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unearthly-doting · 6 months ago

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yandere farmer

a/n: smth smth i Really like people w southern accents smth smth so here's a farmer. im not 100% satisfied w this one but it's been in my drafts for so long so here it is.

warnings: mdni, not proofread, yandere content, gn reader, male yandere, idk how cars work so, overprotective behavior, obsessive behavior, reader has hair in this sorry if u dont, murder, brief mention of vomit, non-con kissing, mild depictions of gore, choking, i think that's it??

— maybe it's a bit cliché but life in the big city was exhausting, and all you wanted to do was get away from it all. it was a bit sudden, deciding you wanted to uproot your entire life and start somewhere new, but you knew that this is exactly what you needed.

— and it's not as if you weren't going into this blind. a friend of yours had a family vacation home in a small farm town that hadn't been used in years, and they were willing to let you stay there until you could find a place of your own.

— you had everything planned out. you had enough money on you for gas and food for the drive there, and you had already had some of your stuff shipped off to your new temporary home, so you didn't have to worry about leaving anything behind. you even kept a little extra money on you in case you needed to crash at a motel.

— the drive had started off fine. traffic wasn't too bad as you left the city, and there were no major setbacks until you were almost at your destination. when you were 20 miles out from the farmer town you'd be living in, your car just suddenly died on you. it still had gas in the tank, and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with the car itself, it just… died.

— what's worse is the fact that your phone had no service. you suppose that's not too shocking, considering how far out in the country you are, but it's a bit shocking, isn't it? you're not that educated on farming life or this small town, but surely they had modern technology, right?

— it's cliché, honestly. it felt like the start of some cheap slasher. or maybe a southern christmas romance movie. you're not quite sure which would be worse. the slasher, realistically. whatever, you're getting off track.

— the point is, your car is dead, your phone is useless, and it's starting to get dark. you could probably make it to that motel you saw a few miles back, but you didn't really feel comfortable leaving your car out here alone. not to mention you're not even sure if you have enough money on you to cover one night at a motel.

— the universe, in all her mercy, takes pity on you before you can get too upset over your plight, because not even 20 minutes after your car stops, a truck drives by. it's beat up, but it slows to a stop next to your car. the window rolls down, revealing the driver to be a man just a little older than you.

— he asked if you needed help, and offered to tow your car and drive you to town. you didn't have much choice but to agree, and the drive to town was… not as awkward as you thought it would be, actually.

— the man introduced himself as rigby shaw, a farmer that lives on the outskirts of town. you actually drove by his farm maybe 15 miles back, and he had been heading into town to pick up some medication for one of his dogs when he saw you pacing outside your car. in turn, you told him how you were moving into the small town because life in the city had been overwhelming.

— rigby didn't think you'd survive long outside of the city. city folk rarely ever strive in small, out of touch towns, away from modern technology. the small handful that made their way here always went back to the city not even three months into being here, so he didn't expect to see you last long either. you were nicer than most city folk, though.

— but you were determined to make a living out here, so when rigby dropped you off, you got to work immediately. you unpacked your stuff that had been there waiting for you, and in the morning, you got to work trying to fix your car. turns out, your fan belt had somehow come loose just enough that your car could no longer function. why? who knows, maybe the universe was in a silly mood.

— anyways, you settled into the small town life with relative ease, and rigby was very surprised when he returned to town a few weeks later, you were still there. the only thing you were struggling with was finding a job. maybe because he was fascinated by your determination, but rigby ended up offering you a job on his farm. he did need help taking care of the crops and feeding the animals there, but he mostly just wanted to learn more about you.

— you were a fast learner, and his dogs took to you fairly quickly. the cattle and horses were a little less trusting, though that was expected. he's sure they'll take to you soon enough, given how you respect their boundaries and go at their pace unlike his previous farmhands. you had no problem taking on any challenge rigby had set up for you, and maybe that's when he started finding himself thinking about you.

— if he's out in town while you're on the farm, he's worrying that you might get injured without him around. you can take care of yourself, but he can't help but worry. same for when you're in town while he's on the farm. you’re still an outsider there, and he knows that some of the townsfolk may try scaring you off. or maybe they'll try hurting you. or maybe you'll be completely fine and he's just overreacting.

— he starts hovering around you more often when you're on his farm, jumping in to help you whenever he thinks you might be struggling with something. you think he's just worried you might fuck his crops up or something, so you never really pay much mind to his behavior. it only struck you as odd when he insisted on helping you feed the dogs of all things. was he scared you would poison them? you wouldn't, obviously, so you don't know why he'd think that.

— his behavior only seems to escalate when you meet a guy in town one day and start going on casual dates with him. he was… shocked, when you asked to take the day off because of some guy. in the months that you've been living in town, you had never shown any interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with… anyone, truly. you had always seemed so dedicated to working on the farm and making a living for yourself, rigby had never even considered you could want anything other than that.

— at first, he felt disappointed. why would you prioritize dates with some guy when you could be working on the farm with him instead? it took him a bit to realize that disappointment he was feeling was jealousy. he hated when you'd step away from him to accept calls from your new boyfriend. he hated how you stopped eating lunch with him in favor of eating it with your boyfriend.

— your boyfriend wasn't even that great of a guy. rigby did some research on him–it's not stalking, he's just making sure it's safe for you to date this guy!–and he was not pleased with what he found. you could do so much better! you didn't understand why rigby was so interested in your boyfriend, always asking questions about how he treats you, if he's really what you're looking for in a relationship, if you actually loved him…

— you couldn't help but notice how touchy rigby has become as well, his hands always lingering on you far too long when he helps you with your work. you swear that you've heard him smell your hair a few times when he's close as well. he's been acting weird ever since you officially started dating your boyfriend. he's even going as far as to pile more work on top of you, leaving little free time for you to spend with your lover.

— it's gotten unbearable to the point where you decided you ultimately needed to find a new place to work. you liked rigby, he was a great guy with a kind heart, but his behavior was bordering on obsession and you didn't want to enable this behavior by ignoring it. your boyfriend agreed, and with his help, you were able to find a job at the local market in town.

— rigby was not pleased when he heard you on the phone with your lover, talking about how you'd tell him you were quitting after you finished work.

You're not really sure what happened. One moment, you were on the phone with your boyfriend and then the next, you were being hit in the head and everything had gone dark. The sun had only just started setting when you had been knocked out, but it was completely dark outside when you had woken up.

Your head was pounding as you opened your eyes, looking around in an attempt to figure out what the hell had happened to you. You were still on the farm, that much you knew. The first thing that worried you was the fact that your hands were bound to a wooden post, leaving you unable to move without injuring yourself. Your phone was broken on the ground, so it was completely useless.

Did a trespasser knock you out? It's not the first person people have trespassed on the farm, trying to steal the horses or ‘save’ the animals Rigby had. You had assumed that to be the case, because… what else could have happened for you to be tied up like this?

“Rigby?!” You shout his name, wincing at the throbbing in your head as you did so. Was he okay? Was he hurt? What if something happened to him? What if–

Your panicked thoughts get put on pause when a light blinded you, and you shied away from it as best as you could as you tried to figure out its source. It seemed to be a flashlight, and you only realized who was holding it when they got closer.

For a moment, you relaxed at the sight of Rigby, relieved to see he was okay as he approached, though there was something off about him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't seem injured, yet there was blood on his hands. Or maybe it was the… borderline crazed look in his eyes.

Something wasn't right.

“Rigby…?” You hesitantly called his name, your relief bleeding away into a reluctant unease, “Are you okay? What happened? Why am I tied up?”

His silence did little to help you as he set his flashlight down on the ground and started undoing your binds. Your wrists felt raw as you gently rubbed them once they were free, standing up while Rigby retrieved his flashlight.

“Rigby, what the hell is going on?” You ask, growing frustrated at being left in the dark. You had been knocked out and tied up, so you think you deserve some sort of explanation as to what had happened.

“I have a gift for you.” Rigby says, completely dodging your question as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you after him. His grip was tight, almost bruising as he dragged you along, ignoring you when you asked him to loosen his grip on you. He refused to answer any of your questions, and you were starting to get worried.

You've never been scared of Rigby. Sure, his behavior lately had been concerning, but you had no reason to be scared. But right now, you couldn't help but feel a bit afraid as he led you in the dark. Your concern only grew when you realized he was taking you to the barn the pigs were kept in.

“Will you just tell me what's going on?” Your words fall upon deaf ears as he passes the flashlight to you, motioning for you to take the lead as he opens the barn doors. You hesitate before shining the flashlight in the barn, slowly stepping forward.

Most of the pigs were sleeping in their own separate stalls, a few were watching you and Rigby with indifference as you both stepped deeper into the barn. But two things stood out to you. One, a handful of pigs were nowhere to be seen. Two, there was this weird… squelching sound coming from the back of the barn.

“It's just back there.” Rigby says, his breath hitting the back of your neck and causing you to jump. You hadn't even realized how close he had gotten. You scurry forward just to get some distance. Truthfully, you didn't want to see this ‘gift’ Rigby was talking about, but you knew that you couldn't turn back.

Deep down, you knew something horrible was about to happen. The squelching sound grew louder, and you could hear the sound of chewing along with it. When you looked back at Rigby for some sort of reassurance, he just had this strange smile on his face. It sent a chill down your spine.

And when you hesitantly looked in the last stall at the very back of the barn to see the source of the noise, your ‘gift’, you dropped the flashlight in horror and let out a scream as you stumbled back right into Rigby's arms.

On the ground was your boyfriend's corpse, his face nearly maimed beyond recognition as several pigs chewed at his body. You're lucky you're able to swallow the vomit in your throat as you try to get out of Rigby's hold, looking away from the horrific scene in front of you as you cried.

“Let go of me!” You claw at his arms, but he just holds you tightly against his chest, gently shushing you as he forces you to watch the pigs eat.

“Do you like it?” He asks, completely ignoring your horror, “It wasn't hard getting him to come here. I just told him you had an accident, and suddenly, he was on his way. Isn't that sweet? It's a shame he wasn't stronger… he never would've been able to protect you if someone tried hurting you. But I can, see? I can give you what you deserve.”

You weren't even listening to his deluded words, trying to squirm out of his hold, “You're a fucking monster.” You spit out, a sharp gasp being torn out of your mouth when he shoves you against the wall of the barn, his hand around your throat as he lightly squeezes. A subtle threat, one that had you shutting up.

“I expect some fucking gratitude, you ungrateful brat.” Rigby’s voice is cold, his anger had never been something you'd ever been on the receiving end of, “I did this for you. For us. You should be thanking me.” His hand on your throat tightens, squeezing the air out of your lungs, his gaze hard as he stares at you expectantly.

Desperate for air, you're barely able to wheeze out a small, “Thank you.”

As black spots start to fill your vision, Rigby removes his hand from your neck, and you're able to breathe again. His anger was gone, replaced with delighted satisfaction.

“Of course, darlin’.” He sweetly says, a bloodied hand coming up to gently wipe the tears off your face, “I'd do anything for you. I can provide for you, so just be good for me in return, okay?”

And as he pulls you into a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a heated desperation, you find yourself missing the city for the first time since you left it.

#oc: the farmer — rigby shaw.#yandere farmer x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x gn reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x you #male yandere x you #yandere farm x you #yandere #yandere oc #yandere farmer #yandere imagines

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lay-z · 11 days ago

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🎄 Day 14 – A Christmas miracle

A continuation of 🌲 Day 6 – A Christmas tree disaster, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: The tension is palpable between you three after the kitchen incident, but you’re determined to fix it for their sake and yours. Perhaps some Christmas spirit will help.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!Reader x John Soap MacTavish

Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | military!Reader; established poly!relationship; throuple; cussing; hurt/comfort; humour; domesticity; threesome; fluff

Word count: 2.2k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

@lov3-ly

They just won’t stop bickering.

Every little thing causes an argument, starting at who’s driving the truck. Johnny claims to know his way around and is the better driver, especially in the snow. Simon insists that he rented the truck, so he should be the one driving it. They make you chose, and you choose Johnny, because it makes the most sense, and Simon gets into the backseat, masking his sulking face with indifference.

Once you get to a particularly pretty spot, offroad and untouched, where Nordmann firs grow, the trees who make the perfect Christmas trees, they first start arguing about which tree to cut until they ultimately ask you to choose again, which you hate to do, because you want to make the decision with them – which seems impossible at this point. When you do eventually decide on a pretty tree, deep green and two metres tall, Simon and Johnny argue about which axe to use.

“Ye’re not carryin’ it right.”

“How the fuck can ya carry a tree the wrong way, Johnny?!”

You watch for another moment, vein throbbing hotly in your neck beneath your soft scarf as Simon picks the large tree up by its stump while Johnny carries it by the crown. The snow keeps falling peacefully around you and it could be so tranquil, freezing cold yet wonderful, but they just won’t cooperate like that.

“If you two don’t stop this goddamn bickering, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind!”

Both men huff and grumble at your reprimand, breath puffing in clouds in the cold as they continue to shoot each other nasty glares as they heave the fir onto the truck bed. They stop talking to each other altogether and somehow that’s even worse.

Sitting in the passenger seat, gnawing on your bottom lip anxiously and pissed off, Johnny reaches over, driving one handed while his other hand rests on your upper thigh, squeezing it gently. It makes you squirm and your pussy twitch in pleasure-pain; still sensitive from what you two had done but didn’t finish in the kitchen when Simon made you stop instead of join in – what you’d initially hoped for.

Your panties are damp, completely soaked, and rubbing against your puffy folds as you shift in the passenger seat. You can feel Simon’s eyes burn into the back of your head and stare down Johnny’s hand on your leg, but the latter doesn’t mind as he rubs your thigh up and down. When you glance at Johnny, you can see his lips cracked into a small, impish smile, his crotch bulging with arousal, because he didn’t get to come earlier, either.

Tease.

You’re aware what he’s trying to do and it’s dangerous. Don’t poke the bear or it will snap.

After they manage to put up the tree in the living room with little to no problems or arguing, you clean up after them; puddles of melted snow, scattered fir needles and large boot prints that lead from the front door to the living room.

And then they leave you alone. Johnny disappears into the kitchen to store away the food and drink you’d brought up here before starting on dinner while Simon simply disappears again.

Now it’s quiet in the rented cabin, way too quiet, so you put on some classical music on your phone, but it only adds to the somber atmosphere as you start decorating the Christmas tree with fairy lights and ornaments that you’d brought from home. The snowstorm has picked up again, too; icy winds howling outside while you can only daydream about being curled up on a thick fur carpet in front of the fireplace, sweating as you’re sandwiched between your massive boyfriends.

A dreamy sigh escapes your lips as you take the last ornament out of its vintage box – a golden start that’s supposed to sit on the Christmas tree crown.

Simon watches in silence as you decorate the tree by yourself, going by a particular strategy that he cannot figure out and yet the result looks put prettily put together.

It unlocks childhood memories that he though long erased from his memory; veiled visions of his late mother decorating a meek, little Christmas tree with homemade ornaments in their shitty flat in Manchester when he was but a wee lad, barely able to talk back then. She was always determined to give him and Tommy a piece of that holiday spirit, even though she was never able to afford any presents to put under the tree. And then, the vision turns rotten by the memory of his shithead father knocking the tree over and throwing it down the staircase in a fit of drunken rage.

Simon inhales sharply as his chest tightens with a mixture of raw anger and melancholy, and he swiftly blinks away those memories to focus on the present; focus on you, struggling to put the star on the tip of the tall tree.

“Need any help with that?”

You nearly pinch a nerve in your neck as you flinch, glancing over your shoulder as Simon saunters into the living room; hands stuffed in his pockets, broad shoulders slouched somewhat.

As he comes to stand right behind you, he reaches out, then. One hand supporting your lower back as you keep stretching, standing on your tippy toes, while his other hand grabs the star from your hand gently. “Let me help ya.” He almost croons softly, as softly as he can with his gravelly voice, and you hold your breath as you gaze at his ruggedly handsome face while he places the last ornament on the tree’s crown.

Then his strong arms come to wrap around you from behind, his nose nuzzling you lovingly behind your ear, “Looks nice. Good job, lovey.”

His quiet praise goes straight to your heart, squeezes it tightly and makes your breath hitch as you keep peeking up at him subtly over your shoulder, watching the reflection of the fairy lights in his dark irises, turning them a molten bronze. Cupping your own palms over his rough hands resting on your stomach, you melt against his chest.

“Thank you for putting the most important final touch to it, honey.”

He hums against your neck, enjoying the silly pet name too much and places two chaste kisses below your earlobe that has your skin pebbling with goose flesh. “Never done that before, y’know,” he murmurs, kissing your neck again while one hand slips underneath the hem of your warm sweater, “Decorated a bloody Christmas tree or... even celebrated the bloody holiday properly.”

“About time, then.” You retort, laughing through the pain you feel when his sad admission makes your heart squeeze and throb in your chest this time. “I wanna makes this special for us,” you say, turning around in his embrace to wrap your arms around his neck while both his hands slip beneath your sweater, tracing the curve of your spine.

“I want this to become a tradition for the three of us. Y’know? Renting a cabin for the holidays and hide away for a few days to... relax and... enjoy each other,” you explain, eyes twinkling while your fingers play with the short hairs at the base of his neck. “Would you like that?”

He nods slowly, sheepishly. A shudder runs down his spine as your nimble fingers run through his dark blond hair, though if he’s being true to himself, it’s more about what you’re telling and asking him that has him reeling and trembling internally. Building traditions together, all three of you. That includes him, too. Obviously.

“I’m yours, too, yes?” He utters those words before he can stop himself and his eyes widen imperceptibly at the uncharacteristically needy tone of his deep voice, and he watches in horror as your brows furrow quizzically. “Ah–I mean–”

You huff in amusement, brows relaxing again while your arms tighten around his neck to better convey the meaning of your next words, “Simon, you and Johnny are as much mine as I am yours, yes.”

“Steamin’ Jesus! Can ye kiss already? I wanna see ‘sum tongue with it, aye?”

You can practically feel Simon bristle as Johnny’s teasing tone of voice breaks the tender moment, though you can merely roll your eyes playfully as you peek around Simon’s broad shoulder.

“Who’s the true voyeur here now, John?”

Johnny chortles, completely unabashed as he leans against the wide, open frame that opens the living room up to the hallway. He’s grinning, cocksure as always, eyes shining brightly with mischief as he pushes himself off the frame to saunter towards you while Simon’s calloused fingers flex against your supple skin on your back as if he’s afraid you might move away.

“I feel like we should pick up where we’ve left off earlier,” Johnny purrs, wiggling his thick eyebrows suggestively, “What say ye, Lt.? Wanna help me turn our bonnie lassie into a wee mess?”

You brace yourself with bated breath for another argument, but Simon’s chest rumbles against yours as he regards Johnny with a softening gaze, and the curt nod he gives nearly has your knees buckling.

Strong, calloused hands roll you over onto your back on the plush carpet, making you feel like a worshipped rag doll in the way they handle you, firmly yet carefully. Your vision is so hazy, you can barely tell who’s touching what right now.

The living room reeks of sex; it’s stuffy and warm and you’ve never felt better, more at peace than ever.

A pathetic moan is torn from your throat as Johnny sinks his fat cock back into your dripping cunt with an obscene squelch as Simon’s cum keeps mixing with his. He holds your legs open and up by the back of your knees as he kneels between them; dark hair sticking to his damp forehead as he grinds his hips slowly yet deeply, pushing his cock into your welcoming heat far enough to have his tip kiss your cervix, his girth stretching your velvety walls and having you arch your back into the sensations.

“Tha’s it, hen, keep–ach, fuck–takin’ it like our good girl,” Johnny groans when you squeeze your core around him, sucking him in deeper until he must thrust more powerfully to even thrust at all.

You reach out blindly for the other large man sprawled out on the carpet next to you. His broad, scarred chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his breath while your sweaty palm pats along his muscular arm, squeezing his bulging biceps with greedy need.

“Si–Si–,” you whine and hiccup as Johnny keeps fucking your soppy cunt with deep, slow rolls of his hips. The big, blond man rumbles deep in his chest in return, answering your whinging calls as his head tilts to the side; dark, half-lidded eyes regarding you languidly.

His mammoth hand reaches out to grasp your chin, thumb rubbing your lower lip to catch your drool and smear it over your burning skin while Johnny starts playing with your swollen clit, making your back arch and your lips part with a louder cry of pleasure.

Simon slips his thumb into your mouth and pushes down on your tongue. “Need more, lovey?” He chuckles darkly as you suck on his meaty digit, eyes flickering up to Johnny, who laughs huskily. Simon’s cock twitches back to life, blood rushing and boiling in his veins as his pale skin keeps flushing. He pulls his thumb from your mouth, eyes crinkling with a smile as your tongue darts out to chase it.

You lick your kiss-swollen lips as you nod, “Uh-huh.”

“Insatiable wee thing,” Johnny groans, hips snapping to make your tits bounce and jiggle the way he loves watching. “Gonna milk us both dry.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” Simon huffs and groans as he pushes himself up on his knees, “’m lookin’ forward to it and she is, too.”

Even in your blissfully fucked out state, you want to retort something stupid and witty, but when Simon suddenly grabs Johnny by the back of his neck to pull him into a deep, passionate – and very first – kiss, you nearly loose the last shred of your sanity.

You watch in awe and shameless desire as Johnny briefly tries to pull away from Simon, but the latter has an iron grip on his neck and then Johnny leans back in with a deep sigh, reciprocates the kiss with wild fervour as you watch from below.

They make out sloppily, teetering on aggressive and looking like battered warriors in the warm, dim glowing lights of the Christmas tree. All teeth and tongues. It’s maddening. It’s your personal present and secret wish come true, a Christmas miracle. You catch the way Simon dominates Johnny and your pussy clenches and flutters around Johnny’s fat cock still nestled deeply inside your gummy walls.

You reach down between your thighs, replacing Johnny’s hand with yours as you start flicking the pad of your index finger over your sensitive clit, chest heaving as you enjoy the way your lovers finally start bonding the way they should.

#call of duty #ghoap x reader #ghoap #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost #soap #tf 141 #cod #soap mactavish #simon riley #cod advent calendar 2024 #ghost x reader x soap

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roosterforme · 7 months ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley has to preserve your dignity in the most awkward way possible. He's ready for a relaxing few days off at Christmas with your parents, but their visit gets off to a rocky start. But by the end of their trip, Bradley is once again feeling as hopeful for the future as you are.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, titty fuck, swearing, angst, pregnancy

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

It might have been amusing if it was happening to someone else, but it definitely wasn't. It was happening to him. Bradley looked at the time as he backed his Bronco out of the driveway at top speed and took off down the street. You and he should have been leaving now to get to the airport on time to pick up your parents, but that was just going to have to wait.

"Jesus Christ," he growled, barely pausing at the stop sign after he made sure nobody was coming. Bradley Ross was still packing up his truck not five minutes ago, so he couldn't have gone far. Through polite conversation, Bradley knew that the contractor lived a little further south in Coronado, so hopefully he could catch up to him quickly.

Bradley loved you with his whole being. You were the smartest, most capable person he had ever met. You also had pregnancy hormones on the brain, and if you weren't currently forgetting full conversations you'd had, you were falling asleep on a whim. Getting dirty photos from you was always a welcome distraction, but right now, you needed to focus a little extra on everything. Apparently having two Bradleys around was not the best idea.

"Yes," Bradley gasped, hitting the accelerator even though he was approaching a red light. The white Ross Construction pickup truck was stopped and waiting, and he cut into the other lane to pull up right next to it. "Shit," he groaned, realizing he couldn't roll his passenger side window down from the driver's seat. He started honking his horn before the light turned green, and the other Bradley turned to look at him in surprise, but his expression immediately melted into apprehension. It was obvious he'd seen the pictures. "God damn it."

After gesturing wildly for him to pull over, the light turned green, and Bradley was relieved when the truck moved through the intersection and then stopped in front of the first house. He pulled the Bronco over in front of the truck and hopped out as soon as he killed the engine. This was about to be one of the most awkward conversations of his life, and he'd had his share.

"Hey," he said as calmly as he could as the other man put his window down. Then he cleared his throat and sighed. "You may have received a text message from my wife in error."

He was met with bright red cheeks and guilt ridden eyes, and Bradley felt his hands curl into fists at his sides as his nostrils flared. Fucking hell, this man had seen your tits.

"Uh, I'm assuming that the mix-up occurred because of our names?" he asked. Bradley could see his phone sitting in the cupholder, and he wanted to snap it in half.

"That's right," he replied through gritted teeth. How the fuck was he supposed to proceed here? He needed to make sure your dignity was as intact as it could possibly be at this point, and if he had to get a little aggressive, he would. "Mind letting me see your phone?"

The other man reached for it slowly, and Bradley watched him unlock it as he said, "I only saw the message preview when I started driving."

"But you saw it," Bradley snapped, rubbing his temple as he held out his other hand palm side up.

"Yeah."

Once the phone was in his hand, he confirmed that the message was still unread. At least there was that. While Bradley Ross may have seen your glorious breasts for himself, at least he'd only have his memory to rely on from here on out. He took his time and deleted each of the three photos. Then he emptied out the trash folder. Then he double checked that there was no trace of the photos anywhere before he deleted your contact information from the man's address book. After one more quick sweep to be sure his wife's tits were nowhere to be found, he handed the phone back to the abashed looking man.

He wasn't going to apologize for chasing him down, and he wasn't going to threaten him for something you started. Instead Bradley merely muttered, "Happy holidays," before returning to his Bronco and sliding into the seat.

He didn't realize how much his heart was pounding until he was sitting there in the silent interior, watching the Ross Construction truck pull away. He dug your phone out of his pocket while he started to calm down. When he entered your pass code, he saw that you had a new text from Cam but nothing else. Out of extreme caution, he blocked the other Bradley's phone number before deleting it from your address book, and then he started up the engine.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with her?" he muttered to himself as he pulled a u-turn and headed home. He thought about spanking you, but he was certain you'd just enjoy yourself. Frankly he would too. He wanted to lecture you about always checking the recipient before trying to send him something dirty, but he knew you probably already felt badly enough. When he pulled into the driveway, he saw you peering out the front window, waiting for him. Then he walked inside with his fingers wrapped around both phones and found you standing in the middle of the living room.

"What happened?" you asked, worrying your hands in front of your pregnant belly. Your eyes were wide, and you bit down on your lip, clearly beyond concerned to hear what he had to say. All thoughts of scolding you fled his mind, and when he opened his arms, you rushed toward him.

"I took care of it. Deleted everything from his phone."

"On my god," you moaned, your belly pressing against him as you sighed in relief. He wrapped his arms around you as you settled against his chest and looked up at him. "Did he see the photos?" you asked softly. When he nodded, you winced. "I'm so sorry, Roo."

Tears filled your eyes as he sighed and looked around the room. The house was spotlessly clean, and the mostly undecorated Christmas tree was standing tall in the corner by the window. Everything was ready for your parents to get here, but neither of you made a move to leave.

"I'm not mad at you, Sweetheart. It's not like you sent them to him on purpose," he whispered.

"I would never," you replied, voice filled with conviction. "These are all yours. And soon to be Rosie's." You patted your chest, and Bradley smiled.

"She's the only one I'm dividing my time with." He kissed your forehead. "We should leave to get your parents before it gets any later."

You agreed, and Bradley got you all buckled into the red Bronco. Of course there was a ton of traffic now that it was the peak of rush hour, and shortly into the drive you told him, "My dad texted me. They already landed."

"They're just going to have to wait," he replied, trying his best to merge onto the highway.

You were silent for a few minutes while you messed around on your phone, but finally you asked him, "Did you at least like the pictures?"

Bradley glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. "Of your tits?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "You didn't say anything about them."

He was practically ramming into other cars to try to find a spot in the parking garage at San Diego International after chasing down another man and forcefully demanding he hand over his phone, and you were honestly worried about whether or not he liked the way your boobs looked in the photos. He barked out a laugh as he swung the Bronco into a spot and parked.

"What?" you asked, frowning at him. "You've been very vocal about them!"

He gestured for your phone, and you handed it to him before crossing your arms over your chest. Even though the two of you were late, he took a moment to really look at the photos in question again. He liked the first one where it looked like you were about to spill out of your bra. The second was just as nice since you were showing off your breasts and your wedding rings. And the third one was the main event, literally a vivid depiction of where he currently most enjoyed letting himself unload after he fucked you.

"Yes, Baby Girl. I like the pictures. In fact, I love them." He texted them from your phone to his, making sure he had the correct name selected before he gave your phone back. "And I'd love to see them in person when we get home later if you're in the mood."

You rolled your eyes and squeezed your thighs together. "I'll almost certainly be in the mood," you informed him as you opened your door.

"Oh, one more thing," he said, and you glanced back at him as he smirked. "How about you let me be the resident photographer for the time being?"

---------------------------------

Your mom and dad looked annoyed when the two of you showed up late to retrieve them from the airport after weeks of assuring them that you'd pick them up without issue, but as soon as they saw your belly, they calmed down.

"Look at you!" your mom gushed, rubbing her hands together before placing them on your bump. "How's our sweet granddaughter?" she asked as Bradley started to collect their luggage.

"Very active," you told her with a smile. "She'll start doing somersaults if you wait there long enough."

"Really?" your dad chimed in, coming to stand with your mom after helping Bradley. That's how you ended up with four hands plastered to your midsection while your husband stood behind you and kissed your ear.

"Want to tell them her name?" he whispered, his lips brushing your skin. You had to assume he wasn't too upset about Bradley Ross and the boob photos if he was still just as loving as always.

Of course your mom heard every word he said and practically shouted, "You picked out a name?"

You nodded as your parents both stared at you. "Rose."

"Rose!" your mom gasped like she'd just won the lottery.

"That's pretty," your dad mused, and that's when the baby started thumping in what seemed like delight. "I feel her!"

"So do I! Hi, Rose! It's your Nana!"

You desperately wanted to go home and eat dinner, but you stood there until your parents wore themselves out asking questions and trying to feel the baby move. Eventually Bradley said, "You must be tired and hungry. There's food at the house, and the attic renovation is done and ready for you."

"Perfect," your mom replied. "You can just tuck us away up there, and we'll be out of your hair."

"That's the idea," Bradley muttered, and you elbowed him hard in the ribs as he led the way outside, pulling the massive suitcase behind him. "Watch it, Sweetheart, or I'll tell them why we were late."

"You wouldn't," you whispered.

He just shrugged. "You think I care if they know you tried to send me dirty pictures? Really, it just shows how much you love me."

You rolled your eyes as he smirked while your parents chattered away about how crazy it was to spend Christmas in California for the first time ever.

-------------------------

Bradley thought your parents would be exhausted and in bed as soon as he started cleaning up from dinner, but your dad headed for the nursery to inspect the new furniture which was still in the boxes, and your mom started unpacking your childhood Christmas ornaments from her carry on bag.

"Oh!" you gushed as she handed some to you. "I forgot about these! Bradley, look! It's my handprint from when I was four!"

You were holding up a seriously hideous green and purple Play Doh blog that Tramp was trying to lick, but he couldn't help but smile. "Maybe we can make one with Rosie each year," he mused as you hung it on the tree.

"We have to," you told him as you unwrapped another homemade ornament. You got lost in conversation with your mom, so he wandered to the nursery to see what your dad was up to.

"Hey," he said from the doorway with a little chuckle. Your dad was sitting on the floor with all of the crib parts laid out around him.

"Just checking to make sure everything's here," he muttered, counting a handful of screws. "We're probably going to want to get started on this project first thing in the morning so we have time to get it all done."

"Sure," Bradley agreed. "Thanks again for agreeing to help me with it."

"Happy to help," he murmured, adjusting his reading glasses to peruse the instruction booklet. "Happy to help." Your dad stood and rubbed his back before following Bradley out of the room. They found you and your mom out on the back patio with the lights on, looking at the massive playset.

"It's so cute!" your mom said.

"It's over the top," you responded. "Bradley just had to have it."

"He's going to be a good dad. Give him a break. I can't believe he built this thing by himself."

"Jake helped him," you told her.

"Jake helped a tiny bit," Bradley announced, and you turned to look at him with a little smile. "You know what would be fun?"

"Hmm?" you hummed, and your parents both turned to look at him.

"We could put strings of lights on the playset."

"That's a great idea, Roo!" The three of you were immediately discussing whether the lights should be white or colorful, and you were clapping your hands in excitement. Having your parents out for a California Christmas, especially with the Nugget coming soon, just felt right. The tree he picked out already looked better covered in your ornaments, and your dad was going to help him knock some of his projects off his to-do list.

He didn't feel awkward in his own skin like he did on occasion when he missed his mom so much it hurt. She would have loved every second of your pregnancy. She would have been on the phone every night, bugging the hell out of him, but Bradley would do anything to have her back. When you slipped your hand into his, he pulled you closer and said, "I'm happy your parents are here."

You kissed him right in front of them and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck. He vaguely heard your parents say they were going to head up to bed and to have a good night which was convenient, because after everything that happened today, he was ready to be alone with you.

"Come on," he whispered when you broke the kiss. "I want to snuggle with you and Rosie." He called Tramp inside, and you led him toward the bedroom with your hand held loosely in his. But you didn't head for the bathroom or climb into bed. Instead you pulled his shirt off and tugged down his gym shorts and underwear before pointing to the bed.

"Have a seat," you told him, his cock shamelessly responding to you, already bobbing excitedly in anticipation of what was to come. Wordlessly, he took a seat at the edge of the bed and watched you pull your shirt over your belly and all the way off. His lips and hands were on your bump, and when you pulled your sports bra over your head, his mouth found your breasts.

"I've got a little treat for you, Roo," you told him, brushing your fingers through his hair as he pulled your nipple between his lips. You moaned softly and added, "For being the best husband earlier and chasing down the man I accidentally texted dirty pictures to."

He grunted and grinned as he let your nipple pop free. "This is all mine," he said as he gestured at your body, and you nodded vigorously.

"Absolutely." When you took a step toward your nightstand, he whined softly, but when you returned to him with a small bottle of lube in your hand, his eyes lit up.

"What are you doing, Baby Girl?" His voice sounded excited even to his own ears, and he had to reach down to stroke himself as you drizzled the clear lube onto your own breasts before tossing the bottle aside. "What are you gonna let me do to you?"

He swallowed hard as you ran both of your hands slowly along your tits until they were glistening. "I'm going to do all the work," you told him. "Just relax." When you went to kneel in front of him, Bradley helped you get down with his hands on your biceps. And then you took his cock between your lips as your silky, slick fingers glided across his balls.

"Fuck," he sighed, enjoying the sight of your shiny breasts, and a second later his length was sandwiched beautifully between them. "Oh my god."

You smiled up at him as you squeezed your tits together until he was grunting loudly, and then you moved your body slowly up and down. He watched his own cock disappear between your breasts and then reappear over and over. He was mesmerized by the smooth glide and the immaculate view he had of your face and chest.

"Feel good?" you asked, and he nodded like an idiot as he ran his thumb along the perfect curve of your cheek. "You can touch me, Daddy."

"Oh hell." He let his thumb drift down to your nipple as you held him in place and fucked him with your tits until his balls were tight and his leg was shaking. You started kissing at his tip each time it was near your lips, and he had to grab at the bedding to keep himself in check.

After a few more slow movements, you reached for his hands and placed them where yours had been, on the outside of each breast. He squeezed himself in there tight as you said, "Go for it, Roo." Once you were holding onto his thighs to keep yourself steady, Bradley fucked your tits and played with your nipples until he was whining your name.

He knew the attic renovation had been a great idea, but he was surprised it was paying off so soon. Your body felt magical as he went a little faster, and then he was spurting his cum everywhere. Your chin, lips and chest were painted white with his seed, and it dripped down to your belly as your tongue darted out to taste him.

"Holy shit," he panted, looking everywhere for his phone. "I need a picture of this."

You reached into the pocket of his shorts which were on the floor and handed it to him. He took pictures of the pretty mess he made, including one where you were rubbing his cum along your skin. The swell of your belly was beautiful with his baby inside, and Bradley moaned as you licked the bead of cum from the tip of his cock.

"You ready to snuggle?" you asked him, turning to kiss the inside of his thigh.

"Yeah." He really felt like he had it all.

----------------------------

In the days leading up to Christmas, Bradley and your dad managed to get the furniture built for the nursery with time to spare. "Can you pick a paint color, Sweetheart?" Bradley asked you on the twenty-third, holding up your final two favorites. "Your dad and I can probably get the room painted tomorrow if we go to the store today."

You looked back and forth between the sky blue sample and the rosy pink sample. "I love them both," you whispered, chewing on the tip of your thumb, indecision washing over you.

Bradley turned them around to look at them and seemed to have the same issue. "I have an idea. Will you let me make the decision?"

"Absolutely," you sighed, pleased that you didn't have to pull that trigger. "Whatever you want."

They sent you out for lunch with your mom and Nat on Christmas eve, which actually turned into a stop at the mall with all of the last minute shoppers. You didn't need to buy anything else, but you helped Nat pick out a few things, and your mom seemed amused.

When you got home, all of the windows were open because the house smelled like paint, and your dad and Bradley were assembling something on the living room floor that you didn't know had even been purchased. "What's that?" you asked, eyeing your husband who couldn't seem to help but go overboard. "Bradley, I thought I put a cap on your spending for the baby!"

"It's from us," your parents said in unison.

"Oh."

"Oh," Bradley said, jokingly mimicking your voice. "I told you I was going to behave, and I have been behaving."

You leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "It is a chair?"

"Merry Christmas," your mom said. "It's a glider chair for the nursery. It'll be easier to feed her next to her crib so you can put her right back in bed when she's done. Not that my granddaughter will be anything but the sweetest little girl and most amazing sleeper."

Your eyes welled with tears as you hugged her. "Thanks for the overpriced chair. I love it."

Bradley stood with a soft grunt and reached for your hand. "If the smell isn't bothering you too much, can I show you the paint?"

"Yes," you said, wiping your eyes on his undershirt. You were suddenly so overwhelmed by how your parents came out for the holiday, but more than anything they were helping you get things ready for the next stage of life. Bradley led you down the hallway to the closed door and turned the knob. When he flicked the light on, you gasped. Three walls were blue, and the fourth wall was the dusty rose color you liked so much.

"I was thinking we could get the cloud decals for the blue walls and make the rosy wall look like a sunset," he said softly. "That could be pretty, right?"

You were fully crying now as you hugged him. "I think that sounds beautiful."

He kissed you as his hand settled on the sweet spot on your belly where he could usually feel a kick. "I just want my girls happy."

"We're happy with you."

The two of you spent a few minutes looking at the crib and the new dresser and the changing table. The bedding still needed to be washed, but it was folded on top of the dresser, and you ran your hand along the pastel airplanes and clouds. "I can't wait to meet her."

Bradley held you close and said, "I hope she's just like you."

When you finally walked back out to the kitchen, you were still swiping at your tears. Your mom was putting together some simple finger foods for Christmas Eve dinner, and your dad was putting the finishing touches on the new chair. There were Christmas carols playing softly through your wireless speaker, and you just didn't think the tears were going to stop.

You turned to your husband and quietly sobbed, "I wish your parents were here. I think about them so much, and I hate that I never got to meet either one of them."

"Shhh. Don't cry, Sweetheart," he crooned pulling you to his chest again. "I don't want you to cry." He was quiet for a moment as you looked at the tree, your tears turning the lights into a streaky mess. "My mom would have loved you. And she would have been over the moon for the baby. Just like your parents are. I know it's not fair. I think about it every fucking day, but I don't want you to cry when we still have so much."

You clung to him a little tighter as Rosie did a somersault. "You're right."

Your parents didn't seem concerned when Bradley held you a while longer. Then the four of you ate dinner, and you dipped literally everything into your favorite hot sauce. Then you brought the presents out from their hiding spot in the bathroom closet and set them under the tree while Bradley cleaned up the kitchen. Your mom and dad were already fast asleep by the time you climbed into bed and yawned.

"Can I read to you from the Nugget Notebook?" Bradley asked as he pulled the covers back on his side and got in as well.

"Of course," you whispered, tossing your glasses on your nightstand and snuggling up next to him.

He cleared his throat and you drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice. "Hey, Rosie. Your mom is so funny. She thinks I've been buying you an exorbitant amount of stuff. She's completely correct. I have been. But you know who's even worse than me? Your grandparents."

-----------------------------

Bradley never let his expectations get ahead of himself on holidays. He spent two decades mostly on his own, doing very little celebrating. But that was before you. By seven o'clock in the morning, you were yanking him out of bed. When he tried to reach for your belly to say good morning, you swatted his hands away and gave him a quick kiss. "Rosie says Merry Christmas. Now let's get up."

"Jesus," he grunted. "What's the rush, Sweetheart?"

You kissed him again and said, "I promised your cousin Brenda we would FaceTime with her, and it's already late in Virginia."

He just stared at you. Somehow you always remembered everything and everyone. He knew you sent cards to his family members, and he knew Brenda would appreciate talking to the two of you. "You're the sweetest thing," he said as he climbed out of bed.

He pulled on his gray sweatpants before following you out of the bedroom. Your parents were already up wearing their matching pajamas, and the whole house smelled like cinnamon rolls and coffee. "Merry Christmas," your mom greeted, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and Bradley did a double take when he saw the tree. There were at least twice as many presents there now as when he went to bed.

"What's this?" he asked. "It actually looks like Santa came."

"Oh, we just brought a few things with us," your mom said. "Things for Rose. And some treats for Tramp."

"Jesus," he muttered as you handed him the iPad. "The baby isn't even here yet, and they just keep getting worse."

You nodded as you dialed Brenda's number, and when she answered, you asked how she was and showed off your bump before handing the call over to Bradley to have a few minutes alone with his mom's favorite cousin. Then he ate six cinnamon rolls and gave himself a stomach ache before it was time to open the enormous pile of presents.

There were onesies and pacifiers and bibs. Toys and a crib mobile that matched the bedding. Bottles and diapers and teething rings and little floral bath towels. Bradley was completely overwhelmed, and he kind of felt terrible when he handed your parents the set of cutting boards and the laser level you and he picked out for them.

"This is for you." He looked up as you held out a box with a smile on your face. "Well, it's for you and for Rosie."

Bradley's heart skipped a beat as you and your parents watched him unwrap a box, and when he pulled the lid off, his face broke out into a huge smile. You and he had matching shirts, and now he'd be able to match with his Nugget, too. "I love it," he said softly, holding up a large shirt and a very small one. The pink floral design was the same color as the bedroom wall he'd just painted yesterday, and the fabric was very soft. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

He kissed you and handed you the tiny box he had tucked back behind all the others. He felt a little nervous giving it to you with your parents here, but it didn't really matter. They would see it eventually anyway. When you opened the little jewelry box and met his eyes, you said, "Help me put it on." He leaned in closer and unclasped your necklace chain. You wore the airplane charm and the little dog tag that said Baby Girl every day, and now you'd have another one with them. "It's absolutely perfect," you whispered as you slid the gold rose onto the chain.

"Just like my girls," he promised. "When she's old enough, I'll buy one for her, too, so you can match."

"I love you." You mashed your lips against his as you crawled to his lap, and Bradley didn't stop your parents from making a detour to the kitchen to start prepping for dinner.

-------------------------------

After Christmas dinner, the four of you drove around in the red Bronco to look at lights. You made a quick trip to drop off presents for Jeremiah, and then you and Bradley stopped by to say goodbye to Bob. He looked like he was glued to Maria, so you took that as a good sign.

"I'll never get over the palm trees covered in lights," your mom remarked from the backseat while Christmas music played on the radio.

You played with your new necklace charm as you said, "I think there are a lot of things here that will always look weird to us."

"We're hardy east coast people," Bradley murmured as he turned back onto your street. "Look, they decorated a cactus," he said in disgust, and you started laughing.

"Is that house for sale?" your dad asked, pointing out the window. "It's hard to tell in the dark."

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "It's been on the market for a few weeks. It looks like it needs a lot of work."

"The last thing we need is a fixer upper," your mom told your dad, and your heart beat a little faster.

"Dad, are you going to retire?" you asked, too afraid to even ask the more pertinent question on your mind as you played with Bradley's fingers on your lap.

"It's within the realm of possibilities," your dad replied. "Your mom wants to move a little closer to the two of you."

"Three!" she said. "Rose will be here before we know it!"

"The three of you," your dad corrected.

This wasn't the first time this topic had been discussed, but you didn't want to get your hopes up. "Are you still thinking California?"

You dad laughed. "Your mom is obsessed with the Coronado housing market."

"Obsessed is a strong word," she said, and you gave Bradley's hand a little squeeze.

"Tell me we just finished the attic for nothing," your husband mumbled as your parents argued in the backseat, but you just leaned in and kissed him.

"Aww, come on, Roo. Rosie can make one of those rooms her bedroom in a few years," you told him. "You know, so there's separation."

He grunted in approval, and then your dad asked, "Could you leave the car keys out for us to drive around a bit in the morning before you take us to the airport? The two of you can sleep in while we check out the area a little bit more."

"Absolutely," you told him as Bradley pulled back into the driveway of your cute Craftsman with all the extra bedrooms and the strings of lights around the windows. Your parents climbed out of the back, but you tugged on Bradley's hand to keep him in place. "Can I have another one of my million orgasms while they're driving around tomorrow morning?"

He ran his rough thumb along your cheek and kissed you. "My Baby Girl can have absolutely anything she fucking wants."

-------------------------------

Roo gives the best gifts. The nursery is virtually finished and so is the playset. Now we wait for the Nugget to finish cooking. A shower and a babymoon and trouble are on the way soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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rootedinrevisions · 16 days ago

Text

In My Heart is a Christmas Tree Farm

SUMMARY: It’s the first Christmas together for you and Tyler, and after moving into his farmhouse, you’re excited to start new traditions with him—like picking out the perfect tree. But what starts as a charming trip to the Christmas Tree Farm quickly turns into a hilarious and heartwarming adventure, from getting the tree home to figuring out how to fit it through the front door. As the holiday chaos unfolds, the two of you share quiet moments decorating the tree, with laughter, playful banter, and unspoken love filling the air.

A/N: This is the first of a few holiday fics that I have planned or in the works! Please let me know what you guys think with hearts, reblogs, and comments! I love getting feedback from you guys!

WARNINGS: None. Just fluff.

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

The truck rumbled to a stop on the gravel drive of the Christmas tree farm, the engine cutting out with a low growl. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you looked out at the rows of evergreens stretching into the horizon. This was your first Christmas living with Tyler, and picking out a real tree together felt like the start of something special—a new tradition, just the two of you.

The crisp December air hit you as soon as you stepped out of the truck, making you pull your coat a little tighter around yourself. The smell of pine was already thick in the air, and your boots crunched softly against the ground as you moved closer to the truck bed.

Tyler slid out of the driver’s seat with an easy grace, tugging the brim of his cap a little lower against the cold. His Carhartt jacket hugged his frame, the earthy tan color a perfect match for his ruggedness. He turned toward you, a teasing glint in his eye, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but admire him. He just had that effortless charm about him—completely unbothered and completely Tyler.

“So,” he drawled, his breath visible in the chilly air as he closed the truck door behind him. “Have you decided what kinda tree you’re lookin’ for yet, darlin’?”

You grinned, tucking your hands into your coat pockets. “Something big and full. You know, a real showstopper.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, clearly already bracing himself for what this would mean for his part of the job.

“Figures. You’d pick somethin’ that makes me work for it.” His grin softened the words, though, and you nudged his arm as the two of you started walking toward the trees.

The farm was lively with families and couples all bundled up, laughter and chatter floating through the brisk air. The two of you wandered along the rows of trees, the crunch of your boots and the faint sound of Christmas music playing over the farm’s speakers filling the silence.

Tyler stopped in front of a smaller tree, one that barely came up to his shoulder. He gestured toward it with a tilt of his head. “What about this one? Nice and easy to haul back.”

You gave him a flat look, one hand resting on your hip. “That’s not even a Christmas tree; it’s a glorified shrub.”

You wandered a little further ahead, scanning the trees until your eyes landed on one that seemed perfect. It was tall and full, its dark green needles catching the faint sunlight peeking through the clouds. You pointed at it with excitement. “What about that one?”

Tyler followed your gaze and tilted his head, his lips twisting as he studied it. “Hmm.”

“‘Hmm?’” you echoed, crossing your arms.

“It’s a little…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Lopsided. Look at that lean.”

You squinted at the tree, trying to see what he saw. Sure, it wasn’t perfectly symmetrical, but there was something charming about its imperfection.

“It gives it character,” you argued, planting your hands on your hips.

“Character, huh?” Tyler smirked, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Alright, sweetheart. But don’t say I didn’t warn ya when that ‘character’ makes it fall over in the living room.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. This was exactly what you’d imagined when you thought about this day—playful bickering, shared smiles, and the simple joy of doing something together.

Tyler tilted his head, studying the tree with that same skeptical expression. You could tell he wasn’t sold, but you didn’t care. There was something about this one—it wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked at it, already picturing it in the corner of your living room, lit up with strings of warm white lights and covered in ornaments you’d carefully unpacked together.

When you glanced back at Tyler, he was already watching you. His green eyes softened as he took in the look on your face, the way you were gazing at the tree like it was the only one on the entire farm. He let out a long-suffering sigh, one that was more for show than anything else, and shook his head with a small smile.

“This the one you really want?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his tone gentler.

You nodded eagerly. “This is the one.”

He held your gaze for a beat longer, his expression softening even more. “Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

Before you could even respond, Tyler squatted down by the base of the tree and pulled out the hand saw he’d brought along. He glanced back at you with a teasing smirk as he gripped the saw handle.

“You better not make me do this every year, though. Gonna end up with sawdust in places sawdust shouldn’t be.”

You laughed, crossing your arms as you watched him start sawing through the trunk with practiced movements. “Oh, come on. You’re just showing off now.”

“Damn right,” he shot back, his voice a little strained from the effort. “Gotta prove I’m still worth keepin’ around.”

The sight of him—focused, rugged, and doing this for you—made your heart squeeze in your chest. He worked efficiently, the blade gliding back and forth through the trunk as tiny flecks of wood started to fall onto the frosty ground. After a few minutes, there was a satisfying crack, and the tree shifted slightly.

Tyler straightened up, brushing sawdust off his jeans before turning to you with a grin. “Alright, darlin’. Now comes the fun part—haulin’ this thing back to the truck without pokin’ an eye out.”

As Tyler dusted off his hands, you moved to grab the tree, wanting to help. Before you could get a proper grip, he reached out, stopping you with a firm hand on your wrist.

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk. “I’m not lettin’ you carry this thing. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Tyler, it’s not that heavy,” you argued, but he was already crouching down, grabbing hold of the trunk with one hand and lifting it with surprising ease.

“You just stay right there and admire the view,” he teased, glancing over his shoulder at you with a wink before he began dragging the tree toward the front of the farm. The tree scraped along the ground, leaving a trail in the thin layer of frost, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the branches caught on a few tufts of grass.

A little ways ahead, you spotted a wooden wagon parked near the rows of trees—a small, rustic cart clearly meant to help customers haul their finds.

You pointed to it, your eyes lighting up. “Look, there’s a wagon we can use!”

Tyler stopped in his tracks, turning to glance at the cart before shooting you a look that was equal parts amused and stubborn. “A wagon? Darlin’, I don’t need a wagon. I’ve got this.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you watched him reposition his grip on the tree like he was about to hoist it up. Before he could, you were already walking off toward the cart.

“Where’re you goin’?” he called after you, the exasperation in his voice tinged with humor.

“Getting the wagon,” you called back without turning around.

When you returned, rolling the cart behind you with a triumphant smile, Tyler sighed, shaking his head like you’d just gone and complicated things for no reason.

“I told you I could carry it,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, grinning as you gestured toward the wagon. “But why carry it when you can make your life easier?”

He muttered something under his breath—something about being perfectly capable—but he bent down and lifted the tree anyway, settling it into the wagon with a huff. You gave him a pleased smile, your hands on your hips like you’d just solved the world’s biggest problem.

Tyler shook his head again, a small grin tugging at his lips as he grabbed the wagon handle. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he teased, his tone warm and playful.

“Lucky?” you echoed, falling into step beside him. “I just saved you from throwing your back out.”

“Darlin’, I think I’ve got a few good years left before that happens.” He shot you a sidelong glance as he started pulling the wagon, his free hand reaching for yours. The roughness of his palm was a stark contrast to the cool metal of the wagon handle in his other hand, and you couldn’t help but squeeze his hand as your fingers laced together.

The two of you walked hand in hand toward the gate, the tree wobbling slightly in the wagon behind you. The crisp air smelled faintly of pine and woodsmoke, and the sound of distant laughter from other families echoed through the farm. It felt perfect.

The two of you reached the payment booth near the front of the farm, where a cheerful older man in a Santa hat rang you up. Tyler handed over the cash, adding a quick “Merry Christmas” as the man nodded and tipped his hat.

Tree secured for the season, you made your way back to Tyler’s truck, the wagon wheels crunching softly over the frosted ground. The cold seemed sharper now, nipping at your face and hands, and you pulled your coat tighter as you walked.

Tyler parked the wagon near the tailgate and looked over at you, tilting his head toward the cab of the truck. “Alright, darlin’, hop in and start warmin’ up. I’ll handle the rest.”

You shook your head with a determined smile. “I’m not letting you do this alone. It’s our tree, after all.”

Tyler huffed, planting his hands on his hips as he gave you a pointed look. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” But he didn’t argue further, instead moving to lift the tree out of the wagon.

As he hefted the trunk up toward the bed of the truck, the tree wobbled slightly, its uneven weight threatening to throw off his balance.

“Lopsided thing,” he muttered under his breath, as if to prove his earlier point.

You quickly stepped in, grabbing the top of the tree to steady it. “I’ve got it!” you said, keeping the branches from tilting too far.

Tyler glanced back at you, a flicker of exasperation in his eyes. “I had it,” he drawled, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you replied cheekily. “And now we’ve both got it.”

Together, you guided the tree into the truck bed, the branches brushing against the sides before settling into place. Tyler stepped back to inspect it, nodding to himself before turning to the backseat of the truck and grabbing a length of rope.

As he began tying down one end of the tree, he glanced over his shoulder. “Now will you get in the truck and warm up, sweetheart?”

You ignored him, instead grabbing the other end of the rope. “I’ll help you tie it down. Two sets of hands are faster than one.”

Tyler let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he worked on securing the trunk. “You’re about the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“And you love it,” you quipped, looping the rope around the branches with practiced ease.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a grin, pulling his end taut before tying it off with a secure knot. “But don’t think I didn’t see you shiverin’ just now. Soon as this is done, you’re gettin’ in that truck, no arguments..”

“Deal,” you replied, stepping back to admire your work as Tyler gave the ropes one final tug.

With the tree finally secured, Tyler tossed the remaining rope into the truck bed and turned to you, brushing a stray pine needle from your coat. “There. Now, let’s get you warmed up before you turn into an icicle.”

He reached for your hand again, his calloused fingers warm against your cold ones, and led you to the passenger side of the truck. As you climbed in, the cab was already beginning to fill with heat, and the faint smell of pine lingered in the air.

The drive back to the farmhouse was quiet and peaceful, the radio softly playing Christmas tunes as you rested your head against the window. The familiar gravel crunch of Tyler’s driveway made you smile. Moving into his farmhouse had felt so natural—like the two of you had carved out your own little piece of the world, just far enough from town to feel like your own private retreat.

As Tyler parked the truck, he hopped out with his usual energy, leaving you to grab your coat and follow. By the time you rounded the back of the truck, he had already unhooked the ropes and was hauling the tree out of the bed with a grunt.

“You good?” you asked, stifling a laugh as he adjusted his grip.

“’Course I’m good,” he replied, shifting the weight of the tree onto one shoulder like it was nothing. “This ain’t my first rodeo, darlin’.”

You trailed after him, arms crossed, as he approached the front porch. The air smelled like fresh pine now from the tree and the crisp bite of winter, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of decorating the tree together later.

That excitement only grew as Tyler maneuvered the tree toward the door—until he reached the threshold and froze.

“Uh…” he muttered, tilting his head as he eyed the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, a knowing smirk creeping onto your face.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, attempting to angle the tree to fit through the frame. The branches scraped against the sides of the door, and needles started raining down in a messy trail.

“You sure about that?” you teased, leaning against the porch railing.

Tyler grunted, twisting the trunk this way and that. “Just…gotta…angle it…a little more…”

The tree, stubborn as ever, refused to cooperate. Instead, it wedged itself firmly in the doorway, the bottom half stuck outside while the top half was inside.

“Well,” you said, your voice laced with amusement, “this is going great.”

“Don’t start,” Tyler muttered under his breath, taking a step back to assess the situation. His hands planted on his hips, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Need some help?” you offered sweetly, already knowing what his answer would be.

“Nope. I’ve got it,” he insisted, stepping forward to try again. This time, he gave the tree a solid shove, which only made it stick tighter.

Needles flew everywhere, a few landing in his hair and on his jacket. You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing.

He turned to you, his exasperated expression tinged with reluctant humor. “Glad you’re enjoyin’ yourself over there.”

“Immensely,” you replied with a grin.

Finally, Tyler threw his hands up in defeat and looked at you. “Alright, fine. I could use an extra set of hands. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” you said, stepping forward. As you grabbed the top of the tree to help guide it, you couldn’t resist adding, “I thought you didn’t need my help?”

He shot you a look but didn’t respond, instead focusing on angling the tree just right. Together, the two of you managed to wiggle it free, and with one last push, it finally made it through the doorway.

Once inside, Tyler carried the tree to the living room, pausing in the center. “Alright, darlin’. Where do you want it?”

You pointed to a cozy corner by the front window, already imagining how the lights would glow against the glass at night. “Over there.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think it’d look better on this side?” He gestured to the opposite corner.

You narrowed your eyes at him, and he held your gaze for a long moment before sighing. “Yeah, alright. Your spot it is.”

“You’re learning,” you teased, patting his arm as he set the tree down in your chosen spot.

With the tree finally in place, Tyler brushed his hands off on his jeans and gave you a lopsided grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute, sweetheart.”

“And don’t you forget it,” you quipped, stepping back to admire the tree in its new home.

With the tree finally in place, you stepped back, hands on your hips, and admired it—or at least tried to. Something about the spot you had chosen didn’t sit right anymore. It didn’t look as magical as you’d imagined. You tilted your head, your eyes drifting toward the corner Tyler had suggested earlier.

You stood there, picturing the tree nestled in that spot instead. The idea started to grow on you. The light from the front window would catch the ornaments perfectly, and it wouldn’t feel so cramped against the wall.

“Alright,” Tyler said, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Tree’s up, and it’s right where you wanted it. You happy now, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer right away, still staring at the other corner with a pensive expression.

“Uh-oh,” Tyler muttered, catching the look on your face. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, then glanced at him sheepishly. “I don’t like it here.”

Tyler blinked at you, incredulous. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling. “I think…it would look better over there.” You pointed to the corner he had suggested earlier, the one you’d dismissed outright.

Tyler tilted his head back and let out a dramatic groan, rubbing a hand over his face. “You mean the spot I told you it should go in from the start?”

“Well,” you said with a shrug, trying to suppress a laugh, “you might’ve had a point.”

He stared at you for a long moment, then shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “unbelievable.”

“Tyler,” you said sweetly, clasping your hands together, “please?”

“Darlin’, you’re lucky I like you,” he said, shooting you a playful glare before walking over to the tree. “You’re gonna owe me for this one.”

“Oh, definitely,” you teased, watching as he bent down to grip the trunk.

With a huff, he hoisted the tree off the ground and carried it across the room, muttering something about “indecisive women” as needles scattered everywhere again. You couldn’t help but grin, enjoying the show.

Once he’d set the tree down in its new spot, he straightened up and planted his hands on his hips, looking at you expectantly. “There. Happy now?”

You took a step back, tilting your head as you studied it. The glow from the window hit the branches just right, and you smiled. “Perfect.”

“Perfect, huh?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Glad we could get it right on the second try.”

“Third time’s the charm if you count the doorway,” you quipped, earning yourself a look.

Tyler stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him. “If you change your mind again, I’m puttin’ it outside,” he warned, but the smirk on his face told you he was kidding.

You grinned, leaning into him. “Don’t worry, it’s staying right there.”

“For your sake, I hope so,” he said, dropping a quick kiss to the top of your head before glancing down at the floor. “Now, how about you grab the broom while I start cleaning up this forest you had me drag inside?”

The chaos of getting the tree inside was finally behind you, and the living room had settled into a warm, quiet calm. The scent of pine filled the air, mingling with the faint notes of cinnamon from the candle you’d lit on the coffee table. You fiddled with the Bluetooth speaker, scrolling through your playlist until the opening notes of a soft Christmas song floated through the room.

“Alright,” you said with a grin, turning to Tyler, “time to make this tree look like it belongs in one of those Christmas magazines.”

Tyler chuckled from where he stood by the boxes of ornaments. “As long as it doesn’t involve more rearranging, I’m game.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you grabbed the string of lights and began weaving them around the tree. Tyler joined you, holding up branches and handing you more lights as needed. Every now and then, his fingers brushed against yours, and you felt his warmth even through the chill lingering on your hands from being outside.

Once the lights were set, you pulled out the tinsel. The silver strands glinted in the soft glow of the bulbs, and you began to toss handfuls of it onto the branches. Tyler, ever the perfectionist, stepped in behind you, adjusting a few pieces and earning a playful glare from you.

“Hey, it’s supposed to look natural,” you teased, tossing a strand in his direction.

“Yeah? Pretty sure ‘natural’ doesn’t mean ‘thrown like confetti,’” he quipped back, laughing when you stuck your tongue out at him.

Then came the ornaments. You opened the first box, pulling out a mix of baubles, snowflakes, and sentimental pieces collected over the years. You cradled a delicate glass ornament shaped like a snowman, humming along to the music as you walked around the tree, searching for the perfect branch.

“Hmm,” you murmured to yourself, holding the ornament up and tilting your head. “Too low. Too high. Maybe…”

You trailed off, still lost in thought as you tested a few spots. The sound of Tyler’s soft laugh caught your attention, and you turned to see him leaning against the arm of the couch, watching you with a lovestruck smile.

“What?” you asked, your voice light with curiosity as you clutched the snowman ornament to your chest.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Just… you’re cute when you’re trying to decide something.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you smiled, trying to play it cool. “You’re just saying that.”

He pushed off the couch and walked over to you, taking the ornament gently from your hand. “I’m saying it because it’s true,” he said, his voice soft as he reached up and placed the snowman on a branch that was, admittedly, a perfect spot.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, admiring the tree. The glow of the lights reflected in his eyes, and the soft music wrapped around you like a blanket.

“You gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna help me finish this tree?” you teased, breaking the quiet moment.

Tyler chuckled, pulling another ornament from the box. “Well, if I’m not mistaken, someone here’s already got the whole magazine-worthy vision in their head. So I’m just following orders, sweetheart.”

You grinned, grabbing another ornament as you started swaying to the music. Without even thinking, you began humming along, your movements light and carefree. Tyler glanced over, his smirk softening into that same adoring smile as he watched you.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna start dancing now,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

“Why not?” you shot back, twirling once before holding up another ornament. “It’s Christmas, Tyler. You’ve got to feel the spirit!”

He shook his head, a chuckle rumbling from his chest as he reached for another ornament. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said, giving him a playful wink as you placed a bright red bauble on the tree. “But you love it.”

“That I do,” he murmured under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear, making your heart flutter as the two of you continued decorating your first Christmas tree together.

The room was warm, filled with the soft glow of the Christmas lights, and the tree—finally perfect—stood proudly in the corner of the living room. Its needles shimmered in the light, the tinsel sparkling and the ornaments dancing slightly with the hum of the air. You took a step back, your eyes gliding over the branches, taking in every detail with a content smile on your face.

Tyler, standing beside you, couldn’t help but mirror your expression. He gave the tree a satisfied glance before turning his attention to you, his lips curling into that quiet, affectionate smile he reserved for moments like this.

“It turned out good, didn’t it?” you murmured, still looking at the tree, but feeling his gaze on you now.

“Perfect,” Tyler agreed softly, his voice low and warm as he stepped closer to you. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You leaned into him, your head resting against his solid frame as he kissed your cheek tenderly, a soft brush of his lips that made you feel safe and cherished.

He didn’t pull away right away. Instead, Tyler rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as you both stood there, quietly admiring the work you’d done together.

There was a peacefulness in the moment, one that felt like it stretched on forever, the world outside slowing to a halt. Just the two of you, wrapped in the intimacy of this new beginning—the first Christmas together, the first tree.

For a long beat, neither of you said anything. You didn’t need to.

“I can’t believe this is our first Christmas here,” you whispered, a quiet amazement in your voice.

Tyler chuckled softly. “Well, I’m not complainin’,” he said, his voice still carrying that warmth, the sincerity of someone who didn’t need anything more than this. “I’d say this is about as perfect as it gets.”

You turned your face slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, and there, in the gentle glow of the lights, you could see it—how much he truly meant it. How much he meant to you.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice thick with the weight of your feelings.

Tyler’s hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he rested his forehead against yours, your hearts beating in the same steady rhythm.

The tree sparkled behind you, the ornaments glimmering in the soft light. But in that moment, you knew nothing would ever be as perfect as this—Tyler’s arms around you, the love between you both, and the feeling of belonging you’d found in each other.

“Happy Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“Happy Christmas,” you echoed, your heart full as you let the moment carry you both into the quiet night.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens x Reader #Tyler Owens x You #Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction

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er1nne · 20 days ago

Text

rafe loves when you try on clothes for him

kinda of a continuation from this one, anyways enjoy! (do not copy or plagarize, original work) The ring of the doorbell cut through the quiet hum of the house, startling you for just a moment before the realization hit. It’s here. Your heart jumped with excitement as you shot up from the couch, your legs carrying you to the door with an eagerness you couldn’t hide.

You flung the door open, and there it was—a sleek brown box wrapped in crisp, elegant packaging, sitting neatly on the doorstep like a perfectly delivered Christmas morning gift. The delivery truck was already pulling away, but you caught the driver tipping his hat to you as he drove off, as if he knew exactly how much this meant.

The box landed on the kitchen counter with a satisfying thunk as you tore into the packaging, peeling back the layers of crisp tissue paper to reveal the treasure inside. The first thing you saw— the dress took your breath away. Its soft sand color was understated yet luxurious, and the fabric practically begged to be touched. The delicate lace at the neckline was feminine and graceful, while the corseted bodice promised to cinch and shape you in all the right places. The way the fabric shifted as you lifted it from the box made you certain it would drape over your curves effortlessly. The fabric shimmered faintly under the light, soft and luxurious beneath your fingertips. It was stunning, even better than you had imagined, the kind of dress that practically whispered promises of perfection.

“Baby,” Rafe’s voice drifted in from the living room, a casual mix of curiosity and amusement. “What’s got you so hyped?”

You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed lazily over his chest, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. His sharp blue eyes flicked from you to the open box on the counter, taking in the scene with an expression that was equal parts intrigued and entertained.

“Is that the stuff you were stressing about the other day?” he asked, arching a brow.

You held up the dress, letting the fabric catch the light. “Rafe, look at this. It’s perfect,” you gushed, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.

He pushed off the doorframe, sauntering closer with a look that could only be described as predatory curiosity. His gaze lingered on the dress in your hands, his head tilting slightly as his lips curved into a slow, teasing grin. “Perfect, huh?” His voice dropped just enough to send a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Well, try it on for me. Let me see.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you rolled your eyes to cover up the butterflies stirring in your stomach. “You’re so impatient,” you teased, hugging the dress closer to your chest as you moved toward the bedroom. But you couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face.

“And you’re stalling,” he shot back smoothly, his voice following you down the hall. “I wanna see what I paid for.”

You disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind you as your heart gave a little flutter. His words played over in your mind—try it on for me—simple and casual, but the way he’d said it, with that low, confident drawl, made you feel flushed. You shook your head at yourself, grinning as you pulled the dress free from its packaging.

Sliding out of your casual clothes, you stepped into the dress, pulling it up carefully. The fabric skimmed over your skin like water, clinging to your curves in a way that felt both daring and effortless. You smoothed it over your hips, adjusting the straps before stepping back to take yourself in.

You blinked, your lips parting slightly. The dress fit like it had been made just for you. It hugged every curve, accentuating your waist and the line of your hips. The champagne satin seemed to glow in the light, and the neckline dipped just enough to be intriguing without being too revealing. It was the kind of dress that made you feel powerful, elegant, and a little dangerous all at once.

A soft knock on the door broke the moment. “You decent, or am I just coming in?” Rafe’s voice was teasing but edged with impatience.

You bit back a smile, smoothing the dress one last time before opening the door. You stepped out slowly, meeting his gaze. The effect was immediate.

When you stepped out, his reaction was immediate.

Rafe straightened from where he was leaning casually against the doorframe, his sharp blue eyes locking onto you like a magnet. His usual smirk disappeared, replaced by something quieter, heavier. His gaze started at your face, his brows lifting slightly before his eyes began a slow descent. They trailed deliberately, taking in the curve of your neck, the way the straps framed your shoulders, and the dip of the neckline that revealed just enough of your collarbone. His eyes lingered there for a beat too long, and you could feel your skin heat under his scrutiny.

“Say something,” you teased softly, shifting your weight. His silence, though flattering, was almost unnerving.

When he did, his voice was low, almost reverent. “Damn.”

“Well?” you asked softly, your voice more breathless than you intended.

He blinked, his lips parting slightly, but no words came out at first. Instead, he took a step closer, his movements deliberate. His eyes dropped again, tracing the lines of the dress like he was trying to commit them to memory. He lingered at the curve of your waist, where the satin clung so perfectly it looked like it had been painted on. His jaw tightened slightly as his gaze moved lower, over the swell of your hips and the way the fabric kissed the tops of your thighs.

He took a step closer, his eyes darkening as they locked on yours. “You look…” He trailed off, his voice low and rough, like he was searching for the right words. “You look unbelievable.”

The heat in his voice sent a thrill down your spine. “You really think so?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost shy under the weight of his gaze before turning back to the mirror in front of you.

Standing in front of the mirror, you smoothed the fabric over your hips, adjusting the fit as you looked yourself over. The dress was stunning, but his reaction had you second-guessing every little detail. You fiddled with the straps, brushing a hand along the neckline as you tried to make sure everything was just right. Behind you, Rafe moved, his presence unmistakable as he crossed the room. You caught his reflection in the mirror as he approached, his blue eyes locked on you with a hunger that made your breath hitch. He stopped behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he closed the space between you. “Think so?” His hand reached out, fingers brushing over your waist before resting there, his thumb grazing the fabric in a slow, deliberate motion. “No. I know so.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you glanced away, but he reached out, his fingers brushing your chin to tilt your face back toward the mirror in front of the both of you, forcing you to not only look at him but yourself. “Don’t do that,” he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t look away from me when you look like that.”

His hand slid to your waist, pulling you a step closer. The warmth of his touch seeped through the satin, grounding you even as your pulse picked up. “This dress,” he said softly, his thumb tracing a slow circle against your hip. “It’s dangerous.”

Your eyes flicked to his reflection in the mirror, your stomach flipping at the way he was looking at you. “Dangerous?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your voice catching as he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your temple.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips brushing just below your ear, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “Because now I don’t want to let you leave the house in it.”

A soft laugh escaped you, but it died quickly as his arms wrapped around you fully, pulling you back against him. His hands rested against your stomach, his touch possessive but gentle, and his eyes never left yours in the mirror. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “You see this? Do you see how perfect you look? And you're all mine?”

You swallowed hard, your gaze locked on his reflection. His hands traced slow circles against the satin, his thumbs brushing over your waist as his eyes roamed over your body in the mirror. “Rafe…” you started, but your voice trailed off when his lips brushed the side of your neck.

Your cheeks burned as his words sank in, the weight of his hands on your waist making you feel both grounded and lightheaded at the same time. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there before trailing back up to your neck. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Not in this.”

The tension in the room was electric, crackling between you as his gaze met yours in the mirror again. His hands slid to your hips, pulling you closer, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer but no less intense. “I might need you to keep this on for a while,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Or not…”

an: if you can't tell, i luvvvv this man :) word count about 1.6k but who's counting lol my masterlist / my carrd

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