Golden Hour (GarouxReader lemon)

Part 1

NOTE:

Hello! So basically the last two days I've been walking around downtown, and today I was walking through some back streets and came across this interesting narrow little street nestled behind shops and cafes and such. And one side of the street was lined with old, dinky, run down little houses packed close together and the other side was lined with these new elegant little townhouses. And this story popped into my mind and I just went home and decided to type it up. I literally thought it would be a one page thing but it got away from me so I'm publishing it in two parts haha! I always underestimate how long these things will take me.

Some things to PLEASE NOTE!:
- This is a younger man/older woman story. I don't have any specific age in mind for the female character but it is important that she is older than Garou, old enough to confidently have a full time office job, for example. The exact age I'll leave up to you. But if you're not ok with reading about Garou with someone older than him then I advise to please not continue!
- I marked this as an xreader but it is written in first person from Garou's point of view because I wanted to get in his head again and write as him :) However, I still hope you'll give it a read and imagine yourself as the woman he describes in the story because that's how I imagined the reading experience when writing!
- This is more of an 'alternate universe' type story. It's not about monsters or heroes but about Garou being a bit of a delinquent and getting into this relationship. It's a character focused story so I don't mention any monsters or heroes. I imagine it as set in our real world. I do mention Bang once or twice but imagine him just to be like his martial arts teacher/father figure who he kind of rebels against.

Other than that, thank you for reading and as always, thank you very much for all your support! It makes my absolute day to read your comments and hear from you all!

~*~

I don't know how it happened. Or why.
It seems inevitable now as I lie on her chest, the softness of her breast against me. Fuck. This time of day always gets me. That time between afternoon and evening. What she calls the golden hour. I feel her chest rise and fall slowly under me, have to fight hard to not fall asleep. But her scent...especially after this, after I've had her all to myself...That warm scent clinging to her skin makes staying awake a fucking mission.

I don't know how it happened. Or why.
I remember that one night. How long she had been there before that, I don't know. So close and yet non-existent by my own obliviousness.
And after that, she was there every day. Unavoidable glimpses, footsteps across the street. Always the same white shirts, little skirts, heels, coming back in the deceptive golden hour light from wherever she spent her day.
She'd pass by, and never once would turn in the direction of this shitty place and yet. She made it clear, her body made it clear, she knew I was there. Just the faintest curl of her lip into that knowing smile, like on that one night.

It was two in the morning, or maybe three. Can't fucking remember anymore. Was too busy bandaging up after getting back from a...walk. The power was off. Again. But standing next to the window, the streetlight hit just right, just enough, like a match lit in a dark room. The whole street asleep. Spitting out the cotton edges of a length of bandage, the gauze tightening around the wound which had already started to heal. Just then, another little match lit up.
I remember lookin' up. The window across the street. Just a faint light in the uncurtained window. Someone's soft night light. Someone joining me in my lack of sleep, though I was ready to head there.
At first nothing. Just the outline of a bedroom. A frame on the wall. A small set of shelves. Nothin' at all to hold my interest. A piece of cotton still on my tongue, about to be spit out, and the smell of blood growing fainter. But then a hazy shadow on the orange glow of the wall. Arms above head, stripping off quickly and then a figure passing by, a flash, in the window. The face turning and catching me, pausing.
That distance. A road, barely wide enough, a condensed street.
She stood there, the moment stretching into a torturous eternity. Her night light behind her, the street light in front, illuminating her body. I remember, her hand quickly going for the curtain. But then that moment. She gave me that moment. Standing there in all her naked glory, her lip curling into a playful smile, as if indulging a wayward kid. And I remember looking up at her window, across the street, behind glass, a whole world away...and yet, I could almost feel the softness of her bare breasts, the heat of her body, outlining its curves in my mind.
In the blackness of that night, she gave me that moment.
And probably thought nothing of it.
And pulled the curtains shut.
And there ain't no way there was any sleep left for me that night.