possessive!max? yknow how daniel/yuki have worn max's racing stuff... i bet he's possessive as hell. he would 100% love to show the reader off subtly, making her wear his things with his name on it, her using all his sponsorship stuff and he goes feral for it. cant hold his hands to himself and his hand always 'somehow' manages to find itself touching his racing number on you.... 🧸
omg hiiii 🧸, welcome to the mclarengf cult mwahaha and tysm for requesting this was so immensely muy delicioso !! i wrote this one out as headcanons (sfw AND nsfw)─ i hope thats ok and that u enjoy reading these<3 (banged these out in an evening but still got a bit out of hand so i've put it all below the cut x) love u guys !!
POSSESSIVE!MAX VERSTAPPEN HCS
──★ godddd max is such a possessive little freak
──★ bro he will GROWL at anyone who comes near u without his permission
──★ not in a toxic way tho !! you like it. it makes u giggle.
──★ this guy is obsessed with u omfg… he actually worships the ground you walk on???
──★ oh this millionaire looooves spoiling you
──★ will buy you anything you want just to make you happy
──★ gets a sick satisfaction at not even looking at the total as he swipes his card
──★ you think he likes how the store attendants gawk as he does it
──★ he is always touching you !!
──★ arm around shoulders, hand on waist, fingers in yours, lips on your temple, etc
──★ gets u into sim racing but ur only allowed to play as him
──★ he looooves it when he gives u his stuff to wear and then it smells like u the next day
──★ yeah he knows orange isn’t exactly the most flattering colour all the time so…
──★ number 33 on EVERYTHING
──★ genuinely at least half of ur wardrobe is red bull merch or has his number or his name on it
──★ you’ll get given gifts by the fans with his number on it and he loses his mind cause its like they know you’re his as well
──★ (you’re his wag… uh of course you’re gonna get gifts related to him?? he doesn't rly think too much abt it. too busy drooling over u)
──★ bro he loves it when u leave marks of any kind on him
──★ anything from lipstick stains to hickeys to massive scratches down his back that the whole team stares at as he’s putting his race suit on…
──★ gets you a necklace with his number on it and cannot get enough of seeing it
──★ will move your hair out of the way just to see the little ’33’ resting in between ur collarbones…
──★ always has an eye on you wherever you’re nearby
──★ bro if someone is stupid enough to flirt with you while he’s around…
──★ actually just start planning the funeral now
──★ u guys think you’ve seen mad max?? you have not seen mad max.
──★ bro will leave his conversation midway and storm over with fire in his eyes
──★ hand on the guy’s shoulder, spins him around
──★ “hi.”
──★ most of them get the hint by this point and scamper off, tail tucked between their legs
──★ occasionally there’ll be a really dumb one (probably drank too much in hospitality)
──★ max will pull him in close and mutter something into his ear
──★ he’s never told you what he says, but they never look you or him in the eye for the rest of the weekend
NSFW (MDNI)
──★ will take his time with you as he goddamn pleases
──★ it’s not like you’re going anywhere?? he has all the time in the world to fuck you properly
──★ u have missed soooo many appointments bc max wanted a “quickie”
──★ (spoiler alert: it was not a quickie)
──★ (spoiler alert: it has never been just a cut and dry quickie)
──★ fucks u in missionary just to see his number in between ur tits #selfobsessed
──★ has definitely gotten a massive hard on from seeing you in his clothing on more than one occasion
──★ if he’s away at a race and the timezones don’t work out for the two of u to call, he will literally pull up ur instagram and have a wank to the pictures of u in his jacket or his helmet
──★ ok so logically he knows none of the other drivers would ever do anything but whenever someone like lingers for a bit too long for max’s liking (like five seconds btw) or kisses your cheeks (regular ass greeting btw) he will genuinely ruin u in bed
──★ like when u see that driver the next day u will not be able to walk straight !!
──★ praising you !!!!
──★ “such a good girl, schjat…”
──★ being praised !!!!
──★ “fuck, max- you feel so good, so big-“
──★ will actually just come on the spot if you praise him enough
──★ loves it when you’re loud… means he’s doing a good job
──★ can’t get enough of you on your knees staring up at him with his cock in your throat….
──★ it might actually be his favourite sight ever
──★ freeuse!! absolutely loves it, thinks it’s the best thing in the whole world
──★ doing the dishes? nope, now ur being bent over the counter taking his cock as he tells u how beautiful u are
──★ watching tv? nope, now ur blowing him with spit dripping down your chin and tears coming out of your eyes as he strokes your hair
──★ edging you…
──★ such a power trip for him
──★ bro, it’s like he has a quota of at least four ruined orgasms before you’re allowed to come
──★ oh my lordddd this guy loves seeing his come on you
──★ on you, in you, around you, dripping out of you… just anywhere he can get it, really
──★ sometimes won’t clean u up after so you wake up the next morning with his dried come in between your legs
──★ yeahhh, safe to say you didn’t make it to the shower until a whole two hours and another three creampies later
──★ like i said earlier… loves marking you up/loves being marked up
──★ every time u have sex he tries to fuck you so good you leave deeper marks than the time before (masochist)
──★ will just stand in the mirror watching the red lines move as he flexes his back muscles etc
──★ lowkey he gets sad when they fade after not being able to see you for a while
──★ don't worry, it just means he'll rail you even harder when he next sees you x
enjoyed these hcs? please do like, reblog, and comment to support me!!! love u guys ‹𝟹
would love to see Garrett and ballerina reader who is the most stereotypical soft, pink, pretty princess but then in the bedroom she’s just wild and Garrett feels like it’s a secret just for him 🤭🤭
Kiss Me More | GG x Ballerina!Reader | Off Campus
Words: 2k | 18+ MDNI Blog | I'm obsessed with this ask omfg, kinda made reader very innocent-presenting lol. Every ballerina I've met is just a beautiful, people loving, cotton cloud of a person. Hope I got everything you wanted in here, nonnie! I would definitely write ballerina!reader again xx ✨
Allie, Grace and Sabrina waited in the tunnels for the boys. It was a Thursday evening which meant it was Malone's night. Hannah would be working and Justin would be singing, so the girls typically dragged the boys out after training to spend some quality time as their weird, stitched together Briar U family. Allie could see how much Garrett, especially enjoyed the routine. She knew his relationship with his father was practically nonexistent, though as much as she tried to ask Dean for specifics he refused to go into it.
The tunnels were freezing, it was full tilt winter snow outside, and the rink never had a lick of warmth (except for the locker room showers, but Allie refused to think about that, lest she ran in there to get Dean to herself) and Allie could have murdered whoever opened the emergency door to the carpark right now, as she tugged her big scarf tighter around her neck.
"What the hell?" Allie mumbled to herself as you rounded the corner into the hockey tunnels.
You shook snow from your pink puffer jacket, it was unzipped and Allie could see your ballet leotard underneath. You legs were miles long, something that Allie had appreciated before, your tights were covered by leg warmers and chunky, pink slipper boots. Your little pink ballet skirt was wrapped tightly around your waist. You must've been freezing.
"y/n?" Allie pipped up with a curious smile. You ripped your earphones out of your ears, shoving your phone into the pocked of your jacket and smiling brightly. Sabrina quirked her eyebrow at Grace, looking for confirmation of who you were, to which Grace just shrugged with a slight shake of her head.
"Allie! Oh my goodness, how are you?" You asked, dropping your ballet bag on the ground, and embracing the theatre major in a big hug.
You and Allie were both doing Bachelor of Fine Arts at Briar, her majoring in theatre and yourself in dance. Over the years you have shared several electives and made friends in the corridors of the Fine Arts building. You always held love in your heart for her, both as a person and a performer. When you found out she had started seeing Dean Di Laurentis, you were ecstatic that she had put her own value over the cookie-cutter safety of her previous partner, Sean.
"I'm good! What are you doing here?" She asked, returning the hug. Holding you at arms length, she shook her head as if trying to mentally compute why you, the prima collegiate ballerina would be in a stinky ice rink tunnel.
The heat that burnt across your cheeks, nose and ears had Allie giggling.
"I've been seeing one of the guys on the team, he asked me to meet him here so he could drive me home."
That caused Sabrina and Grace to perk up.
"Oh my god, sorry- y/n, this is Sabrina and Grace, they're dating some of Dean's friends." Allie took the time to introduce the three of you. They were all so lovely, people you would definitely like to spend time with again.
You're not sure how long you all stood there chatting, giggling away like schoolgirls, like old friends. You asked about Hannah, which then caused Allie to leap into the sanctity of Thursday's at Malone's.
The door to the locker room banged open, you turned, probably too excitedly, to see if it was Garrett.
Dean stalked out, crushing Allie under his arm and planting several kisses to her temple. Seeing the two of them made your heart hum, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. You couldn't help it, at the end of the day you were a hopeless romantic.
Dean looked shocked to see you. Scanning you up and down, eyebrows knitting themselves together.
"I mean this in the utmost respect, but are you lost?" Dean asked. Allie elbowed him in the ribs, and you hid your giggle behind lithe fingers.
"Dean-" Allie began to chastise but you quickly intercepted.
"No Allie, it's fine! I am the least qualified person to be in here right now." You offered a smile to Dean, introducing yourself, once again explaining you were waiting for someone.
You longed to say boyfriend, you longed to say love of your life, soulmate, whatever. But you respected Garrett and his privacy too much to say any more than what you had. Besides, the two of you had been seeing each other for only a month. It was a hot and heavy hook up the first time. You met Garrett at Allie's Drunk Shakespeare performance, actually. You had gone to see her, as well as some of your other friends, and ended up on your back on the backseat of Garrett's car.
"It's Simms isn't it!" Dean said with a conspirtal smirk. "That Czechoslovakian dog!"
Grace leaned forward, smacking Dean up the backside of the head.
"Czechoslovakia isn't a country anymore you moron! He's Czech. People from Czechia are just Czech. You seriously can't keep calling him Czechoslovakian." She snapped.
Once again, you laughed. Real and loudly, and probably obnoxiously. You had great friends in the ballet department, you knew that. But you had always wanted a family dynamic in a friend group. That was something you had never really had. It was so heartwarming to be included in that, even if it was for just a moment. You knew what you'd be journalling about when you got time, tonight.
The door to the locker room snapped open again. Though you coached yourself not too look too eagerly, though you chastised yourself for almost snapping your neck last time, your heart raced with the potential for seeing Garrett.
John Logan and John Tucker piled out. They were drawn to Grace and Sabrina, respectfully, like magnets.
After kissing his girlfriend and inquiring about her day, Tucker put a hand out to you, introducing himself. He was southern and gentlemanly. A true Texan, you supposed. Tucker had kind eyes and a kind heart, it seemed.
"Let me guess, figure skater or ballerina?" Was all Logan said, with a smirk that reached his eyes.
"Oh god, ballerina." You said instinctively. "I've never even touched skates, I think I would look like Bambi at best."
The seven of you continued to chat. You checked your watch once. Garrett was taking longer than he usually did. You wanted to worry. You wanted to chew your lip in anticipation.
Relax. He's in a locker room, not a warzone.
Your mind was pirouetting at what felt like a million miles a minute. Garrett wasn't keeping you a secret, you knew that. The two of you were just taking everything slow. Taking it casual. So why did you feel guilty about meeting his friends without him? So why then could you not just ask them where he was? What if Garrett was keeping you a secret? What then? You supposed you hadn't gone to any of his games yet, and Garrett usually slept over at yours, if you went to his place it was only when his housemates were out. You were so irrevocably in love with him it was pathetic. Maybe he knew that and it creeped him out. 1 month, that was it.
"There she is!" Garrett's voice boomed in the hallway and every worry you had melted away, like the snow meeting salt outside.
You didn't care if it made you look pathetic or immature or lame or whatever else, you sprung into Garrett's arms and giggled as he twirled you around. The moment your feet hit the ground, Garrett's lips found your cheeks, your nose, your temples, your lips.
He tasted like sweat and soap and his curls were still wet from his shower.
"Sorry for making you wait, darling, I got caught up with coach and I-" You silenced him with another kiss, and interlaced your fingers, as Garrett wrapped that arm around you. He wanted you closer. Impossibly close. The heat from his torso ripped through your thick jacket, burning hot against your ribs.
You were in your own world with Garrett, you hadn't even noticed the slack jaw reactions of his friends.
"How the hell do you guys even know each other?" Allie was first to speak.
Garrett thought the blush that ran across your cheeks and down your neck from Allie's question was just delicious. He could barely keep himself together when he see's you in your ballet get-up. All long lines and muscle and power that is hidden in pink and blush and big, doe eyes. Garrett pulled his fingers away from yours, landing at your neck, absentmindedly rubbing circles where he knew you kept your tension.
"I have you to thank for that actually, Allie." Garret said, a joke wrapped in his tone somewhere. You loved seeing him like this. His profile, relaxed, with friends, happy. Free from hockey pressure, academic pressure, free from everything and choosing to be present.
"No, I would never introduce you to-" Allie's tone with Garrett snagged something under your skin.
"Drunk Shakespeare." You pipped up, leaning into the warmth of him.
The girls were quick to invite you to Malone's, something that made your heart beat wildly in your chest. But you could see in Garrett's eyes, the pull of his skin, that he wanted you and you alone tonight.
"I'd love to come next week though? If you'd have me?" You turned to Garrett to gauge his reaction. You'd be devastated if he was angry at you for inserting yourself into his social life, his social circle, too early. All you saw was a glimmer in his eyes and the soft smile he usually reserved for the early hours of the morning as he kissed your cheek.
"Don't be silly." Logan said and for a moment your heart sunk. "You're more invited than G."
The smile that was planted on your face made your cheeks hurt. You couldn't get rid of it. Even after you had all said your goodbyes. Even after you had gotten into the passenger seat of Garrett's jeep. The entire drive home you smiled like a child at the idea of being invited out. Invited out by Garrett's friends.
You were just so happy. So happy. You had Garrett. You had dance. And now? Now you had the opportunity to make friends. Real friends. True friends who would add you to groupchats and would ask you how your day was because they actually wanted to know, not because they were in your assignment group or needed an icebreaker in class.
Garrett's large hand found your thigh at a red light. The heat. It was almost unbearable.
Turning your head to look at him you wish you could capture his likeness. The slant of his nose, the high cheekbones, the smile that settled upon his lips when he first saw you, the curl of his still shower-fresh hair, his sharp jawline. He was divine, truely. You noticed how he has let his stubble grow in further, after you made one comment about how you loved the sting it left between your legs.
"You're staring, baby." Garrett smirked. "What's on your mind?"
His thumb drew another arc over your tights and you almost whimpered at the feel of it.
"You." Was all you said. Garrett squeezed your thigh in response. Continuing to look at the road as he drove.
"Yeah?" His voice got deeper, got that sex-crazed huskiness that you could always count on.
"I was just thinking, if I wasn't in my ballet stuff I would beg you to pull the car over and fuck me senseless until the windows fogged up." You allowed a smirk of your own to dance on your lips.
Garrett looked over at you, just for a second. His eyes dark and his breath catching.
"Don't say stuff like that while I'm driving, I'll fucking crash." His hand went back to rubbing patterns on your thigh. His hand on the wheel was white-knuckling.
You laughed in response.
"Just so you know, Garrett, I'm going to ride you once we get home, make sure you know exactly who you belong to."
Garrett sped through a stop sign, changing lanes like a man possessed in answer and all you could do was laugh.
[A/N]:
omfg so fun! I just know Garrett is fucking obsessed. Garrett "doesn't do girlfriends" Graham is reformed. He doesn't want anyone else ever. Leaving this one ope-ended for smutty part later if that is of interest
<3
-el
varka brainrot omfg. fine shyt. also written before nod krai release
what the fuck is a kilometre
The gates of Mondstadt were buzzing. Whispers swirled like autumn leaves.
“The Grandmaster has returned.”
“Varka’s finally back from the expedition.”
You shoved through the crowd, heart thundering against your ribs like a war drum. You knew it was him the second the familiar, booming laugh echoed down the stone streets. You could spot that towering frame anywhere—even if it was covered in dust, armor scraped, some stubble on his chin, and hair slightly messier than when you last saw him.
He was smiling.
You were not.
The moment you reached him, you punched his chest hard.
“OW—!?”
Varka stumbled back a step, his grin faltering as his massive hand flew to where your fist had landed. “Hey, now, love—”
“Don’t you hey, love me, Varka.” Your voice cracked. “You didn’t write for three whole months. I thought-! Barbatos, I thought you were dead! Or captured, or—” You choked on your own breath.
His eyes softened immediately; the smile had vanished like wind through dandelions. “I know. I-I should’ve found a way to send word. We were deeper into uncharted territory than we planned. The situation got… messy.”
Your hands were shaking. “You promised. Even if it was just a damn line. You promised you’d write.”
“I know. I know, I—” Varka looked completely stricken. This was the man known as The Lone Wolf of the Knights. The Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius. Hero of countless battles. And right now?
Right now, he looked like a kicked puppy.
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wide and helpless. “You can hit me again. If it helps. Or yell. Or-I can sleep outside with the wine barrels, if that makes it better.”
Diluc quickly shakes his head as if saying, "hell no,"
Your lip trembled. “You idiot.”
“I missed you too,” he said, and tried to smile again, but it was so tentative, so guilty, it only made your heart twist harder.
He suddenly bent down and then wrapped his massive arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing, burying his face in your shoulder.
“Missed you every damn day,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “I counted stars some nights and thought, ‘She’d laugh at me for this.’ I talked to myself so much, the knights thought I was going mad. Couldn’t stop hearing your voice.”
You sniffed and tried to stop your tears. “Then why didn’t you write dumbass?”
“Because I was a dumbass,” he agreed instantly.
You let out a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh and smacked his shoulder. “You better make it up to me.”
“Oh, I will. I’ll cook, I’ll clean, I’ll rub your feet, and i swear on Barbatos, I’ll build you a new house if that’s what it takes. Just don’t stay mad too long. I might cry.”
You swore you felt the wind become stronger after your husband said those words
You blinked. “You did cry when I left for Liyue that one time.”
“It was raining,” Varka said defensively within a flash.
You finally let yourself relax in his arms. The big oaf (he is one of the most competent and intelligent men in teyvat, but who cares) was warm, and he smelled an awful lot like daisies and pinecones.
The crowd was still murmuring. People wanted to greet him, welcome him home, ask him a thousand things about the expedition. Kaeya was already approaching with that charming, mildly judging smirk, but anyone could see that Kaeya only wanted to ask where the damn horses were, and even Jean had begun moving toward the square.
But Varka didn’t give a single care, he only wanted his soft pretty wife with him after archons know how long <3
“Alright. That’s enough diplomacy for the day,” he grunted.
With one firm he turned his heel, showing his back to the people and started walking towards his home, ignoring the scandalized gasps, the laughter, and the snort that definitely came from Amber.
“Varka, you can’t just—!”
“Watch me,” he said over his shoulder, grinning as he walked like a man on a mission. “I’ve fought Abyss mages in mud pits, survived a drinking contest with the pyro archon herself, and survived Alice's bomb testing. You think I’m gonna be stopped by bureaucracy now?”
You smacked his chest, mortified. “Put me down!”
“Not a chance, love. My arms forgot how to hold you. I’m retraining the muscle memory :D”
You buried your burning face into his armored chest. “You’re such an idiot.”
He hummed and pecks your cheek with a lazy smirk on his face.
"All yours <3"
ill write smut of him but then tell me whether yall want it or not
Um so I wrote this on a whim and kinda sorta forgot a lot of the details about Dorian (please tell me his name WAS Dorian omfg I will kms if I got the name wrong too) and Sammy and basiclly everything that went down in that episode. So if I got shit wrong, please don't kill me :)
The smell of burnt espresso and cheap floor cleaner always hit you the same way every morning. You were a regular at the local spot, usually tucked in the back corner with your laptop, your fingers flying across the keys as you drowned out the world.
Sammy Bryant was a regular, too. You’d noticed the uniform, the tired blue eyes, and the way he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth. He usually sat alone— or sometimes with who you gathered was his partner, nursing a black coffee, staring at the street with a thousand-yard stare that suggested he’d seen things that didn't belong in a quiet neighborhood cafe. But you stayed in your lane, and he stayed in his. Until that Tuesday.
You were deep in thought, your mind racing through a complicated project, a small, frustrated crease forming between your brows. Balancing a fresh, piping-hot coffee, eyes still glued to your phone as you tried to finish a thought, you turned the corner near the sugar station and—thud.
It was like walking into a hard, solid wall of muscle.
The plastic lid gave way. The coffee didn't just spill; it geysered. It splashed up his chest, soaking into the dark fabric of his uniform and dripping down his badge.
"Oh, god—no, no, I’m so sorry!" you stammered, eyes wide, hands hovering in the air like you could somehow pull the liquid back out of his shirt. You looked up and realized just how much taller he was than you. "I wasn't looking, I was so deep in my head, I’m—let me get napkins, let me... I can pay for the cleaning, please..."
Sammy didn’t blow up. He didn't even flinch. He just stood there, looking down at his chest with this heavy, exhausted sigh. He looked at the stain, then back at you, and for a second, you thought he might arrest you just for being a nuisance.
Instead, a dry, lopsided smirk pulled at his mouth. "Don't sweat it," he rasped, his voice sounding like he’d been shouting all night. "Honestly? Glad I finally got an answer to why the hell these uniforms are black. This is the best thing that’s happened to me all shift. At least it smells better than the back of my cruiser."
He reached into his pocket and handed you a card. It was his LAPD business card, the edges slightly worn. "Here," he said, his eyes lingering on yours for a beat too long. "In case you feel like reporting any suspicious behavior. Or, you know, if you just needed anything."
The dates that followed were... awkward. Sammy was out of practice. He’d spent years in the trenches with Tammi, and he acted like a guy who expected a fight or a manipulative comment at every turn. He was jittery, almost like a pubescent teen, tripping over his words and looking down at his shoes when he tried to be charming. You found it cute—this big, tough detective reduced to a stuttering mess because he was worried about what you thought. You smiled, taking him up on the offer of dinner, and watched the tension slowly bleed out of him.
---
Present Day
The kitchen was humming with the sound of the stove and the "clack-clack" of Nate’s plastic toys. The kid was in his high chair, looking focused as he "diced" a piece of zucchini with a neon-blue, toddler-safe knife. It was a far cry from the life Sammy had before; it was peaceful.
"Good job, Nate. Very professional," you encouraged, stirring the pasta sauce. "You want to help me mix the peppers into the bowl?"
Nate babbled a "Yeah!" and enthusiastically stirred the air with his plastic spoon.
The sound of the front door unlocking caught your ear. You scooped Nate up, the toddler immediately reaching out his arms. "Daddy!"
Sammy walked in, and the air shifted. He looked rough. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed in that deep, angry line he got when the precinct was breathing down his neck. He looked like he was still wearing the weight of the city. But the second he saw Nate, he patched his expression up.
"Hey, buddy," Sammy murmured, taking the boy from you. He buried his face in Nate’s neck for a second, just breathing him in. "How’ve you been? Been good for (Y/N)? You being a big helper?"
Nate bounced in your husband's arms and launched into a long, rambling story in broken English about a dog he saw out the window and his "cooking." Sammy nodded, murmuring "No way" and "Is that right?" at all the appropriate times, his eyes softening as he looked at his son.
"Okay, let's give Daddy a break," you said, crossing your arms with a smile before gently taking Nate back. "Let’s let him take off his shoes and freshen up, hmm? C'mon, you wanna help me with the pasta?"
You turned back to the kitchen, settling Nate with his "work" before returning to the living room. Sammy was still standing there, leaning his back against the door, eyes closed. That stoic, serious expression—the one that looked almost like he was mad at the world—was back. He looked like he was vibrating with a silent, internal tension.
You approached him slowly, as if trying to coax a baby deer without scaring it off. Sensing your presence, he cracked open his eyes, but he didn't move. He just watched you with that intense, frustrated stare.
"Hi," you said softly, almost in a whisper.
He just gave a low, tired "Mhm."
You reached out, gently placing your hands flat against his chest. You felt him let go of a deep, ragged sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath since he clocked out. You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, and his eyes drifted shut. You moved your hands up, cupping his face, your thumbs rubbing his cheeks soothingly.
Sammy was never angry or volatile at home. Not with you. He never raised his voice, a stark contrast to the screaming matches he’d endured with Tammi. But you knew him well enough to know when to greet him as if you were defusing a bomb—not because you were afraid of him, but because you wanted to help him shed the armor.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"Not now," he whispered against your lips.
You looked into his eyes, biting your lip, searching for the man you knew was buried under that stress. "Ok baby. I’ll wait. You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s why I’m here, with you."
Sammy finally connected his lips to yours, a slow, deep kiss that felt like a commitment. It was his way of saying he was back, that the street was outside and this—you, Nate, the smell of dinner—was the only thing that mattered. When you parted, he kissed your temple. "Thanks sweetheart. You always know how to make things easier. Lemme go get changed."
Soon after dinner, the house was dark. Nate was put down and out cold, and the two of you were finally in bed. Sammy was pressed against your side, his head near your chest, his thumbs absentmindedly playing with the skin at your ribs. The silence went on for a long time before he finally spoke.
"I had to cuff him today," Sammy said, his voice barely a ghost of a sound. "That kid, Dorian. The one I went to the movies with just this morning."
You felt a chill. You knew how much Sammy had invested in that kid, checking in on him, trying to show him there was more to life than the neighborhood gangs.
"He had a piece on him the whole time we were in the theater, (Y/N). We’re watching a cartoon, laughing, and he’s got a 9mm in his waistband. Two hours later, he’s in an alley, shooting at a car. I was the one who had to put him in the back of the wagon and send him to juvenile."
You felt his shaky breath and then the warm trail of tears on your skin. Sammy wasn't sobbing, but he was broken.
"I really thought he was doing good," he choked out. "I loved that kid. He was smart. He read books. He had a future."
You turned to him, lifting his jaw so he had to meet your gaze, your fingers wiping the tears away. "Sammy, you can’t save everyone. You know how it is here. The most you can do is try."
"I KNOW," he whispered, the frustration bubbling up before he caught himself. "I just... I thought I made a difference."
"You did," you said quietly, holding him closer, stroking his curls. "You tried, but you know this place. It swallows people whole. I think... by cuffing him today, you did him a favor. He’s alive, Sammy. Who knows what he had to go through every day just to feel safe, feeling like he needed a gun. He knows how much you cared. You’re so kind, Sammy. You did all you could."
He didn't say anything for a long time. He just leaned into you, his weight heavy and honest against your shoulder, his breathing finally beginning to level out. The house was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled sound of a siren somewhere blocks away—a reminder of the world he’d just stepped out of.
He stayed like that, anchored to you in the dark, until the tension finally left his hands. He didn't need a grand epiphany or a miracle; he just needed the floor to stop shifting under his feet. He exhaled a long, tired breath against your skin, closed his eyes, and let the silence of the room finally be enough.
I suppose I have to give an extremely thorough explanation of why I disappeared, and why I stayed offline for a long while.
I could've deleted this account I had and forgot about everything, yet I remembered my last post when I promised everyone I'm not going to ever leave here, I'm simply going to take a huge break.
So, the question is here,
Where have I been?
STUDYING.
yep, if you remember, I told you guys I've been studying intensively to get to med school, it's my dream to become a doctor, after I took my phone off and decided to focus on my studies, it was one hell of a time.
I remember it might've been the worst in my entire life, senior year and all, and the fact THIS exam determined my WHOLE life.
I studied and studied and studied, yet let me tell you something,
I failed in one singular thing that IIII HAVE BEEEEN PREACHINGGGG IT NONSTOPPP MYSELF.
Persistence.
Guys I crash out whenever I remember it lmao.
I swear I used to study so much then right before exams I'd get doubtful and forget everything that I'm supposed to do, the usual manifesting things the laws everything else, fear is the worst enemy of yourself guys, please remember, FEAR is the worst kind of thing.
How I got into med school when it seemed so impossible and out of reach?
When I got my grades back I fell into the worst spiral of my life, the absolute worst, I have never spiraled this bad, the grade was way below what I have studied for ALL year, and it was EXTREMELY well out of reach of ever getting to med school.
I was started to think, should I repeat? Should I sit down and study the whole year again, should I get a pharmacy degree instead, should I find a scholarship somewhere? Because the grade I got could be getting into engineering, and in all honesty y'all, I fucking hate maths, ain't never I'm stepping a foot in there when I needed medicine to be my pathway.
For a long month everything was so dark, I was still in the process of thinking if I should repeat, or just fly abroad for a scholarship away from my parents, or just accept pharmacy if I could get through.
Now you're thinking, so this was the end for you?
LMAO NO DID Y'ALL THINK I'D LET MYSELF STAY SPIRALING.
yes you heard me right.
I remember so well omfg, a month later I literally got an awakening, idk how idk why but I just LITERALLY woke up out of the daze, what I mean was, I was sitting with my cat, when my thoughts went back to my old blog, and instantly everything else came back to me.
Why the FUCK would I repeat the year, why the FUCK would I need a scholarship to get out of the country, when I already planned to do that for my master's degree and not undergraduate, why the FUCK would I think pharmacy was my destiny after all because of my grade??
BRO, THERE IS SOMETHING CALLED MANIFESTING?
so I did.
I stopped the negative shits and began to hunt, everyday I went on my day as though I literally am a med student and not just anything else, I started already saying my parents would be willing enough to PAY FOR MY DREAM MED SCHOOL, GUYS.
Guys.
HEAR ME OUT RN.
my dream university was super expensive in my country, and back then my parents would always say I'd won't step a foot in there, because they would not pay for it.
Tell me why after trying manifesting and changing my perspective and shit, in just a fucking week my dad randomly picked me up and took me to the same DREAM UNI I WANTED, FOR REGISTRATION??????
HUH?
I cried so hard btw yes, keep in mind it's extremely hard to get to this uni, it needed top marks and extreme well sense of talking when doing interview.
It got to a point once again I was about to spiral, because my acceptance letter, was late, I literally saw others get their letter and even the day they're supposed to go, and I didn't get mine.
What to do again? MANIFEST AND ACT LIKE IM ALSO GOING ON MONDAY.
I fucking KID YOU NOT??? I got the acceptance fucking letter ONE DAY BEFORE OPENING OF THE UNI.
One
Day.
And there we are, that's how I got to med school, now I'm studying there in the biggest and most educated uni for medicine, I'm planning to repay my parents for everything they are currently paying for the 6 years once I start my income.
What else did you achieve?
See this post.
Void? Shifting? Subliminals?
Hmmm, nice question.
I haven't done anything with void, ever since I left it last year, why? Too much energy of me being worried over it.
Did I say it requires energy, no, I said I AM the one that makes it require energy when it doesn't, I used to get super stressed about it, if you can tell from my old posts it was all I was thinking about just to get my life.
Rn I have it, it's not that out of reach ngl.
Shifting? That's something I'm trying lately again, I haven't done a full shift (as if we don't already shift everyday) it's just that I want to get the full hang of it just as manifesting, and subliminals? STILLL my best thing.
Would you accept asks, messages?
Not yet I'm sorry.
It was extremely overwhelming back then trying to help people, no matter how much I'd tear my throat I'd still not get my point across, and once more I'd get the same asks telling me "I didn't do it I can't do it".
For the love of god, every blog out here has been saying the same shits, messages are not gonna come back I'm sorry, I may not reply at all, but asks will be back soon! I promise, you can ask me there anything that sounds relevant and important to ask, if it's not something Important or very repeated I'll not respond.
I'm so sorry doves if it sounds harsh, but I swear it's better for yourself not to think this way or let someone do this, I will answer soon with asks (it's turned off now) plus I'll be posting so much more 😋
Love you all, hope this opened some eyes to start and do the same I did.
I'm still working on my Baelor fic (it got longer than I anticipated, over 7000 words so far, omfg) but in the meantime, here are some mini drabbles about my favorite AKotSK men. I couldn't help myself. I saw a cute pic of a kitten, and the AKotSK brainrot made me wonder how they'd respond to their lady love finding a stray kitten.
In the case of Baelor, Maekar, and Lyonel, reader is their wife. In Duncan's case, it is implied that the two of you are in a relationship or are at least idiots pining after each other. 🤷♀️ Dealer's choice. Also, reader's house/status is not mentioned, nor is her appearance. The only thing that is used to describe reader are she/her pronouns and the fact that Dunk has major heart eyes for her.
~*~
Baelor Targaryen x Reader, Maekar Targaryen x Reader, Ser Duncan the Tall x Reader, Lyonel Baratheon x Reader
[A/N: This is just fluff.]
Warnings: A bit of suggestive language from Lyonel as well as a suggestive position, and Maekar being grumpy as usual, but other than that, I can't think of anything...established relationships, I guess?
~*~*~
Baelor Targaryen
Most often when Westeros's Crown Prince traveled, it was out of necessity – some duty to be carried out in the King's name. There were a few opportunities, however, for him to take a short respite at Dragonstone. He never stepped away from King's Landing for long since his duties as the Hand kept him frightfully busy, but during one such visit, you (his second wife) and he found yourselves strolling along the seashore, the waves lapping playfully at your feet.
The worries that plagued him slowly ebbed away with the constant rhythm of the tide, allowing his shoulder to drop and his brow to soften. His gaze lingered happily on you as you smiled and chatted away with him under the golden sunlight.
How radiant you were! His adoration for you knew no bounds. So absorbed was he in the carefree way you frolicked barefooted in the sand that he didn't see the little ball of fur, at first. You gasped and hurried forward, not caring that the waves were dampening the hem of your skirts.
Hurrying after you to see what had caused you such concern, Baelor saw a small, black kitten shivering in the wind. It wasn't a particularly warm day, and the kitten had obviously gotten soaked by a wave.
It squeaked long and loud as if calling for its mother, but upon your approach, it stumbled forward and mewed with all its tiny strength.
"We won't hurt you, little warrior," you murmured as Baelor knelt beside you in the sand. He watched as it approached your carefully outstretched hand and sniffed. The poor, little thing couldn't be more than a few weeks old, yet its mother was nowhere to be seen. After another loud cry from deep within its chest, the kitten bumped its face against your hand, repeating the action quickly when it felt how warm you were.
Baelor knew what was coming before you asked it. How could he not? You were the most kindhearted woman he knew, and when he'd married you, you'd taken to his children as if they were your own. Of course you would adore this sweet, little stray.
"Darling," you began as the kitten all but climbed into your lap, "if this kitten is all alone...might we keep him? Or her, whatever it is beneath all this water and sand?"
Baelor knew he was going to say 'yes.' How could he refuse you when you looked at him so sweetly? He hesitated, though, because soon the pair of you would be returning to King's Landing, and he didn't know if the kitten would do well traveling. You, however, obviously took his pause to mean he was reluctant to have a cat at all.
"Please, my prince? Its eyes even look like yours," you said holding the kitten up, and, indeed, he saw that his own mismatched eyes were mirrored in the fierce, little beach cat. It let out a slightly quieter cry and its little paw raised just far enough to brace itself on the tip of Baelor's nose.
Seven hells. He looked at you with the kitten's paw on his nose, and he could see a sparkle of mirth in your gaze.
"My darling wife, I believe the decision has already been made," he said with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The kitten's paw fell away as you giggled triumphantly, and Baelor removed the short, partial cape he had draped over one shoulder. Gathering the deep, red fabric, he helped you wrap the kitten into a cozy bundle for the return journey.
"What should we name it?" You asked cradling it as carefully as you would a human babe. Something cracked and sparked in his chest at the sight, and Baelor forced himself to swallow and consider the question you'd posed.
"Perhaps, if it is a she-kitten," he began in a slightly rougher voice than before, "Syrax? Assuming a dragon's name would please you, of course."
"It would," you said gently scratching behind the kitten's ears. "If it is a he-kitten...what about Sunfyre? After all, his father is a sun dragon."
You leaned your head on Baelor's shoulder, and he wrapped his arms carefully around you both. Pressing a kiss onto the top of your head, he couldn't help but smile as he agreed. Oh, he would give you anything – anything at all – if you only asked.
--
Over the following weeks, a small, feline shadow accompanying you or the Prince became a familiar sight. Sunfyre was as fierce as a dragon, despite his size, and his black fur paired with his differently-colored eyes made him the perfect addition to the Crown Prince's family.
Oftentimes, when Baelor's duties were finished for the day, he would retire to your shared chambers and find the kitten curled up in your arms or on the pillow beside you, purring and keeping you company until he could.
The presence of fur on the bedsheets was a small price to pay to see his wife happy.
~*~
Maekar Targaryen
You and Maekar were walking through the gardens of Summerhall one sunny day after nearly a fortnight of rain when you heard it. A tiny squeak coming from beneath a bush. You stopped in your tracks so quickly that Maekar didn't realize you had until he'd taken a few more steps and found himself alone.
When he turned to find you a few paces back, kneeling in the dirt, his brow furrowed. The squeaking sounded again, and you let out a happy little gasp.
"Maekar, look!" You kept your voice to an excited whisper, obviously afraid of frightening whatever you'd just found, and when he got closer, he saw a small, dirt-covered kitten emerging from behind the bush. It was trembling, but it still sniffed curiously at your fingers. "Look at this brave, little darling...oh, have you been stuck out here all alone?"
Maekar groaned. Oh no. He could already see what you intended to ask him.
"Oh, Maekar," you began, eyes wide and pleading, "might we keep him?"
"For fuck's sake," he grumbled under his breath, yet you were undeterred. "Is your menagerie of stepchildren not enough responsibility for you, woman?"
There was no real venom in his words – there never was with you.
"We can't leave him out here alone. His mother is nowhere to be seen, nor are there any other little ones," you said as the kitten braced its little paws upon your knee and let out a loud, squeaky mew. "Listen to that, he's already as fierce as a dragon!"
Maekar sighed, and he realized that from the moment they'd stepped into the garden, he'd already lost. After all, he could refuse you nothing, not that he would wish to. This was protest for the sake of his pride...to appear as though he was the one in charge, not his beautiful, young wife.
You had already scooped the small ball of fluff up into your arms as if you were utterly certain what his reply would be.
"Just...keep it out of our bed. I'll not have fur on my pillows," he stipulated. "And give it a bath. I won't have it dirtying up our keep with its muddy, little paws–"
You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek looking far too pleased with yourself.
"Thank you, my prince," you breathed, and Maekar caught your chin in his grasp, drawing your lips back to his.
"Go on. Give him a bath and a dragon's name," he muttered when the pair of you parted for breath. He'd deny it until he was blue in the face, but when he watched you hurry away with the kitten in your arms, a small smile tugged at his lips.
--
You'd discovered that the kitten was a she not a he, and had named her Meraxes after Rhaenys's dragon from the Conquest. She certainly had the lungs to be named for such a famed beast, and once clean, her fur was a silvery white, not unlike her namesake's scales.
For the next few weeks, Maekar grumbled under his breath, keeping a watchful eye on the new addition to the family as if there was some evil, feline plot stored away in her fuzzy, little head.
When she brushed up against his leg as he walked into their chambers, Maekar glared. When she hopped up onto his desk while he was working, he swore under his breath, trying in vain to relocate her to the ground where she refused to stay.
It was as if she'd taken on his wife's personality, poking at him and driving him mad whilst looking far too sweet and innocent to garner any real punishment. He could damn well swear about it, though, and he did. Frequently.
Two months passed, and Maekar's duties took up even more of his time. With his children and Summerhall and everything else he had to do, he wasn't sleeping well. One afternoon, he managed to slip away for a break, sneaking back to your shared chambers for a desperately-needed nap.
He lay in bed with a yawn, but just as his eyes closed, a soft weight landed on his chest. Maekar groaned and opened an eye to find his wife's kitten settling in for a nap of her own using him as a pillow. For once, though, he was too tired to care. Meraxes's eyes met his, blinking slowly as though to ask his permission.
"Don't tell your mother I let you on the bed, or I shall never hear the end of it," he grumbled. She purred and her eyes dropped shut – a bargain struck in Maekar's view.
Two hours later, though, when you peeked into your chambers, a smile stretched your lips. Meraxes was curled up just beneath Maekar's chin, and the two of them were deep in their slumber.
~*~
Ser Duncan the Tall
You, Egg, and Dunk had been riding all day, and the only thing your ragtag bunch wanted was rest. There was much to do before you could, but three pairs of hands made the work go faster. Dunk tended the horses and sent the two of you off to get wood for a fire. The way you smiled and encouraged Egg to hurry and catch up with you despite your own exhaustion tugged the hedge knight's lips into a grin.
You'd been the best addition possible for this journey...not to mention you were undeniably beautiful. Why you put up with him was more than he could understand.
Normally, the two of you would return about halfway through his tending the horses, choosing to help him despite his denials that you ought to rest and let Egg help him alone as squire training. You never did, of course, always giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek before helping with whatever he hadn't yet done.
Today, however, Dunk finished everything the horses needed without seeing hide nor hair of you and his little princeling of a squire.
"Seven hells," he muttered to himself, tying off Sweetfoot's lead on the branch near Thunder's. Duncan didn't have to wander far before he found what he was looking for.
He sighed in relief without conscious thought. At least the two of you were dawdling, not injured.
"Here, now. I thought the two of you were gathering twigs for the fire," Duncan said as he spotted both you and Egg crouching in the grass, huddled together over something. "What have you there?"
He noted the two small piles of fallen branches and sticks beside both of you, utterly forgotten.
"Look, Ser!" Egg called as the large knight approached. Duncan knelt in the grass between the two of you, and you leaned back just far enough to show him a small, ginger kitten lying on its back, swiping its tiny claws at a blade of grass you were twirling above it. "It came from behind that big rock over there when we were gathering wood."
"We almost didn't see it, at first," you said as you passed the grass to the young squire-in-training.
Duncan's breath caught when your eyes met his, and he almost leapt out of his skin when something touched his leg. He looked down and froze entirely. The kitten was climbing his leg as though he was a tree or a curtain.
Seven hells, it was so small!
"What's wrong, Ser?" Egg asked, seeing that the large knight was still utterly stationary. You laid your hand gently upon his arm and looked at him in concern.
"I-I don't want to hurt the little fellow...o-or lady," he whispered just as the kitten stood atop his shin and let out a high-pitched, squeaky mew. "Brave little thing, though..."
"She is, at that," you murmured petting the little beast behind its ears. For a moment, Duncan felt less like a man and more like a dog. He could think of no good reason why a grown man would be jealous that you were petting a kitten instead of him, yet...he was.
"How do you know she's, well, a she?" He asked, eyes flicking between the kitten and you sitting pretty at his side. Egg rolled his eyes at that.
"Do I really need to explain the difference, Ser?" The boy sounded exasperated. The knight's ears went pink. He didn't want you to think him any more of a fool than you likely already did.
"Hush, now," Dunk groused, "I just didn't know if either of you had looked, that's all."
"I did," you answered, and he felt himself go from pink to red. Of course you'd looked. You were clever, much moreso than he was. He should've known. You looked up at him, then, wearing the sweetest look he'd ever seen. "What do you say, Duncan? Can we keep her?"
Keep her? But the three of you traveled, and...and what if something happened to her?
Your hand came up and rested on his chest, forcing his thoughts to a screeching halt.
"Please, Ser?"
That was unfair. You knew what calling him that did to his poor heart. A hedge knight like Ser Duncan could never deserve you to begin with, but when you looked at him as if he was prince and aimed that pretty fucking smile his way...by the gods...
"...Oh, alright–"
He'd barely gotten the words out when you pressed a joyful kiss onto his cheek.
"Thank you!" Both you and Egg crowded closer to him, showering the kitten with affection even as it began to climb up his shirt. What had he gotten himself into?
--
The next morning, Dunk woke up with something soft and warm vibrating over his chest. He opened his eyes, blinking blearily, and saw a little ginger lump of fur. It took a moment for him to figure out it was the little kitten you and Egg had found using him as a bed.
Duncan's eyes widened. Seven hells, what if he moved wrong and hurt the kitten? He glanced around carefully and saw that both you and Egg were still asleep. He didn't want to wake either of you, so he chose the only option he could.
Ser Duncan the Tall lay flat as a board, unmoving and stiff for nearly two more hours in an effort to safeguard the life of the small, trusting, ball of fur that had obviously chosen him.
When you finally awoke, Duncan looked at you somewhat desperately.
"Dunk? Are you alright?" You asked quietly, moving to his side.
"Well, I...I don't want to wake the kitten," he began. "And, I thought if I moved wrong, I-I might startle her or hurt her somehow, me being so big and all."
At that, you gave him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. Without a word, you laid on your side, propping your head on his shoulder and laying a kiss upon his cheek. His face went red, and his arm wrapped around your back to hold you close as you yawned.
"My sweet knight," you murmured, and Duncan found as you dropped off to sleep that he no longer minded lying still.
~*~
Lyonel Baratheon
Lyonel heard you approaching at a slightly slower pace than usual. At first he thought it was because you were just as much in need of a nap as he was, but when you hesitated at the door, he knew it couldn't be something so simple.
"My storm, why are you hiding from me?" He called, lifting his hand dramatically into the air in your general direction. "You torture me so by lingering in the doorway like a frightened fawn. I shan't hunt you until you desire it, you know that...and the results, of course, will be endlessly pleasurable, as usual..."
The sunlight pouring in from the windows made him feel like a lizard lounging upon the settee. Your steps came once more, but they were still a bit restrained for his taste, and you hadn't yet spoken a single word.
"Come, dearest, did you not say only yesterday that you enjoyed seeing me like this? What did you call me...?" He turned the matter over slowly in his head as you came closer. "Ah, I believe it was 'the Westerosi lord who most resembled a who–'"
He broke off with a please grunt as you straddled his lap, reaching up to steady your hips. Lyonel's eyes opened, though, when felt something being placed on his chest.
Not a hand's breadth from his chin was a pair of large, green eyes staring at him from a small, fluffy face. The creature stared at him, and he stared at it...and all at once, a small, ferocious "mew" left its throat.
"Dearest, I believe I am in love," Lyonel crooned as the little, gray kitten sniffed at his beard. "My wife on my lap and our fifth fluffy child in my arms–"
"'Fifth'?" You blurted, looking at him with wide eyes. The kitten was attempting to place its paw on Lyonel's nose.
"Oh, yes. If you found this little one near the stables, then I believe I found her siblings earlier, as well as her mother," Lyonel said giving your hip a squeeze and kissing the kitten's head. "I looked around for a bit to see if there were others, but evidently, this one hid somewhere clever. The rest are in the study with food, water, and a big pile of blankets to sleep on. I was going to tell you the good news this evening."
A wide smile stretched your lips.
"We can keep them?"
Lyonel look up at you, scandalized that you needed to even ask.
"As Lord of the Stormlands, it is my duty to make sure none go hungry, including those of the feline variety. Of course we can keep them." Leaning forward atop him, you kissed your husband's forehead. "I also found a puppy near the larder, yesterday..."
By the time the sun had set, Lyonel had confessed to yet more spontaneous adoptions.
going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt
tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry
osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack
as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?
you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…
either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle
just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.
he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.
sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.
he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces
“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…
thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.
omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too
ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd
“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”
osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable
there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.
it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.
there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.
“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?
he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs
he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face
his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly
“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.
before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.
i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about
