#Young and Hopelessly Smitten | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redheadspark · 3 months ago

Note

For the April Prompt Session - Do you think you could do Benedict Bridgerton with #7 and #10, (if possible with Kate's Tamil Friend)??

A/N - I love this! Thanks for the request, anon!

Known

Summary - Benedict picked the right time to tell you how he felt

Warnings - Angst and fluff in the end :)

“You cannot be serious,”

“I’m as serious as ever,”

“That’s saying something coming from you, Benedict,”

Benedict’s face was sporting a scowl as he was standing across from you in the small corridor where he corralled you, the grand party was at the other side of the grand estate with the music floating softly in throughout the air and into the cool spring night. You could hear the chattering of the guests, your family was amongst them as well as Bendict’s family. You’re supposed to be dancing with a suitor that your father picked out for you, a family friend that seemed to be a good match for you since you came out that recent season. He was a nice young man, courteous and kind and with a great reputation that would bring your family’s name up to par amongst the elite. It was all working out according to plan.

But leave it to Benedict to screw up the plan. It was in his nature after all.

Your family knew the Bridgertons for several years, all thanks to your parents being close to Violet and helping her when Edmund Bridgerton passed years ago. You were the same age as Anthony when he lost his father, you two were close from the moment you two met. Anthony even considered you as an added member of his siblings, and you loved all of his brothers and sisters as if they were your own since you were the eldest daughter with immense pressure on your shoulders. You hated the pressure, it was a lot at times and especially for the season when your father thought it would be the best time for you to find a match and a husband.

The one person who was not happy about the arrangement your father made was Benedict Bridgerton, whom was hopelessly in love with you.

You had no idea that he was, nor did he know that you had feelings for him as well. Benedict was drawn to you from the moment you two met long ago, Anthony being protective of you and wanting you that Benedict was prone to being too aloof and playful with others. Yet you never had that cloud your judgement: You love this infectious laugh and unique personality. You thought of him as brilliant with his artwork and drawings, even playing games with him was enough to brighten your day. Benedict snuck into your heart before you could stop it or slow it down, he was becoming someone you could dream about or daydream about.

There were pros and cons about it: the pros of him being a close friend and someone who knew you inside and out. He was kind, gregarious, ambitious and driven. Whereas the cons consisted of his stubbornness, aloofness that was extremes at times, being brash. But mostly you both never had an idea that you both loved one another. The lingering looks he would give as you would pass by the garden, the longing gaze you would have on him as he would chat with a young lady who found him smitten.

The only ones who knew and wanted to have you two get it together were Anthony and Kate, Anthony’s wife and your good friend.

That very spring evening was the tipping point for the pair of you, thanks to Benedict seeing you and your potential suitor out on the dance floor in each other’s arms. You were being courteous to your date, smiling at his jokes and being attentive to him. But then again your eyes would liger from time to time to where he was. Maybe you knew deep down it was too late for you to tell him your feelings and underlying affection for him since your future was already on the right path.

One minute you were chatting with Stephen and feeling the mood was light, the next you were being steered away from the dance floor by Benedict and whisked out of the ball room. You were enraged with Benedict in how he handled it and made such a play, though he was remaining calm about it and not making a scene.

“You drag me out here in the middle of the night, alone mind you, to what? Drill me about Mr. Rorick?!” You asked in hiss, trying to eep your voice down since there were couples and groups of people out and about in the grand hall not too far away. Benedict’s face under the glowing lanterns looked rather determined and with a hint of anger in his bright eyes You’ve never seen him like this, nor have you seen him act in such a way at a ball or big gatherings during the season.

“He’s not right for you!” He hissed back at you with his arms crossed in front of him. This was not like him, he would usually be leaning against the wall or having a playful smile on his lips. But this, this was almost a new side of him that you have never seen once in your life.

“And you would know who is?!” You asked back, seeing him go silent for a moment as you spoke again, “Since when are you going to be my voice, mouthpiece even, to whom I can or cannot court?!”

“I know you far better than any of those men that room!” Benedict explained as he pointed back in the same direction of the ballroom, “Or any man in the county. You are ten time better than them, they don’t deserve to be in the same room as you and breathe the same air,”

“So you’re telling me what? That you’re going to help find my husband and be my matchmaker?” You scoffed as he huffed and ruffled his hair in agitation. It was in the next sentence that he spoke that made you loose your breath and every other thought you had drift away in the wind.

“I’m telling you that I love you!” He said in both. Hurt and angry tone. You were frozen in your spot, across from him in that small corridor with the rest of the world melting away. It was like a slap across your face, the sensation of your stomach dropping, the feeling of lightning on your skin. Were you imaging those words coming out of his mouth? Was it a trick of your ears?

“You….you love me?” You asked, the heat in your words. He sighed, almost in annoyance, as he glared at you.

“Don’t mock me by acting so surprised. You had to know about my feelings for you,” he said in a low tone, you shaking your head slowly as he gestured to you, “I had feelings for you for quite some time, ever since Anthony introduced me to you when we were younger,”

“I’m not…I had no idea, Benedict!” You insisted as you felt flushed in front of him then. Hearing his confession and then staring him down with a new sense of affection festering inside of you, “Please believe me I had no clue!”

Benedict’s gaze softened a bit after hearing your being truthful to him. His shoulders were lowered a bit and his stance was a bit loose. The anger that was one festering inside of him seemed to mist away.

“You…you never knew?” He asked sheepishly, seeming like his old self again as you nodded your head.

“Not once,” You admitted, “Either you were a master as hiding it or I was a fool and never seeing anything that would hint that you had affections for me,”

“Affections,” he repeated in a breath, “First of all, you are no fool. In fact, you’re far from it. You knew how I feel about you. You had to have known,”

“I never did, Benedict,” you said calmly as you walked over to stand right in front of him, reaching out to take his hands within your own, “If I had known earlier, things would have been different,”

“Different how?” He asked, sounding a bit oblivious. You had to smile, thinking that there was no real reason to hold back what you felt for him. Hearing that he loved you, truly loved you, it changed things for you and how you felt about love. He was always on your mind, he was the light you had in the times of darkness and the warmth in needed in the nights that were cold. So there was no need to hold back, no need to be hesitant.

You leaned in a kissed Benedict.

Within two seconds, he pulled you into his arms and never once let you go. His arms around your lower waist, his lips against yours that tasted sweet like the wine he drank, even the scent he had on his clothes enticed you as you leaned into him to be closer than ever. You both were under a lantern kissing each other like long lost lovers, pent up affection that you both needed to unleash and yet wanted to take the time with. There was no more need to fantasize about this moment, it was unfolding and happening in such a way that surprised you.

You pulled away from him slightly, attempting to catch your breath as Benedict was chasing after your lips with a smirk on his plumped lips, “I need to breathe, Benedict,”

“Well, pardon me for finally having my affections met with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had in my life, I simply cannot let you go from this point on,” He breathed out as he leaned in to kiss your cheeks and plan another kiss on your lips, making you giggle as you hummed and stared at him affectionately,

“What will we tell my father or Mr. Rorick for that matter?” You questioned, though Benedict rolled his eyes.

“I will definitely tell them both myself about the news of our engagement and upcoming wedding,” He stated, you laughing as he cocked his head at you, “What? You don’t wish to marry me?”

“First of all, you haven’t properly asked me yet!” You explained as you slapped his arm, Benedict laughed as you went on, “Two, what will the rest of the season say from the news?”

“I’ve waited this long for tell you about my feelings and affections for you, and I don’t wish to wait for another moment,” He admitted to you as he scanned your eyes with his own, “Or would you rather wait it out and go through the protocols that our families—“

You silenced him with another kiss, and your families were informed about your engagement the following day in both shock and happiness.

The End

April Prompt Session

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict Bridgeston x female reader #fanfiction #writing #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton fic #bridgerton s3 #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton x y/n

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netegf · 2 years ago

Text

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot.

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath.

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were.

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another.

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding.

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway.

Some things don't change.

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses.

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs.

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too.

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister.

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend.

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you.

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere.

Much to Topper's devastation.

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise.

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply.

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you.

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow.

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely.

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again.

"You know he would do anything for you, right?"

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you.

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point."

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat.

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink.

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face.

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well.

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him.

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights.

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly.

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud.

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly.

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically.

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray.

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow.

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming.

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted.

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display.

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath.

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it.

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there.

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him.

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking.

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint.

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night.

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates.

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs.

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway.

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?"

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again.

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently.

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you.

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after.

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else.

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?"

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house.

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt.

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway.

"I love these."

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world.

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much.

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check.

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat.

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you.

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes.

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day.

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing.

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators.

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night.

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included.

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all.

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine.

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger.

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head.

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date.

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything."

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall.

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl.

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together.

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about.

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am."

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company.

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers.

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you.

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself.

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off.

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!".

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin.

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date.

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing.

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote.

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them.

"Maybe later." You reply quietly.

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else.

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees.

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized.

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like."

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that."

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?"

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point.

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off.

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement.

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy.

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs.

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask."

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that."

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?"

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity.

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart.

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long."

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder.

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party."

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue."

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground.

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness.

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #rafe x reader #i love writing completely ridiculous and unhinged side characters #topper too i always make him so weird LMAO #this is a lil rough around the edges but !! whatevrrr

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zfmda · 1 month ago

Text

always

summary: takuma lays lifeless on the ruined streets of shibuya, remembering the night you and him fell in love at a cozy izakaya after a late night mission.

content: lots of angst, death, blood, mentions of drinking, kissing, small smut scene, gn!reader, reader struggles with emotions/past unresolved trauma.

a/n: i know ino is canonically alive but i love angst.

word count: 2.3k

it’s late. takuma cant recall what time it is anymore, or how long he’s been sitting under the soft glow of the lanterns outside the small izakaya with you.

the mission earlier in the day had been successful. it was not uncommon that you and him were often paired to go on missions together. especially with the fact that the two of you graduated jujutsu tech the same year, and now worked under nanami’s mentorship. so when you both returned from the mission relatively unscathed, nanami insisted on treating his two young mentees to a few drinks in a tucked away corner of tokyo.

he’s not sure how he got this lucky. sitting with you, thighs barely touching in the tiny space of the bar, creating an intimate atmosphere between the two of you. nanami had left about half an hour ago and now takuma definitely feels it. being alone with you, the taste of sake on his lips, and god, your eyes. he blames the way you’re looking at him and he swears he could drown himself in them.

if takuma wasn’t the slightest bit sober, he thinks he’d just confess right then and there. ever since he first saw you walk into that classroom when you were both fifteen, he’s been completely smitten by you. always stealing glances during training, packing an extra onigiri to give you during lunch in case you forgot yours, and just happening to be there when you walked past the dorms to get to your classes early in the morning. anyone would be able to tell how hopelessly in love he is with you if they caught a glimpse at the way he looks at you. like you’re the only person worth looking at.

and to him, you are.

he’s never had the courage to make a move, say anything about his feelings towards you. he’s always figured it’d come out wrong, that he’d mess it up. he never considered himself to be the brightest, numbing his thoughts with alcohol and focusing on becoming the best he can be especially in dirty work like jujutsu. and so the idea of you even remotely liking him back was something he’d never thought would be possible. until now.

you’re looking at him with those wide, wondering eyes, golden light dancing in your irises. he’s sober, he knows he is, but the effects of the sake is slowly working its way into his system and before he knows it, he’s blurting out the words that have been stuck in his throat the whole night. “you look beautiful.”

a shy smile appears on your downturned lips, eyelashes fluttering, cheeks flushed a subtle pink although he’s not sure if it’s from the sake or from his words. he hopes it’s the latter.

“i don’t know about that… it’s been a long day, i’m sure i look a mess.” you reply, voice so gentle, so hesitant. takuma wants to shout out at how you could think like that. i mean how could you think like that? you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“long day.” he echoes, as if it were an understatement. missions were never easy. his eyes linger on you, watching as you avert your gaze almost as if you were trying to hide yourself under your eyelashes. “don’t think it’s possible for you to look like a mess.” takuma leans a little closer, just enough to feel the warmth of his breath graze your already heated skin.

a scoff is heard from your pouty lips and the giggle that you let out sends takuma’s heart into overdrive. it’s like music to his ears and if it were the last thing he heard, he’d be completely at peace.

“you’re funny, ‘kuma.”

that nickname. you only ever use it when it’s just the two of you, reserved for him and only him. it’s his favourite thing you say. the insistent beating of his heart only confirms his feelings for you.

“funny? i’m being serious.” he says, looking surprised but the corner of his lips betrays him as it tugs into a smirk. trying to hide it, he takes a sip from the cup in front of him, his gaze not leaving you for a second. “you couldn’t look a mess to me even if you tried.”

the way you blush only makes things more real. takuma is sure it’s not the effects of the sake anymore, you’re blushing. and it’s because of him. a sudden surge of confidence floods takuma’s body and his hand covers yours, fingers gently tracing your knuckles. your mind goes blank, unable to think rationally with the way his hand feels against your own but your body responds before your brain has a chance to, and then you’re threading your fingers with his.

the feel of your fingers intertwining with his sends a shiver up his spine. he lets you play with them, gaze fixed entirely on you. his heart is racing and the buzz of the alcohol only intensifies it. he knows he’s not completely sober anymore because this feels different, something he’s never felt before. takuma has had his fair share of crushes and dates with other girls in the past, but you… you were different.

“we should do this more often.” you speak, gaze drifting to where your hands are joined. it takes a moment for his mind to catch up to your comment, still trying to process how perfect you look in this moment. he raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk returning to his lips. “drinking?”

“i don’t like drinking much but when it’s with you, i don’t seem to mind.”

your voice, barely above a whisper makes his heart race faster, a hopeful flutter that gives him enough courage to lean closer. “you’d do this again?”

“well…only if you want to. with me?” you chuckle sheepishly, eyes moving back up from your intertwined fingers to his eyes. when they meet again, takuma feels like he’s stopped breathing. his expression softens at the way you seem almost nervous, your response coming out as a question. of course. the answer was yes, always yes.

takuma’s thumb brushes the knuckles of your hand, slightly scratched up from fighting cursed spirits earlier in the evening. “definitely.” he manages to murmur, catching the floral scent of your perfume. “with you…i’d do anything with you.”

“anything?” you echo, the alcohol finally doing its work. “so if i said we should go fight some curses right now, you’d agree?”

he nods, a laugh exiting his mouth as he takes another sip of his drink. “i’d agree to fight sukuna, right now if you asked me to.”

you’re laughing again, that angelic laugh that has him forgetting how to breathe completely. but you’re trying to mask the nervousness that can be heard through your voice. “i think you’re drunk, takuma.”

“drunk?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “maybe.” he pulls your hand to his chest—right over where his heart is, so you can feel just how fast it's racing. "but i don’t think it's the alcohol, pretty.”

butterflies erupt within your stomach. it feels dizzy and hot, but in a good way. words fail to come out of your mouth and you only manage to utter out his name in a careful whisper. “takuma…”

your hand on his chest feels like a jolt of electricity, coursing through his veins. his smirk fades, replaced by something almost reverential. god. he wants to touch you, really touch you. feel your soft skin under his fingers, bury his face into your neck, hold you until you forgot your own name. instead, he takes in the sight of you, memorising it. “yeah?” he says, low and husky.

he can see it in your eyes, the way the words catch in your throat. the flush on your cheeks, the way you're looking at him. he'd be an absolute fool if he didn't recognize that look. you're feeling the same thing he is.

heart hammering against his chest at the thought, his grip on your hand tightens almost reflexively. he's close, closer than he really needs to be, but not close enough. “what're you thinking?” he asks, his voice low, nearly a whisper.

“i’m thinking…that i’ll regret this in the morning.”

when you pull your hand away hesitantly. takuma’s heart sinks. the loss of your touch like the feeling of cold ice. he knows what you mean, and he wants to say something, anything as he watches the conflict in your eyes. “regret this..?”

“i don’t…deserve this.” your gaze drops down to your hands that rest on your lap. you can feel the inner turmoil raging inside your heavy heart. the pain of growing up feeling lonely and not receiving the affection you so badly craved from every relationship—be that from family, friends, or even past lovers. but sitting in front of a man like takuma ino, it’s different. he’s different.

swallowing the lump in his throat from hearing your pained words, his hands search yours and he stares back at you intently before the gentleness of his voice filters in through your ears. “you think you don’t deserve it because nobody ever told you, you did.” he murmurs. “but you do. you deserve to be happy.”

those simple words, it’s like a reassurance that soothes the lingering doubt that clouds your mind. how you wanted to hear something like that from someone for so long and the fact that takuma had uttered them like it was the most natural thing makes you feel valued. cared for. loved.

then, with a quiet sort of reverence, he lifts a hand up, towards your face, fingertips ghosting along your cheek with a tenderness so careful as if scared that he’d somehow hurt you. can he get any more perfect? you wonder, instinctively leaning into his touch. an exhale leaves your parted pink lips, eyes slightly glazed over from the sake as they flicker up to meet his. your faces are so close now. the proximity is intoxicating.

“takuma…kiss me.”

the words leaving your lips are like a match to a fuse, igniting a fire deep within him. all he can feel is how his heart skips a beat—maybe two—and then he's leaning in. his mind goes blank. all he can focus on is you, you, you. all that remains is the feel of your lips against his, the way they fit together like pieces of a puzzle, it's everything he could have ever dreamed of and more. his touch is gentle but firm, like he can't get enough. it's like he needs you just as badly as he needs air and he's desperate to feel you, taste you, know you.

and in the warm evening atmosphere of the quiet izakaya, you and takuma share your first kiss. the traces of alcohol in your system is long gone, replaced by the dizzying sensation of his lips moulding perfectly against yours.

you don’t know how the two of you made it back to his apartment. but you’re lying down on his bedsheets, hair fanned out across the creased white pillows. the honeyed sound of his name falling from your glossy lips, makes his head spin. he can barely think straight, his entire being consumed by the taste of your kisses, the scent of your skin. “takuma…”

takuma.

he loves the way you say his name. soft and sweet, just like you. and you're touching him. holding onto him, your hands on his chest, travelling up his toned stomach. it sets his nerves aflame, mouth going dry.

a shaky exhale is heard as you pull away, and his gaze is fixed on your face, then drifts lower to the rise and fall of your exposed chest. he feels like he's completely drunk, on a high, and not from the alcohol. your lips glisten with his saliva. he's sure his looks the same. and it's so tempting to kiss you again. you’re breathless. so is he.

“fuck.” he breathes, mostly to himself. he leans down to kiss you again, lips hungrily capturing yours and tongue sliding over yours, tasting you like he'll never get enough. the makeshift beanie he wears as a mask for his cursed technique slips off, revealing tousled brunette hair that tickle the side of your neck when he trails feather-light kisses from your jaw to your neck.

his hands settle on your hips and he’s lined up, eyes searching yours, ready. and he knows you both want this, but he has to ask anyway. “tell me you want this, pretty.”

when the confirmation leaves your tongue, takuma doesn’t hesitate. he’s already moving. slow, affectionate. it goes beyond just lust. melodic moans slip into the darkness, yours and his, like a rhythm only the two of you understand. the tokyo skyline and the bright moon from the window are the only sources of light, casting a luminosity over your faces.

that night is spent tangled in the sheets and in each other. every second a quiet confession, every kiss a promise he doesn’t know how to speak aloud. but what takuma doesn’t yet realise is that six months from now, as his vision begins to blur and his chest rises for one final breath, it will be this moment he returns to. the memory replaying over and over, until the last beat of his heart fades away, quietly, into stillness.

as he lays on the cold concrete, warm blood seeping from the large wound on his stomach, he can almost taste the sake from that night. your laughter, the way your fingers found his under the table. everything hurts, but nothing more than the thought that this might be it.

takuma blinks, vision hazy. a dull ringing fills his ears but he’s not here. he’s back under the lanterns of that tiny izakaya, the air heavy with the smell of grilled mackerel and the faint conversations of the strangers sitting around you. your thigh brushes against his in the cramped space, and you’re looking at him.

“we should do this more often…” you had said to him.

he exhales, the words shaky, slipping past his bloodied lips.

“i wish we had more time.”

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year ago

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thunderstruck // mick schumacher

summary: the breakout stunt stars behind hollywoods biggest movies are about to get the recognition they deserve with the release of ‘the fall guy’. one stunt woman, however, is about to become a little more well known than the rest

pairing: mick schumacher x stuntwoman!reader

faceclaim: april rose pengilly

liked by ryangosling, emilyblunt and 1,246 others

yourusername hey google, play 'i was made for loving you' by kiss! i can't wait for you guys to see the film, i'm so proud of the work that everybody on set has done.

see all comments

user MOTHER

vogueaustralia 😍😍

yourbestie slay the house down bestie

-> yourusername consider it done!

60 Minutes Interview with Stuntwoman Y/N Y/L/N on all things "Fall Guy"!

yourusername just posted to her story!

TEXTS BETWEEN Y/N Y/L/N AND HER BEST FRIEND!

yourusername just posted!

liked by madisonlintz, mickschumacher, yourbestie and 987 others

yourusername not a swiftie but damn, fuck me up florida!

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yourbestie that is not the view from our room....DID YOU GO HOME WITH THE HOT LAP GUY

-> yourusername no comment

-> yourbestie YOURE DATING HOT LAP GUY! THATS THE BACK OF HIS HEAD IN THE LAST PIC

user shes so real

madisonlintz come home i miss my favourite stunt double

-> yourusername im trying but nobody from the studio will tell me if we got a third season (and i need to visit my *real* home)

user guys i might be delulu but is that mick in her last picture? and in the likes?

mickschumacher just added to his story!

yourusername just posted!

liked by mickschumacher, yourbestie, vogueaustralia and 2,381 others

yourusername so i might have gone home with the hot lap guy (and my show might have gotten renewed for a season three)

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yourbestie I FUCKING KNEW IT

-> yourusername hehehehehe

yourbestie I EXPECT TO BE GIVING A SPEECH AT YOUR WEDDING

ryangosling you guys are so cute! oh to be young and in love again

-> yourusername you're happily married and hopelessly smitten with your wife????

mimirogers bring mick to the set when we start filming again! i want to meet him!

user its so on brand for mick to date such a badass...have you seen her stunt reels?

mickschumacher i love you! stay safe when you do the car roll!

-> yourusername stay safe on track this weekend! i love you more!

mickshumacher 😍😍 i love my hot girlfriend

#mick schumacher x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #mick schumacher imagine #ig aus #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 x you #mick schumacher smau #Spotify

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albertasunrise · 9 months ago

Text

Work Wife - Four

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary at Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (So, managed to get this finished before my trip this weekend! I hope you all enjoy and don’t forget to share and comment 🥹♥️ I love hearing what you all think 😘)

Series Masterlist - One Two Three

Joel sat beside his daughter's cot silently sobbing to himself, allowing the guilt he felt for how he'd shouted at you to eat him alive. He hadn't meant any of it. Not a single word. Now, the image of your face after he'd said those cruel words haunted him.

It had been three days since your argument. Sarah was a little improved yet the doctors were still concerned. Her tiny body was doing its best to fight but was just so weak. The nurses were kind to him. Ensuring he ate and sent him home when he needed sleep, always promising to call him if anything changed. But the person he was most desperate to see was still nowhere to be seen. Not that he had told you what hospital Sarah was at or even hinted at wanting you to come. He'd made it pretty clear the other day that he didn't.

...

"Why the long face Pip, sweetie?" Asked Mrs Miller as she placed a steaming mug of tea beside you.

You had been quiet for a few days and she was worried. After racing back to be with Joel, she and her husband were taking turns to keep an eye on things at the office and stay at home with Tommy.

"I'm fine Mrs Miller." You replied, trying to make yourself sound believable.

"Pip darling if-"

"How's Sarah?" You asked, desperate to change the subject and learn about how the little baby you'd come to love so dearly was doing.

"Have you not been to see her?" She asked, her dark brows drawing together.

"Oh, no..." You trailed off, looking down at the mug now in your hands "Joel doesn't want me there."

"What are you talking about." The older woman pressed "Of course he would want you there."

"He told me differently." You mumbled, trying to fight back the tears that started stinging your eyes as you remembered what he had said to you.

"Pip, what's going on with you and Joel?"

"Nothing's going on."

"I wasn't born yesterday dear." Mrs Miller chuffed "He's a mess... and not just because Sarah's sick." She continued and you looked at her with a mirroring look of concern "You have been looking miserable for days. You haven't been to the hospital so clearly something happened between you."

You looked back at the mug in your hands for a moment, pondering over how much you should tell her. She had been so good to you since your own mother had passed away.

"We had a fight." You confessed, "I have been seeing someone for a few weeks and the morning Sarah got sick Joel called me, the guy answered and hung up on him."

"Oh." The older woman replied as she perched on the edge of your desk.

"I went round the following morning and Joel arrived shortly after me." You continued, pausing to take a sip of your tea "He told me what happened but... well he got angry with me for not answering the phone when he needed me... I did promise that I would be there for him day or night and I wasn't... I let him down."

"You did nothing of the sort." Mrs Miller asserted "Joel's a good boy. He's a great father to Sarah and he's done a fine job running this company but he's also still a boy.

"We forced him to grow up so quickly."

"You're both amazing parents to Joel and Tommy." You defended and Joel's mother chuckled.

"Thank you dear but no parent is perfect." She replied, taking a long pull of her own mug of tea "I know he'll never forgive me for telling you this but... Joel's been smitten with you since the day you started here."

"Sure." You snorted, surprising yourself with the sound.

"It's true!" You rolled your eyes at the older woman's statement but she pushed on "The boy is just hopeless at expressing how he feels. Always has been but he takes after his father in that respect." She chuckled and you smiled at her reaction "Go see him. I know he would like to see you."

"I don't know-"

"Okay, go see Sarah then." She said softly as she placed her hand on yours and gave you a sweet smile "I'll go with you. Just in case he decides to act like a typical man." She finished with a wink.

You smiled and nodded as you said "Okay. We can go after work."

...

"You have some visitors." A nurse said softly a few hours later, pulling Joel from his pit of self-loathing.

"Who is it?" He asked as he scraped a hand over his tired face.

"Your mother and someone else." She replied and he nodded, his heart speeding up as he looked towards the door, waiting for his mum and this other person to emerge. Praying it's you.

His heart skipped a beat when his prayers were answered.

She appeared first, followed by you poking your head in first then locking eyes with him. In a moment fueled purely by instinct, he was out of his chair and scaling the room in a few long strides. Pulling you into a tight hug, he buried his face into the crook of your neck and sobbed.

"I'm sorry." He choked and you held him back, burying your fingers into his thick curls and scratching his head affectionately "I didn't mean it... None of it."

"I know." You cooed as you squeezed him tighter, eyes shifting to Joel's mother as she smiled at the two of you "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Joel said as he shook his head "You've done so much for us... I was being a jealous asshole and-"

He stopped dead upon realising what he'd just confessed. Your eyes widened as the two of you just stared at each other.

"I'll give you two some privacy." Piped up Mrs Miller and you both looked at her a moment, the woman grinning like a cat that got the cream.

When the door clicked shut, the two of you were left alone again, just the beeps and clicks of the machinery in the room filled the tense atmosphere.

"Jealous?" You asked and Joel nodded as he let out a shaky breath "Why were you jealous, Joel?"

"Because I'm in love with you too." He said plainly, no longer wanting to hide how he felt from you.

"Oh."

His stomach dropped. That wasn't the reaction he had been expecting when he decided he'd confess how he felt about you. You looked uncomfortable and the colour drained from Joel's face as he removed himself from your embrace and took a few steps back.

"Oh." He repeated as he chuckled humourlessly.

"Joel-"

"No, it's fine." He said, waving you off "I left it too long and you've moved on. I understand."

"No... Joel its not that... it's just..." You trailed off, unsure how to say what you needed to say without hurting him "I do still love you." You confirmed, stomach tightening at the look of hope that then lit up Joel's features "But it's clear that we aren't good for each other."

That hope vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Pip-"

"We just keep hurting each other Joel. Not on purpose but, it keeps happening all the same."

"But we love each other." He sobbed and you gave him a sad smile.

"Sometimes love's not enough." You choked and he nodded sadly at you "I don't want to lose you, Joel. You're so important to me and I want us to remain friends but I think it's for the best if we both just move on."

"Okay." He managed to choke out, not hiding how devastated he was by this turn of events.

Your eyes drifted to the cot behind him, noting the wires that smothered Sarah's tiny form. You let out a choked sob at the sight of her, looking at Joel and nodding your thanks when he motioned for you to go to her. She was sleeping soundly but her breathing was so strained. There was a tube in her mouth, obviously providing her with sustenance whilst a tiny nasal cannula rested beneath her nose, supplying her with oxygen to help her breathe.

"Oh, baby girl." You cooed, as you stroked her plump little cheek with your thumb "You need to get better... You're scaring us all, but especially your daddy." You said softly as you smiled sweetly at the sleeping baby "You get better and I promise I'll buy you the biggest stuffed bear I can find."

"Do I get a say in that?" Joel pipped up and you looked at him and shook your head.

"No... this between me and Sarah." The smile that spread across Joel's face was magical.

"Fine." He chuckled before sitting down beside you and resting his head on your shoulder, just like he had the first time you met Sarah "But can I at least pick the colour?"

"I'll think about it."

...

Three weeks later...

Monday

"Is that funny little madam?" You chuckled as you fought to change Sarah's nappy "Are you kicking me in the boobies?"

Sarah screeched with delight and gave you a huge gummy smile, bringing a delighted chuckle from you.

"You're lucky you're cute!" You said to her as you finished fastening the nappy and dressed her again.

"She beatin' you up again?" Asked Joel as he walked into the lounge with two mugs in hand.

"She's a little bruiser." You chuckled, accepting the coffee Joel handed you with a smile and a mouthed thank you.

"She's getting stronger every day." Joel beamed and you grinned at him.

It had taken another week and a half before Sarah recovered enough to be let out of the hospital. Since then you had been staying a few nights a week to help Joel out. He had assured you that you didn't have to but you had confessed that you still felt guilty about the phone call incident and despite him telling you over and over that you hadn't done anything wrong, you wouldn't budge.

Ant had been surprisingly understanding. The two of you had practically been in each other's beds every night, unable to get enough of each other. It scared you a little how intense things had gotten between you. You had both agreed it was just casual and that neither of you was looking for a relationship, yet, before this arrangement with Joel you were going out for meals together and practically playing house.

The nights you weren't staying at Joel's you were at his. Your apartment had been lying dormant for a few weeks now. You popped in once or twice to water the plants and to get a change of clothes but you were practically living out of your suitcase.

"Have you and Ant got plans for the weekend?" Joel asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

"We're not a couple, Joel." You chuckled and Joel snorted.

"Could have fooled me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"So you're not spending every free moment you're not here with him?" Joel asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Yes but-"

"Whether the two of you want to admit it, you're together, Pip." Joel said as he placed his coffee down on the side table and accepted Sarah when you handed her to him.

"To answer your question, no we don't have plans." You said, hoping to kill the conversation of your relationship with Ant dead.

Things with you and Joel had been better in recent weeks and the subject of feelings had been avoided like the plague. You did feel like laying everything out had made things easier. Now you both knew how the other felt, it was easier to navigate what was spoken about around each other. Both of you desperately trying to avoid hurting one another.

"Well, if you're free I thought maybe we could go to the Aquarium. Gloria said it would be a great sensory experience for Sarah." Joel's eyes were the size of saucers as he waited for your reply.

"Isn't that something you do with family?" You ask, feeling like you might be encroaching on territory you weren't welcome in.

"You're as much family as my parents." Joel argued, "You've been the

closest thing Sarah's had to a mum since she was born."

"Joel-"

"If you don't want to come just say." He pleaded and you could hear the hurt in his voice at what he believed was you rejecting him.

"I would love to join you."

Joel's shoulders relaxed and he smiled brightly at you.

"Great. Pick you up at 10?" He asked as he stood to place a now sleeping Sarah in her bassinet.

"Sounds perfect!"

What neither of you knew was that the events that were about to unfold in the remainder of the week that followed would change everything.

...

Tuesday

Joel walked into the office to find your usual seat empty. His brow furrowed as he walked towards your desk, noting that the computer was still powered down and everything was neatly put away. No sign that you had been there at all.

When he poked his head into the break room and saw that you weren't there either his concern grew. It wasn't like you to not turn up to work.

"Hey, Simon." Joel shouted, grabbing the man's attention "Seen Pip today?"

"She called in sick." He replied and Joel's concern grew even more.

You had been fine yesterday when he had seen you last. What had changed between then and now?

He tried to call you that evening but got your answering machine. His worry was then starting to grow into full-blown panic but, he decided to wait and see if you were in the office tomorrow before he turned up at your door.

...

Wednesday

When Joel arrived in the office, again you weren't there. Simon confirmed again that you had called in sick and Joel was then beside himself. He decided that he needed to go by your house and check on you.

So after asking his mother if she could watch Sarah for a few hours that evening, he went to the store and bought you all your favourite things. Hoping that they would cheer you up. Pulling up outside your house, he scaled your yard and sprinted up you porch steps. After a few hard knocks on your door, you answered, looking more than a little worse for wear.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, wrapping your gown around you a little tighter.

"I was worried about you." He answered, readjusting the tote of supplies on his shoulder "Brought you some stuff. Soup, your favourite candy-"

"I don't want to get you sick, Joel." You sighed "Thank you for checking in but just go home."

"Pip-"

"Please." You pleaded and he nodded.

"Okay." He took a step back and placed the tote in front of your door "I'll leave these here."

"Thank you."

He nodded and turned, walking down the steps of your porch and towards his truck, looking over his shoulder to see you grab the bag and close the door.

Something hadn't been right. You had looked like you'd been crying. Had Ant broken things off with you? He just hoped that you were feeling up to speaking to him about it when the weekend came around.

...

Thursday

When Joel walked in and saw that for a third day in a row, you had called in sick again he knew something else was going on. It wasn't like you to be sick for this long and not call him to come over.

You were super clingy when you were ill and he was always happy to oblige you. He loved to take care of you just as much as you loved to take care of him. He was going to check on you again that evening and this time he wasn't going to let you turn him away.

You knew you couldn't go on avoiding Joel. When you had called that morning and Caleb answered, he told you that Joel was going out of his mind with worry.

You weren't surprised. This was abnormal behaviour for you and Joel had always been a worrier. You just didn't know how to tell him what the problem really was.

"You feeling okay?" Asked Ant as he sat down next to you and pulled you into a comforting hug.

"Mhmm." You replied, staring at the TV but not taking in what was playing.

"It's gonna be okay you know." Ant piped up and this dragged your attention to him "I know this situation isn't exactly ideal but- "

Ant was interrupted by frantic knocking at your front door.

"Pip. It's me... Please, answer the door... talk to me." Joel said from the other side of the door and you sighed.

"You can't avoid him forever you know."

"Yeah, I know." You sighed, getting up from the couch to answer the door.

Joel was frantic on the other side, his hair a mess from where he had clearly been running his hands through it. He seemed to relax a little upon seeing you but his hackles seemed to rise when he saw Ant behind you.

"Hi, Joel." You piped up, pulling his gaze back to you "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you." He sighed "I want to check in on my friend who hasn't been at work for three days."

"Joel-"

"I know when someone's avoiding me." He growled out and you felt a pang of guilt pull at you "I have been going out of my mind worrying about you and I have turned up twice to check in... only for you to ask me what I want."

"Joel... I'm just sick." You said, trying your best to sound believable.

"Can I please just come in?" He pleaded and you let out a long sigh before moving aside so he could enter.

He and Ant gave each other a nod in greeting and then the latter put his arm around you and placed a kiss on your temple.

"I'll give you two some space. Grab you some supplies."

"Thank you." You mumbled and he smiled at you sweetly before returning his attention to Joel.

"See you later man." He said, putting his hand out for Joel to shake, giving the man a quick nod when Joel accepted it.

Once Ant had left, you walked to your couch, curling up into the blanket you had departed to answer the door. Joel followed you, sitting in the armchair that sat proudly in your bay window, the two of you sitting in tense silence for what felt like an age.

"What's going on Pip?" He asked breaking the silence, his voice soft and sympathetic.

"Nothing."

This reply earned you an eye roll and you watched as he scraped one large hand over his face before he looked back at you.

"What did I do Pip?" He asked and your heart broke at the crack in his voice "Monday we were making plans to take Sarah to the aquarium and then suddenly you're sick and avoiding me and I just don't get what I did-"

"I'm pregnant!" You blurted out. Unable to cope with Joel blaming himself for your behaviour.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant." You repeated "I woke up on Tuesday and felt awful. Couldn't keep anything down and all these smells that never bothered me before just made me hurl. I thought perhaps I was coming down with something but then the next day I still felt awful.

"So I went to the pharmacy and the pharmacist recommended I take a test. Was positive."

"Is it...?"

"Ant's?" You finished for him and he nodded "Yeah."

"What did he say?"

"Well he was a little freaked at first but it takes two people to make a baby... As you well know." You chuckled but there was no humour in it.

"Is he happy?"

"He asked me to marry him." You announced and all the colour drained from Joel's face.

His eyes widened as he took in what it was that you had just told him. You were pregnant? Were you happy you were having a baby? You didn't seem to be particularly excited about it. Did you want to marry Ant? You had maintained that you had he were just casual. Joel felt sick as all these thoughts raced through his mind.

"And what did you say?" He asked although he didn't really want to know the answer.

"I said yes."

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #last of us fanfiction

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lumikuutti · 2 months ago

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Returning to me teenage age roots....Warrior Cats my beloved.... Anyway here you go, enjoy, ISAT party as Warrior Cats, introducing: Leader Cranestar: Previously known as Cranewing, Cranestar was thrown into the mantle of clan leadersip after a long tenure as deputy. She has her paws busy with her duties, and isn't the most approachable at first glance, appearing rather cold and calculated at time. But underneath her quiet and reserved exterior hides a fiercely caring and protective heart. She's not afraid to fight an entire border patrol by herself if it's to keep her clanmates safe, and those who do approach her with their troubles, will find a listening ear and a good advisor... even if that advice is sometimes simply just telling you to seek out Plumneedle or Rockbud instead. Deputy Wishclaw: Wishclaw is the clan's new deputy and Ricepaws mentor. And while they appear confident in their roles, in truth, they're making everything up as go and having at least two internal panic attacks in-between sunrise and sundown. They're honored, truly, that the clan trusts them so much, and desperately want nothing more than to live up to the weight on their shoulders, but it's hard work to do so without slipping up and worrying their clanmates. And on top of it they have Ricepaw's training to worry about, Ricepaw who is so eager to help, but woefully under-equipped to be able to handle themselves all alone yet. In fact, Wishclaw gave their left eye in order to protect Ricepaw from a badger that had taken the patrol by surprise. They would do it again and so much more for any of their clan, you truly cannot find a more loyal cat in the clan.

Medicine Cat Plumneedle: The clan's newly fully fledged medicine cat has some large pawsteps to fill with the clan's previous medicine cat gone, and honestly doesn't think she's nearly up to the task just yet. She hasn't even really learned how she's supposed to read the prophesies Starclan sends her! However, despite her fears, already as a healer she's more than proven herself with how she looked after Wishclaw when they lost their eye. And deep under her soft and nervous exterior hides a sharper side, claws readied should she ever need them. When push comes to shove, the clan can count on her to do her best, and to do it well. Warrior(s) Rockbud: The clan's emotional support and the one keeping the clans more nervous power holders from tearing themselves apart. Rockbud is mostly content to be the clans emotional core, eager to offer a listening ear and a comforting paw on your shoulder, sharing tongues or whatever it takes to make you feel better. Secretly, he's hopelessly smitten for Wishclaw, but he has no idea if the deputy feels the same and is terrified to just confess and find out already. He's also much more intelligent than he let's himself act, wanting to stay sillier and more likeable, rather than facing his own insecurities. Apprentice(s) Ricepaw: The young up and coming apprentice wants to be warrior already so badly they can almost taste it. But their recent encounter with a badger has shown them they aren't quite ready just yet. They have to get much, much stronger so they can protect the clan rather than always being protected! They're glad Wishclaw has healed, but they feel guilty for the price they paid for Ricepaw's safety. Unfortunately they have no idea how they're supposed to bring up this fact when Wishclaw acts like the injury doesn't even matter to them, despite knowing for a fact they're training in private to overcome the loss of half their vision.

#isat #in stars and time #isat siffrin #isat odile #madame odile #isat isabeau #isat bonnie #isat mirabelle #isat warrior cats au #isat au #i will probably not do too much with this because i have so many things i want to do for isat already #but mayhaps... an indulgent pic or oneshot here or there...

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aziraphales-library · 8 months ago

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Hello, I’m looking for fics where Aziraphale has religious trauma specifically around sex. I wanna see him and Crowley working through it to have a healthy sexual relationship. Preferably on the shorter side like 20k ish or less but not super picky about that part. Thanks!

Hi. Here are some fics in which Aziraphale has religious trauma and explores sex with Crowley. Most of them are on the longer side, sorry...

Snake Lessons by chamyl (E)

“That’s the point, Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped. “I’ve never done this before. I couldn’t. They kept track of what we did with our corporations, and I’m sure Hell doesn’t care, but Heaven was very much clear that angels are not supposed to indulge in sex.” Crowley didn’t know how to respond to that. He tried to start several sentences at once, producing an array of incoherent sounds that made no sense at all. When he finally regained control over his tongue, he asked, “Not once? In six thousand years?”

in your own time by ineffabildaddy (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Night and Day by wyrmy (E)

Aziraphale Engel, black sheep of his strictly religious family, lives a quiet and monkish existence in the middle of London, trying to avoid the many temptations of the flesh and do his bit for the church that his father founded. But his quiet, untroubled, and unhappily narrow existence is about to come to an end, and he will be faced with the choice to give up even more of who he is or to survive in the real world.

Ink Stained Bleeding Hearts by WillowTea (E)

Ready for a fresh start, Anthony J. Crowley opens shop across the road from a lovely tattooist, Aziraphale Fell. After everything he's been through, Crowley is not ready to fall head over heels for Aziraphale, but he can't stop himself. The two navigate their new friendship and budding romance while addressing past hurts.

Out of Suffering Into Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Aziraphale is a sexually repressed man who grew up in a religious household. Crowley is an artist with a sordid past. Both of them are afraid to love and be loved.

Hired Heart by GayDemonicDisaster (E)

As a result of his sheltered upbringing, Aziraphale made it to 50 without exploring his sexuality or coming out. After 50, all that changed - he's gay, he's out, and wants to find love. He also wants to have sex. He's a tad nervous about that. His friend Agnes suggests he consult a professional and get some no-strings practice and advice, and build some confidence. And her friend Tracy runs an agency… Crowley has quite the breadth of sexual experience: he’s a high class escort. He’s been in his line of work for a long time, though in this industry, that’s not exactly an advantage. He likes his work, but the more he’s reminded that he’s not as young as he once was, the more he contemplates his exit strategy. When his bookings manager and friend Tracy gives him a new, nervous client, Crowley finds him unexpectedly captivating. In fact, Crowley can’t seem to get him out of his head. A Smitten Crowley is also a very silly Crowley, so prepare for giggles and fluff along with your love story and smut... This fic is sex worker positive, disability positive, & a variety of genders and sexual preferences are referred to in back story.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #adult omens #aziraphale's trauma #religious guilt #religious themes #loss of virginity #inexperienced aziraphale #experienced crowley #mod d

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meganlpie · 18 days ago

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I Can't Marry You

Based on this request: Do you think I could request one where the reader is engaged to Boromir but she and Faramir are in love? Denethor doesn’t care and expects Boromir to marry her. Angsty with whatever ending you choose??

Here you are, lovely! I apologize for the wait. Familiar Characters are NOT mine! They belong to Tolkien.

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of death.

Pairings: Faramir x fem!reader

Boromir and his brother froze, spoons halfway to their lips. Almost in unison, the two brothers turned their heads to gape at their father. “Forgive me, Father,” Boromir replies as soon as he regains his wits, “I must have misheard. Surely you do not mean that I am betrothed?” Denethor smiled at his eldest. “I do. To Lady Y/N, of course.” Boromir let his eyes flick to Faramir for a moment. He’d always thought, if a marriage was arranged between you and one of Denethor’s sons, it would be Faramir.

The brothers had known you since childhood. The three of you did everything possible together. As you grew up, Boromir, the eldest of the three of you, never showed interest in marriage and never felt more for you than brotherly love. Faramir, on the other hand, was a completely different story. Everyone who was ever in the same room as you and Faramir could tell he was hopelessly in love with you from the time he knew what a romantic love was. He was utterly smitten with you.

“Father, perhaps we should reconsider. After all, there has been no talk of courtship or the like with Lady Y/N. It is possible that she is hoping for a proposal from another.” Boromir tried to keep his gaze off Faramir. If Denethor suspected Faramir’s feelings, he absolutely would push for this wedding even harder. For some reason, the Steward of Gondor did not want his younger son to be happy.

“Then she hopes in vain. It has been decided,” Denethor stated with no room for argument. Boromir tried anyway. “Father, I am meant to depart for Rivendell in a fortnight. Surely that isn’t enough time to plan and host a wedding.” Denethor’s brow rose. “Then you will wed when you return. I cannot imagine why you are fighting me on this, my son. Lady Y/N is a lovely young lady and will make a fine wife.”

From the corner of his eye, Boromir saw his brother rise from the table. Denethor paid no mind, as per usual, but Boromir turned to face Faramir. Faramir offered a weak smile. “I’ve lost my appetite.” With that, he left the dining hall. Boromir knew he was most likely heading to find you so he remained where he was for now.

For the next few minutes, Boromir did his best to convince his father that the marriage was a bad idea. Denethor wouldn’t budge. The man refused to hear any of Boromir’s arguments. By the time Boromir left the dining hall himself, he was beyond frustrated. He made his way down the corridors, asking guards if they had seen Faramir. It wasn’t until the fifth or sixth guard that he finally was able to locate his younger brother.

When Boromir found Faramir, it was as he’d suspected. He was with you. Boromir didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but hearing your voice so broken made him pause. He hardly ever heard you upset. “I knew I’d have to m-marry one day, but this is just cruel, Faramir.”

“My brother is not cruel, my love,” came Faramir’s calm voice and you sniffled. “I know he isn’t. He is more of a brother to me than anything else. It is your father who is cruel! Surely he must know how we feel and yet he does this! The man has no heart! I don’t want to marry Boromir. I only want to marry you.” Boromir watched as Faramir held you close, resting his cheek upon your head. It was that moment that made Boromir decide to reveal himself.

“And marry him, you shall.” You let out a little yelp of surprise and Boromir fought back a laugh at how much you sounded like a small dog. Faramir groaned when your head hit his face, causing you to apologize. Boromir chuckled at that. The two of you were good together. Anyone could see it. Well anyone except Denethor.

Once the chaos of the moment died down, you turned to Boromir again. “What do you mean I will marry Faramir? Our fathers have already decided.” Boromir sighed and nodded. “They have, However, I am due to leave for Rivendell in a fortnight. I will come up with a plan by the time I return. I see the love you have for my brother. I can’t marry you knowing how unhappy you both would be.”

You exchanged a glance with Faramir as smiles came to both your faces. Without warning, you launched yourself at Boromir and hugged him. “Thank you,” you said, tears threatening to fall yet again. Boromir laughed as he pulled away to kiss your forehead. “Do not thank me. It is the least I could do to ensure the happiness of my brother and the woman I will happily call my sister-in-law. For now, we must play along with Father’s demands.”

*time skip Your POV*

Boromir left a fortnight later. A little while after that, Faramir received a message that Boromir would be away even longer as he was now going on a quest to save Middle Earth. As impatient as you were to marry, you knew that Boromir would be true to his word and would have a plan to break your betrothal when he returned. You never expected the circumstances of that plan would be so heartbreaking.

You held Faramir as he broke down. He’d been the one to find his brother floating lifelessly down the river. He had been the one to pull the boat carrying Boromir to shore. He held his brother as sobs wracked his body and you held him. It broke you to see your love this way, but at the same time, you understood. You were close to collapsing yourself. This wasn’t how you were supposed to get out of the marriage. Once Faramir was calm, the two of you made your way to Denethor to share the sad news.

For many moons after that, there was an air of tension and despair in Gondor. Denethor refused to speak to Faramir unless it was to yell or criticize him. You avoided Denethor as much as possible as well. He expected you to be absolutely crushed by Boromir’s death and you were, but not in the way a woman should be for her betrothed. You were far more worried about Faramir.

Faramir began pulling away from you. He rarely spoke to anyone unless necessary but he really seemed to be avoiding you. The love of your life no longer met with you in secret. No longer let his fingers linger against yours. He hardly looked you in the eye. Eventually, you had enough and confronted him. You’d wish you hadn’t.

You managed to catch him coming back late at night. He looked at you like a frightened animal for a moment as you let your feelings be known. Tears fell as you talked to him. He refused to meet your gaze until you finished, gasping out sobs. He hugged you briefly then pulled away. He muttered something. “What was that?” you asked tearfully.

“I can’t marry you,” he said a little bit louder. You swore your heart stopped. “W-What? You can’t mean that.” He nodded. “I do. With Boromir d-dead, I have new duties. I cannot go against my father’s wishes and marry my dead brother’s betrothed.” Your breathing picked up. “You’re serious?” He told you he was. “How could you do this? Since when have you ever cared about your duties? We were prepared to run away, Faramir.”

“I am so sorry, Y/N. I love you, truly I do. But I-I-” You held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t. Just don’t. I understand. I really do. Even now, you seek your father’s approval and validation. I realize I can never come before that.” You reached up and cupped his cheek. “I hope you’re happy with your choice.” Faramir gently grabbed your wrist and pressed a kiss to your palm. “I hope you find someone worthy of you,” he whispered. You scoffed and pulled your hand away.

“You were worthy of me.” You turned away and left the courtyard. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you didn’t notice Faramir watching you walk away, his own heart sinking to his feet.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

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