, and reach for the water bottle on the side table. you try to ground yourself, head spinning as you try to decipher what that means – and tap your feet on the floor.

you can feel him at your side, his observant blue eyes burning holes into your skin, as you note the steady, almost cautious tone in his voice.

“you okay? something i said?”

you shake him off.

“yeah, yeah. sorry. got out of the mood there for a second, just have a lot to do this week.”

satoru hums, before bringing his hands around your torso, leaning his entire weight against you as he settles his chin into the crook of your neck.

“you ever think you work too hard, pretty girl?”

“working hard or hardly working?” you joke. even his corny jokes were rubbing off on you.

you hear satoru scoff, before he starts rubbing circles into the bare skin of your stomach, as the goosebumps start to trickle over your skin.

“oh, don’t be like that. you’re the smartest person i know.”

“is this a clever way to get into my pants?”

“no. it’s me telling you that i think you’re very intelligent, you’re very driven, and you don’t have to worry about if you’re working hard enough. i know the only breaks you take are to go to that dumb movie theater downtown with your grumpy friend or when you scream my name every –”

“satoru.” you whine.

“don’t say my name like that. it turns me on.”

you grin.

“satoru.” you hum, teasing him.

“fuck off.”

he pauses, before pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

“but really. you’re a clever, you’re pretty, and irritatingly very accomplished. slow down so i can catch up, okay?”

“that’s rich coming from you. mister three internships, two degrees in four years.”

it’s quiet.

“how’d you know that?” satoru asks.

you can hear the smile in his voice. and the dread pooling in your stomach.

“what?”

“how’d you know it was two degrees?”

“you-you told me.”

“no, i didn’t. i just got accepted a few weeks ago, i haven’t even told some of my friends yet.”

you groan, before bringing your hands up to your face. you bury your eyes into the sockets of your eyes, getting caught embarrassedly red handed.

“where?”

you sigh.

“i stalked you on linked in.”

satoru grins wide, before pulling you back onto the bed and into his embrace. you can hear his giggling in your ear as you try to pull away.

“oh, baby you didn’t.”

“i had to make sure i didn’t apply where you worked!”

“no, you didn’t. we don’t even work in the same field.”

“you don’t know! i could change my mind!”

satoru laughs, before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“you have a crush on me! angel, you should have just said so!”

you give him a hard push, before crossing your arms over your chest.

“quit teasing. so i’m a stalker! so what? i just want to make sure i’m not putting out for a loser. you could be coding some AI for the government for all i know and i don’t want to be –”

“okay, okay. relax. i’m just teasing, i just think it’s cute you keep tabs on me.”

you glare.

“i don’t like you.” you state.

he rolls his eyes, before flopping his head down on your pillow and tapping the space next to him. you crawl into the space, before nestling yourself into his arms. you can feel your brain spiraling – instant regret for saying too much, being too weird, too harsh, and not saying what you felt – as you focus on the feeling of his hands running through your hair.

“i can tell that the hamster in your brain is working overtime. just go to bed, okay?”

“okay, lock the door when you leave?”

“i don’t have plans tomorrow morning. if you could humble yourself to eat breakfast with me, i’d actually like that.”

you frown, stomach jolting in your guts.

he had never stayed for an arbitrary reason – like spending the night just to sleep next to you. you shut your eyes, burying your face deeper into the sweet smell of his skin, and throw the thought away.

“mimosas?”

“you want to drink that early in the morning?”

“it’s saturday. gives me a good kick to start my day.”

“aren’t mimosas made with champagne? i hate champagne. and it makes you really handsy.”

you smile.

“you like when i’m handsy.”

“i mean, yes. but we can just do pancakes and go to the library together so we can do work. i’ll keep you accountable and find you snacks when you get inevitably cranky. then when you come home all tired, we can be as handsy as we want. it’s more satisfying when you have to work for it.”

you groan, burying the complications of spending yet another day with him in the back of your head as you try to flutter your eyes shut – in futile attempts to quiet the thoughts racketing around in your mind.

“okay, okay whatever. we’ll see tomorrow, i just – i’m really tired right now and –”

“shut up, dollface. just sleep.”

you get invited to the alpha kappa psi formal. miwa – who found out from mechamaru, whose pledge class brother is very close with satoru’s little yuuta – said that satoru wanted you there.

then why didn’t he ask you?

you bite the bullet anyways, borrowing one of kugisaki’s pale blue slip dresses – and attend as mechamaru’s pledge brother – todo’s date – to get in.

he’s a strange guy, who doesn’t pay you too much attention. it’s one polite wave and a cardstock ticket he hands you before you don’t see him again for the rest of the night. and you’re stuck with miwa and mechamaru, who are bigger fans of pda than you are.

“how’s satoru, y/n?” mechamaru asks.

“ah. he’s good. you know as much as i do, right?”

you can feel yourself sweating.

would satoru leave if you said too much? if you embarrassed him in front of one of his brothers? did they know you guys had an…arrangement? was it an arrangement? were you seeing each other? why did they think he invited you?

“dunno. aren’t you guys really good friends?” mechamaru asks.

“um, yeah.”

“yeah, he was telling us you studied together at the library the other day. figured he’d want you to meet suguru and ieiri.”

suguru and ieiri.

“yeah. i’m gonna go get a drink. do you guys want anything?”

“i’m good, love. we’ll be here.” miwa states, giving a reassuring squeeze to your bicep before you drag your heels to the makeshift bar.

you walk over to the bar, straight to the open bottle of rosé that has your name on it, as you lean against the wall. you pour way too much into your flute, nearly spilling it over the back of your hand, as you curse.

“do you want help?”

you look up to find a boy looking at you, wide eyes, with his bangs sweeping down the side of his face. he has tired eyes, but it’s a seemingly bright smile he offers you.

“sorry, yeah. i’ll clean it up, i swear.”

“no, no. no problem.”

he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket, before he pulls your hand in his and wipes the excess pink stain on it. you cringe at the stain on the cloth before he tucks it back into his pocket.

“i’m sorry about that. that’s really kind of you, i just –”

“no problem! you seemed…kind of frustrated there. happy to help.”

you shoot him a polite smile, before nervously sipping – maybe a little too fast for comfort. but the warm feeling is enough to temporarily curb the nerves, which is perfect for your sake.

“are you a brother?” you ask.

“yeah! is this your first formal?”

“yeah. i’m seeing someone in your frat and he asked me to come. well, he didn’t ask me to come, he told someone else he wanted me to come so i came as one of the other brother’s date. but not really his date, because i haven't seen him since then. or the guy i’m talking to.”

he leans back, eyes wide.

“right. do you like him? if…if you mind me asking.”

“my date? i can’t even remember his name. he’s like a tall, muscular guy. man bun?”

“no, yeah. his name is todo, i figured that’s who you were talking about. i mean the other guy.”

“oh. well, yeah. but he’s so…i don’t know. he’s a frat guy. and a chronic flirt. the first time i met him he had a lipstick stain on his cheek. and he smells like girly perfume every time he comes to see me, so –”

he sucks his teeth in.

“idiot.” he murmurs.

“what?”

“no! oh my god, not you! i meant…me! just thought of something. gotta run for a second, i’ll be back.”

“wait, you didn’t even tell me your –”

you watch as he rushes off, in a speed walking fervor, as mechamaru and miwa join you at your side. they give you a polite smile, which you return, as you swirl the glass in your hand.

“mechamaru. do you know that guy who just walked away? tired looking, the long hair?”

“oh, yuuta. yeah, what about him?”

“yuuta?”

“yeah, you’ve never met him? he’s like gojo’s pride and joy.”

you sink against the wall, embarrassment coursing through you, as you down the rest of your glass. and then three more, which is accompanied by weary looks from miwa. and after finishing off the entire bottle – an hour and a half into the party without seeing satoru – you’re set on leaving.

and it’s only on your rageful stomp out the door, well past tipsy, that you find the godawful man of the hour, leaning against the wall.

it’s enough to fill you with a rage. because he’s leaning against the wall, shirt slightly unbuttoned, and smiling brightly at whichever girl he’s talking to. you’re almost positive that it’s probably her flowery perfume that you’re smelling on his neck at the time, that she’s who he sees when he’s not with you, and it’s like pins and needles in your stomach.

and you almost make your escape, before he catches you on your way out.

“y/n? wait, y/n!”

you’re one step out the door, before he grabs your bicep, and pulls back, giving you a bright grin.

“i didn’t know you were here yet. i’ve been waiting, come here, c’mhere.” satoru mumbles, quickly rushing you over to the group of three people standing by the door, who all turn their heads for you.

you groan as you turn to the group of them. it’s the same tired eyes as before – that you now know belong to yuuta – and two strangers you’ve never seen before. a guy almost as tall as satoru, with swooping bangs and a manbun, and the girl – who you can’t stand to look at, with perfect beach waves swooping past her shoulders.

and what you can’t help but notice is a sparkling, silver postage stamp necklace around her neck. the same one around yours, that you had been fidgeting with since satoru gave it to you weeks ago.

“here’s your drink, satoru.” the girl states, handing him a glass of white wine that he takes.

it’s enough to make your rage bubble to the surface.

“the lady of the hour, guys! this is y/n, she’s my –”

you scoff.

“are you kidding?”

“hm?”

“lady of the hour? for what, your jokes?”

you watch as satoru’s face drops, before he sets the glass of wine down on the closest table.

“huh? what do you mean? i wanted to introduce you to ieiri, i know you’re going to love her.”

you can feel the tears accumulating in your eyes, that you’re almost positive that satoru notices, because his face visibly droops even more, this time replaced with genuine concern that sends a pang in your chest that has you wrestling your wrist out of his hold.

“you…you’re so mean, satoru.”

“baby, what?”

“don’t…why are you calling me that? every morning you wake up next to me and you’re still not my baby. that’s not exactly fair. you smell like a different girl and you still…you still flirt with other people.” you whisper.

his eyes go wide.

“no, i –”

“every time you walk away i’m half convinced you’re just going to someone else you’re stringing along like me. i’m sitting there thinking about how you’ve walked hundreds of steps away from me hundreds of times and it feels like a thousand little cuts every time you do and it kills me that you don’t even care.”

you can feel that whatever is coming out is word vomit, like it’s started and now it won’t ever stop.

“i see you everywhere, because you literally come everywhere with me just to leave. any song you’ve sang is now our song, any movie, literally anything you’ve even touched. i can’t even wear certain clothes without thinking about how you complimented me in them and i’m stuck thinking about how you probably say that to everyone. you don’t even drink wine and you’re over here drinking some with this random girl at this party, when that’s my thing that we drink wine together. you gave her the same necklace as me, and you apparently asked me to come to but didn’t even tell me about to my face? then you sick your little frat brother to ask me if i like you just so you can….i don’t know, i don’t know what you’d do with that information!”

you watch as satoru pinches the bridge of his nose, only to turn to the three of them at his side, who are all shaking their heads dismissively.

“suguru. i fucking told you he had to be leaving something out.”

“well, i didn’t realize it was going to be like this, shoko. no wonder she won’t date him.”

you swallow hard, as you seem to sink deeper in the pits of your own embarrassment, which seems to be a record low.

“fuck. you…you said her name is shoko?”

geto offers you a smile.

“that’s right.”

“like satoru’s hometown friend? the…the lesbian?”

“that would be me.” she confirms.

you cringe.

“oh my god. i’m really sorry, i’m really drunk. i drank an entire bottle of wine after i accidentally talked to yuuta and i just –”

“well, i’d get drunk if i were you too. he smells like other girls? and flirts with them?” shoko asks.

“i do not! i don’t even know what you’re talking about. i didn’t even know she even liked me back till twenty minutes ago.”

“the necklace is a nice gesture. satoru, geto, and i all have these matching postage stamp necklaces from this shitty place in our hometown. we got them together when we graduated so we wouldn’t forget about what was important when we all go to college.”

you turn to satoru.

“and you just gave that to me?”

“well, i knew you’d take care of it.”

“that’s like…that’s like sentimental, satoru. you literally gave me your childhood best friends memento and that’s so-”

“well, obviously that seems like a little much if you think we’re just friends with benefits!”

you scoff.

“you’re the one who wanted to be friends with benefits.” you clarify.

“what are you talking about? you literally cringe away from any affection i give you!” satoru retorts.

“because you flirt with other girls!”

“not since you! why would i flirt with other people?”

“you tell me. i smell the perfume.”

satoru groans.

“that’s your perfume, dipshit. you left your hoodie at my house and it smells like you so sometimes i sleep next to it and then i smell like it. how do you not recognize your own smell?”

you pause.

“you do what?”

“not in a fucking weird way. i just miss you when you’re busy. you smell nice, it’s –”

“hopeless.” yuuta states, earning him a nod from suguru.

“you didn’t even ask me to come here with you.” you state.

“shoko had to be my date so she could come. i had to make yuuta drag maki in through a window because geto was his plus one. i just wanted you here so you could meet my childhood friends, who i care about. they’ve heard about you for so long that i just thought –”

“you talk to your friends about me?”

“an insufferable amount. though most of his agony seems self inflicted now, because he’s a fucking idiot.” shoko confirms.

“okay, let’s get y/n some water, yeah?” yuuta suggests, before shuffling the two of them off, to which satoru sends a grateful smile before turning back to you.

he crouches down a little, just so your eyes are level, as you frown at him.

“is this what that hamster in your brain is doing up there? overthinking literally everything?”

“you –”

“if you asked, i would have clarified for you. we’ve always been exclusive and if you talked to someone else while we were talking, i’m going to have to kill him.”

“don’t be stupid.”

“i’ll just send a threat! sign his emails up for scientology. he was talking to my girl!”

you glare at him.

“you…you’re so stupid, satoru. you confuse me so much and i just…you take up too much space. you’re everywhere – literally no part of me that you haven’t taken up and i just…”

satoru frowns, before pulling his hands around your face, and angling up by your chin to look at him.

“don’t give up now. it just got good.” he whispers.

“satoru.”

“cmon. let me lick all thousand of your cuts clean.”

“ew. you’re…you’re so gross, satoru.”

“okay, that was just a dirty joke. but let me make it up to you, really. i didn’t realize you…you were thinking all that. i thought you just liked me because i was sexy and because i eat your –”

“satoru!”

“please. let me into that hamster ball in your brain. i deserve some space.”

“it’s all boarded up. the hamster ball house burned down.” you groan.

he leans back, like he’s inspecting your face, before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“dunno. i’m seeing some flickering lights in there. i can tell your hamster in there really wants me.”

“quit….quit calling me a hamster! you’re so…ugh. i have a headache and i’m drunk and i’m really confused and i just –”

satoru mimics a little salute, before he loops his hand around your waist and walks you towards the little bar.

“okay, test run. i’m on boyfriend duty. if this goes well enough, you give me a chance tomorrow.”

you squint your eyes at him.

“okay, water first. then i have two baby aspirin for you in my pocket. three kisses on the cheek if you won’t insult me after and a compliment if you won’t kill me.”

“really?”

“yuuta told me you downed a whole bottle. since you’re too mad to be handsy, you have a headache. but don’t worry, i came prepared. meaning i forced yuuta to find some baby aspirin or else. and also, kisses because you smell good and you’re wearing this pretty blue dress that’s the same color as my eyes and you’re about to meet my favorite people ever and you’re my favorite person ever, so this is a big deal.” satoru responds.

he’s rambling so hard that you feel like you can see the hamster in his mind working overtime.

“what’s the verdict?”

satoru’s voice is like a thousand bullets in your head as you smack him in the face, trying to silence the chattering coming out of his mouth.

“satoru. what…what time is it?”

“six in the morning. but it’s the next day and i need to know how my test run went.”

“your….what?”

satoru whines.

“no, no don’t tell me you’re too drunk to remember? my test run! to be your boyfriend?”

you groan, flickering your eyes open to the alarm clock on your bed, spelling out the time. 6:07 am.

“no, i remember. you need the answer at six in the morning when i’m hungover?”

“this is agony! i really get this whole thousand cuts thing now, this hurts. tell me.”

you push his face into the pillow, before mumbling it as quietly as you can.

“you pass.”

“huh?”

“you heard me. you passed. just…shut up, please.”

it’s his giggles you hear before sleeping and a warm kiss on your forehead, before you pass out again.

satoru as taylor swift songs masterlist

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @torureadz @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga

185 notes · View notes

fairlyang · 3 months

Text

dad!miguel headcanons 🕷️

dad!miguel who always prepared gabi’s lunch in a hello kitty thermo (if he made her sopa de letras, her fav) or a hello kitty sandwich box because he knew how excited his little girl would be when she’d see how her lunch was packaged

dad!miguel who would write cute little messages or corny dad jokes on little post it notes with whatever sweet treat he’d leave her

“How does a penguin build its house?” he wrote on one side then flips it over to write the answer

“Igloos it together.” he signs it with “te amo<3” then rereads his joke to laugh at it before sticking it to a rice krispie

dad!miguel would definitely know how to do gabi’s hair (because he would do absolutely anything for her) so when she asked if he could do elsa’s braid you can bet your ass he searched up easy tutorials on youtube

dad!miguel who will make or buy whatever snack gabi may crave, have it be chicharrones, brownies, or a popsicle de gansitos, he will make sure she gets whatever she asks for

dad!miguel who would sing gabi to sleep, songs ranging from lullabies to boleros to vicente fernadez’s whole discography

dad!miguel that signs her up to whatever her little heart desires. an art class? say less. ballet? he’ll sprint to buy the shoes

dad!miguel who accidentally falls asleep on the couch after watching barbie movies with gabi

extra points knowing he’d be sitting legs spread, head against the cushion with his mouth wide open letting out the loudest of snores imaginable which would just make gabi giggle in shock

dad!miguel who’d get drunk at the neighbor’s kid’s birthday party and be one of those mexican dads to be singing so obnoxiously but somehow sounding not so bad

“le dedicó esta para mi niña hermosa.”

cue piel canela playing and dad!miguel snatching the mic from one of the tios

he tries to find gabi through drunken eyes but once he spots her in her bright pink dress he sings to her, pointing to her when the lyrics say “me importas tu y tu y tu y solamente tu.”

gabi with wide, glossy eyes watching her papi give her yet another serenata because she was spoiled rotten in all aspects, this being one of them because she loved his singing

dad!miguel who would call up his friend’s mariachi early in the morning on gabi’s birthday but ask the favor that he can sing for her instead because he always wants her day to extra special

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara imagine #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara #Miguel ohara fluff #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara fanfiction #spider man 2099

314 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 10 months

Note

I must (politely) demand more animals for Bee - ☀️

You stare at the little yellow peepers under the warm light in the supply store. Their fluffy bodies and teeny little wings are the cutest things you've ever seen. You want one. You could handle a chicken, chickens are super easy(you think) people in the suburbs keep chickens.

But what if it gets lonely? You can't bring a little baby chicken home and leave it all by itself! Who ever heard of having one chicken? It's absurd. You'd have to get it a friend. But what if they get in a fight and stop talking? Ok three chickens...

You leave the store with five chicks peeping away in a cardboard box. You swing by the feed store and are so astonished by the price of feed that you actually ask about a discount. Which apparently was the right thing to do given how excited the owner looked. Plus there was a nice guy in line behind you who let you know haggling was kind of the thing to do in the feed store.

You get home with nothing you'd planned to purchase. You call König from the car. He doesn't answer, which is weird, but he's probably busy. A text works just as well, youll do that when you get home. You pull up to your house and find someone already parked there. Also weird.

There's a woman leaning against the cab of the beat up truck, chocolate brown hat tipped low over her eyes as she scrolls through her phone. She also has a cardboard box under one arm and a baking tray resting on the top of the cab.

She looks up when you step out of your car and gives you just about the friendliest smile you've ever seen.

"Wow you're really fixing this place up," the woman, Goose, she said to call her Goose, says with a low whistle. She'd pretty handily forced her way into your home, handing you a tray of brownies which you suppose are sort of a decent entry fee. They tasted good enough.

“Doing my best for it,” You say around a mouthful of brownie. You set your box of peepers on the coffee table, eyeing the box she sets on the ground. "Hey you know anything about chickens?" You ask her, nudging the box for her to peak into.

"Oh cute! You know you got five of these suckers in here right?" She asks scooping a chick out of its carrier, you nod. She shrugs and puts it back. "You got an anything with a roof on it and some chicken wire? I got some milk crates in the truck but that's about it."

"I was going to wait for my neighbor to come by and help," you tell her watching her roll her sleeves up.

"Probably not a good idea considering the cat." She nods at the box she'd brought, you stare at it.

"Who?"

"Our barn cat had kittens, thought you might need a housewarming gift." Goose crouches and tugs the cardboard open. Almost immediately you're yelled at by a very orange kitten. It's tiny meow making the chicks peep nervously. Goose scoops it up with little fanfare and deposits him in your waiting hands. You love this woman.

"I think I'm in love with you," you tell her, half joking.

"I get that a lot," she grins, "Alright you watch the cat, I'm gonna raid your shed." You nod quickly, and point her towards the back.

You stare at the kitten for a second, watching him purr up a storm and listening to him yell at you. Spot. You boop his little pink nose and settle him on your shoulder.

König has never felt panic like getting out of the shower to a missed call from you. No message left, no follow up text, He can't hear you over the bugs... best case you must've been in town and had a question. Worst case you're dead or dying and he missed his one chance to save you.

He does his best not to run to your house, doesn't want to spook the horses, but the extra truck in your driveway certainly makes him hurry. Then he hears you laugh and his heart nearly stops he's so relieved.

König follows the sound of your chatter around to the back of the house. You're perfect. Glowing in the sun, crouched in the grass as you play with a kitten, chatting with a woman he's never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something and- his mask.

Shit. He'd been in such a rush getting dressed he'd forgotten his bandana and thrown on his hood like he was used to from so many years with KorTac. You couldn't see him like this. Most importantly the woman you were with couldn't see him like this. He could see the gun she had tucked under her clothes, and he knew well enough how threatening he looked.

At least you were safe. And making a friend, that was good. You need friends. König rips the hood off his head and considers his options. He'll go back for his bandana, then come over and introduce himself. Or better yet maybe this new woman will be gone by the time he gets back.

You make a noise of surprise and he watches you pull your phone out, typing a quick message. His phone lights up as you put you phone back in your pocket.

From: 💕

Forgot to text you! Picked up some chicks but I'm handling it don't worry!!! Help me with names when you get a second

König smiles at his phone, he'll let you finish up your fun and swing by to check on your work. You're growing quite the little farm for yourself. Which is good, you'll need to know how to do these things once you're married. Although he isn't sure if you've quite grasped what all these animals are for yet...

#cowboy!könig #oc: bee #greetings from spain everyone!! my first day here has been so good #i am drinking and writing and enjoying time with my sister :)#König trying to explain to Bee that shes gonna eat her animals and she will not hear it #piggy smalls is a pet and how dare König imply otherwise #könig x reader #könig x you #x reader #könig modern warfare #könig cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #oc: goose #since i guess she makes an appearance #also Gaz in Murphy's giving Bee a heads up about haggling #king and queen of making sure bee doesnt die #theyre coming for your throne könig watch out #☀️ anon

488 notes · View notes

vanwritesfan-fiction · 6 months

Text

Boom Chicka Boom

Jack has to step in as chaperone for Brooklyn's Girl Scout camping trip

Warnings: mentions of illness and potential injury, and a surprise at the end 🤭

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Urban's wife's name is Jasmine, and their daughter's name is Nora

Requested by the wonderful @harlowcomehome

"Ok, lets look over your packing list again, B." You surveyed Brooklyn's room, all of her camping gear spread across the floor, eying the piece of paper in your hands. The two of you were finishing up packing for Brooklyn's annual Girl Scout camping trip. She would be spending the weekend at a local campsite earning her camping badge and learning all there is to know about self-sufficient camping. Previous years she had been to young to participate, but finally graduated to Brownies and was able to go on the trip. You were going to join her as a chaperone, watching over a total of four girls for the night.

"Sleeping bag?" Brooklyn pointed to her pink and purple sleeping bag still perfectly wrapped up in the original packaging. "Check!" She grinned, showing off her missing front tooth. The tooth fairy had made quite a few trips to the Harlow house over the last few weeks, and Jack's wallet was feeling a lot lighter lately. You checked the box next to "sleeping bag" on the list. You moved through the room, making sure you had everything you would need.

"Alright, last thing is hiking boots." Brooklyn was quick to her feet and ran over to her closet, jumping up and down as she held a pair of brand new pink and purple New Balance hiking boots in her hands. You giggled as you checked them off the list. "I didn't know New Balance made hiking boots."

"They don't. Had the NB team specially make them for Brookie." You heard your husband's voice behind you as Jack walked into the bedroom with Aaliyah thrown over his shoulder, the little girl's giggles filling the space. "Daddy, put me down!"

"I have one more thing for your bag, B. You can't forget this little girl." Jack playfully pretended to pack Aaliyah in Brooklyn's duffle bag, piling Brooklyn's clothes on top of her, both of the girls' faces red from laughing so hard. "Daddy, no sisters allowed on the camping trip." Brooklyn jumped on her bed, trying to help her sister.

"Well then i guess Aaliyah and I will just have to spend all weekend watching movies together and eating ice cream." Jack shrugged, giving you a wink. You knew he was just joking, but you also knew he was a sucker for whatever his daughters asked for, including enough ice cream to give a child a serious stomachache. "Do you have everything you need for your camping trip, B?" He placed his hands low on his hips, slightly out of breath from lugging around a toddler.

"Yep!" Brooklyn responded with glee, trying on her new designer jacket in the mirror. "I think she has more than she needs babe. You know we're only going for one overnight, right?" You looked at all of the new camping gear and clothing that Jack had splurged on for you and Brooklyn. "I know, but I can't be there, so I wanted to make sure my girls had everything they needed." Jack countered, as he laid down on Brooklyn's bed, his long legs hanging off the edge as Aaliyah climbed on top of him, resting her head on his chest.

"Sure, 'can't'." You sarcastically threw up air quotes, rolling your eyes at Jack. Jack didn't like camping. His exact words were "I'd rather shave my head before going camping, baby", when Aaliyah excitedly brought the permission slip home. He was a self-proclaimed 'city boy' and the most camping he'd ever done in his life was sleeping out in Urban's backyard as kids. You had a lot more experience out in nature, and you had been a Girl Scout when you were younger, so you agreed to chaperone while he stayed home with Aaliyah.

"Ok, I think that's everything we-", you stopped as you felt a wave of nausea hit you, your face contorting at the pain in your lower stomach. Jack noticed immediately, quickly getting up, tossing Aaliyah onto his hip. "Ya alright, babe?" He cupped your cheek, feeling the thin layer of sweat on your skin. You were flushed at the cheeks but pale, like you'd been hit with the flu. He held the back of his hand on your forehead to check for a fever.

You nodded weakly. "Yeah, that was weird. I felt sick for a second. Must have been something I ate."

"Why don't you go lay down. I'll get the girls ready for bed." Jack suggested. You were too nauseous to object, so you went to lay down while Jack helped Brooklyn finish packing and got the girls ready and settled in bed.

****

You closed your eyes for what felt like only a couple of seconds before Jack was waking you up to see how you were feeling. You checked your phone to see that two hours had passed since you'd gone to lay down.

"How're you feeling?" Jack sat at the edge of your side of the bed, gently stroking your arm. He placed a cup of tea he had made for you on your nightstand. "Better. I really think its nothing, just something that I ate tonight." You adjusted in bed to lay on your back.

"That's what we get for letting the girls "cook" dinner. That pizza tasted a little funny to me too." You grimaced when you tried to smile at his joke, feeling the bile start to rise in your throat. "Ok, I've gotcha", Jack quickly guided you to the bathroom when he realized you were going to be sick, and you just made it as you emptied the contents of your stomach. He rubbed your back as your head hung in the toilet, tears brimming in your lashes.

When you were sure that you had nothing left to throw up, Jack helped you clean your self off and took you back to the bed, tucking you in. "Babe, you're sick. There's no way you can go camping tomorrow." You sighed as Jack cooed over you, knowing he was right. "Brooklyn is gonna be heartbroken, Jack. She's been waiting to go camping for a whole year." You were crying again, emotional that your illness had come at the worst possible time.

Jack wiped his thumb underneath your eye, collecting your tears. "Its fine, baby. She'll be alright. We'll cushion the blow with a Squishmallow."

"You could always go in my place, Jack." You saw his face drop at your suggestion, but you grabbed at his hand, not letting him get away. "Its just one night, and then maybe you can get over your fear of camping."

Jack scoffed. "I'm not afraid to go camping. I just don't like it. I'm from the city. We don't camp." He clutched at his chest dramatically, earning a quiet laugh from you.

"So you've said, so many times." You patted his thigh. "But maybe, you can make an exception this one time?" You took a sip from the tea cup, hoping it would make you feel a bit better. "Show Brooklyn there's nothing to be afraid of. She is your twin babe, she needs to see you face your fears to get over her own."

"Alright, 10 Squishmallows. You drive a hard bargin, babe." Jack negotiated. He was pacing the room at this point, chewing on his thumbnail. "Jack", you grabbed his attention, stopping him in his tracks.

"There are just so many unknowns on there. There could be bears. You know they said bears are starting to come into residential areas because of global warming." He nodded his head frantically, barely looking at you. "You know I can't run. Because of my bad gait." Jack pulled at his sweatpants.

"Baby. One, this camping trip is going to be at a regulated camping site, not even 20 minutes outside of the city, not in the Appalachian Mountains. Two, there will be rangers there that you can go to if you run into any problems." Jack nodded, realizing he was not going to get out of this, a sour look on his face. "Three. Everyone knows that you don't run away from a bear anyway. They're large but they're fast. They can run like 40mph, there's no way you'd be able to outrun a bear in the woods." You doubled over in laughter when you saw the color drain from his face.

"20 Squishmallows. Final offer." Jack would have given you cold, hard cash on the spot to get out of this trip.

****

The next morning, Brooklyn and Jack said their goodbyes and loaded up the family Jeep before heading over to pick up Urban and Nora. Once Jack agreed to chaperone the trip, he immediately called Urban last night and told him to pack his things. Jasmine was going to join you on the trip as Nora was in the same troop and your daughters were attached at the hip, but took the opportunity to send Urban in her place. She was from Brooklyn, and had never been camping in her life, and once Jack shared his bear facts with her, there was no way she was going.

"Are you planning on going off the grid, man?" Urban joked as he threw his and Nora's duffle bags into the trunk, noticing all of the pristine camping gear that hadn't even been used. He helped his daughter get buckled up next to Brooklyn before hopping in the front with Jack. "You laugh now, but in the off chance we need to radio for help or have to build a shelter, you'll be thanking me." Jack puffed out his chest in defense as he drove out of Urban's neighborhood.

"Radio for help? What year is it?" Urban pulled out his phone, chuckling to himself as he scrolled through the internet. "I checked online, they have five places you can charge your phone at the camping sight, and we brought a tent." He laid a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Relax man, this is supposed to be fun. Save all this for when you're inevitably on an episode of Bear Grylls when your career goes south." Jack shrugged his hand off, rolling his shoulders back. "Don't forget. Where I go, you go. You'll be right there drinking your own urine next to me."

"Ew, Daddy, don't drink your pee!" Nora held her nose, making Brooklyn giggle. "That's nasty, Uncle Urby!" Brooklyn chimed in.

****

The ride to the campsite was indeed short, after less than 20 minutes on the highway they spotted the sign for 'Louisville North Campground' and Jack was surprised to see how packed it was. There were plenty of RVs parked on the gravel lot, families occupying the picnic tables as they enjoyed the beautiful weather by the expansive lake; he even recognized a couple of other girl scout troops by their bright blue vests. With the help of the the ranger posted at the entrance they were given a map of the campsite, a parking ticket to put in the windshield of their car indicating they were staying overnight, and a key to the bathrooms and showers that the campers were permitted to use.

As soon as Jack put the vehicle in park, Brooklyn and Nora jumped out of the car and ran to their two friends waiting with an adult at the beginning of the trail, duffle bags planted at their feet. They were beyond excited to spend the weekend together. He thought he recognized the girls from playdates at the house, but he couldn't be sure of their names.

"Hi, I'm Jack, Brooklyn's dad." Jack extended out his hand to the lone parent, introducing himself. He missed a lot of school events because of his career, and never really got a chance to meet any of the other parents. "Hi, I'm Amelia." She met his greeting. "I'm Talia's mom." She placed her hand on the head of the girl with bright auburn hair, her fair skin covered in freckles. "And this is Liberty", a shy girl with purple beads at the end of her braids gave Jack a small wave.

"I'm really thankful that you both were able to step in this weekend", Amelia continued, "When Y/N texted me that she was sick, the girls were really upset. They've been talking nonstop about this camping trip, planning everything for weeks."

"Well, we're gonna have a lot of fun, and I've got your phone number in case we need to contact you." Jack held up the thick binder of instructions and parent contact information you had given him. It contained a list of all the activities the girls need to complete to earn their camping badge, as well as emergency procedures. Jack was a nervous mess looking through all of the things that could possibly go wrong without you there, but you assured him that you trusted him completely and that he hand nothing to worry about. He believed you, at least for now.

****

Jack and Urban ended up carrying all of the bags to the campsite, the girls running ahead and chanting:

I'm a girl scout, I'm a girl scout

Who are you?, who are you?

Can't you tell by looking?, Can't you tell by looking?

I'm one too, I'm one too

Jack and Urban set up the tents and the girls laid out their sleeping bags. You had packed all of the food and utensils everyone would need, so Jack put that on the picnic table, just out of a bear's reach. The girls were having fun practicing tying knots that Urban showed them how to do. He didn't tell the girls he learned how to tie most of those knots when he had to create a makeshift rope out of bed sheets to sneak out of his second story bedroom window after curfew in high school, but that was a story for when they were older.

After a couple of hours, the sun was high in the sky, and everything was positioned in the campsite. Jack had to pat himself on the back as he looked at their setup. So far everything was going pretty smoothly, and half of the day was already over. He just had to make it through dinner and the night, and he'd be back at home watching the football game on the couch by tomorrow.

"Ok, so your mama's book says the first activity is to use a compass and a map to locate a source of water." Jack shuffled through a few pages, "and then we'll identify some animals that are unique to the forest." He pulled a few compasses from his backpack and laid out the map on the picnic table. With their help, the girls pointed out a stream not far from their location. He let them lead the way, Nora, Talia, and Liberty with compasses in their hand, Brooklyn taking the map.

"Dude, do you know how to use a compass?" Urban whispered, stopping Jack with a hand to his chest. "Man, hell no. I pulled up the location on my phone, just in case we get lost." Jack replied, turning the brim of his ball cap to the back before catching up with the group.

Brooklyn was a great leader; she easily navigated the map, leading them to the stream. Jack was beaming with pride as he watched his usually shy daughter come out of her shell and have some fun. She also had a in-depth knowledge of different insects and amphibians because of her love of animals, so when they reached the stream, she was the first to spot a frog.

"Daddy, look! Its a pickerel frog!" She pointed to a brown, spotted frog sunning on a rock in the middle of the water. She grabbed his hand and led him to the bank, both of them squatting down to get a better look at the frog. "I see a crane!" Talia called out from a couple feet away, pointing to a crane across the way, its long beak dipping into the water. "I found a frog too!" Nora exclaim, her sneakers soaked from standing in the water.

With his focus still on Brooklyn to make sure she didn't fall in the stream, Jack shook off his hand as he felt something slick and wet on his palm. When he noticed the feeling didn't go away, he looked down to his left, a yelp leaving his mouth when he realized a frog had jumped into his hand. "Get off! Get off!"

"Daddy! Get it away!" Brooklyn screamed, not wanting the frog to touch her either. She loved animals, specifically dogs and cats, but all other animals only from afar, and in the books she had in her room, not in real life. She ran off to Urban, latching onto his leg. "Daddy, get out of the water!" She called to Jack. Even though touching the frog was the last thing Jack wanted to do, he realized he had an opportunity to help Brooklyn get over a fear, and he knew he had to take it now. He reached down in the water where the frog had landed, and gently scooped it into his palm.

"Look B, its fine. The frog is nice." Jack smiled, holding out his hands. She shook her head, still holding onto Urban. "Look, he's not dangerous, he just looks kind of funny." Jack scrunched his nose as he looked at the amphibian, rows of dark brown spots down its back. Slowly Brooklyn inched towards her dad, peeking over. When she realized that the frog wasn't a threat, and Jack was there to protect her, she even touched the frog. "He feels funny." She grinned. The other girls gathered around, while Jack tried to hide his shaking hands, each taking a turn to touch the animal.

****

Everyone was exhausted when they got back to the campsite. Jack was ready to call it a night, but your book listed the next requirement was to build a fire and have the girls cook their own food. Urban got the girls started on cutting the fruits and vegetables for their foil packet dinners while Jack tackled the fire pit.

The steps seemed pretty simple: gather twigs and leaves for tinder, larger sticks that would act as the kindling, light that, and place the larger logs on top. "Simple enough", Jack whispered to himself. He gathered all of the necessary materials, and began to stack them. He searched the supply bag for matches, huffing when he realized that they had accidentally been left behind. For a plan B, he secretly pulled out his phone to research how to light a fire without matches. The Youtube video he found said that he needed a sharp rock to strike against the wood, and that should start a flame. Once he found his fire starter, he exhausted himself trying to get the wood to light.

"Hey, Jack, the girls are getting hungry. How's the fire coming?" Urban walked over to the pit and sat across from a frustrated Jack, watching him try to light the fire to no avail. "Here, back up a second." Jack wiped the sweat off his brow as he watched Urban reach into his pocket and pull out his lighter. "The book says were supposed to use our resources, Urb. No cheating."

Urban chuckled as he flicked the lighter on, holding it to the kindling. "This is using my resources, Jack. I always carry this lighter with me." Jack laughed as he watched the fire start, growing higher and higher with each passing second. "Alright, let's cook this food, I'm starving!" Jack clapped his hands together.

****

"Daddy, can you tell us a story?" Brooklyn asked as the group sat around the campfire. The sun had set and they had eaten the dinner they prepared and devoured the cookies you had baked for them. Jack wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Ok, um let me think."

"What about a truck stop story?" Urban edged Jack on to tell one of the stories of the many truck stops they ended up at when Jack was first going on tour. "Urban, no. That's not appropriate." He elbowed his friend for even bringing it up. Jack wasn't exactly proud of the things he had to do to get by when he had no money and was a struggling rapper.

"What's a truck stop?" Liberty asked, her face inquisitive. A shadow of the flames danced across her face.

"Well, its a place where truckers can take a shower and rest when they're traveling." Jack answered, wringing his hands.

"Are you a trucker?" Talia asked. "No he's a rapper, and my dad takes his pictures." Nora chimed in, explaining their careers the best way an 8 year old could. "That's right, baby." Urban confirmed, a smile on his face as he looked at Jack. "I take your pictures." Jack silently mocked him, earning a hearty laugh from his best friend.

"You're a rapper? Do you know Beyonce?" Liberty questioned. "I've met her a couple of times." Jack responded.

"That's so cool! You're so cool, Mr. Harlow!" Jack blushed as the girls' faces lit up. They asked a million questions about Jack's career, and Brooklyn chimed in when she knew the answer, very excited to talk about her dad. "Can you sing us one of your songs?", Talia asked. Urban busted out laughing at the question, water coming out of his nose from the bottle he was drinking from.

"My music is for adults, Talia, but, we can sing one of your guys' songs." Jack flipped through the binder, hoping the girls would quickly forget about his music career. "What about 'Boom Chicka Boom?'. Jack didn't recognize the lyrics; admittedly, he hadn't been to any of Brooklyn's troop meetings due to his busy schedule. "Oh, I know this song. My sister was a girl scout." Urban leaned over, mumbling the lyrics quietly to himself to jog his memory.

"And you didn't think that was important to mention this morning?" Jack questioned with a scoff.

Urban started off the song. "I said a BOOM CHICKA BOOM!" he called out into the night.

"I SAID A BOOM CHICKA BOOM!" the girls echoed, Jack laughing at their enthusiasm.

"I SAID A BOOM CHICKA BOOM!"

"I SAID A BOOM CHICKA ROCKA CHICKA ROCKA CHICKA BOOM!"

"UH HUH!"

"OH YEAH!"

****

Jack could admit that he was starting to enjoy camping as he helped the girls get ready for bed and made sure they were carefully tucked into their sleeping bags and safe in their tent. He and Urban cleaned up the campsite and made sure the fire had died out before they headed to sleep themselves.

The next morning, besides a sore back and a little sunburn on his face, Jack had made it through the night relatively unscathed. By the time everyone finished their breakfast, parents had started arriving and Jack and Urban said goodbye to the camp grounds in their rear view window with their daughters in the back seat.

****

"Daddy!" Aaliyah was the first to greet Jack and Brooklyn when they walked through the front door, dropping their bags by the hall closet. "Hi baby. Did you have a good weekend taking care of Mama?" Aaliyah nodded as Jack took her in his arms, peppering her face with kisses. You were right behind your daughter, still a little worse for wear after spending most of yesterday in bed.

"Did you have a good time, Brookie?" You asked your eldest, wrapping her in a hug. "I did! Daddy held a frog, and I'm not scared to touch them anymore."

“That’s amazing baby. I’m so proud of you.” You kissed the top of her head before looking at your husband. You chuckled, taking in Jack’s face and messy curls sticking out under his hat. "A frog, really, babe?"

Jack grinned as he pulled you into a hug. "You should have seen your husband out there, babe. I was fearless." He kissed you before you could even retort, following up with a few quick pecks before you broke apart. "Oh babe, you smell, like, the outside." You grimaced, feeling nauseous again. You stepped back from Jack realizing that your family came back a little dirty and tired, but they looked like they had a good time.

"This is the smell of a fearless man." Jack smirked, flexing his muscles. "Ok, my fearless man. Why don't you go take a shower? I'll get the girls settled." You patted his chest before ushering him away, two fingers holding your nose closed.

While Jack took his first hot shower in two days, you helped Brooklyn get changed and set up the girls with some lunch and their favorite TV show in the living room. You were sitting on the bed when Jack came out of the shower, his wet curls hanging around his face.

"Well, Mountain man, did you have a good time?", you called out to him as he walked into the closet. "Actually, yeah. I definitely didn't expect it to be as fun as it was." He walked out, slipping a clean t-shirt over his head. "And babe, you should have seen Brookie. She was so confident, she had so much fun." You sat silent, a genuine smile on her face as you watched Jack get dressed, one hand on your stomach.

"What's wrong, baby? Are you still sick?" Jack furrowed his brow as he looked at your face.

"Um, yeah, I am, but its not food poisoning like I originally thought." You clasped your hands together tightly, looking at your feet.

"Babe, you're scaring me." Jack grasped at the towel in his hands, white knuckling the terry cloth material.

"Its good, I promise you." Tears were welling in your eyes. "I'm pregnant, Jack." You took in a sharp breath as soon as you finished your sentence.

You could see the wheels turning in his mind as he processed what you had just told him. "Oh my god." He finally spoke, and you felt like you could breathe again. He stroked at his jawline, sitting down next to you. "I know that this wasn't exactly planned", you started, "but I'm really excited. I love the idea of having another baby in the house."

"Oh my god." Jack repeated. When he finally looked at you, he looked so incredibly happy, the same face you had seen when told him you were pregnant with Brooklyn and Aaliyah. "We're having another baby."

"Yes, we are, Jack." You spoke through tears as you hugged him, Jack pulling you in tightly to his body. You could feel the wetness of his tears against your shoulder as you stroked the curls on the back of his neck. "Promise me something." He mumbled against your shirt. You pulled away lifting his head up to face you. "Anything, Jack."

"No matter what happens, if we have a girl or boy, let's not ever take our family camping again." Jack smiled at you before pressing his forehead to yours. You giggled, wiping a stray tear from your face.

"I promise. No camping."

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

@hufflewhore128

@jackscurlyhair

@jackharloww

@brixo

@beautiifulpeople312

@bernelflo

@taniapri

@ageofthebarbarians

@honeyharlows

@aga21

@iheartharlow

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@w1ldthoughts

@jackslilsecrett

@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

@exoticr0ses

@iknowdatsrightbih

@itsyagirljaz

@hoodharlow

@bobthe-turmpetman29

@wittyjasontodd

@purecinnamonextract

@fluidsentiment

@comehomeimissyou

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

123 notes · View notes

felixsslutwife · 3 months

Text

be mine - fluffy vday felix x reader

GUYS FEM SUCCUBUS READER X VAMPLIX IS COMING I SWEAR.

but in celebration of vday, heres a small felix vday fic to feed yall while i work on the vamplix fic xoxo

summary: ur lonely on vday n ur abt to ask ur friends to hang out when felix calls you (fluff, felix x reader, proofread)

warnings: none this is super fluffy so idt theres anything i should warn yall abt but lmk if there is

!!!!!! reminder that if u have any requests for me to write absolutely ANYTHING related to kpop, anime or videogames, feel free to leave it in the requests box, ill try to write as many requests as i possibly can dont u worry !! !!!!!

< 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3 < 3

you were scrolling through social media, seeing everyone celebrating valentines day, whether they were with their romantic partners, family, or just friends. you felt a bit lonely :(

you were about to shoot some of your friends a text saying "hey wanna hang out for vday ??" when you got a call.

it was your best friend, Felix. you answered immediately.

"Hey, Y/N...happy valentines day...um...so...um..." Felix began, stammering nervously.

you greeted him happy valentines day back, and asked what he wanted to talk to you about, wondering why the usually talkative Felix was so nervous.

you heard a sharp inhale from the other side of the phone call.

"Ihaveacrushonyouandivebeensofuckingscaredtotellyouaboutitbutitsvalentinesdayandireallywantyoutobemine....please..."

"Oh, and I love you by the way," he added, seeming to have forgotten to say that. "So much."

"Awww~" you cooed. you thought it was honestly so adorable how your best friend, the sweet, adorable angel Felix had a crush on you.

"I love you too, Bboki~" you answered. So many people had crushes on Felix, so you felt really honored that he chose you out of anyone else.

"Really...?" Felix answered, sniffling slightly, and you swore you could almost hear him crying a bit. "T-Thank you so, so much, Y/N..."

"By the way....I'm outside," he added, wiping away the tears of joy from his adorable freckled face.

"Wait, what?!"

you ran over to the door of where you lived and opened it. Felix was standing there, and you could see that his face was a little red from crying. he was holding a box of brownies for you and a bouquet of roses.

you covered your mouth, jaw dropping in awe at the gifts he had prepared for you. "You're lucky I didn't reject you, otherwise I don't know what you would've done with all these gifts..." you teased, and then thanked him multiple times, over and over again. you felt as if your verbal thanks wasn't enough, so you gave him a small kiss on his cheek, right on his adorable heart shaped freckle.

"Oh...it's nothing..." he said, his face turning a deep shade of pink. he wondered if this was real or just a dream.

but you kept thanking him anyway and telling him how much you loved him. you felt like nothing could ever express all your love. but you tried to express most of how thankful you were.

with another kiss. on his lips this time.

the kiss lasted a couple minutes. it was soft and warm, like cuddling in blankets by a bonfire in winter. he tasted like cherry-topped strawberry shortcake sundaes at the ice-cream parlor on a hot summer day (A/N: hot aussie summer day for all my fellow aussie bffs reading). he was such a sweet angel. and now he was your sweet angel.

"Happy valentines day, Felix~!" you said, giggling at the sight of his blushing red face. "I love you~"

Felix opened his mouth to speak, but he struggled a bit, still trying to process the kiss you just gave him. finally, he managed to croak out a response.

"I-I-I love you too, Y/N..."

"so...my new boyfriend...wanna play Animal Crossing?"

"Fuck yeah."

-lixie xoxo

77 notes · View notes

holly-the-trash-writer · 2 years

Text

Stars in Her Eyes

Eleventh Doctor x Fem!Reader

Written for an annonymous ask. I hope you enjoy it!

Synopsis: When Y/n prefers to stay in bed instead of going on an adventure, the Doctor does everything he can to cheer her up.

Word Count: 1,275

A/N: Taking requests for Eleven fics!! xo

“So, where to next? Eh?” The Doctor bounced on his toes as he flicked switches on the console, “I know a great planet in the Mutter’s Spiral where the grass is pink, the sand is crystal and the sea is purple.”

He turned to face Y/n who was sitting on the glass stairs, she was looking down at the ground her hand held her head as she wrested her arms on her legs, her eyebrows were furrowed, lips down in a frown.

“Why is your face like that?” he frowned.

Y/n was broken out of her thoughts, “What?”

The Doctor wiggled his fingers at her face, “You’re all scrunched up. It looks weird. Stop it." He comes over to her and grabs both hands softly, “Come on. Anywhere in space and time. Where do you want to go?”

She thought for a moment before slowly standing, “I think... I want to go to bed.”

The Doctor stopped, “Bed? All of time and space and you want a nap?”

She nodded and turned to make her way up the stairs, her movements sluggish, “Yeah.”

The Tardis dinged and he span to look at the console, “I didn’t do anything!”

She then whirred harshly and the Doctor raised his hands in surrender, “Alright. What do you suggest we do?”

With a final mechanical whir, the Doctor grinned, he clapped his hands and kissed the glass, “Oh, you beauty.”

He turned and ran down the glass steps, clapping his hands while running to the kitchen, “Okay. I need, I need, I need recipes, a large chef’s hat, a green whisk, an apron that says kiss the cook and Mary Berry. We have work to do.”

With Mary at his side, they baked up a storm; cookies, brownies, apple tarts, jelly babies and a large box of Jammie Dodgers. He did get the side eye from Mary when he made fish fingers and a bowl of custard.

Mary smiled as the Doctor led her back out of the Tardis again, “You know, dear. I’ve never seen you so smitten before.” she took the Doctor’s hand and patted it with her own, “She must be very special.”

The Doctor grinned and kissed her hand, “The most special girl in the world.”

“Until next time, Doctor.”

After Mary left, he leapt round and ran to the console, “Come on then, old girl, let’s show our girl some stars.” He flipped the lever with a hyper, “Geronimo!” as he trusted the Tardis to guide them to the perfect spot.

Y/n was curled up in bed, not sleeping, not thinking, just lying there. She felt so silly. Lying in bed moping when there was the most amazing man out there who was ready to show her things that she’s never even dreamed of. An alien who owned her heart as she owned both of his. Someone who would do anything for her and instead of being with him she was lying in bed MOPING.

She was startled out of her pity party by five swift knocks on her door before it opened and the Doctor poked his head in.

“Hello!” he grinned.

His smile was infectious and she couldn’t help but smile back, “Hello.”

“How do you feel? Better?”

Y/n sat up, “Yeah a bit.”

The Doctor clapped, “Good. Put a coat on and let’s go.”

“Where?”

He grinned and booped her nose, “If I tell you, it won’t be a secret. Coat. Now.” he clicked his fingers and like a whirlwind he was gone again.

Curiosity got the better of her and she got up, pulled on her trainers and a jacket before running out after him.

He was standing waiting for her by the door of the Tardis, leaning against the door, arms folded and a smirk gracing his lips. When he saw her running down the stairs his hearts skipped.

“What are we doing, Doctor?” she smiled gently as she walked over to him.

He held out his hand, “Trust me?”

“Always.” she reached out and placed her hand in his, feeling him squeezing tight as he pulled her out the door of the Tardis.

Y/n gasped as she looked around. They were on the planet that the Doctor told her about. The crystal sand, purple water, the grass on the hills were bubble-gum pink and she stared in complete awe. The moon was high in the sky which made the crystals twinkle like stars.

“Oh, my, Doctor.” looking around she saw he was standing a few feet away. A large blanket at his feet and a wicker basket. “Doctor?”

He waved her over enthusiastically before sitting cross-legged on the blanket.

Y/n walked through the grass and sat next to the Doctor on the blanket. “Is this... are we... Doctor is this a picnic?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, “Of course it’s a picnic what else could it possibly be?” He gave Y/n a look up and down, “Are you sure you’re alright.” he took out his sonic screwdriver and scanned her up and down before Y/n slapped it away.

“I’m fine, Doctor.” she shrugged, “I just didn’t take you for a picnic kind of... alien.”

The Doctor fidgeted as he took out things from the basket, “Well, this isn’t for me.”

Y/n frowned, “What?”

“I know you love stars.” The Doctor whispered.

Y/n’s heart almost burst, he took her here to try and cheer her up. She smiled as she pointed to the sand, “They do look so much like stars.”

The Doctor chuckled, “No, darling.” He slowly leaned forward and gently placed his hands on her cheeks and he tilted her head up.

She gasped.

The sky was impossible. She could see galaxies, the swirling of colours, the stars. Oh, she’s never seen anything like it. It was like she could reach out her hand and touch the sky.

And that was the feeling you always have when you’re in love with the Doctor.

The Doctor was smiling as he watched her eyes fly around the sky, trying to take everything in at once. Committing it all to memory so she could never forget it.

The stars reflected into her eyes and they sparkled like the brightest galaxy. The Doctor’s jaw dropped as he realised that he was gazing at the most beautiful thing in the world. The most beautiful thing in every world.

“Oh, Doctor. It’s beautiful.” she breathed.

The Doctor never looked away from her face, “Yes, it is.”

Y/n looked at him and chuckled. “Doctor! You’re not even looking.”

He gently rubbed his thumbs against her cheekbones, “I don’t need to.”

“Because you’ve seen it before?”

The Doctor chuckled, “No. I’m already looking at the most beautiful thing. It’s sitting here, right here in front of me.”

Before Y/n could stutter out a reply the Doctor leaned forward and pressed his lips to her ear, “I’m going to kiss you now.” He whispered slowly, his voice deeper than usual.

He pulled back and leaned into Y/n’s space, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. The feeling of her lips against his own made him want to give her the sun if she asked for it. Even if she didn’t, he would still give it to her.

He tangled his long fingers into her hair, the other stayed cupping her cheek as she clutched the lapels of his jacket.

That’s where they stayed, neither of them sure how long.

Kissing under the stars.

Sharing fish fingers and custard.

Eating Jammie Dodgers while lying side by side, hand in hand, to stare at the sky.

The Doctor and Y/n.

The greatest love story in the universe.

Y/n moaned as she ate a brownie, "Doctor! This tastes amazing! There is no way you made this!" she giggles.

The Doctor grinned as he took his own bite, talking with his mouth full, "If I told you who did, you wouldn't believe me."

#11th doctor #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x y/n #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #eleventh doctor #eleventhdoctor #fanfiction

900 notes · View notes

buysweetboxesonline · 2 years

Link

Who doesn't love to eat brownies? Buy brownie boxes online in bulk or wholesale from Gujarat Shopee and keep preserve the quality and freshness of your brownie effortlessly. Our brownie boxes are appealing, easy to assemble and convenient to carry the brownies.

#brownie boxes #buy brownie boxes #brownie boxes online #brownie boxes wholesale #plum cake boxes #brownie box price #brown brownie boxes #brownie boxes near me #window brownie boxes #white brownie boxes #pink brownie boxes

0 notes

g1rld1ary · 3 months

Text

jealousy, jealousy ; anthony lockwood x reader (part 1)

➻ my social life has been really busy lately so have had no time to write - split this into two parts to get smth out!!

➻ word count: 1591

➻ synopsis: you're Lockwood's favourite waitress at Arif's, and he's your favourite customer. maybe all that's needed for the both of you to confess that is some good old-fashioned jealousy

➻ warnings: none?? idiots in love, the beginnings of a love triangle

➻ (part two here)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Anthony Lockwood famously loved Arif’s corner shop. He and his company were one of their most consistent customers, with boxes of doughnuts being delivered to 35 Portland Row seemingly every other day, not to mention enough tea drunk in-shop to fill the Thames. So, needless to say, Lockwood loved Arif’s. However, his adoration wasn’t just because of the treats — though they couldn’t be overlooked. No, the secret motivation of returning day after day was you. You were Arif’s best (at least, in Lockwood’s opinion) employee.

He’d seen you for the first time a few months ago, happening to meet you on your first shift at the shop. You’d completely messed up his order, switching his doughnut for the wrong type and perplexingly ruining his tea. When he’d politely alerted you of the mix up your eyes filled with tears threatening to spill out, hot with embarrassment. You apologised profusely, practically grovelling, which Lockwood had assured you was completely unnecessary. “Everyone has to start somewhere,” He’d said, gracing you with a charming smile that eased your anxiety.

You’d picked yourself up at his encouragement, mustering a smile and a nod that made Lockwood’s heart melt, and dutifully promised to bring him a complimentary treat with his redone tea. Despite his insistence that it was totally redundant, you reappeared minutes later with a promising looking (and smelling) teacup and a porcelain plate with the correct doughnut order and an adorable heart shaped biscuit. Decorated with a red base and pink doodles on top, Lockwood thought it reminded him of you and the first impression you’d given him; endearing and delightful.

“I might be a hopeless waitress, but I’m pretty confident in my baking,” You smiled, “This one is mine.” Lockwood had returned the smile, but hadn’t expected the biscuit to be so delicious when he tried it before you’d left his table. It was the perfect plain sugar biscuit; not too brittle or weirdly mushy but still full of flavour. He let out an involuntary groan, flushing when you giggled slightly. Having received the positive reaction you were hoping for you retreated behind the counter, focusing more intensely on getting orders right from then on.

And so the rhythm for your relationship was set. Lockwood would come in several times a week; usually with a manilla folder full of case research or admin papers for the company and would you greet you with a smile that lit up the whole cafe. You’d make bashful conversation as you made his tea — correctly, by now — and sneak him a free treat, most of the time whichever one you’d baked, which always somehow made it taste sweeter to him. No matter how hard he tried to pay you always refused, which led him to getting creative in how he delivered the payment to evade your notice. Slipping it in your pocket when you weren’t looking or placing it under his teacup as he left, creating a game for you to enjoy each time he came.

“How’s it going?” You asked one morning as you brought his tea out, “Looks serious.”

“Bills,” He confessed with an exhausted smile. You exaggerated a grimace which made him laugh, you glowed from the reaction.

“You know what would go well with that? Brownie.” Your eyes glittered, revealing the homemade square with a twinkle of your fingers. Lockwood’s smile widened to become genuine and delighted, eyes softening as he looked up at you in your waitress uniform.

“Careful, love, you’re gonna give me an ego if you keep treating me like this.”

“You mean more of an ego?” You teased and Lockwood mimed a stake through his heart, pulling a giggle from you. A silence fell upon the both of you as you stood next to his table, the shop almost empty. You couldn’t tell if it was awkward or comfortable, the kind of pause where both parties were on the verge of confessing something meaningful, but hoping the other would speak first. Lockwood was the first to move, but barely uttering a syllable when the bell on the door rang and you snapped around, hurrying to the counter.

It was none other than Quill Kipps, Lockwood’s greatest rival. Although they avoided each other where possible, Lockwood’s dislike had evolved to a burning jealousy whenever he saw Kipps in the cafe, picking up on his obvious fondness of you. Obviously it was never explicitly confirmed since the boys didn’t exactly have heart to heart gossip sessions, but to Lockwood it was obvious. The way he’d saunter into Arif’s, eyes flicking straight to you, leaning in closer than strictly necessary when ordering, and dawdling as he picked up his to go coffee in order to talk to you more. Perhaps he hated it most because it was an embarrassing exposé of his own behaviour, but who was to say.

The only thing keeping his confidence somewhat balanced was that Quill Kipps never left your interactions with a free homemade treat. A lovesick ghost of a smile maybe, but no prettily decorated cookie or mathematically asymmetrical pastry. That left a puff in his chest that had Lockwood shooting Kipps a self satisfied look from across the cafe — Kipps just huffed as he took his takeaway coffee, giving you an uncharacteristically shy wave as he left. You looked between the boys, blissfully unaware of their history but picking up on the thick tension permeating through Arif’s.

Kipps appearance had done the unspoken job of igniting a spark of jealousy within Lockwood though, plan coming together as he signed off the last of the company’s bills.

As you finished your shift it was starting to get darker outside, and you sighed as you pulled on your scarf and gloves, securing your winter garments around you to face the harsh weather outside. You were just buttoning up your coat as you stepped outside, preparing for the journey home when you caught a figure in your periphery. And there, leaning against a ghost lamp like he hadn’t a care in the world, was Anthony Lockwood.

You both seemed to brighten up at the sight of each other, which made you feel your red cheeks may not have been solely from the cold.

“Thought you might want someone to escort you home,” He said, fingers tapping rapidly on his rapier the only indication he wasn’t as suave as he was trying to portray. You let him follow you along, pointing out the Type Ones you couldn’t usually see and entertaining you with stories from his cases — most of his near-death incidents left out. At some point you’d grabbed onto his forearm, initially to pull him away from the pole he was about to walk into (he was staring at you as you told him about a new recipe), but when you’d discovered how hot he ran naturally, you were in no position to let go. Lockwood would rather die than complain or have you let go.

You reached your family’s home far too soon, and you hated to have Lockwood leave. You were just opening your mouth to ask him inside when he beat you to it.

“Can I ask you something?” He appeared suddenly nervous, creating a fraction more space between you.

“Anything,” You replied, watching your breath appear before you.

“I was wondering — I mean it’s stupid, but Fittes is throwing this Valentine’s ball and invited a bunch of agencies including us and we all get a plus one which is cool and I was thinking, I mean hoping, I mean wondering,” He had to pause to catch his breath, recollecting himself after the verbal frenzy. “Would you go with me?” Lockwood looked uncharacteristically nervous, lips being abused by his teeth as he chewed anxiously. You couldn’t stop the brilliant smile from spreading across your own.

“I would love to go with you, Lockwood.”

“Really! That’s great — or cool, you know. Cool.” He leant on his rapier, stumbling slightly as it caved under his weight. You held a hand over your mouth to conceal your laughter, eyes sparkling in a way that made Lockwood’s heart skip a beat.

You parted ways with a shy wave, you up the steps to your bedroom and Lockwood back towards his own home, both sporting lovesick grins and rapid hearts.

A week later it was Valentine’s Day, the day of the Fittes ball. You’d spent all week agonising over what to wear and how you could maybe finally make a move on Lockwood — you’d even called Lucy in a fit of desperation to ask for makeup help. But there was no time left to dawdle, Lockwood would arrive any second and then the night would really begin.

Like a gentleman Lockwood had insisted he collect you from your house (albeit with George and Lucy since you all had to take a cab together) and met your parents, though you were determined to keep that part of the night as brief as possible.

You were sitting in your front room, impatiently picking at one of your press on nails. Finally, when you were convinced that Lockwood had forgotten you or secretly found a better date, the doorbell rang and you jumped to answer it before any of your family members could get to it first.

110 notes · View notes

the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 10 months

Text

Sweet confections

Oneshot Summary; Price brought the pastries to 141 as you asked him to, who could’ve thought sweet confections would spur the thoughts of sweet confessions?

Pairing: John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 4k

Warnings; relationship-angst, fluff, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: This was originally 2k🙃 Buuuut, I got carried away with delving into Price after seeing a post theorising about his previous dating life and just couldn’t help myself but write a snippet of the morning after their liquor-tasting date when sunshine!reader asked him to bring pastries to the 141 squad from Price's perspective.

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

On your first date, you'd brought him to 'the little coffee shop on the corner' you so endearingly called it. It wasn't as much a coffee shop as a bakery, Price remarked then. He even mentioned it the second time you'd come here to buy some bread together for dinner at your place. The third time, he'd shaken his head as he drove and spoke with you over the car's built-in phone, 'I've been working in the little coffee shop on the corner, I can wait for you here and we can go together to mine'.

Most of the space belonged to the bakery, stone ovens and counters to assemble the pastries. The rest was a quaint sitting area, with soft couch-looking seats compared to wooden-legged chairs and tables. Indeed, it was charming, gentle in a sense, concerning the neutral colour schema and warm bakery air.

Now Price stood in the same space smelling like newly baked bread and confectionery. It was early, before seven. Hence, the ovens were on full blast, loaded with loaves of bread and danishes. On the baking counter, cold sweets awaited completion, his presence suspending the process.

"Is that all?" Price's eyes focus on the cashier. According to you, she's the owner. She opened the place a few years ago to keep working with her passion after the official year of retirement, at her own pace and with her own ideas to fulfil a childhood dream.

His eyes fall on the things before her.

The usual for him and the rest of 141 on days likes these, coffees to everyone's taste and something to chew on. None favouring breakfast served on base since Price had brought something from his local place. He could scoff that a single prompted decision turned to habit on days like these when they would gather for meetings ahead of missions.

Usually, he would say yes. But this time, Price's eyes flickered to the right. 'Bring them something sweet in my name', your voice echoed from just 30 minutes earlier.

"I'll take some of those", he nods towards the colourful pastries behind the viewing glass.

"Any particular?" The woman asked. His eyes glide over the confections, some seemingly with a base of berries or other fruits, some with chocolate.

Price isn't too fond of sweets. Consequently, neither invested in what's good or not. Thankfully, he recalls which ones you'd pointed out as your favourites. 'Always taste the new ones when they come', you said when you'd visited the place together. Even if that hadn't been the case, Price would've trusted your tastebuds over his.

"Hm, I'll take two of each", he pointed to three different sweets, not attempting to pronounce their name even though in English. What he knew, or rather remembered, was your description of them. The pink one had a base of pomegranate with some curd, sweet but refreshing. The orange one contained peaches and syrupy cream, honeyed but with a delicate fruitiness. The tan one was some brownie fusion, if you ever want to taste diabetes. He'd chuckled when you explained the taste differences.

"Buying them for your girl?" Price's eyes jumps to the woman, who barely spared him more than an amused look between picking the pastries he'd directed her towards and packing them into small cardboard boxes.

"What?"

"Did your girl make you sleep on the couch after some argument? That's why you're trying to win her over with this?" She nodded to the first box of sweets she placed amongst his order.

You, she was talking about you. Price dipped his head, shaking it with a slight chuckle.

He wasn't startled, per se, that the women recognised him. He'd been here a handful of times in the last few weeks.

If it would've happened in the regular place he usually stops by on the way from his home, he wouldn't have even reacted. It was local, small, an everyone-knew-everyone case sooner rather than later. Although quaint for a city with its cosy inside, this place was still strategically placed on a corner between the juncture of two streets. And that's why Price isn't surprised the woman recognised him but tied him to you in the way she had.

"No, ordered me to bring some to my mates". He knew the woman had scanned him today, taken in his hard-to-misplace attire. Where there earlier only been a question mark, he'd now been placed in the box reading soldier within seconds of turning to face him from where she stood further inside the bakery after having called 'one minute' over her shoulder.

"Smart women, know you boys probably deserve it". She commented in passing, bending down to pack up the second sweet. Price hummed in return. "Hopefully, they'll like them, though I don't second her taste", the woman chuckled more to herself even though Price listened.

From how the woman dearly greeted you by name each time and a short conversation if it wasn't too hectic, he'd quickly gathered you were a regular here, your knowledge for someone who tasted but didn't bake the confectionaries giving it away as well.

"That'll be all?" She repeated the question from earlier when finally boxing up the last pastry. The three boxes were now effectively tied together and pushed together with the rest of his order.

"It'll be all", Price returned, reflecting the woman's smile as he reached to pay.

"Tell her I said hi and that I've got something new on the way for her to look forward to". He raised his elbow in an attempted wave, nodding a goodbye as he exited the bakery.

Not until Price stood at the curbside, a tray of coffees, one letter scribbled in neat handwriting on each cartoon cup, and two rather than one takeaway boxes of something to chew on did he realise he hadn't corrected the women once.

Your girl.

Price looked back inside through the windows lining the wall of the bakery. He couldn't see the women, probably already set off to complete the morning routine he'd interrupted.

Did she take it for granted that you bringing him here meant he was something more than just a date, someone you casually met? Because this wasn't neutral ground but a special place to you?

He faced his car, looking at his reflection.

His girl.

Price huffed, shaking his head and opened his car, placing what he'd bought in the passenger seat. He could only speculate why the woman had assumed you were a couple. But he knew why he hadn't corrected her, why he barely even had cringed at the notion of someone calling you his.

...

When arriving at the base, Price wasted no more time than to gather the mission files he'd had delivered to his office before heading to the scheduled meeting room.

When he pushes the handle down with his elbow, the door to the meeting room swinging open, he finds the rest of 141 inside. With his added appearance, whatever conversation they had halted.

"Morning, Captain", Gaz greets him, to which he nods his silent hello, clearing his hands by placing the things from the bakery on the table they sat around.

"Help yourselves to your usual", Price gestured to the things he'd brought. "And a mission file", he continued as he put down the folders he'd kept beneath his arm when not juggling the other things around.

His men reached forth, each taking the coffee cup with their initials along a sandwich wrapped in plastic foil. At first, their eyes were only swiftly shifted to the added boxes with intrigue until Soap dared to unwrap them, catching a look at what was inside.

"The place from yours gotten sweets now as well, Price?" The Scot looked over with a cocked brown, opening the rest of the boxes without taking more than a swift look down. Of course, Soap would be the one to inspect the boxes standing out from the team's usual orders.

"No, stopped at one in the city". Price shrugged, reaching for his cup of coffee but waiting with his sandwich. He would eat it, knowing you would give him a disapproving look if he didn't, though only later, when the coffee kicked in and made him hungry. The first visit back at base after a leave always does wonders of curbing his appetite.

As the black bitterness of coffee bit his tastebuds, he eyes Gaz as he lean forward, inspecting the boxes Soap opened and picked a pink pastry from. As his sergeant's eyes fell to the contents of the packages, he found the variety the Scot inspected seconds earlier.

"Why the hell the detour?" Gaze's eyes met Price, who took another drink of his coffee before he answered.

"No detour. I was in the city already".

Soap, who'd tasted the sweet he'd picked out and whose eyes rolled, accompanied by a content hum, leaned back in his chair as his attention travelled to Price. "What-", he began, eyes widening a wee bit as they locked with Price's. He doesn't know what the Scot saw, but whatever it was, it stopped his sentence abruptly with a rise of brows, a straightening of his back and a curl of his mouth's edge. "It's the lass, ain't it?"

Price didn't know why he stalled, why the takeaway cup halted in mid-air, why he didn't just say yes.

It wasn't that his men didn't know. It was impossible for them not to. They'd been there the night he met you at the bar. They, or Gaz and Soap, having encouraged him to talk to you when he'd hesitated because why would you be interested in him. Ghost hadn't said anything on the matter, but Price bet he found entertainment in how the Seargents' jabbed at their Captain at something so trivial. And much like pushing his first step, their reaction to seeing the two of you leave together followed the same characteristics.

So no, it would be hard for them not to know about you. And there went one of the reasons Price would hesitate to answer.

"S'pose it can't be anyone else", Price relented. The biggest reason he wouldn't indulge the rest of the fact a dispensed reasoning of keeping you hidden meant safety.

It made Gaz whistle, leaning back with one of the orangey sweets in his hand. Soap drummed his hands against his thighs after inhaling the rest of his small pastry. Ghost shifted in his seat, head cocking, eyes sweeping to inspect the confections the other two men had indulged in fleetingly before his attention returned to Price.

"How's it goin' then? Asked the lass out since last we saw the two of ya disappear in the sunset?" Soap asked, his question prodding for two answers rather than one. But rather than levelling the Scot with a look, something that silently would confirm his suspicions of what happened the night Price drove you home, he leaned back in his chair with a tip of his head.

"We've talked some, met a few times as well". Price took a sip of his coffee as if it would do anything else than exacerbate his nerves upon you being the subject of conversation and the memory you'd more than just talked after some of your dates. "Got those from one of the places we went, some of her favourites".

"Old romantic, you are, Cap". Gaz's comment made Price clear his throat. It was followed by a 'yeah, yeah' muttered under his breath almost bashfully.

"Well, I'd say the lass is rubbin' of good on ya", Soap steered the conversation in his ever-present direction of jest on topics like this. "Ain't all time our dear Captain spoils us with such sudden acts of kindness", the Scot reached forth, picking one of the chocolaty treats this time with a smug look and a glint in his eyes towards Price.

He can't help but roll his eyes at the jab. "It's her spoilin' you, not me. Ordered me to buy some for you lot as a greeting".

That made Soap's signature grin form. "The lass orderin' you around already, Price?"

"The real question is why he's accepting it. He doesn't like us bossing him around and barely any higher-ups as well", Gaz stated, lightly elbowing the Scot at his side with a chuckle, the latter joining in agreement.

"Did the request come this morning?" Ghost pulls his attention away from his snickering Seargents.

With his eyes settled on the man who'd been quiet until this moment, Price knew his Lieutenant didn't ask the question because he needed the answer, only the confirmation. If anything was Ghost's forte, it was gathering the scattered pieces of information dropped throughout the chat, what’s between the lines, enough to build a picture of what went on behind the scenes.

Price clocked that for the veteran, who'd nursed his coffee with sparing sips and lifts of his mask, there'd been enough details throughout the conversation for him to flesh out the parts left untold. The knowing look reflected in Ghost's dark eyes exposing it as well.

"We went out yesterday, stayed the night", Price brushed off. Knowing Ghost, he'd say there's a smile hidden beneath the mask, equally as smug as those visible and directed at him from the other two men.

"Starting to think you don't want to indulge us, Cap", Gaz pointed out. "It seems to be going very well between you two".

"Aye, Price, when will we meet ya lass again?" At Soap's question, the morning flashed before Price's eyes.

He'd woken up before you. No need for an alarm that Price was scared would wake you up in the process and he would hurry to shut off. The military had since long engrained the early hours in the back of his mind.

He'd woken with a blink of his eyes rather than a slow descent from slumber, immediately noting that during the night, the two of you had shifted to something more comfortable for sleeping than the previous cuddling. Your back was towards him, a little gap between you. Even so, his arm draped over your waist, and your warmth reached his front angled towards you.

Price had dragged his hand lightly down to your hip, feeling the skin beneath the oversized shirt you'd gone to sleep with, but his hand managed to sneak beneath nonetheless. When his palm settled on the curve of your hip, your skimpy panties beneath his skin, he'd pushed up on his elbow.

His eyes had travelled over your face, or what could be seen of it as your arm partly covered it, checking if you were awake even though your breathing already suggested you weren't. Noting your stillness, Price made his way out of bed slow to not stir you.

Dressing into his jeans and shirt felt wrong as he watched you continue to sleep soundly. He wanted to stay for a few more moments, press close to your back, bury his head in your nape, and linger in the moment. But he knew his willpower to go to base and hold the meeting he was supposed to would wain if witnessing you slowly coming to in his arms.

Price had debated how to leave your flat and fetch the things in his car without getting locked outside. He just brought your keys with him in the end, deciding against leaving the door ajar behind him, concerned for your safety despite the second gate out to the street.

He didn't meet anyone as he went down to his car and up again, allowing Price to wallow in the lingering warmth of your body close to his as he pulled his jacket tight around him in solace. Despite being summer, it wasn't warm in the mornings, crisp and slightly chilly until the rays peeks over the edges of roofs.

A feeling that hadn't been present in a long time, not a genuine one, at least, settled in his bones as he walked through your home with his bag slung over his shoulder. Domestic, his thoughts supplied a label to the feelings growing in his bones, muscles and every fleshly part of him as he slowed his pace past your bedroom, the door open enough that he spotted your sleeping figure beneath the covers.

It lingered as Price had taken a shower, using the towel hanging beneath yours on the rack when done. He'd stopped asking what towel to use just a week before, as a second joined your smaller one near the sink and one by your body towel.

He'd felt something warm enter him when he first noticed the newly added additions, even more so when he'd asked about it to be entirely sure and your head had popped into the opening. Explaining almost shyly you thought he should have his own from how often he's been staying overnight, and so he doesn't need to ask every time.

And since then, Price had become used to moving around your apartment without you by his side. Something about you giving him permanent things at your place erased that 'stranger' feeling one had before getting comfortable in someone else's space.

That's why, when he'd crouched by the side of your bed this morning, dressed in clothes portraying such a different reality to what he felt like this fever-induced daydream was, Price couldn't wait for you to prove that this wasn't just a morbid fantasy created under the influence of morphine taken to ease the pain of a nasty wound, one he was too incoherent to remember.

You'd shown him a part of yourself, your most intimate space, your home, to him, making him comfortable here. He could relax when stepping over your threshold. Knowing he stepped into your world. And yet, everything feels tied to you, not him. That's why he invited you over to his place, wanting not only to see your reaction to stepping into his world but seeing you in his home would settle the anxiety gnawing at his bones. Or so he hoped.

Price felt his fingers, which rested on his thigh, twitch. He wanted to reach for the phone in his pocket and settle the plans for the weekend that were coming with a quick text, even though it was only Monday.

He sighed at himself, remembering correcting the faulty phrase concerning you and his relationship, even though it came from someone much closer and who knew more about his relation to you. "She ain't my girl".

"Why? The two of ya already act like a pair, it seems". Price's eyes flickered to the pastries' Soap motion to, or more so, the significance behind them.

"They've known each other for a month, Johnny". Ghost's comment eases his nerves.

Yes, he'd gotten to know you well over a month. Outside 141 and his nearest circle within work, you were the one he felt the closest to. He'd caught himself entertaining the idea, not only upon talking with the lady at the bakery and now with the men surrounding him, but this morning when he'd walked around in the silence of your flat. He didn't dislike the idea of enjoying his or someone's space together with the other. But it was the first time he liked someone enough to tie into that future.

You brought so much for Price to look forward to, but most of all, you were the embodiment of comfort. Just your presence was enough for him to relax, let his shoulders drop and the tension in his neck ease. That's why it felt right spending time with you, why Price didn't think even a second about how much time you'd spent together despite meeting a month ago.

And yet, today, this morning, made him hesitant to go too fast forward, to let the previous night and this morning make him let go of all reins and fall headfirst into whatever this was.

Today this life, the one his occupation as a Captain of a task force entailed, merged just slightly with the reality he'd created with you on his leave.

You knew he was military, SAS, but neither of you mentioned his work, the topic not easily slid into, despite that you'd explained your job in more detail. It would've been more than right of him to do so in return, but explaining and talking about his profession was one of few included in general parentheses.

There was only so much he could clarify about the field he operated in. And legally, he couldn't disclose much about the task force either. If you hadn't known they were military the night you met and he hadn't gotten to know you'd dabbled in his field of work, he probably wouldn't have mentioned many of the things he had. He didn't keep it a secret, not the basics, but neither was Price one to bring it up in conversations.

Still, you stayed. After everything told and not, you were still here. You wanted him, or so Price assumed since the first night you'd met.

He assumed it wasn't simply feigned interest you'd shown when you'd concerned yourself of what haunted his mind when on leave. He assumed, that when he'd seen the gears turn in your head of how you could voice your questions without overstepping, it was from the sincere concern of doing so, not a forced attempt at seeming friendly. He assumed, that when you so sweetly looked at him only to say in that purred voice that you wanted to help him relax, it didn't only mean for the night.

Otherwise, you wouldn't have entertained him for this long. Yet again, that was what he thought. However, what Price knew what that he needed to give you something to work with. You couldn't support him without him relenting something about himself, this side of him.

He didn't blame his previous partners for his fleeting relationships. Not entirely. He'd remained strict with letting too much spill too early, knowing how some may react, how they try to pull away gracefully. Somehow it was a test, an unintentional one but a test nonetheless. And the answer didn't come until after his first deployment, when he found out how his supposed partner reacted to his previous emotional distance and later physical disappearance. A test of boundaries, one could call it.

And concerning it was only a few weeks more until his first one with you, he thought about it. A lot.

Price shook his head. He blinked, eyes refocusing, noticing his gaze had gotten stuck to the pastries on the table. As his eyes flickered up, he found that Soap and Ghost still exchanged arguments.

"Shouldn't stop him from askin' the lass if it feels right", the Scot said, arms now crossed over his chest, his shoulders resting against the backrest of his chair, spine curved.

"Can't rush", was all the masked Brit responded with, along with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Enough of his. Let's get on with the meetin'", Price interrupted, effectively ending the conversation. None of the others argued, noticing it was their Captain rather than Price commanding them to drop the subject as he opened the mission file before him.

Nevertheless, as they started the meeting, Price couldn't help that Soap's and Ghost's arguments replayed in the silence. Neither how you entered his mind when listening to the others discuss the details of the OP. It never overtook his attention, but it lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing away at the nerves in his inner skull.

After this mission, Price thought, he'll see how you've held up and maybe have a conversation with you.

He didn't like making promises he wasn't sure could be kept. But, this one, that he would come back to speak with you about it, he would go above and beyond to keep. Because it felt different this time, he longed coming back to you before even shipping off.

207 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

dad!Steve Harrington x fem!reader [839 words]

Saturday at noon was Steve’s favourite time of day, even when he was working. More often than not, especially when he was working. ‘Cause he got to wait behind the desk of Family Video, anticipating the ding of the bell.

And when it rang out, a little too shrill, he’d beam when you appeared, eyes already searching for him through the glass, one hand pushing the door and the other cradling your stomach.

He’d light up like he’d just come alive, like the whole day had been grey before you’d arrived. You were growing more and more pregnant by the hour, it seemed, tummy rounding, six months in and it was true what everyone said, you were glowing.

You’d protest when Steve told you as such, waving off his sweet intentions with a reminder of how your ankles were swollen, how the smell of most foods made you gag and your mood could go from easy going to downright monstrous in less than six seconds.

Steve would simply shrug and tell you you looked beautiful anyway.

Today was no different, especially when you slid a Tupperware box full of fresh pasta in front of him, a brownie slice wrapped in tinfoil on top.

“You’re an angel,” he told you in greeting, moving out from behind the counter to lean down for you, hands on your little bump as he kissed you. “Far too good to me.”

You hummed, a soft smile on your lips. You looked tired, eyes heavy and you felt tired, back protesting at the extra weight, legs sore from the slight waddle you’d started to adopt.

“I’ll remember that when I want something,” you joked, leaning into the boy, letting him rub at your back.

Steve scoffed lightly, mouth pressed to your hairline as you hummed at his touch. “You say that like I wouldn’t give you anything you wanted.”

“You’re soft, Harrington,” you told him but you were delighted with his words, head tilting back up to him for another kiss that he gave you eagerly.

“For you? Damn right,” Steve replied but his brows creased as he took in your scrunched features, lips twisting as you tried to keep the smile from sliding off your face. “S’wrong, babe? Sore?”

You gave in and nodded, face pressed to Steve’s neck to hide the way you winced but the baby was doing a full gymnastics routine against your rib cage.

Robin appeared as Steve was coaxing you to lean against him more, your back to his chest so he could tuck his hands under your bump and gently lift, taking some of the weight off of your back. You sighed and let your head tip back against him, nose pressed into his throat in thanks.

It was entirely too intimate for such a setting but Robin refrained from teasing, seeing the relief on your face as she stacked some tapes by the till.

“It’s the mothership,” she said in greeting, smiling fondly when you rolled your eyes and waved.

“Rough day?” She asked and you didn’t get a chance to reply as a small, elderly woman was shuffling her way towards the desk.

She handed over some tapes and greeted Robin with a smile, turning to gaze at you over the rim of her glasses before she spotted the boy behind you.

“Oh, Steven!” She smiled, hands clasped together as she took both of you in, the boy’s hands still cradling your bump. “Is this your lovely wife I’m always hearing about?”

Steve laughed and you could tell by the sound that his cheeks were pink. You lifted your hand to flash the small diamond there, shiny and delicate as Steve explained:

“Uh, almost, Mrs Levy,” he rubbed your stomach affectionately. “We were ready to book the venue when this happened. You know how it is, she just couldn’t keep her hands off me.” He grinned wide, all flirt and charm.

“Steve,” you elbowed him in the stomach and Robin snorted, both of you aware of how the seventy odd year old woman’s eyes widened slightly behind her glasses.

Mrs Levy took her videos and change from Robin and she headed towards the door, leaving you all to wonder what kind of complaint Keith was going to receive over the phone in the morning. But the old woman stopped just before you, patting at your hand and nodding solemnly.

She gave Steve a quick glance, a once over with sharp eyes that left him straightening up a little.

“I’d have struggled too, my dear,” she agreed, “all the best now for when the baby arrives!”

And then she was gone, door bell ringing, Robin wheezing and your lips parted in shock.

You turned to Steve, trying your best not to laugh at his bewildered expression, his pink tinged cheeks and wide eyes.

“Is there something you have to tell me?” You teased, pressing your lips together to contain your smirk. Steve wasn’t sure if he was supposed to look aghast or wildly smug. “Mrs Levy, huh?”

#dad!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb

881 notes · View notes

willalove75 · 1 year

Note

Can you write something where instead of Ted being the one who makes Rebecca's biscuits he actually gets them from a bakery that Reader owns? And Rebecca finds out and visits and reader and her hit it off but reader is unsure if Rebecca keeps popping by the bakery just because she likes the biscuits or cause she actually likes her? Please and thank you 🥹

I LOVE this!! I've been so excited to write this one! Thank you so much for the request!!! 💕

"Mornin' boss!" Ted says with too much energy for this early in the morning, as usual.

Rebecca looks up and her eyes light up as she sees the little pink box in his hands.

"Good morning coach Lasso." She says, reaching for the box.

She excitedly opens the box and pulls out a biscuit, bringing it to her lips and takes a bite from it. Her eyes roll as she tastes the sweetness of it, making her feel warm inside.

"Ted, please, tell me where you get these from." She begs as she chews the biscuit in her mouth.

"Sorry boss you know I can't do that." He says with a smile. "Oh! By the way, I thought up a great idea for a new outfit for our mascot," he says, digging through his pockets.

He pulls out a piece of paper "Aha!" and a receipt falls onto Rebecca's desk.

Ted and Rebecca watch it fall and they look up at each other, they both quickly go to snatch it and Rebecca grabs it first.

"I got it I got it!" She says.

Ted reaches over her desk to try and get it back and she stands up and moves away from her desk, turning around so he can't get the paper. She quickly unfolds it and reads the logo at the top.

"Norma's." She says out loud.

"Dang it!" Ted says, disappointed that she now knows his secret.

Rebecca turns around and sees Ted's very disappointed face, he looks up at her and she rolls her eyes.

"We can still do biscuits with the boss." She says, reluctantly.

Ted's face immediately perks up "that's what I'm talkin' about!" He exclaims.

On her lunch break, Rebecca slips out of the office and heads to the bakery. Following the directions on her phone, she stops at the address and looks around, thinking maybe she's in the wrong place. Finally, she spots it, a small, hole in the wall-type place, sandwiched between flats. A small bell chimes as she opens the door and walks in. She's immediately hit with the scent of freshly baked goods, cupcakes, cakes, biscuits, brownies, pastries, everything you can dream of is here in this small shop.

You're wiping down one of the counters in the back of the shop when you hear the bell chime, you put down your rag and walk out to the front. You spot a beautiful, tall, blond haired woman walking in, she looks lost, or at least unsure of where she is.

"May I help you?" You ask with a smile.

The woman looks up at you, not noticing you had walked out from the back.

Rebecca looks up when she hears your voice, she would be surprised to see such a pretty young woman step out from the back if she wasn’t so focused on trying to find the biscuits Ted brings her every morning.

"Uh, I think so, do you sell biscuits in a little pink box here?" She asks, looking around.

"Yes we do!" You say, grabbing one of your signature pink boxes from under the counter. "What kind of biscuits are you looking for?"

You watch as the woman scans the display counter, you can tell she's looking for something specific.

"Um, they're these little rectangle biscuits, they're absolutely delightful-" her eyes light up when she sees the shortbread biscuits. "THESE!" She shouts, you're a little taken back at how excited this woman is over biscuits, but you find it endearing.

"Oh yes, our signature, and my personal favorite." You say with a smile. "Gram's shortbread biscuits."

"Yes, I'll take um," she thinks for a moment. "Half a- oh fuck it, I'll take a dozen."

"Of course! If you want to hang out for another few minutes, I have a fresh batch that's about to come out of the oven."

The woman's eyes flicker with excitement.

"Yes, sure, absolutely."

"Would you like a coffee or cuppa while you wait?" You ask.

"Sure, I'll take a cuppa, thank you." She says, eyeing the other desserts.

She takes a seat at the counter as you prepare the tea.

Rebecca watches you, fascinated at how your muscle memory seems to take over as you make her tea, noticing that you’re barely looking at what you’re doing but are doing everything perfectly.

"Milk and sugar?" You ask.

"No thank you."

You bring the tea over to her and place the cup on its matching saucer.

"Oh how lovely," she says, admiring the cup. "This is beautiful."

"Thank you! They were my grandmothers, all of them were actually." As you gesture to the stacks of teacups and saucers behind the counter.

"Wow, she must have really loved tea." She says, looking at the stacks, bringing the cup to her lips.

"She actually hated it, but loved collecting teacups oddly enough." You say with a smile.

She takes a sip of the tea and you see her eyes roll.

"Fuck me that's delicious."

You feel a shiver down your spine, you were not expecting that kind of reaction from her.

"Where is this tea from?" She asks.

"I grow it!" You say.

"You what?"

"Yeah, I have a little greenhouse behind the shop where I grow my own tea leaves."

She looks at you like she's trying to figure out a puzzle. She looks around the shop and back at you.

"Are you the only one here?"

"Yup!"

"And you bake all of these?" She gestures to the desserts. "All by yourself?"

"Oh god no," you laugh. "I have workers who come here in the mornings to help me with all of these, but they are all either my own original recipes, or family recipes, most of them are my grandmothers recipes actually."

"Wow. So you're here all by yourself the rest of the day? When do you sleep?"

"Well I do have a small handful of employees, but for the most part I'm here from about 3 or 4 in the morning until about 5 or 6."

"Oh my god." She says, with a little bit of a horrified look on her face. "I sure hope your commute isn't long."

"It's about a thirty second commute, it's quite convenient actually."

She gives you a confused look and you laugh, you know she's definitely thinking that you sleep on the shop floor.

"I live in the flat above the shop." You say with a smile.

The timer goes off and you excuse yourself and head to the back. Usually you cut the biscuits up in the kitchen, but you decide to bring the whole tray out to the front and do it there. You're enjoying your conversation with this woman.

Rebecca watches you as you walk into the back, she looks around the shop and notices a picture of you as a child with an older woman, who she presumes is your grandmother. A smile crosses her face as she continues to look around, enamored by the coziness of the shop.

You walk out with the giant sheet and place it on the counter behind the register. You hear her let out a small moan and you pretend not to notice, although your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Those smell incredible." She says.

You cut a few strips and pull out two fresh pieces and put each one on a plate. You put the plate in front of her and she looks up at you.

"This one's on the house. But it's still hot so be careful." You say, holding your plate in your hand with a smile.

She looks like a kid on Christmas day, a sharp contrast to what you would expect her to be like since she seems very put together and business-like. You take a bite of the biscuit, and you're immediately transported back to your grandmothers house, her house always smelled like freshly made breads or biscuits. Memories of her teaching you how to bake flood your mind, a smile comes across your face, relishing in your treasured memories.

You're brought back to the shop when you hear the woman moan accompanied by another "fuck me." You open your eyes and look over at her and can't help but let out a little laugh.

She looks back at you, a little embarrassed, but is enjoying the biscuit more than she is embarrassed.

"These are the best biscuits I've ever had in my life, and I thought that before I had one fresh out of the oven." She says.

"Well I'm very glad you like them!"

"Where did this recipe come from?"

"It was my grandmothers, well, I think it was her mothers recipe, but she made a few tweaks and perfected it in my opinion."

"Well, tell your grandmother that they're divine." She says.

You give the woman a small smile, trying to hide the sadness in your face, but she catches on anyway.

"Is your grandmother still with us?" She asks.

"Uh, no, actually, she passed away last year, right before I opened the shop."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, taking another small bite. "Was her name Norma?" She asks, looking at the sign with the shops name hanging on the wall.

"It was, she taught me everything I know about baking. Ever since I got the idea to open up my own shop I knew I wanted to name it after her."

"That's very sweet, you two must have been close."

"Very, she was my favorite person in the world." You turn and look at the small picture of the two of you hanging on the wall. "I miss her every day."

You make your way over to the counter and begin cutting up the sheet of biscuits.

"I was very close with my grandmother as well," she says, empathizing with you. "I was very young when she passed, she's been gone almost 30 years now, but I still have days where I miss her terribly."

"I think it would be much more difficult if I didn't have the shop, not only does it keep me busy, I'm also able to honor her memory every day by making her recipes and sharing them with everyone. It's something she always wanted to do but never got the opportunity to."

You finishing packing her order and close the box, placing a sticker with the logo to seal it. You set the box in front of the woman with a smile. She looks down and sees the logo.

"Hm." She says.

"Something wrong?"

"Oh, no, one of my, uh," she pauses for a moment "employees brings me these every morning but I've never seen this sticker on the boxes he brings me."

A smile crosses your face.

"Are you talking about coach Lasso?"

She lets out a sigh.

"Yep, that's the one."

"Ah, so you must be Rebecca."

She looks up at you and lets out another sigh.

"That would be me. I'm guessing he's talked about"

"Biscuits with the boss."

You say in unison.

She nods her head and you laugh.

"Ted is very sweet, he actually always requests for me to not put the label on the box, he wanted to keep this place a secret. It must be fun having him around all the time." You say.

"Oh it sure is something alright." She says, rolling her eyes when she hears you mention that he asks for you to not put the sticker on the box.

You ring her up and give her the total. She hands you money and you give her the change. She pulls out another bill, worth at least what she paid for the biscuits, and puts it in the tip jar.

"Oh, wow, thank you so much!" You say, surprised but grateful.

"Thank you very much." She says with a kind smile.

“I hope you enjoy your biscuits!”

She gives you a wave as she leaves and you return to cutting up the rest of the tray. An excitement in your belly rises, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’ve probably made a new customer or because she was incredibly beautiful, or both.

Rebecca leaves the bakery, missing the smell of freshly baked good as it dissipates the further away from the shop she gets. Excited about the big box of biscuits she acquired, she also thinks about you, how you were incredibly kind and very cute. This is definitely a place she is going to frequent often.

A few days go by and you’re in the shop again putting a few cakes into the oven after the early morning rush. There’s a light chatter in the shop, filled with a few regulars enjoying their morning coffees and teas. You hear the bell chime again and head to the front. You’re a little surprised, but also very happy to see the beautiful blond woman in your shop once again.

“Good morning Rebecca!” You say with a smile.

“Good morning, uh, oh my goodness, I don't think I ever asked you for your name.” she says a little embarrassed.

"Oh it's fine, it's more important for me to know my customers names than it is for them to know mine. But my name is y/n."

She gives a little smile of relief.

"Well then, good morning y/n."

“How can I help you? More biscuits?” You say with a smile.

“Just one, and a tea please." She says returning your smile.

"Of course! Did you want that to say or to go?"

"To stay."

She takes a seat at the counter and you make her tea and bring over a biscuit on a plate.

"Excellent, thank you." She says.

"So is Coach Lasso no longer bringing you biscuits every day?" You ask as you wipe down the counter.

"Oh no he is, speaking of, please don't tell him I was here. I'll never hear the end of it if he finds out I've been coming here."

"Your secret is safe with me." You say.

At first glance, Rebecca doesn't seem like a very approachable person, she's always dressed sharply, her hair always either perfectly curled or pulled back, she carries herself in a very professional way. Once you started talking to her you realized that yes, she is those things, but she's also very personable, she's kind and funny. Her appearances in the shop became more frequent, first only coming in every few days, then eventually coming in most mornings, and after a few months, she was coming in every morning to sit at the counter, have her biscuit and tea and chat with you.

You had other regulars that came in most days if not every day, but Rebecca was different, she seemed genuinely interested in talking to you, there are some days you wondered if she was coming in for the tea and biscuits or if she was coming in just to talk to you. Either way, you thoroughly enjoyed her company and looked forward to seeing her every morning.

Usually very punctual, one morning Rebecca doesn't show up and it strikes you as odd, what struck you more was that you found yourself concerned. Usually she would mention that she had a meeting or an away game when she knew she wasn't going to be able to stop by, not showing up with no warning was unusual for her.

Also very punctual, showing up usually about half an hour after Rebecca leaves, Coach Lasso enters the bakery.

"Good mornin y/n!"

"Good morning Coach! How are we this morning?" You really want to ask about Rebecca, but you restrain yourself, you did promise her after all that you wouldn't tell Ted that she was coming in every morning.

"Not too shabby, although I am gonna need something extra special for my 'Biscuits with the Boss' today."

"Oh, why did something happen?" You try to not sound too concerned but you're sure Ted catches on anyway.

"Rebecca's father passed away yesterday so we're all goin' to the funeral tomorrow."

The news hits you harder than you expect, she never spoke about her parents, but losing a parent must be incredibly difficult and you've grown to care for her. You hope she's okay.

"Oh no, that's horrible. You know what, I'll do ya one better, I'll send you with your usual plus a little extra, and I'll send some pastries and of course, the biscuits to her house as a little pick me up."

"This is why you're the best y/n!" Ted says.

You package up his usual order of biscuits plus a few extra ones you think she would like and you prep a tray of fresh biscuits and pastries. After getting the address from Ted, you have one of your drivers deliver them to her home.

A few more days go by and you don't see Rebecca, you can't deny your disappointment, but you also understand why she hasn't been able to show up lately.

Your last employee goes home for the day and you begin to clean up and close shop. As you're finishing wrapping up the leftover cakes and pastries from the day you hear a tap on the door, you look over and see Rebecca, she gives you a little wave. A smile you're unable to hide crosses your face and you let her in.

Rebecca was a little nervous showing up to the shop so late, she was hoping you were still there by the time she got there. She was relieved when she saw you behind the counter, a bundle of nerves formed in her belly as she tapped on the door. There was a rush of relief when she saw your face light up when you saw her, she can't help but think how cute and beautiful you are, inside and out. It really touched her when she got the delivery, it made her question how much she really likes you, and how much you really like her.

It's a little strange for you to see Rebecca in jeans and a t-shirt, you've only ever seen her in her work clothes, but there's something about her dressed down that makes her look maybe even more attractive than she usually is.

"Hi! How are you? I'm so sorry to hear about your dad." You say.

"Oh thank you, I'm doing well actually. I just got in from my mums but I wanted to drop by and thank you for the tray, it was so kind of you."

"Oh of course, as soon as I heard what happened from Ted I knew that I had to do something, you're one of my best, and favorite customers. I couldn't not do anything."

Much to your surprise, she wraps her arms around you and gives you a hug. You wrap your arms around her and hug her back, you're not sure if it's something she needs or is doing as a thank you, but either way you're not in opposition.

The smell of biscuits and sweetness surrounds Rebecca when she hugs you, she isn't sure if the shampoo you use smells like vanilla or if it's just because you were in the bakery all day, either way it relaxes her. You two pull away and she looks at you with a smile on her face.

"Well, I don't want to keep you, I just wanted to stop by and say thank you."

"Oh you're not keeping me from anything, I'm just about done here anyway." You look at her for a second, you don't want her to leave. "Do you want to come up for a drink?"

She stands there for a second, looking a little shocked, but smiles.

"I would love to."

You shut off the lights to the shop and the two of you walk out. You lock the door to the bakery and unlock the door next to it, leading into your flat. You walk up the stairs, Rebecca following behind you and you walk into your living room. Flicking the switch on, the room illuminates, lighting up the photos and small pieces of art on your walls.

"Welcome! Please, make yourself at home. Do you want wine, mixed drink, anything?"

Rebecca looks around intrigued at the room she's standing in.

"Uh, I'll take a wine, red please."

"Coming right up!"

You walk into the kitchen and grab wine glasses and the bottle. Rebecca walks around the room looking at the photos scattered across the walls. Photos of you and your grandma, your family and friends, places you've visited. You walk into the living room and pause, watching her as she looks around. You can't help but be enamored at how she's looking at everything, almost like she's looking at art in a museum, carefully studying the photos on the walls and knickknacks on the shelves.

Rebecca can't help but smile as she sees pictures of you and your friends and family, just from the pictures alone she can tell how close everyone is. It's something she envies, but seeing the photos hanging on your walls makes her happy. She's able to see different sides to you she's never experienced, that you can be silly, funny, it's like she's secretly figuring out the little things that make you, you.

You put the glasses on the coffee table and fill each glass, the two of you take a seat on the couch and take sips of your wine.

"Your home is beautiful." She says, looking around some more.

"Thank you, it's not much, but I love it." You sit back and look around, proud of the home you've made for yourself.

"It's so cozy here." She says with a smile.

"Aw, thanks."

You two make small talk for a few minutes before you feel your stomach growl. You both giggle at the sound as you put your hand over your belly.

"I'm starving, are you hungry at all?"

She thinks for a second. "Yeah, I could eat."

"Great."

"Do you want me to order something?" She asks.

"No you don't have to, I'll just whip something up, if that's cool with you?"

She looks bot surprised and impressed.

"Yeah that's totally fine with me."

"Great, come on!"

You lead her into the kitchen and she takes a seat at the island, you begin to pull things out of your refrigerator.

"Is there anything you don't like or are allergic to?" You ask, combing through the fridge.

"Nope." She says.

"Awesome! Is chicken good?"

"Yeah, sounds great."

You start slicing the chicken breasts and seasoning them, you prep a pan on the stove for the chicken and prep another pan for vegetables on another element.

"Wow, so you can bake and cook?" Rebecca asks as she watches you wide-eyed.

"Yup! My grandma taught me to bake, my dad taught me how to cook. Do you cook or bake or anything?"

"Oh god no, I can barely boil a pot of water."

"Do you wanna learn?" You ask as you look over at her.

She thinks for a second and then sighs "sure, why not."

She walks over to you and you give her instructions on what do to next. She starts cutting the vegetables and the knife slides a little.

"Can I show you a trick?" You ask.

"Yea absolutely."

You gently adjust her grip on the knife. You feel sparks when your hand comes into contact with hers. Knots begin to form in your belly and you do your best to ignore them. You also show her how to curl her fingers on the vegetables so she doesn't cut herself. You hold her hands and show her how to make slices without raising the tip of the knife off of the cutting board. There's something so comforting about having your arms around her as you show her what to do. You let her take over and you watch her, it hits you that you have such a beautiful person in your kitchen and you're showing her how to cook. You get lost looking at her and you nearly forget about the chicken in the pan. You put more pieces in the pan as Rebecca finishes cutting the vegetables, you saute the vegetables as the rest of the chicken finishes cooking. Finally you set out two plates and put dinner on the table.

"This smells amazing." She says, her mouth nearly watering.

"I hope it tastes as good as it smells." You say with a laugh.

She playfully rolls her eyes at you and takes a bite.

"Fuck me," her words send chills down your spine. "This is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it!" You say as you take a bite. "Not too bad." You're pretty pleased with yourself.

You pour more wine into your glasses and continue eating. You two chat about your favorite foods, foods you can't stand, and what foods you could eat every day without getting sick of.

You two finish up eating and you put the two plates into the sink.

"Do you want me to help clean up?" She asks.

"Oh god no, that's a tomorrow problem." You say with a laugh.

You grab the bottle of wine and head back into the living room, Rebecca takes a seat on the couch next to you, both of you stuffed and satisfied from dinner.

You don't know how you got on the subject, but Rebecca talks about Rupert and his new baby, how the funeral went and goes into a little about her divorce.

"No offence, but he sounds like such a dick." You say laughing, your cheeks flush from the wine.

"He really is." She says laughing.

"You know, you're not what I expected." You say.

She looks over at you.

"What does that mean?"

"I mean, when you first walked into my shop, you looked so, professional, I had a feeling there was more to you when you moaned at the biscuits" you laugh as you tease her "but you don't look like that kind of person. Does that make sense?"

"I guess."

"But I'm very happy that you're not what I expected, you're much more fun. I really like that you like me and the shop so much you're willing to come every morning. It means a lot. Plus, I like hanging out with you."

You look over at her and you feel your cheeks get red and you look down into you glass.

"I was worried when you didn't show up the other day, I thought either something happened or that I did something wrong. But then Ted told me what happened and my heart broke for you. I'm so sorry Rebecca."

You look up at her and she looks at you, your eyes meeting for a moment before she looks away.

"Thank you. My dad and I didn't have the best relationship, so it was strange, but my mum and I got the chance to get close again, so it was kind of nice actually."

She looks back up at you and you meet her gaze.

"Well I'm glad it ended up being a somewhat positive experience then." You say with a smile.

The knots in Rebecca's stomach tighten as your eyes meet. You slump into the couch and rest your head on her shoulder, you feel her relax as you lean into her, your body relaxes as well.

After a minute of you two sitting in silence, you look up at her and your eyes meet once more. Her eyes sparkle as they look into yours, the knots in her belly turn into butterflies as a flutter erupts in your chest. She slowly leans down and you meet her halfway and your lips meet for the first time. You feel a rush of energy in your heart while a sense of calm washes over your body at the same time. You reach up and place a hand on her cheek, stroking her soft, smooth skin with your thumb. You sit up more and she holds onto your waist, your other hand resting on her chest. You gently suck her bottom lip when it slips between yours and she lets out a small moan, you smile into the kiss as your tongue slides into her mouth. Your tongues dance around each other, exploring each others mouths. The kiss slows and you finally part.

You look into her emerald eyes and can't help but let out a small giggle.

"What?" She asks, her lips curling into a smile.

"Nothing, I just never thought in a million years this would have happened."

She smiles and pulls you in, placing a kiss on your head.

"Well, you do know I have a sweet tooth."

#rebecca welton x reader #hannah waddingham #rebecca welton #rebecca welton fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #willalove75 #wlw fanfic

167 notes · View notes