#and blueberry pancakes (implied)

[vgreysoncellars]

after hours

by v_greyson

9-1-1 (TV)

Buck/Ravi, Explicit

13.5K words

Summary:

"So do you ever think you'll try it?" Buck asks. "Sleeping with a woman?" Ravi asks, raising his eyebrows. "I haven't seriously considered it before, to be honest." An idea occurs to him, probably buoyed by the alcohol, and he looks up through his lashes when he adds, "But if I do ever decide to try it, maybe you can teach me some things." They're standing close enough that Ravi can hear the little catch in Buck's breath at that. A clamoring rush of thoughts cascades through him: oh my god, and yes, and really?, and I can't believe that worked. "And you know. Learning by doing is the best way to learn something," Ravi says. His heart is pounding so hard he can feel the veins in his neck. "Maybe you could show me. How to--how to treat a woman."

[strang3lov3]

Under the Table

Roman takes you to dinner. You eat pasta and he eats you (4k)

Tags - smut, stepcest, stepdaddy!roman, age gap, dom!roman, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), public sex, teasing, emotional boners, you make daddy blush and get all bashful so he reminds you who calls the shots, like Dennis Reynolds, Roman has feelings again but he’s still disgustinggggg, does he want to be your father or your daddy, oh he is getting so soft. But someone else is too 🫵 implied almond/alcoholic mom + other mommy issues,,,planting some seeds here don’t mind me,,, Fic help - @beefrobeefcal thank you for brainstorming with me and for giving me your eyeballs! @endlessthxxghts, ditto!! A/N - yeah I wrote a birthday fic for my birthday to my birthday party on my birthday with a birthday gift. shut the fuck up about it. I love you. I think next time we see him he’ll fuck your ass maybe. I don’t know. Someone jump into my inbox and tell me something gross they should do because I need to cancel out this goddamn sweetness. Rotting the teeth right out of my skull smh. also, I know we waited a while for more stepdaddy. I appreciate your patience more than you know 🩷 updates may continue to be slow this month because we’re getting down to the wire with school and all that stuff.

Stepdaddy!Roman Roy

7:34 AM. You wake to texts from old friends and relatives wishing you another happy year around the sun, don’t party too hard and so on and so forth. It does warm your heart to know that people are thinking of you. Your past birthdays haven’t felt much like the birthdays you had when you were younger, when you were so excited to celebrate your day you couldn’t sleep. 

You pull on a sweatshirt over your thin pajamas and head downstairs to make yourself a bowl of cereal, and find Roman in the kitchen. “Morning, sunshine. Go sit down in the dining room.”

“Mm,” you grumble, voice gravelly from sleep. Your eyes are droopy and you still look tired, barely conscious. 

Roman eyes you as you sit down. You rest your head on the table, and you’re wearing his sweatshirt. He’s not entirely sure how you wound up with it. He doesn’t say anything, though, only smirks to himself. 

Roman goes back into the kitchen to plate some blueberry pancakes he made for you, just like he’s done since you were young. Roman’s not much of a cook, but this is one meal he can make and that he can make well. He wouldn’t do it for just anyone, but you asked him once when you were a kid and he didn’t have it in his heart to tell you no. Roman remembers how crappy that first batch came out, but how you didn’t complain. Honestly, you probably didn’t even notice with your pancakes covered in so much butter and syrup and whipped cream. You probably couldn’t even taste the blueberries. But thus, tradition stuck, and Roman’s blueberry pancake game vastly improved over the years. He liked making them for you as much as you liked eating them.

Roman returns to you with the plate of blueberry pancakes and sets it down in front of you. “Voilà.”

You lift your head up and grin when you see the pancakes Roman made for you. It’s straight out of a commercial, melted butter and syrup dripping down the edges with a dollop of whipped cream right on top. “Aww. You remembered,” you beam. You didn’t ask Roman for the pancakes this year. 

Roman blushes, and he feels his heart beat harder. It’s been so long since you’ve smiled at him like that, and it makes him nervous. “No. I made them for myself, actually, but I was feeling generous. This is my good deed for the week.”

“You still remembered.”

Roman ignores the accusation. “I gave you all the fucked up ones, just so you know. And I spit in the batter.”

“Mm. Tasty.”

Fuck. Your eyes are sparkling, your smile is so warm. Roman can’t stomach it, how you make him feel sometimes. “Oh, shut up and eat your fucking pancakes, birthday girl,” he snaps, contorting his face to fight his smile. “I hate you. You’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes and eat your pancakes, humming at the delicious flavor. Roman grabs your favorite mug and sets it down next to you, then fills it with the coffee he made. Before you can thank him, the clattering of high heels on the hardwood floor interrupts you. Your mom is on the phone and stops briefly in the dining room when she smells the pancakes Roman made for you. She leans over your shoulder and takes your fork from your hand and cuts off a bite for herself. “Mom,” you complain. 

“You can share,” she scolds, covering the mic on her phone.  

Roman speaks, “Wait, don’t. I made those special for -”

Your mom smiles and kisses Roman on the cheek before he can finish his sentence, and then she’s out the door while still talking with Erica. 

Roman looks to you for your reaction, and your face falls. That beautiful smile on your lips just moments ago, snuffed out like a candle. “I don’t think she remembered,” you tell Roman, defeated. 

“Oh no, I don’t think that’s true,” Roman lies. “I’m sure she just - I don’t know,” he sighs, resigning to the reality of the situation. You can expect some mushy and emotional text from her later, probably tomorrow. “No, you’re right - that was bullshit.” Roman squeezes your shoulder affectionately and tells you he’s sorry. 

Roman means it. He knows exactly how it feels to have a parent forget your birthday. His dad only remembered a handful of times, and every present always felt empty. It’s part of why Roman’s always put effort into making your day special each year. He never got the birthday he wanted or deserved, but he could give that to you.

“Listen,” Roman says, “I gotta run to work now. Don’t party too hard. Or do. I don’t care. It’s your day. Just don’t snort coke in my bathroom, okay? Anywhere else. And don’t do it before, like, four in the afternoon.” Roman pats your shoulder. “Just basic human decency.”

“I’m not gonna do coke in your bathroom, Roman.”

“I just feel the need to say it after the Uncle Ken incident, you know?” You laugh at that, though you shouldn’t. Roman continues, “Anyway, I want you to eat up all of your highly nutritious breakfast and when I come home tonight, you better be in your favorite dress.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m taking you out.”

“You are?” 

“Duh, genius. Like me and you always do on your birthday, remember? Or are you forgetting as you approach your crone years?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off. You’re closer to senile than I am. Pushing fifty there, aren’t you, Roman?”

“Maybe. I’ve got some years left, so watch it,” he warns, then kisses the top of your head. “I fuck like I’m thirty, anyway.”

-

The rest of the day drags on, truthfully. You finish your pancakes, then go upstairs and treat yourself to a bubble bath, your vibrator joining you. Afterwards, you dress yourself in comfortable clothes and drive yourself around the city, picking up birthday freebies from different stores and fast food restaurants. When you come home, you do your hair and makeup in the way that makes you feel prettiest, then look through your closet for your favorite dress, just like Roman said. 

Your favorite dress. It’s not an easy decision. You have a favorite dress that’s comfortable, a favorite dress on your body, a favorite patterned dress. You slide the hangers across the closet rod, contemplating, contemplating…until you come across that one purple dress. 

You remember Roman pulling the zipper of that dress up your spine, his warm hands on your waist. How he fucked you in that closet, bent you over the vanity and split you open. You watched him in the mirror as you gushed on his cock. You wear that dress tonight, then pick out some shoes to match. 

Roman presses his horn repeatedly to call you outside. He’s fucking obnoxious, but you laugh. You rush downstairs and out the door, and when Roman sees you he gets out of the driver’s seat and rounds the front of his car to open up the passenger side door for you. “Look at you, birthday girl,” he says, chewing minty gum. “You look so grown up.”

“Ew. Don’t, please.”

“So that’s your favorite dress, huh?”

Knowing Roman recognizes your dress makes your cheeks warm. “Yeah,” you mumble softly. 

“Mm. Mine too,” he whispers, then shuts the door. He gets back into the driver’s seat and presses buttons on the screen until his car’s Bluetooth connects to your phone. “I think your birthday earns you DJ rights, yeah?” Roman pulls the gear shifter into drive. 

“I’d say so,” you agree, picking out your favorite playlist on Spotify. Roman puts his hand on your thigh, inching it up and under your skirt. He doesn’t do more than an occasional squeeze, and tapping his fingertips on your skin. Still, it excites you. 

Once at the restaurant, Roman takes your hand and helps you out of the car. You read the sign of the restaurant, Adalina, and Roman leads you inside. You notice he’s holding a little gift bag. “Reservation for Roy,” he tells the host, who then ushers you both to a corner booth. The lights are dim, tables covered in floor-length white cloths. There’s people chatting at tables and at the bar, someone softly playing piano. Once seated, the host lights a candle at your table. 

“Your uh - your boy toy from a while ago. Is this where he took you? I thought you said something about not liking it,” Roman asks, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his thigh. 

You shake your head. “No,” you answer. “I’ve never been here.”

“Good, that’s good…you guys still talk?”

You shoot him a look at the same time your server comes by to place a plate of bread and oil at your table and to pour water in your glasses. “Can I start you off with some wine, something else to drink?”

You look at Roman, who shrugs. “All you,” he says. 

“I’m fine with water.” 

Roman says the same. He figured you’d forgo drinking tonight, even if it was just one little glass of wine. That’s why he had you make the decision - he doesn’t want you feeling pulled in either direction. You’re not much of a drinker, with your mom being the opposite. It makes sense. 

Your server leaves to give you a little while to browse the menu and pick out appetizers and dinner. Roman places that gift bag from earlier in front of you. 

“For me?” You reach for the bag. 

“For you,” Roman replies, mocking your tone. 

You pull the tissue paper out of the bag before pulling out the gift itself - it’s…you don’t know what you’re looking at. It’s some bizarre figure of a frog dressed as a cowboy, riding…a bearded dragon? Baffled and wearing a smile, you turn it over in your hand. You wonder where on god’s green earth Roman even found something like this. 

“I thought of you,” Roman says. “Has your name written all over it.”

“Oh Roman,” you sigh dramatically, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know, I know.”

You examine the weird little toy some more, giggling at all of the details. Roman’s fucking with you, but you do love the figurine. He knew you would. 

Roman reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a fancy leather box, then slides it across the tablecloth quietly. “What..?”

“Shush. Just open it.”

You put down your figurine and open the box, gasping at the sight. A gorgeous, multi-stone sapphire pendant sparkles above black velvet. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, the design very intentional. Unique. “Roman…”

“Umm,” Roman hums nervously, hovering over you to point at the pendant, “They’re sapphires, so blue- they’re like blueberries,” he stutters, gesturing to the multiple round-cut stones. “‘Cause of the pancakes I make you…uh…sometimes.” Roman points to the little diamonds between the sapphires, “And the diamonds, I don’t know. I thought it was a nice accent sort of thing. And you’re a girl, you know. You like sparkles.”

You’re touched. Not only is the piece gorgeous, but the thought Roman put into it warms your heart and makes it all the more special. There’s no way he just walked into a jeweler’s and picked this out of the display case. He thought up the design and had it custom made, probably weeks or months ago. Had to have. Carefully, you remove the pendant and its box chain from the box. 

“If you don’t l-” You put the piece of jewelry in Roman’s hand and turn your back to him. Roman smiles to himself. He puts the necklace over your chest and brings the chain around your neck, his nervously shaking fingers tickling your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “God, fuck - sorry, hang on,” he whispers, losing and finding his grip on the small clasp before successfully securing it. “There.” Excitedly, you pull out your phone and turn on your front-facing camera to admire the pendant on your skin. 

You turn off your phone and put it in your purse, then fling yourself at Roman, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. Roman freezes at first, then hugs you back gingerly, before finally squeezing you just as tightly, chuckling quietly at your palpable excitement. You pull away from the hug just enough to kiss him quickly on his lips, startling both yourself and Roman. “Yeah, so…” He rubs the back of his neck and blushes wildly, his cock quickly hardening in his pants. Roman coughs and adjusts his napkin over his lap, still feeling the pressure of your lips on his despite their absence. “Happy birthday, kiddo,” he whispers. 

“I love it. Thank you.” You look at Roman with sparkling eyes, pupils blown wide as you beam at him. It makes him blush even harder, his ears and neck turning red too. 

“Stop it, don’t - quit looking at me like that,” Roman scolds, avoiding eye contact. “It - it’s nothing.”

“I don’t know,” you reply, “I think it’s something.”

“Yeah, of course you think that. Because that’s the problem with your generation. You put labels on everything and think you’re all so special. Snowflakes,” he rants. “God, I can’t stand you people. You especially. I’d get that necklace for anyone.”

Defensive. He’s so fucking comically defensive, and it tickles you. “Hey, Roman,” you purr, in the mood to tease. 

Roman looks at you wearing a seemingly permanent smile on your lips as you touch and toy with your pendant. “What? What now?” he asks, flustered and impatient. 

“You’re kinda pink.”

“I’m not…pink,” Roman mumbles.

“You are. You’re blushing.”

“Shut the fuck up. I am not blushing.”

“No, you’re totally blushing. Your cheeks are all rosy.”

Roman buries his face in his hands and groans, eliciting a sweet giggle from you. The way you look at him, how you’re acting and making him feel. Tripping over his words, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding, cock achingly hard since you pecked his lips. You make him feel weak, and you’re not supposed to. Not like this. 

Your server returns then. “Are we ready to order?”

“Yes,” Roman quickly answers. “I’ll have the…fuck. One - one sec.” Roman raises a finger as he browses the menu. Sorry, you mouth to the server. “Entrees, entrees…” he mumbles.

“It’s right here,” you whisper, pointing to the entree section of Roman’s menu. His large bulge catches your eye, and you smile mischievously. When did that happen?

“Okay. Yeah. I think I’ll have the charred fil- fuck.”

Your server’s eyes widen at Roman, who quickly apologizes. Your hand is on his bulge, squeezing him through the fabric of his pants. 

“He wants the charred filet,” you cut in, answering for Roman. “I’ll have the gnocchi. Thank you,” you smile sweetly at the waiter, stroking Roman’s bulge over his pants. Silently, Roman gives the man a thumbs up and waves him away. Roman bites his lip as he waits for him to go back to the kitchen. “Alright, fuck this,” Roman snaps, squeezing your wrist and forcibly removing your hand from his lap. “You’re out of line.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re being weird. Are you feeling okay?” 

“We’ve had a nice night, you know. Do you really wanna do this?”

“Do what?”

“Cute.” Roman wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his side. “I give you an inch and you take a mile.” 

“You’re still so flushed,” you tease. This time, Roman doesn’t smile bashfully. Instead, he wears a frown and puts his hand on your knee, under the skirt of your dress. His palm slides up your thigh until his fingers meet your panties, and he teases you over the fabric. “Ooh. Look who’s wet,” he mocks, feeling your sticky dampness. Roman hooks his fingers under your panties and pulls them, sliding them down your thighs. “Lift up. They’re coming off.” 

“What are you doing?” you hiss. You hold his forearm in both of your hands, attempting to pry his hand away from your lap. His muscles flex beneath your palm as he fights against you. Roman’s taking this much farther than you did.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You have to stop. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Not like this, not here, not - Jesus Christ.” Roman tugs your panties down to your knees, then lifts your legs over his lap so he can remove them the rest of the way. It’s not long before you’ll be soaking through your dress.

“You’re not behind the wheel anymore.” Roman stuffs your soaked panties into his pocket and spreads your legs wide, one of your thighs still resting on his. “Shouldn’t have been in the first place.” You’re completely exposed right now, anyone could see what Roman’s doing to you. What you’re letting him do to you. He wriggles his fingers underneath the skirt of your dress and presses his thumb against your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp and jerk your body, hitting your free leg against the table. The utensils on your plate clatter loudly, and Roman’s glass of water spills over and onto the tablecloth. Another guest at the restaurant looks at you, and you force a smile at them. “Ooh, nice one,” Roman taunts.

Roman’s rubbing you in circles now, using his free hand to tug your dress up and look at your bare pussy under the warm light of the candles at your table. You look at him with pleading eyes, begging him, “We shouldn’t be doing this, Roman. Not here. Not like this.”

“Yes, here, and yes, like this. Don’t fucking argue with me.” Roman buries two fingers into your cunt, pushing them in and out of you slowly, collecting your arousal. “You didn’t think this one through, did you?” 

He drags his slick fingers up and down your folds, feeling you becoming wetter by the second. He circles your clit lazily, rubbing it gently, listening closely to the wet noises you make. Your waiter returns with your meals, and just like you did to Roman, Roman keeps his hands on you. “Better keep it together,” he murmurs in your ear, pulling your skirt back over the front of your thighs. 

Your server sets Roman’s filet in front of him, then your gnocchi down in front of you. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Roman answers. His demeanor has totally shifted. He’s cool, he’s back in control. “What are your desserts tonight? This one here has a pretty severe sweet tooth.”

“Dessert specials,” the server repeats. “I have to think. They change them up on us a lot.”

“Oh, take your time. We’ve got all night. Don’t we, kiddo?” 

“Mhm. Yep.” 

Roman takes a spoonful of his mashed potato side as your waiter thinks. “Tiramisu, of course,” he says. 

“Oh, well. Naturally.” Roman’s fingers slide down until he’s pressing them right against your slick little hole. 

“We have a cookie plate, too. A chocolate and hazelnut mousse cake. And a pineapple angel cake. And gelato.” 

Roman slides his fingers into your tight pussy, pressing them up to search for that spongy spot inside of you. “What flavors?”

“We have caramel butter cake, chocolate cashew raspberry…” 

The server’s voice becomes distant as he recites flavors. You squeak when Roman reaches your g-spot, swallowing your moans as he curls his fingers repeatedly against it. 

“We have sorbets, too.” 

“What sorbets?” Roman asks.

“Mango calamansi, cantaloupe, and lemongrass.” 

“Quite a dessert menu. Well, what do you think, birthday girl?”

“Tiramisu,” you mumble. 

“I didn’t catch that,” the server replies. “What was that?”

Roman answers for you, “She says she wants tiramisu. She’s just shy sometimes. Aren’t you?”

You glare at Roman, who smiles at you, flashing those perfect little teeth of his. His fingers stop suddenly - he has an idea. He cocks an eyebrow when your hips follow his hand, bucking into his palm, “Interesting,” he says, smiling fondly at your desperation. Your face feels hot and you feel out of your depth here. Roman was right to warn you about getting into this, about it being a nice night.

It worries you to see Roman scanning the room and biting his lip. He’s thinking, which is never good. “Roman. Whatever you’re thinking of doing - don’t.” 

Roman ignores your warning. “Keep telling me no and watch what happens,” he warns, then slides under the table with seamless ease. Once under the table, he pushes your thighs apart and pulls you close to the edge of your seat, putting one of your legs over his shoulder. 

He licks your inner thighs, his scruff abrasive against your damp skin. Roman licks you higher and higher, pulling you closer to his waiting mouth where you can feel his hot breath against your core. His head bulges a bit under the white tablecloth, and then you feel it - one long, fat lick of his tongue up your seam. “Ohhh my god,” you moan, garnering a look from someone at a nearby table. You smile and take a sip of your water with shaky hands. 

Roman starts small with little licks, sucking your labia into his mouth. First one side, then the other. His hands rest on your thighs, hot against your skin and squeezing your flesh. He licks over your clit next, then sucks it between his lips. He alternates between those two actions, stopping and starting all over again and again. You want more and less of it, of Roman, all at once.

Roman gently tugs the hood of your clit up, exposing your most sensitive part of yourself to his lips and tongue. He slides his two fingers inside you once more, fucking you on those digits as he sloppily licks your clit. You arch into his touch and reach under the table to hold his head and tug on his hair. “Roman,” you whimper. 

He coaxes release from you effortlessly, patiently using his tongue to draw steady circles on your clit as he curls those long, bony fingers inside you. You bite your lip so hard it breaks skin, squeezing Roman’s head with your thighs and whimpering softly as you feel the beginning of your climax begin to take over. 

Fuck. Your server is back with the tiramisu Roman had ordered for you. “The tiramisu,” he says, placing it on the table. “I apologize, I forgot to ask - do you and your date want coffee to go with dessert?”

“N- nah- no-” you stutter, though it comes out more as a moan as Roman fucks you with his tongue through your orgasm. Roman slaps your thigh and you jump in your seat, earning yourself a strange look from your server. Wrong answer. “Sor - yeah - yes. Yes.” Roman kisses your inner thigh in approval. 

Your poor fucking waiter. He nods wordlessly to go back into the kitchen and retrieve coffee for you and Roman. At the same time, Roman emerges from under the table with his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed and out of place, which is entirely your fault. “Fuck,” you whisper. Hastily, you finger-comb his hair into place. 

Roman grabs a spoon and takes the first bite of the tiramisu. “Mm,” he hums. “Sorry, birthday girl. Dad tax.”

Roman scoops up another bite of tiramisu, then brings the spoon to your lips. You take the bite, your cheeks warming when you taste your arousal on the metal. 

-

It’s quiet in the house when you and Roman come home. He stops briefly in the kitchen to put your leftovers away, then follows you up the steps and into your bedroom. “Need help with your zipper?” 

“Mhm. Please” 

Roman pulls your zipper down your back, then turns you around. Before you can think, he cups your face with both hands and kisses you, really kisses you. It’s no accidental peck on the lips, no. It’s intentional, deep and deliberate. His lips are soft, his tongue melding perfectly together with yours. When he pulls away, you look at him with knitted brows.

“You kissed me first, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Then it’s on the table.” 

Roman kisses you once more, then pulls away again. His eyes are dark and sparkling, and warm, too. He touches the pendant on your chest, holding it between his fingers before rubbing his thumb across the stones. It’s so intimate, and it leaves you breathless and confused. “Good birthday?” 

You nod. Roman smiles at you. 

“I’m glad. Goodnight, kiddo.” 

tysm for reading!! please scream nice and horny things at me if you enjoyed ♡ reblogs, comments, and asks are so appreciated and keep me motivated to write for you guys

tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamili @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh

[leighsartworks216]

Cinderella

Zayne x gn!Reader

Believe it or not, I started this fic before his cat card came out. And then I saw the card and I simply had to finish this

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, married life, established relationship, food/cooking, kissing, implied sexual content

Word Count: 1, 431

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your body is weighed down by morning as you heave yourself to your feet, shivering all the while as the cold air of the room caresses your bare skin. You hurry to throw on the first thing you can find: Zayne’s shirt abandoned on the floor. As you start to button it up, you turn to look at the man himself, still fast asleep on his side of the bed.

His hair is tousled and unkempt, from your fingers and his pillow. His lips slightly parted with slow, even breaths. The blankets are up to his chest. Reddened marks trail from his exposed neck and down his body. You smile just thinking about his usual efforts to try hiding them when he has to go into work. It’s unlikely he’ll wear his turtleneck today, given he doesn’t have to go anywhere. And you’re going to love pulling down his collar to kiss right over them again.

Quietly, you pad your way to your dresser for some fresh underwear, collecting stray clothes as you go to dump them into the hamper. Then, you creep over to his side and carefully pull the blankets back up to his neck. The clock on his bedside table reads 9am. If you’re very lucky, he’ll sleep in until 10. He needs this rest.

You lean down and press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. He shifts slightly, his head turning as if he’s trying to chase your touch. Warmth floods your chest as you sneak out of the bedroom and so, so slowly close the door behind you.

The floor is cold under your feet as you make your way through the house. You make a detour to the entryway to steal Zayne’s own house slippers, left forgotten after you got home from dinner last night. It’s truly a miracle he found the patience to leave his shoes at the door. The slippers don’t fit you, but they protect your feet from the cold as you finally head into the kitchen to enact your devious plan to take care of your husband.

You work as quietly as you can to take down a pan and pull out a spatula. You grab a bowl and lay out all the ingredients you need to make pancakes. You also pull out some blueberries to drop into the batter once it’s all mixed together. With a drizzle of oil in the heated pan, you use a spoon to glob the batter into little piles. They spread out into little discs, almost but not quite touching each other.

You hum to yourself as you grab a couple of plates from the cabinet. You also grab his mug and get the coffee pot started on brewing some fresh, hot coffee. As it brews, you flip the pancakes over, exposing their golden brown deliciousness. They’re thick and fluffy, and you pull out some maple syrup from the fridge to set on the table. Once the pot is brewed, you fill the mug with coffee and top it off with some sugar, just how he likes it.

You lay the first few pancakes onto a plate, setting them in a cute little toppled-domino array, before globbing some more batter into the pan. You cover the bowl and set it in the fridge to finish at a later time. You consider the possibility of giving it to Xavier, but he’d need to use a stove to make them… Best not.

Once the next batch is done, you lay them onto your own plate and crack two eggs into the pan. Their liquid insides meet the heated metal with a pleasant sizzle. You turn down the heat a little, and watch as the eggs begin to cook.

“So that’s where my slippers went.”

You whirl around to the kitchen entrance. “Zayne! You can’t just sneak up on me like that!” you chastise.

He grins as he closes the distance between you. His hair is still a mess, but at least he took the time to pull on his robe. You lean up, and he meets you halfway for a soft kiss. It’s quick, just a little peck - but it’s sweet and tender and makes your heart leap with joy, even after you’ve been together for so long.

“You forgot your slippers in the bedroom.” He holds them up with one hand, where they dangle from two of his fingers.

You glance at the eggs quickly. “Yeah, well, I didn’t wanna risk waking up Sleeping Beauty,” you tease. You reach up to grab at his ear, but he easily ducks away. “You’re not even supposed to be up yet.” You then grab for your slippers, but he also pulls those out of your reach.

“I needed to find my Cinderella,” he teases back. “May I?” He gestures down to your feet, adorned in his slippers. You give him a suspicious look - it’s not often he’s so playful - but you nod, nonetheless. Your cheeks instantly grow warm as you watch him slowly kneel down in front of you, hazel green eyes locked to yours. He looks up at you like you are royalty meant to be worshipped.

You shift away from the stove enough to lean back against the marble countertop. It’s cold chill does nothing to tamp down the heated blood coursing through your veins. Zayne’s eyes slip shut as he pushes the dangling hem of his stolen shirt up to expose the skin of your thigh. His mouth immediately seeks it out, pressing featherlight kisses just below the line of your underwear and down your leg.

His fingers follow a similar pattern. They dance along your skin gracefully, almost tickling you as they travel to the back of your thigh, slowly gliding down all the way to your calf. His mouth stops at your knee. His hot breath fans over your bare skin, reverent and appreciative, exhaled from his nose, or from his mouth just as he goes in to leave another kiss.

His hand trails lower to your ankle. His thumb massages around the jutting bone, coaxing you to shift your weight and lift your foot up. With his other hand, he removes his slipper and sets it aside. His eyes open slightly to ensure he picks up the correct replacement; to watch as he slides the slipper tenderly onto your foot. “A perfect match,” he whispers.

You reach down to comb your fingers through his hair, detangling and smoothing it out so it sits normally on his head again. You can feel his grin. You’re tempted to grab his ear again just to mess with him.

He guides your foot back to solid ground. His lips find your other thigh, his hand finds your other ankle, and he helps you back onto one foot as he trades slippers once more. He meets your eyes again as he stands, and you feel like you can breathe again.

Suddenly reminded of what you were doing before this, you hurriedly flip the eggs over. “You almost made me burn breakfast,” you chide, but your face is so flushed, it doesn’t come across as seriously as you wish it did.

He unceremoniously slides his slippers onto his feet with a self-satisfied grin and a soft chuckle. His arms wrap around your waist, his chest to your back as he hugs you from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder with his head tilted to lean against yours. Your free hand finds one of his over your stomach. Fingers move in a familiar dance to tangle together. You trace the cool band on his ring finger. He watches the morning light catch on yours.

“Thank you, my love,” he hums, content.

You kiss his head. “Of course. I wanted to do something nice for your day off.” You have to let him go in order to transfer the eggs (slightly overcooked) to your plates. He automatically turns the stove off, watching to make sure you don’t accidentally burn yourself. “What do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

He steps away, arms slipping from your body, to move about the kitchen. While you grab the plates and carry them over to the table, he grabs his coffee and takes a careful sip of the hot liquid. It’s just as he likes it. He carries it over with a glass of fruit juice that he sets in front of your plate.

“Anything,” he responds at last. “As long as it’s with you.”

You chuckle. “Alright, then we’ll stay in bed all day.”

He smiles. “That sounds perfect.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[atierrorian]

The Aroma of a True Delicacy

PARING: Lilia Vanrouge x reader Synopsis: You'll be the one cooking from now on. Warning: Lilia's cooking, chaotic shit going on at the end. Note: Silver is only a child, [Name] is implied female.

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You love Lilia, truly. He and Silver are the best thing that has ever happened to you and you would never trade them for the world. But there is one thing you would trade, however…

You would gladly trade Lilia's cooking skills.

As much as you love Lilia, his foods are not exactly edible… If anything, he probably used it once on one of the poor victims he captured when he was still a Veteran War General. Dying was a much better option than having to eat what Lilia had in store for them…

He even managed to burn water once, WATER! How does one burn water??

You shuddered, thinking of that one time when you tried to teach Lilia how to do the basics of cooking. It failed miserably and it ended up in a disaster where it took you hours to clean up. Never again. You've learned your lesson and it's that teaching Lilia is futile.

And giving spices to Lilia has major consequences. It never ends well for any individual nearby.

So that's why, you'll be the one cooking from now on! Even though you probably should have from the beginning - I guess you just wanted to see Lilia make some progress. But it really doesn't look like he'll be making any time soon. You already told Silver that you'll be the one making breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And safe to say, he was glad, really, really glad. As much as he loves his Father, his cooking is on a whole new level of poison.

It would probably even rival that of the Evil Queen's renowned poisonous apple.

So, when morning rolled over, you woke up earlier than Lilia, got out of his hold on you, and quickly headed to the kitchen. Silver was still fast asleep and you had all the time in the world to prepare a meal. But first, you needed to clean the kitchen because damn was it a mess.

But it wasn't something you couldn't handle. So with a determined smile, you quickly got to cleaning.

.

.

.

And with a final wipe on the counter, you were finally done with cleaning and you stood proud of your work. a few small beaded sweats came down on your face- but you quickly wiped it off and decided to wash your face and hands before cooking. Hygiene is after all important.

You looked at the time; 6:50.

"Whew, I should really start now" You muttered and grabbed your apron and tied it around your waist.

You decided to make a simple yet tasty pancakes with strawberries and blueberries as the toppings with sweet glaze honey syrup and some whipped cream on the side. And to top it all off with some sugar. When you were finished, the aroma of the pancakes was radiating off the kitchen- it could be smelled from outside the kitchen even.

You made three in total, one for you, one for Lilia, and one for Silver.

When you checked the time again, it was now 7:10, just in time.

You took off the apron and hung it back on the hook. You grabbed three glasses and set them on the table. You have never been so proud of your cooking until now. You heard footsteps coming to the kitchen and saw Silver with his stuffed squirrel standing by the double door frame; looking sleepy as ever.

"Mom… what is that tasty smell…" Silver yawned and walked to the table and sat on one of the chairs. I ruffled his silver hair. Silver groaned and pouted. I chuckled at his reaction before sitting beside him.

"Well, breakfast dear. I had to wake up early for this you know? Plus, I did say I would be the one cooking from now on…" Silver excitedly nodded. And with a smile, he placed the stuffed squirrel onto his lap and took the fork.

"Oh? Someone is a little excited" You chuckled before reminding him to go wash his hands first; he nodded and got up before running to the sink to wash his hands. Such a cute little kid.

You were about to eat pancakes that were on the fork before you felt something heavy on your head and a pair of arms that found themselves on your waist. But even then, you ate the piece of pancake before setting down the fork and looking up.

"Hm? How rude of my dear wife to not wake me up for breakfast…" Lilia dramatically sighed. You rolled your eyes at him.

"I'd figured you'd be awake by this time" Lilia took a seat next to you and looked at the pancakes before looking at you.

"Your meals are always so delicious [Name]! I expect nothing less from my beloved wife!" Lilia exclaimed proudly. His bold comment made you flustered and you nodded.

Silver came back with clean hands and sat back on his chair. Silver looked at his parents and wondered why his Mother's face was so red.

"Mama, do you have a fever?"

Lilia laughed whilst you felt even more embarrassed.

"N-no, Silver… Just a bit embarrassed is all…" Silver nodded before picking up the fork again and taking a piece of the pancake.

"By the way Lilia, I'll be the one cooking from now on"

"Aw, but I enjoy cooking :("

"I know but, your cooking is a health hazard"

"Finee…"

You both laughed while Silver looked confused and probably thought the two of you were crazy and just continued eating.

THE END

BONUS:

"AHHHH, LILIA!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING???? WHY ARE YOU COOKING IN THE DIASOMNIA DORM?? I THOUGHT WE AGREED YOU WOULDN'T COOK ANYMORE!!"

"Aw but [Name]! I feel like I've really improved!"

"The kitchen is on fire"

Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[themosthatedbeingg]

// GOING FERAL OVER THE JEREMY JORDAN LIVE STREAM

he loves blueberry pancakes is a Dallas fan there’s a rock song in season 2 he’s a huge fan of, he’s all about it ~ he can’t confirm NOR deny if he’s in season 2 or not but the way he said Def implies he’s in it ;

he loves the ducks , Lucifer is just short he’s just a short king .

[marshmallowprotection]

What do you think would be each character’s favorite flavor of cake?

You know what, this is a brilliant question, but I think I'm going to answer it based on vibes rather than trying to break down the semantics of why a character might enjoy a certain flavor over another.

Jaehee

Angel's Food Cake! You thought I was going to say that she would love coffee cake, didn't you? I feel like her favorite kind of dessert is one that is gentle on the tongue. You can't go wrong with fresh fruit and a gentle sponge. I imagine it might take her back to her childhood with her parents and what's better than that? It's nice to have a good memory. I know she makes a lot of different things for her cafe, but for whatever reason, I always think she enjoys the most gentle things.

Zen

Hotteok. Street Pancakes. He just isn't the kind of person who eats a lot of sweets, but I know he loves to visit different vendors because he has a lot of friends who have gotten out of gang life and end up making food for others. I think the closest you can get to him enjoying a suite is something he could pick up from a friend. They can be stuffed with different things, but I think brown sugar and cinnamon might be his go-to! I think they can add nuts too!

Yoosung

Funfetti Cake! I know what you're going to say, I can already hear you, why did I give him the flavor that would make him look like a kid who hasn't tried different things before? Well, I raise you the idea that sometimes people like what they like and it doesn't matter if it seems childish to you, he knows what he likes, and it happens to be sprinkles in his cake batter. You can't go wrong with it at the end of the day.

Jumin

Cheesecake! I just can't see him eating a cake for some reason. That's not to say that he doesn't like them, it's just that when I tried to imagine what he would like to enjoy, I came to the same conclusion. He wants a cheesecake slice and some coffee to go with it. He likes to indulge in the flavor now and again and I think that makes sense for him.

Saeyoung

Red Velvet. Again, I don't know what it is about him, but I feel like he really enjoys cream cheese frosting. The only thing that gets me with this is that in one of the folders that you can purchase from the marketplace, there's a birthday cake with blueberries and strawberries. Which implies to me that he likes blueberries, but there's no other evidence to back that up and there's nothing in the world that says he couldn't put blueberries on any cake so I've decided he's just going to put blueberries on red velvet cake.

Jihyun

Tiramisu! I feel like this makes sense and I don't even need to explain it because the people who get it—will get it and the people who won't—won't. There's just something about him sitting in the back of a cafe with a plate of tiramisu on one side and a scathing 10th grade essay on the other where he's going to argue up and down some sort of pretentious conclusion to an art piece. I'm going to say I support it because he's so goofy, but I can't unsee this.

Saeran

Strawberry Shortcake! The game points this out for me and I don't think I can argue with that. Although, I will say Unknown did have a drawing for his birthday where he had a big Black Forest cake. But, I don't know if that's his favorite, considering that there was a bottle of wine in the picture and I had a bad feeling about who set out a birthday display for him to begin with and why they picked what they picked. In any case, give this man some strawberry shortcake.

Rika

Devil's Food Cake! I didn't pick this because I thought it would be a funny joke. I picked this because she seems like somebody who likes to indulge. She decided she was going to unleash her devil and not let anybody stop her from enjoying herself, no matter what that meant for the people around her who suffered because of it, and tasting a very rich, dense chocolate cake is a representation of that sentiment.

Vanderwood

Carrot Cake! I don't even really have an explanation for this one other than it just feels right. I don't see them as somebody who enjoys a lot of sweets, but if they're going to have something, the most nostalgic thing they could think of would be something from their childhood, and I just think that's carrot cake.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

soft lips and blueberry pancakes

by luisasfalsegod “That’s right you’re my pretty boy. My good boy. Mine.” Henry says as he watches his husband's face light up with the power of a thousand suns. Alex looks up at Henry. He’s partially starry-eyed. The way Alex’s praise kink affects him will never cease to amaze Henry. Fuck, he loves it. “D‘you wanna help me put my hair clips in tomorrow?“ Alex asks him. “That would honestly be fuckin‘ adorable and I‘ll show you how, but of course only if you want to.” “I‘d love that, Alexander. Always so pretty for me,” Henry says as he caresses Alex’s curls and feels his husband turn into putty in his arms. Or tooth rotting husbands morning fluff based on that TZP picture Words: 3173, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Married Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Pancakes, Mornings, Kissing, seriously so much kissing, overuse of the word baby, Fucking Eyelashes, Henry is taller (book height) and carries Alex, Alex also carries Henry they’re insufferable, Firstprince are so in love author feels sick, Beta-read, Canon Compliant, Hair Clips, Implied Sexual Content via https://ift.tt/OkzXljg

[drpeppertummy]

Endless sunny pls

tiny little thang 4 u my friend

[tail end of stuffing, tummyache]

Sunny was beginning to wonder if somebody was dumping more food on his plate when he wasn't looking. He felt like he must've eaten five pounds of potatoes by now, but the pile before him never seemed to grow smaller. His full belly let out a whining grumble, and he placed one hand on it. It felt like a bowling ball. He scooped up another forkful of home fries.

The diner was infamous for its large portions. Most people left with more food in their boxes than in their distended bellies, set on meals for the next two days. Sunny was infamous for attempting to avoid the boxes. He was small and slight, and the plate on the table was larger than his entire abdomen, but that wasn't going to stop him--not from trying, at least. He and Laurie had decided to go out for breakfast that morning, and he'd ordered a stack of blueberry pancakes with a side of home fries. The pancakes alone were more than enough to fill his skinny tummy, but he could never resist the allure of the potatoes. Now, with a seemingly endless heap of them sitting before him, he was wondering whether they had been a good idea.

"Why don't you take the rest home?" Laurie suggested, reaching out to poke his bulging tummy. "You look stuffed."

"I'm fine," he said. She rolled her eyes. Sunny would eat a rock off the ground if she implied that he shouldn't.

"Make yourself sick, then. See if I care." Sunny stuck his tongue out at her and they both returned to their breakfast.

Laurie was enjoying a plate of French toast with strawberries. It was one of the few items on the menu that were possible to finish in one sitting, and she was on her final slice of toast. Sunny still had half a stack of pancakes and a pile of home fries that seemed to be regenerating after each bite. While Laurie was feeling comfortably full, Sunny felt absolutely stuffed. His stomach bulged hard against his sweater, and his belt, which had fit his narrow waist perfectly when they'd sat down, was becoming painfully tight around his now-distended middle. He wasn't sure how much more his belly could take, but after his brief chat with Laurie, he decided he had to try.

Laurie watched as Sunny struggled with his enormous breakfast. She was taking her time finishing up her own, knowing there was no rush; they'd be there all morning if Sunny was hell-bent on cleaning his plate. She glanced down at his belly. It was chilly out, and he was wearing a thick, cozy, oversized sweater. She thought it looked adorable on him; he was practically swimming in it, and it had concealed the shape of his skinny torso entirely when she'd picked him up that morning. Now, the curve of his bloated tummy pushed out against the fabric. Her eyes wandered back up to his face, and her brow furrowed. He looked miserable, although he was clearly trying to hide it. His poor belly must have ached terribly, and the food had clearly lost its appeal.

"Sunny." Laurie reached out and gently took the fork from his hand. Ordinarily, he would have put up a fight, but right now, he just didn't have it in him. He looked up at her, trying to put on an annoyed expression but instead looking ill and exhausted.

When the waitress returned, Laurie cut Sunny off to ask for a box, which was met with a pouty stink eye from her overstuffed friend. Still, he never would have admitted it, but he was relieved. He didn't think his tummy could take another bite.

[that1videogameplayer]

Red Flags in the SDJ Demo that I spotted Part #1

"You better get used to it because I'm not going anywhere"-Jack could mean a foreshadow of how hard it is to get rid of Jack and what terrible acts Jack will commit just to stay with MC.

Jack made blueberry pancakes when there was no blueberries in MC's fridge. So he either can materialize objects as he pleases. Which is terrifiying, imagine you are Jack's victim and Jack just materlizes a sharp knife out of nowhere and dematerilzes the knife once he's done with you,

"I never have to leave if you don't want me to. And if you didn't want me to, I don't think I ever will"-Jack. After Jack says that, his embrace grows tighter, more posessive, more colder, and distant. His mask is slipping, a little sneak peak of the yandere deep down that sunny persona of his.

"What would you do without me?"-Jack. Seems like he is planting small seeds to make him look useful and trying to make MC feel dependent on him so he won't leave.

Jack has followed MC to work without MC noticing, only showing himself when the boss leaves MC. Lowkey, I see this is as a sense of control, he is there all the time with MC not leaving MC to reflect on what just happened with them and Jack, fearing that maybe MC night pick up on what is wrong. So, Jack is there to distract MC from that in a disguise of just keeping them company and when someone else shoots the'r shot with MC, Jack would know and can get rid of that challenger.

Jack confessing his "love" to MC dispite only knowing MC for a few months, abusers usually rush through the dating process to trap the victim into the relationship, so it would be harder for the victim to get out. Jack doesn't even know who MC's friends are and even asks who's Ian, or who's this when Shaun arrives at MC's place implying he doesn't even know MC as well as he might think.

When Jack asks about Ian and MC's dialoge is "I didn't even tell him who Ian is" either Jack has been eavesdropping or snooping around either way, that's a big boundary crossing for me. Shows that the partner don't even respect your boundary, let alone will respect what you have to say in the future.

"Do you want me to make him go away for you?"-Jack. Pretty self explantory, prehaps foreshadowing how he's going to get rid of those he deems a pesty friend in MC's life.

"Nobody who can do what he's done to you knows what love even is"-Jack. First Jack asks who Ian is, than he talks like he knows what happened between MC and Ian. Seems like he only asks who Ian to confirm his suspections about who Ian is.

MC was last awake when Jack is talking about getting rid of Ian and than wakes up suddenly on their bed with Jack's jacket around them and has no memory on how that happened? Suspicious!

Anybody who spotted anymore red flags are welcome to comment below, if they wish!

[babydin]

- Joel Miller X AFAB partner - 18+, minors DNI! - Joel's POV. - Child death implied, depressive thoughts of a middle aged grump, no smut just fluff, but implies that it leads there so consume at your own risk. - 627 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! - Joel doesn't want to celebrate his birthday, until the thought of unwrapping you changes his mind. - A/N: Wrote this to celebrate Joel's birthday. Happy birthday you piece of shit. I love writing in Joel's POV, so I would love more requests for this. Or even Javi G as a challenge!

Now, I was minding my very own business and I was going to continue to do so until the day was well and truly over but the promise of pancakes did put me in quite a predicament.

The sound cuts through me like a knife. Having one good ear meant the sounds I fucking hate are even harsher and make my brain itchy. It must be the ass-crack of dawn and she always fucking does this. She knows I don’t like making a big song-and-dance on my birthday, my birthday was the day the outbreak reached critical mass and here we are still fighting off shit-faced zombie motherfuckers and trying to rebuild civilization, not knowing if life will ever be the same again. It’s also Sarah’s remembrance day. I’d give all of my birthdays to have her back just for an hour.   And yet here she is, with one of those noise blowers that I swear I throw out every goddamn year, and a scratchy vinyl of the Beatles singing about how it’s my birthday, and I take one pillow and launch it at her while the other comes up over my head and I hope if I stay there long enough she’ll get the hint that I ain’t playing. “Happy birthday, Mr Miller.” Is it? What’s happy about it? The world is in ruins, and I’m another year older and it’s completely against my will at this point. “I made you blueberry pancakes.” Now, I was minding my very own business and I was going to continue to do so until the day was well and truly over but the promise of pancakes did put me in quite a predicament. I hated my birthday, I hated the fuss, I hated getting older, I hated missing Sarah, unfortunately for me though, I liked blueberry pancakes. I liked blueberry pancakes quite a lot.  I force my eyes open and she’s smilin’ down at me with that goddamn noise maker in one hand and a plate of blueberry pancakes in the other, dripping with maple syrup, her hair scraped back into a messy bun, her pyjamas all askew but I’ll be a son of a gun if she ain’t worth livin’ for. “You turn that shit off?” The Beatles aren’t bad, I just don’t want Paul McCartney squawkin’ at me and reminding me every second that it’s my birthday. “You’ll sit up for blueberry pancakes but not for me?” I’d do a lot more than sit up for her. ”Ellie awake?” She shakes her head and there’s a twinkle in her eye as she hands me the plate of pancakes, “No, why? You want your present?” I don’t like to be presumptuous, I ain’t never expecting shit on my day but the way those words come out of that pretty mouth I can’t help but wonder if – “What is it?” Sometimes my sweet thing runs her fingers through my hair in a way that really feels like it goes deep down into the creases of my brain, and I’m telling you now if I were a dog, my hind leg would be crankin’ like I was tryin’ to start a motorcycle. “That’s the point of a present,” she tells me, “you have to unwrap it.” That girl of mine stands by the side of the bed like she’s waiting on me to do something, and as usual I do the wrong thing and take a bite of the pancakes because the blueberries smell good and the syrup is making my mouth water but she smiles like she finds my idiocy endearing and I thank god she does because someone’s gotta. “Are you– are you my present?” She climbs in my lap and although I try and protect my plate of blueberry pancakes (if she expects me to share, she can whistle. It is my birthday after all) my day just got a little bit better. “Yes, Joel. I am your present. Happy birthday, you grumpy fuck.”

[chemistryread]

disclaimers/tags: female oc. written as a reader insert but reader has a lot of backstory. slowburn. angst. cheating. implied domestic violence. minors dni.

a/n: idk i’m just kinda writing this story as i feel like lol have fun

right cowboy, wrong time

rhett abbott

part 1

summary: you’re not home and your boyfriend’s a dick. thankfully, not all cowboys are bad.

part 3

Danielle tells you Rhett came by the diner multiple times, only stopping once she finally felt sorry for him and told him you two traded shifts permanently.

Workings nights is shit. People are in worse moods, tired from a long day. There are more drunk teenagers and wandering creeps.

It was calculated.

He called Lenny and asked for the change. By the end of your work hours you were tired and unsettled, with your guard up. All you wanted was to go home, shower and read a book.

Whoever tried to butter you up would back off the second they saw your busted lip and sunken eyes.

Not only that, but the Abbott family were early risers. They woulnd't stop by the diner after 7 p.m., most importantly Rhett, who was already drinking by then.

Sure, he would have to be up late to pick you up, but it was worth the abundant feeling of power.

There wasn't much you could do. He made your life a little worse, so you had to sweeten him to 'gain his trust' back.

Sometimes he'll let you go to the rodeo. You'll snuggle up to him. Smile in between your kisses. Let him pick you up after he wins a bet and keep his hand in the back pocket of your jeans. You have new, appropriate boots. Pancakes are not your favorite breakfast anymore, keeping the blueberrys only.

You always leave before Rhett's turn.

Usually, you'll ask to go to the bathroom, claiming to have a full bladder despite not drinking at all. Call it whatever it is, but you like to go in the last stall that doesn't work, close your eyes and ask for the universe to protect him. And if he wins something by the end of the night, that would be nice too.

You were planning on hearing the gossip from the patrons who came in for late night coffee with rum as soon as the winner was announced.

You were planning on hearing the gossip from the patrons who came in for late night coffee with rum as soon as the winner was announced.

You were planning on hearing the gossip from the patrons who came in for late night coffee with rum as soon as the winner was announced.

Instead, you get to see the check in person.

Rhett walks in a sweaty mess, muddy boots painting the floor. For a moment, you truly consider hiding under the counter, in between the bags of flour and sugar.

Thankfully, Danielle was in need of extra cash and was covering some nights with you. She tells you to take a break and escape to the back.

Some other time you have to ask her when exactly she picked up that you and him meant trouble.

Sitting on the steps, elbows on your knees and hands over your eyes, you laugh when his voice cuts through the peaceful sound of crickets.

"I'm not here for a milkshake, you know."

The delicious twang of his accent makes you want to scratch at your own skin, then you'll have a perfect excuse for its redden tinge.

"Congratulations."

The metal in his boots clinks with every slow step forward, blue eyes defiantly stuck on you.

"How d'you know I won?"

He stops right in front of you, hands behind his back, toothpick in between sharp white teeth. Who knew you could ever like being leered at by a man nearly shoving his crotch in your face.

"You're enunciating your words."

Rhett cackles, throwing his head back, greasy strands of blonde hair sticking to his neck where a stubble grows. Fuck.

"You mean I'm finally oozing with confidence?"

Tongue playing with the toothpick.

"Or cockiness. Same thing." Shutting his eyes, he nods before taking a seat next to you, forcing you to scoot on the step, not bothering to contain the natural spread of his legs. "I knew you had it in you."

"The cockiness or the ability to win?"

You want to say both. You want to say you care more for the attitude, the talking back, the flirting. But your noses are so close, and his eyes are pretty…

So you simply shrug and smile, turning your head 180 degrees.

Deep breath in.

"I missed you."

Mumbling again.

"You know where to find me."

"You changed shifts."

"Collaborative decision."

Please understand. We can't.

"Leave him." Now, you throw your head back to laugh. "What? Why not? I'm not saying run away with me, I'm just saying you should do better."

"Oh, thank you for enlightening me." Frustration grows inside of your chest. You shouldn't even be talking to him. If any nosy patrons put together him walking in and your absence, it wouldn't be too hard for your boyfriend to hear about it and blow things out of proportion. "Do you honestly think it's that simple? Answer me."

He chokes under your fiery look.

"No, no, of course not." He squeezes the pair of gloves on his hands, before angrily slapping them against his thighs. Your thoughts shouldn't be going to where they are right now. "I just mean- It can't be worse than this? Away from home, your dream, your friends. Letting him dictate when you work, where you go and who you talk to. I don't know much, but I know you can't be happy like this."

A wrinkle forms between his brows and you desperately want to smooth it out.

He's had a couple of beers, that much is obvious, and you hope it's the right amount for him to absorb what you're going to tell him but also slightly forget tomorrow.

"I don't have anyone, okay? No one to support me. His dad helped me get into my dream school, pay for a comfortable life until I could hold my own. Eventually, I landed a scholarship for the final year. He didn't like the thought that I wouldn't depend on his family anymore, so he made me take a very long break, saying I need to focus on 'us' again. Consequently, I lost the scholarship. I still have a year left."

He's thinking, and you shiver with the night breeze. Terrified of what his mind is brewing, you clarify.

"It wasn't always this bad. Or at least I never saw it that way. We were high school sweethearts, for fuck's sake. We met when he moved to Boston on his senior year, his dad obviously holding high expectations for his college education. He was polite, and promising. And he liked me for who I was, not what I looked like. Little did I know he was grooming me into a fucking perfect housewife. Forget I said that- What I mean is that I didn't intend on leeching off of his dad or his money. I thought he loved me. And for someone who's never been loved before, that's a big reason to do things. Anything."

"What are you gonna do?"

He sounds so sober, and he looked so happy before you started talking. You keep nailing it, idiot.

"I was gonna though it out. Be here, on this break, for as long as he wanted me and hope he doesn't decide to break it off." You shrug and he winces, waiting for you to say the plans have changed. "But…I just can't. I'm tired. Luckily, a nice man helped me find a decent job and, along with some other money I have saved, I'm inching closer to what I need to finish school and pay for myself."

You're graced with a genuine, albeit shy, smile after your last sentence.

This time you don't hesitate before lifting a finger and pushing the stray slick hair behind his ear. His breath hitches, loud enough for you to hear and your heart to annoyingly skip a beat.

Reaching into his pockets, thin lips turn into a frown as he pulls out the winner's prize. A check.

"It's not much, but if it helps you get away from that fucking prick's grip it counts for something."

You jump up at the absurdity of his suggestion.

"Rhett, no!"

"I don't mind."

"Well I do! You earned that, you won it, it's yours. If anybody deserves it, it's you-"

"You didn't even see me ride, maybe my competition was shit-"

"I can't, Rhett, no. I'm doing just fine working here, I've got this. Don't."

"If you don't take it, I'll just show up here and leave it as a tip, maybe ten bucks a day. But I think there's a blonde nut who's not gonna appreciate that."

He's looking up, devilish smirk and devious eyes mocking your distressed state.

Standing, he puts the piece of paper back inside his pocket, and you sigh in relief. But soon he breaks into a squeaky laugh, and you're squinting at him. What is up with him tonight?

"What are you laughing at?"

Your arms unfold and your jaw slacks a bit when he tells you.

"You've never said my name before. I like it. Especially when you're mad."

He leaves, and you refuse to watch, still dumbfounded at everything that happened in the span of twenty five minutes. Which is a lot longer than you should’ve left Dani alone, so you force your brain to get back to life and run up the steps, back inside to help her with the drunker than usual crowd.

When your boyfriend picks you up, you pretend to nap all the way home, eyes shut so you can relive every electric instance between you and Rhett that night.

You blame exhaustion when asked why you took so long in the shower, turning off the lights so your boyfriend doesn't see your blushing cheeks when you remember the feeling of your fingers arching inside of you. It's a great night of sleep.

On Monday, an envelope full of cash waits for you at Lenny's office. His face says 'I don't even want to know'.

There's a note inside.

'Forgot your tip'.

—————————

Two weeks later, it's the 4th of July and the entire community is buzzing with small America glee.

Belonging wasn't a hugely familiar feeling for you, so you enjoyed watching everyone get excited to celebrate the holiday together. You considered calling your friends from school to check in on them, but figured they'd be too busy in their expensive vacation homes.

Lenny was not immune to the cosmic energy surrounding the town, giving you guys the weekend off. There would be a bunch of vendors all over, hardly anyone would seek out the diner for once, so he wasn't even bothering opening up.

You volunteered to take both shifts, but he called you silly and 'ordered' you to have some fun.

Wasting time around the mansion with the distant family of your boyfriend was awkward. His dad was the sweetest one to you, but from afar. His mom ignored anyone who wasn't her sons, and the boys were insufferable so you stayed clear of their way.

You were currently hanging by the pool, glad the boys were busy with work on the field and your mother-in-law dozed off after her third Long Island.

The sun is not too bright, there's a breeze and the calming sound of the pool cleaner going off. A book is open on your lap.

Rhett Abbott is the only thing your brain seems to want to focus on. For every paragraph you read, a slightly varied speck of blue from his eyes flashes through your mind.

You're scared of it, truthfully.

Of developing deeper feelings for another family boy, bull rider, youngest brother. They tend to not be good with…emotions. You're bad enough on your own.

It's worse, too, because you actually simpathyze with his family. Thinking about the uninhibited Amelia immediately comforts you. This is not good at all.

It wasn't the point. The future is not here, but in Boston, where you'll finish school and hopefully stay away from men completely.

Your phone buzzes on your stomach. You pick it up to texts from Danielle. She wants to know if you'll be at the fair this afternoon. Her kid wants to go on all of the inflatables with her school mates and she might need assistance.

Of course, you tell her.

The boys are more excited for the rodeo. There are no prizes or score keeping this time, just a celebratory show.

It's an excuse to get away from them, who told you they are not kids anymore and prefer to say home drinking until it's time for the real event.

Sure, it crosses your mind. He's an Abbott. He'll be there, undoubtedly.

All day, you run up and down with your coworker and friend, letting the other moms follow the kids on the Carroussel and the Ferris Wheel while you two quickly sneak away to drink sangrias.

You haven't laughed this hard in a long time. It's completely different from what you do with your friends from home, and part of you is endeared by it. A part you didn't know existed.

Shiree, Dani's kid, is one of the funniest little kids you've ever had the pleasure of helping babysit. Her mom says it's not from her (absent) father, so she's a natural, which makes you love her even more.

Later, the three of you are sitting at a picnic table, taking a break to eat terribly greasy and tasty food - your boyfriend would be repulsed by you right now and you consider eating more - when someone calls out your name.

It's Amelia. Her blue eyes are the size of golf balls, on the verge of tears, and her voice is so shaky it tears your heart in half.

Instinctively, your arms spread open and she walks right into them, small hands closing around the back of your neck. You smooth her blonde hair comfortingly, asking what's the matter.

"I can't find my dad."

Danielle sighs across the table, gathering your things quickly and lifting Shiree - who shyly waves to Amy - on her arms.

"We'll help you look, alright?"

You stick together, Amelia's painted nails digging into the palm of your hand, peeking over the crowd as you walk through the large field.

After a few minutes, you spot Cecilia, the matriarch, standing up next to a picnic table, talking animatedly to another family.

On your tip-toes, you point her out to the little girl chewing the inside of her cheek, relief obvious in your voice.

Dani and Shiree follow behind as you take Amy in the direction of her grandmother. On the way, you notice the rest of the Abbotts sitting on the table.

Amelia has to tug you forward to unstuck your feet from the ground.

Rhett's eyes are already drinking you in.

Approaching the table, you have an uncomfortable smile on your face, nodding at the men and choosing to explain yourself to the older woman.

"What is this? We sent you to get corn ten minutes ago and you come back with a group and no food?"

"Oh." She's not mad, clearly joking, but you're still confused. "She said she was lost."

The corn stand was right next to your table. Shiree was eating some. There was no way Amelia could have missed it. Why didn't she tell you to help her find it, instead of her father?

You're looking down at the child, who quickly recovers from her panicked state and shrugs before letting go of your hand. Danielle is holding her laughter next to you.

An older man, who you assume to be Royal, the boys' father, speaks up in a resounding voice. "Why didn't you call us? I gave you my phone for this sort of thing."

The blonde girl shrugs again, standing on her knees on the bench. "Forgot I had it."

Perry exchanges a look with his daughter, shaking his head, and you ignore Dani elbowing you in the ribs.

"Dad, can Shiree stay?"

"You mean, can uncle Rhett's friend stay, don't you?"

"Well, we can't tell her to go away, they came together."

Cecilia chuckles and pushes you towards the table. "You're clearly welcome, dear."

You're not so sure. Rhett's arms are crossed and he's not looking at you.

Conveniently, your phone rings.

"Hey." You're not sure you want your boyfriend to save you out of this one. It's been a good day. Immediately, he asks who's around and why you're not addressing him properly. "Sorry, baby, the signal is kinda bad."

Shiree has already jumped out of her mother's arms and found her place next to Amelia, both discussing which game to play on her grandfather's phone. Dani's making small talk with Perry, pulling two chairs to the table. You meet Rhett's eyes and he smiles softly.

"You know what? Really bad reception here. We're eating, Shiree found a friend…Just text me when you're ready to go. Bye."

You'll answer to your rudeness later. For now, you take the plastic chair next to Dani with a barely contained grin.

The next few hours fly by swiftly, it's almost sad. You have a great time breaking down Royal's strong man front alongside Amelia and Shiree, stomach hurting with how much you laugh at their antics. Cecilia tells you she hasn't seem him this open in a while, and you feel a weird sense of pride.

Dani, Perry and Rhett are on their own separate world. The latter doesn't exchange a word with you, despite a number of stolen glances throughout the afternoon.

At one point, Amelia jokes his favorite attraction is not the mechanical bull, but the tunnel of love (which they don't even have) and you can only imagine you're matching his pink cheeks. He blames his brother for the way his daughter freely mocks him.

All good things come to an end, and your phone pings three times in a row in your back pocket, and you know it's over. Taking it out, it's dark enough that the screen highlights your disappointed expression.

You get up, stretching your arms out, not missing the way Rhett's eyes follow the movement.

"My ride's here." You hug Amelia goodbye very tightly, before turning back to Dani. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Sorry angel, she's tired, which means I'm destroyed."

Kissing her head and Shiree's cheek, you gather yourself to leave.

"I'll see the rest of you at the rodeo, I'm assuming?" The family nods, all a little tipsy. Stifling a laugh, you quietly but boldly turn to Rhett before leaving. "Good luck tonight."

He acknowledges you, a little surprised. But not more than you when he briefly takes your hand, fingers grazing in an awkward move. No one notices, and he turns back to the table immediately. You walk away with a smile and weak legs.

There's not much to do when you arrive at the arena.

Just a few hours after you left, the Abbots made their way to the stands, waiting to watch their son. Royal has a questionable look on his face when he notices who you're sitting next to and that pride you felt earlier goes down the drain.

You and him got pretty tipsy throughout the day, he at home with his brothers and you at the fair with Danielle, and neither of you are stopping anytime soon.

Being a city girl, you can hold your liquor. Your boyfriend, however, finally breaks into his clingy self. His hands are all over your body. You keep trying to push him off subtly under the excuse of talking to the group of girls with you but he's very persistent.

The boys sent the girls to get the next round and you're walking with them, excitedly nodding to one of them when rapid summer rain surprises all of you. Laughing at their groans and yelps, you lend the blonde complaining about her hair your coat and tell them to just go back to the stands, you'll get the drinks, it's fine.

While waiting, someone playfully kicks the soles of your crossed shoes. Heat spreads through you despite your soaked clothes.

"Got my tip?"

He's so close to you, speaking so low into your ear, breathing down your neck.

You throw a quick glance behind your back, tip of your nose an inch away from his, and you notice his half-lidded eyes. A smile threatens to appear so you interrupt it with a huff.

"You know I did. Dick."

He slides aside, leaning his forearm on the counter where you wait for the nice lady to bring your beers, playfully bumping you in the shoulder and looking up at you from under his hat. It's insufferably effective when he does that.

"Think you mean 'thank you'. Dontcha?"

You hate the way these types of western men garble their words. You hate even more that you want Rhett to get behind you again and tell you all the things he could do to warm your drenched body.

The two of you have been staring at each other for a minute, so you recollect yourself, meaning it when you thank him.

"Thank you." In your drunken state, you stretch the sentiment. "It's an insane person thing to do and I don't deserve how good you are, and it's secretly eating me alive…but thank you."

Blue eyes shine in what you hope is adoration, as he smiles at your excessive sharing.

The nice lady comes back with five plastic cups, and Rhett asks for one for himself. He calls her honey and you audibly scoff, another drunken confession of how he makes you feel.

Rhett moves his mouth to comment on it, but you cut him off, embarrassed about your momentary lack of restraint.

"Should you be drinking before your little show?"

His brows furrow at the dismissive tone, seemingly offended at how you referred to what he does for a living.

"Why?" You get hit by his smell - sweat, leather and fresh grass - when he squares up and steps so close his boots bump into your sneakers. "Worried 'bout me?"

"Fuck off, hotshot." He blinks at your crudeness. You are mad. Mad that he's openly pushing your buttons, and that it's working, and you're allowing it to. "Just don't fall off and break your neck. It would suck for Amelia to lose the best material she has for her future stand up comedy."

Rhett laughs, and the sound is incredibly gratifying. You're so drunk it nearly makes you moan in public.

You have no reason to still be here, talking to him. One of the boys will come looking for their beers anytime now. It would be best for you to leave and end this conversation before you dig a deeper grave. But it's so nice, to capture him. It's becoming addictive.

"As long as you stick around she'll have a great mentor for that mean sense of humour you two share."

"Are you admitting I'm funny?"

"I'm admitting you're mean!"

"Abbott, you're a baby."

"I'm sensitive."

He puts his hand over his heart, and your heads lean in, making direct eye contact. You're laughing, voices high-pitched, ignoring the lady bringing Rhett's beer completely.

When she coughs, you turn your head away flustered, and what you see makes your easy expression falter immediately.

It's your boyfriend, and Maria. Together, probably coming to check on the group's drinks. He's too gone to recognize Rhett from a distance, but Maria's eyebrows are furrowed and her step is uncertain, taken aback.

Seeing your boyfriend reminded you that you have one. And an image to maintain, for your own safety. You shouldn't risk Rhett, or anyone else, thinking that you're going to leave your boyfriend for him. That's not what's happening, despite what your silly heart desires.

Taking your cue to leave, you take self preservation too far.

"We've been caught by two confused people. One of which is very cute and seems unhappy she's not the one getting your attention, currently." Slurred words, moreso because you're trying to make them sound honest. Rhett furrows his brows and you have to hold back against smoothing them again. Unfair. "I mean bye."

You're picking up the five cups, uncomfortable with your own words, and start walking away before turning back, almost spilling the yellow liquid on the confused looking boy.

"Oh, and please don't get hurt. I'll hate seeing it. Make my life easier. You seem to like doing that anyway."

Before you can see his reaction, you're smiling big at your boyfriend and kissing him back, accepting his help with the cups. Maria walks right past you, nervous hands in her jeans' pockets. Even in your tipsy moment, your heart annoyingly insists on breaking a little.

Rhett has a bad night riding, while the family you came with has a successful one. And that means your boyfriend is being louder and warmer than ever, overcompensating for the many weeks prior where his insecurities were in charge.

He entertains people congratulating him for a few minutes, you under his arms, before whispering in your ear that he needs to go home to fuck you.

It's not exciting or promising, but he is still your boyfriend, you are still his girlfriend. This is an important reminder.

Later, you're trying your best on top but losing to boredom anyways when he comes down the side of your leg.

He's in the shower while you finally work on yourself, the scent of bodywash over your clean and still wet skin facilitating things for you. It's not your bed you imagine laying on, or your hand pulling your hair, or that it's yourself fucking your slick folds.

It's so wrong for you to think of the young Abbott boy when you just shoved him into the hands of another, beautiful, single woman. But it's the only face - and most importaly, voice - that gets your spread legs shaking and the knot in your stomach to release.

A name starts to slip away from your tongue before you catch yourself, covering your mouth with your hands and snapping your head towards the bathroom door. He's still in there and you pant back into bliss.

The bell ring pulls you away from your thoughts. Did they forget their keys?

Dressing up quickly, you walk into the bathroom and tell your boyfriend someone's at the door. He tells you to get it but that he will be right there, since it'll hardly be for you.

Your knees almost buckle when you open the door to find Rhett, holding the coat you had lended to the blonde girl when it started raining in the arena.

"Rhett, are you serious?"

You're curt, and it seems to upset him, genuinely. But what was he thinking, coming here? With your coat?

"I was just-" A hiccup. He's wasted. "On my way home, and one of the girls with Maria mentioned giving this back to ya."

He shrugs and your eyes widen in disbelief.

"And you volunteered?"

"Thought-" Hiccup. "'D be nice."

Rhett leans against the doorway, looking inside, and you have the forethought to push him back before he invites himself in. He grabs your wrist whilst you steady him on top of the entrance's mat.

Curious, you glance past him, checking for a figure on his passenger seat.

"Looking for someone?"

"No!" You reprimand him for his flirty tone. "No. You need to leave."

In that moment, Rhett notices the blonde man coming down the stairs.

Jesus. Your boyfriend's still dripping, in nothing but sweatpants and a towel thrown over his shoulder.

He strides slowly, pulling you into him with his arm around your torso. It's more than obvious what just happened.

It's no scandal. You're a couple. But to have Rhett see into your life together…You can't look at the stumbling - rather melancholic - mess under the driveway light.

"What's going on?"

"Coat. Brought her-"

"I gave it to one of the girls earlier, and she sent Abbott to give it back."

No way in hell you're letting him speak under these circumstances.

Your boyfriend agressively takes the coat from his hands, looking it over.

"It's ruined, I'll buy you another one."

A kiss to the crown of your head.

Rhett looks intensely at the blonde, eyes sharp and jaw set. He's shorter, slimmer, and drunk. For fuck's sake.

"Anything else?"

God, please don't say anything. Just leave.

Thankfully, all that unfolds is a headshake, his chin down. Before your boyfriend can rudely shut the door on Rhett's face, concern rules over caution.

"Drive safe."

You plea with your eyes, but he barely takes it in before turning around and stomping to his struck.

The door is pushed and you don't see him drive off, running up the stairs to lock yourself in the bathroom and continue your tradition of begging the universe to protect him.

—————————

Games were not something you ever understood. Your priority lies in being straightforward and honest, as much as possible.

Hence why you're wrecking your brain over what his objective is.

You're still on the night shift.

Lenny said you have been granted permission to change back, but Dani could spend more time with her daughter this way, so you denied. He would not complain, obviously, feeling like he had a tighter rope around your neck when you worked nights and spent mornings writing inside your room, within his eyesight.

What none of you could have predicted was Rhett Abbott coming in every night. For half an hour, ordering one cup of coffee and leaving.

The other girls rushed to serve him. He made them laugh and scribble their numbers (the ones he didn't already have) on a stained napkin. Old school, with proof of purchase.

He doesn't make an effort to draw your attention (he doesn't need to, turns out) and you leave him be. Neither of you owes each other a single thing.

One night, he comes in with Amelia and his mother while you're on your break.

Your wishes to go by unseen are ignored when the little girl waves, forcing you to wave back with a smile that does not please your boyfriend. He's sitting across from you at one of the booths, having popped by at your request since you needed a small favor.

Rhett, ever the quiet instigator, leads the girls to the booth after yours. If you look up, you'll meet his and Cecilia's eyes.

As naturally as possible, you cough and go back to your conversation.

"Ok. Like you said, it's short, but I don't feel confident dragging it on for a few more chapters. I haven't done this in a while and it'll probably just confuse me and it'll end up shit."

Amongst other things, your boyfriend was a critic. Showing him the story you've been working on is sure to provide insight, good and bad.

"I see that." He pushes your laptop back on the table. It sits between you, lighting up your features. He has something to say. "I just don't get it."

"The metaphor? It's a little wonky and shoved in at the end, I know, but-"

"No, not the story. I mean the point of all this. Why are you writing something no one's ever gonna read?"

Oh.

Stupidly, you had thought he would feel good about your decision to share this with him. Like you used to do before you got accepted into university. Fix what you broke this morning.

"Practice. Not letting inspiration, albeit short, go to waste? I don't know."

You're picking at the skin around your nails and he grabs your hands to stop the agitation. He notices you flinch, and sighs.

"Is this what's best for us? Writing…I understand it as a hobby, but you're not gonna have a career out of it so why bother?"

You blink.

"Can you just tell me what you thought about the story?"

Another disinterested sigh.

"Not your best, not your worst. Who cares?" His phone rings and he stands up, gathering his things. "Maybe you could help with the family business. In a position where you don't need to understand much about farming and whatnot. Think about it."

With a kiss to your cheek, he leaves you there, unmovable. Empty. He managed to not do the simple thing you asked of him and disencourage you of any future in doing what you love. You should ask Lenny about picking up extra shifts.

Amy's head pops up, hopeful eyes demanding you to collect yourself and answer her request. She wants to read your story.

If she heard, so did the other two.

Tears threaten to stream down your cheeks when you glance at them, anticipating their pitying looks. The nausea grows at the sight.

Closing the laptop's lid with automatic movements, you politely smile at the child before apologizing. "Maybe some other time. Okay?"

The remaining of your break is spent in the bathroom, looking at the words you had typed and debating if it's worth your energy to rewrite them into a better story. Maybe if it was good enough, one person could tell you to not give up, anyone.

When you return, the Abbotts are gone and you pass by the seventh crumpled napkin with prettily scribbled digits in the bin.

Just a few more hours before you can go home to a good book.

You're waiting for a fresh pot to finish brewing when he texts you. 'Find your own ride home tonight'.

It’s past closing time and you're still waiting for him to show up.

Lenny offers to drive you but you ensure him you'll be fine. He always picks you up.

Twenty minutes later, bright headlights shine through the windows. You can finally stop typing.

You're locking the front door, struggling with the lights off, when you hear the truck's door slam. You swallow.

"I don't need a hug hello or an apology kiss."

"Are you sure? I think it would help."

A shiver runs down your bare legs, voice making you shoot up and smooth down the dress, wondering if he saw anything when you bent over to try and find the lock.

"Seriously?"

Rhett smiles.

"How many times are you gon' ask me that?"

You don't concede yet. Crossing your arms and hugging yourself tighter.

"Why are you here?"

Dark boots prop him up to sit on top of the hood, popping gum into his mouth and leaning on his elbows. "He's been at the bar since I got there, right after I dropped mom and Amy back home. He's not coming."

The straps of your purse burn your palm as you grip them tighter, holding back the tears. Fuck how you hate crying.

It's hardly ever over heartbreak or pain, but frustration and anger. That suffocating feeling that you have no power. That things could be better, they just won't be.

Rhett has seen you break too many times now. It almost pisses you off, how often he has invaded your bad moments. You two are not intimate enough to peer into each other's vulnerabilities.

Wetness pools at your waterline again, mad that you can't even control his impression of you due to your overflowing emotions.

Your teeth hurt as you grit them together, snifling, fighting to keep your composure.

"He was pissed. No way he saw me." Need dominates his tone. Followed by bitterness. "A pretty redhead kept his attention elsewhere."

You can't stop the loud exhale that almost takes you down to your knees. Almost.

Again, it's embarrassing that Rhett knows all of this. Knows you let your boyfriend cheat, because you two haven't enjoyed each other in over a year. You don't love him, you don't want to keep him. Let him have his indulgences while you plan your leave.

He jumps back to the ground, raising dust when he walks to the passenger side and opens the door, circling back and taking his seat behind the wheel.

Asshole. Why does he make you feel like this? Like running to his car and driving away with no destination. Stopping at dingy motels. Making good use of the backseats.

You tell yourself it's just the fantasy of being with someone who isn't your boyfriend.

His car smells like sex and spilled bourbon, for fuck's sake.

In a beautiful instance of contradiction, he sternly orders you to put your seatbelt on.

A good bad boy. It's stronger than you, and you break into a fit of laughter.

Poor guy, he is utterly confused.

Pulling out of the diner's parking lot, he's fed up with your crisis.

"Jesus." His head is shaking, but amusument colors his cheeks.

As if instinctively protective, he leans over and pulls the belt across your body. He fits the smell in his truck perfectly, and his tanned skin is warm when it makes contact with your uncovered arms.

"That's better. Brat."

You don't have it in you to laugh anymore.

When asked if you're hungry, your stomach answers for you and he chuckles, making a turn.

(Don't think about the way the lights shine over his sharp features or how he sits lazily, comfortably directing the steering wheel with loose hands, fingers tapping the leather. Look away.)

You do. But then his head turns. His gaze is excruciating, and your thighs are sweating on the seat. For the first time today, you're glad to have picked out a sundress.

Rhett makes smarter choices and takes you to a drive-through.

You convince him to park somewhere and eat out of the car. You're a terrible messy eater and you'd feel bad about getting his car dirty. Sure, we wouldn't want that, he said. Fine, dirtier.

He lets you steal his fries even after you said you didn't want any. You hand him the ketchup packets. Your drinks sit between you on the hood, your ankles crossed, kicking your feet mindlessly.

"Feeling good?"

He licks grease from his fingers.

You hum, stupid smile stuck on your lips.

"It's ok to break the rules sometimes."

"Oh my God." You groan, throwing your head back and crunching the wrapping paper in your hand. "You think I'm a fucking prude."

He points to your drinks. His beer and your water. You roll your eyes almost cartoonishly.

"Beer makes me burp too much. We're not there yet."

His eyebrows raise at your possible implications. That you're becoming acquainted, warming up to each other. It denotes effort and will. Your brain wants to take it back, but your heart beats you to the punch and you shut yourself up with a sip.

"I'm more than my relationship, Abbott." His eyes say he wants to believe you. "I used to want to be a street car racer."

He almost chokes on his burger.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's true. My friends and I used to skip class and fuck around at the autorepair shop down the street. Then the mechanics would take us to actually watch races. It was a lot of fun, I made some great friends, a couple of them taught me everything they could. You'd be impressed at my drifting skills."

"Wow." He laughs with his whole body. It's painfully cute. "What happened?"

You blink, taking another sip, pushing out the cruel reality. A name. "Everything changed after him. We spent long nights talking about academia, and the future, and education. I was good at school, but suddenly I had a real opportunity - hope- to go to a proper school. Develop my writing. I always liked it but it was pretty obvious to me that you either use your established wealth to build your career, or you probably die poor. He made it seem like I had support, at last."

Rhett repeats his question.

"I guess he never meant it, had his own disappointments. Life is never how you expect it to be. Happens."

"You never talk about your parents. What do they think of all this?"

You shrug. "Grew up in foster care."

Realization crosses his face. It does put everything into perspective.

"'M learning a lot about you tonight."

"Regret it already?"

His hand brings the bottle up to his lips, stopping just before as he pretends to consider it. With a generous grin, he shakes his head.

Silence fills the night as you let him finish his beer.

The breeze plays with your hair, dress trapped between your thighs to avoid an accident, spinning the rings on your fingers.

Breaking out of his laid back position, Rhett grabs your hand and turns it in his own, inspecting it. His thumb massages the center of your palm while he pretends to investigate every one of your rings. Then he stops, feels one of your tense nerves and opens his palm, it glued to the back of your hand.

We're alike.

Blue eyes seek yours, and you roll them again. His bruises are from riding undomesticated animals.

"Writing is an arduous job." To be fair, you can't always pull your phone or laptop at work to take note of an idea. The old pen and paper still play their role. He has one more endearing smile for you. Huffing, and pulling your hand away, you ask for the time. "We should go."

He simply nods, adjusting the hat on his head and jumping off the hood. He almost brings the trash with him to the car, before you cut in front of him and rip it from his hands, walking the very short distance to a dumpster. Honestly.

"Did you just separate our garbage?"

"That's what the signs on the dumpsters are for, princess." You tease him. He started it. 'Our' garbage. "Such a pretty head with nothing but air in it."

You climb onto the passenger seat and he chuckles, turning on the truck. If you don't look for a tinge of pink in his cheeks, maybe he will grant you the same kindness.

He's running through every yellow light and it makes you a little sick, the taste of fast food unforgivable. You remember something.

"Still have some of that gum?"

"Uh, yeah. Jacket pocket."

He points to the back seat. Unfortunately, it isn't dark enough in this town that you don't see defined muscles when his arms raise.

You reach for the plastic packet, popping a piece into your mouth, but something catches your eye. Plucked begonias. It's not a full bouquet, looks more like he grabbed them from someone's yard in a rush.

"What are these doing here?"

You're enamored with the delicate shade of pink. Until who they might be for crosses your mind. Honestly, you would get her flowers too. Half the town would.

"Oh, yeah. They're for you." You have never looked up so fast, glad the car has finally been stopped by a red light. Rhett scratches the back of his neck. "Uhm, Amy wanted to gift you something from our land. She thought about a million things before landing on flowers though. She hopes you like pink."

C'mon, not tears again. You're not even angry. The total opposite, actually.

"I do."

The light has turned green again, but Rhett is reluctant to drive. "You okay?"

You only nod, blinking the tears away and indicating for him to go.

He does, but he continues to glance your way every few seconds, pushing his hair back. You're messing with the hat he abandoned on the console.

"Look, I'm sorry. I have to ask. How's your plan going? How close are you to what you need?"

Jesus, did you give something away?

"Shit, maybe you can read my mind. Or you're psychic."

"What does- what does that mean?"

Dejectedly hitting the headrest, you don't even think twice before sharing. It's unlike you but you don't deny yourself the relief.

"Don't be…judgemental. But. He needed help and I helped him."

He's confused. "You helped him…?"

"He needed some money and I gave it to him."

"What?"

He runs past a stop sign and you scold him, slapping his midsection with his own hat.

"Not all of it. A part."

"He's rich!"

If it weren't so ironic, it would be funny. It's the same exasperated reaction you had when your boyfriend begged you this morning. It was the reason you two fought, and why you were trying to make amends with the draft of your story. Clearly, it wasn't enough.

"He's in a lot of debt with his business ventures, alright? And, it's for his dad! You know medication is criminally expensive in this country."

The older man was very sick. Everyone budged in as much as they could to help. They might be weird fucking people, but they are a family.

"So you paid for his share. Do they even know? Or did he use you to keep his good son image too?"

You don't say anything. Of course he doesn't deserve it. You should've said no and dumped him right there. But you do owe his father a lot.

"I didn't use the money you gave me. I took it out of the extra shifts money. And I'll pay you back for the food tonight."

He stutters, looking at you with an undescribable expression. "I'm not mad about that! And don't you dare 'pay me back'. I took you out to eat, I'm not buying you out. Did he fuck you up this bad?"

Your mouth opens to answer but it's not worth it.

Rhett bites his own hand, letting a beat of silence befall you before improvising a U-turn in the middle of the street and speeding.

"Hey, what the fuck?"

Your voice is soft, confused but not entirely put off by the speed. Your boyfriend drives fast all the time, but he gloats too much, it takes away the fun for you. Rhett is also better at riding. The two things are probably not as correlated as you want them to be, but it does imply better control.

You trust him more, is the point.

(The thought terrifies you as much as it is exciting. Kind of like his driving right now.)

Another red light. Awareness dawns on him. He turns to you, quiet and a little unlike himself, but determined.

"You don't have to go home tonight. Fuck him. Do you want to go home?"

You don't need time to consider. "No."

"Okay."

Bright green reflects off his face and he's speeding again, taking you somewhere you hope is not his home.

He finally pulls up to a small neighboorhood. A blue little house, innocently sitting amongst brighter and bigger properties.

The ignition is switched off.

"It's a friend's, he's out of town."

Before you can acknowledge it, he's grabbing the hat from your hands and stepping out of the car and opening your door. He looks up and down the empty, quiet street. Anywhere but you.

You forget the begonias.

Rhett picks a key from the flower pot, poorly hidden in the decorative rocks.

It smells good inside, like fresh laundry. It hasn't been left uninhabited for long.

"I'm surprised to hear you have friends."

He frees the space in front of the sink for you to wash your hands as well, but throws the paper towel roll at you before you can. You catch it, defying his poor throw with a look.

"Don't push it."

"I mean it. I never see you with anyone outside of your family. Except for-"

Why? Why did you start that sentence?

For a moment, all you hear is the water running.

"For?"

Ah, shit. You close the tap, cringing and breathing in deeply before turning around and looking for the paper towel you could've sworn you just put down.

"Maria."

You drag the name out. It comes off more suggestive, and less teasing. You're blowing this, trying to sound like a friend picking on him but reaching more into a creepy side. At least your avoidant eyes find the towels.

"What do you know about that?"

Ice cold. You shiver.

"I have eyes."

Neither of you show signs of kidding. You overstepped.

"Sorry, I shouldn't-"

"Is that why you act weird when you see her? Why you left, that day at the rodeo?"

You cringe again, hearing your nervous laugh.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, kitten. We both know that you're not."

"What did you just call me?"

Bite the bait.

"Answer me."

Fuck. His posture is too intimidating for you to fight against.

"I mean, sort of. Yes. I'm giving you two privacy." He scoffs, shaking his head. "Are you mad? Jesus, Rhett. I'm not making fun of you. It's a crush. It's sweet."

Dirty boots ruin a pristine floor, Rhett stopping inches away. A hand runs down his face.

"Did Perry say something?"

"Amy. Who was told by Perry."

He huffs humorless.

"Who needs enemies…"

You snicker at his childishness.

"Relax, hotshot. Damn, I see what he means now, you are scared of her! I get it, she's hot."

"Scared?" He squints at you, but his voice cracks. He steps closer and you push back against the sink, your dress rises an inch. "Do I look scared now?"

You remember him calling you a goody two-shoes earlier. Out of (stupid) pride, you won't give him the reaction he's expecting, fuck that. So you push back.

"Of course not. It's different." His arms are now trapping you, asking for elaboration. You look him up and down, raising your eyebrows before scoffing and rolling your eyes, challenging. You look away, then slow blink back to him. "Maria is a beautiful, single woman who has known you forever. There are stakes. It's real."

"And you?"

The tip of his nose is brushing yours, but you refuse to be the submissive one (for now) and angle your head up, lifting his along. It's like a dance, enticing and reckless.

Whispering is more appropriate.

"You and I are friends." Your lips are parted, tongue hitting your teeth provocatively, leaning your head back and he follows in a daze. You have to hold back laughter. "I have a boyfriend. You can't have me. It's playing with food you're never gonna taste. Meaningless."

At the last word, it's as if you were a robot being reset. You straighten up, pat his chest and push him off, walking towards the door. You can't possibly hang around him after all that. And did you actually think you could spend the night somewhere that isn't your boyfriend's house without consequences? You're in enough trouble as it is.

From the same spot in the kitchen you two were completely sharing seconds ago, he calls your name. It's breathless.

"Stay."

"Am I your dog?" You laugh, but he doesn't. His hand is closed in a fist.

"I can't offer many of the things he provid- Actually, fuck that. What does he provide? His daddy's money? I know you don't actually care about that. So, what? Fear, dependence, pain? I could go on."

"Please don't."

You get it. He's right. Most men can do better than that, and the money was only another factor that allowed him to control you, you've abdicated from it as soon as you got the waitressing job.

"I'm not saying you should be with me-"

"I know, you mentioned."

He winces at your sudden change in demeanor, less apologetic. It agitates him, and he powers forward. This time, you don't step back.

"But I can make you feel good. Don't you think you deserve that?" No. You don't. This is wrong. It doesn't mean you don't want it. "And before you can say it, no, it's not a favor. I want it as much as you."

You almost drop to the floor with the shock of his sentence.

"Who says I want it?"

You're stalling, flight or fight instinct taking time to boot up.

He laughs. At you. God, do you look cock deprived or something?

"Are you gonna say he satisfies you?"

"Are you gonna say you can?" Before he can answer, you cut him off, serious again. "Look, I'm not going to do what he does. It's not me."

Rhett looks, somehow, more baffled.

"You're not…like him. This is not the same thing. Tell me you understand that."

"Cheating-"

"On the guy who abuses you."

He's holding your arm, caressing old bruises that haven't healed yet, but he's looking at you. Deep into your soul.

Terrible time for your eyes to tear up again. You're overwhelmed with desire and conflict, afraid of how you might feel after but desperate to let go.

Calloused thumbs dry your face. He's so close…

"Abbott, turning into one of your girls is the last thing I wanted, for the record."

A cheater and a liar, all in one night.

"You're the one in a relationship. If anything, I'm one of your boys."

You gasp, pushing back on his hand around your neck and furrowing your brows at him. "You're fucking revolting."

"We'll see about that. Shut up, would you? Damn."

The latter is basically said into your lips.

His other hand has risen fron your shoulder, to your neck, and finally your jaw. More eager than you were ready to admit, you don't waste time and open your mouth for his tongue to slip in. It hasn't been ten seconds and you're both breathing heavily.

You bite his lip and he sucks on your tongue, a surprising minty taste. That's when you feel Rhett practically pick the gum you forgot you were chewing from the back of your mouth and turn away to spit it out.

He catches the roll of your eyes.

"Does everything prick your sensitive fucking fingers, princess? I'll show you how to be less pent-up."

The tip of his hat bumps your forehead when he picks you up, setting you down on the little table by the entrance hall after knocking everything to the ground.

His lips barely leave yours, which is a shame, you wish you could see if his eyes were blown out.

The table rocks against the wall and you notice him buckle when it grazes his crotch. Bless those thight fucking jeans.

"Rhett. Underwear."

Your hips lift so he can pull them down your legs, easily pushing the fabric of your sundress until you're exposed. He doesn't hesitate to run two fingers along already slick folds.

You fist the thin material of his shirt, head dropping to hide in his neck when he pushes them inside. "Fuck. It's better than mine."

He growls, and it's so important to you, to hear this low speaking, timid, ungiving cowboy lose himself under you.

"Tell me." You already know what he's going to ask. With your forehead still stuck to his collarbone, your hands fly to his belt, pulling him forward before you can start unbuckling him. "You've thought about this, haven't you?"

You stop just before pulling him free, fingers crooking inside his boxers. Your head rises enough that you can whisper in his ear.

"Well, someone's gotta help me finish."

Like that, his free hand that was pressing your breasts moves to your throat, bringing you back to where he can push his tongue down it.

He pulls his own underwear off, slowly removing his fingers, swiping them up and circling your clit. You hiss into him and he chuckles. You finally open your eyes. Yeah, the blue outline of his pupils is very thin.

Your smile props him to bunch up your dress and pull you forward.

Before he can fuck you, you're asking that he fullfils one (please, just that one) of your wishes. And like magic, he reads your mind once more.

The hand that was lightly placed around your throat slides to your neck, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling on it. You could fucking cry.

He probably notices, you're not hiding anything from him, and when he thrusts into you, it's unforgiving.

The sounds that come out blend perfectly in the air. Maybe he wasn't lying, and he did want this as much as you. It's not too unbelievable that he was letting all of this want build up, not used to meeting a girl and not fucking her the same night.

He slaps your clit twice and you cuss him out. "Still with me? Good. Thought I lost ya."

"Suddenly, so many words to say. Fucking move, Rhett."

A tug to your scalp. It's delirious.

"My name…when you're mad…I'm gonna fucking jerk off to that. Again."

Your eyes widen at the last minute revelation, with little time to properly tease him because he's finally moving. And, fuck, it's heaven.

You're so tired of being embarrassed in front of him but this is truly the last thing you can control. Your walls are tightening faster with each thrust. It's not gonna take too long.

"Rhett, I'm s-sorry. I'm close."

His left hand keeps switching from your hips to your ass, squeezing as much skin as he can grab.

"Good. That's the point." He stops moving to look at you. His eyes are once again taking your breath away, even when they are this dark. "Don't apologize. Tell me what to do."

It might have been too intimate, but you take his lips in a quiet, soft kiss. "Just keep moving. Faster."

He takes a second to follow your instructions, but when he does, it is so obedient your arm pushes the hat off his head so you can embrace him and grab more of his hair, bringing him closer.

His forehead is drenching your neck in sweat, your fingers gripping the thick blonde strands, his a little more lazily tugging on yours. He uses his hold on your hair to angle your bodies better, forcing you to sink down on his cock as he shoots up.

Your hips loudly knock against each other, the table still battering the wall.

It's coming, your legs and abdomen straining, cooing in his ear. His arms are probably burning.

Two seconds later and you hit your climax together. It's the loudest you have ever heard him be.

You're hugging him tight, face hiding in his neck again, body spasming. It shouldn't be such a surprise when tears slip out of your eyes.

He's still panting, soothingly running one hand up and down your back, the other scratching your scalp after brutally pulling on it.

You pull back, and his eyes widen a little at your wet face. "Did I hurt you?"

"Get over yourself."

He laughs while drying your face for the upteenth time.

"I don't know, I never made a girl cry during sex before."

"Now that, I highly doubt."

You finally say something that gets him to roll his eyes, and he clearly doesn't do it often. His hand squeezes your hip as he pulls out, and warm fluid spills down your legs.

"Shit."

He realizes at the same time as you.

"Oh, uhm, the bathroom. Last door down the hallway."

"Shit!"

You don't mean to make him feel bad or guilty. Both of you forgot. You push him aside and jump off the table, awkwardly strutting to the toilet.

You pee and dry yourself the best you can, but there's no way you're fucking sleeping tonight.

The water out of the sink is thankfully ice cold as it drips down your face, neck and chest.

When you return to the living room, Rhett is chewing on his lip, staring at your underwear he must have picked up and put on top of the cushions on the couch.

You pick it up.

"Can you…?"

He turns around. It's silly, of course, but even with his back turned, your skin is burning.

The walk to the car is short and everlasting at the same time.

Thinking that you truly just used his friend's place in the middle of a nice residential street to secretly fuck and leave is insane. He didn't even consent to it being used for that. He didn't even know you. Did this happen before, with other girls?

You don't look up when he opens the passenger door, lost in your thoughts. As soon as it slams shut, you put your head in your hands and groan, fixing yourself before Rhett climbs inside too.

It's after four in the morning when he slows to a stop outside of your so called home.

The words come out too fast.

"We use protection. Him and I."

"Okay."

"Just- Because obviously he fucks other people on the side, and I don't want you to worry about getting any- uhm, anything."

He rolls his eyes and this time it doesn't seem lighthearted.

"That's great."

Another beat, and you can't shut up. "Do you? I know it's not my business but you did just- inside me…and you, allegedly, sleep around so I think-"

"You have nothing to worry about. I promise."

He doesn't take your word-vomit too well. Fist covering his lips, side-eyeing as you gather your purse from the backseat. You make sure to grab the begonias before unlocking the door and hopping out.

Your three second long debate about whether or not you should thank him becomes irrelevant the second you turn to shut the door and he's not looking at you.

So you let him go, shaky legs carrying you inside the silent mansion.

[hertzwritings]

Dance (part 2 to Fever)

A/N: what can I do, the sweet @one-sweet-gubler asks and I’m soulfully bound to do it. Thank you for your request, love!

Request: Hear me out… part 2 to fever. Daisy has a ballet recital and she really wanted Henry there but he’s out of country filming and she thinks he can’t make it. But you and Henry have a little trick up your sleeve. Or something. Idk. 😭

So here goes, part two to Daddy!Henry - who would ever say no to do that??

Remember, feedback feeds the soul, loves, and requests are always open - nothing is too out there for me, so let me know what you’ve got in mind!

MASTERLIST

HENRY CAVILL + CHARACTERS MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Previous part

Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader

Warnings: FLUFF, teeth-rotting fluff, StepDaddy!Henry, just all in all a sweet, fluffy piece with maybe some implied smut, if you squint really hard. Word count: 2.676

A year later

Daisy danced around the living room, her pink tutu flopping around her tiny legs, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you held the phone up to film it. She grinned at you and bowed down before looking up at you. “I see?” She asked, her chubby fingers reaching for the phone to see the video.

You smiled and handed her the phone, looking at your daughter as she scrutinised the video and made sure that everything was perfect.

She had wanted Henry to come to the recital, but he was in Scotland filming pick-up-shots of The Witcher and couldn’t make it back - you had seen how much it broke his heart to tell her in one of their daily video chats, but she had simply kissed the screen and said okay and that mama would film it. She made you promise that you would film every, single second, and you had happily obliged - not just for you or Daisy, but for Henry, who had become such a common part of your life, it was scary.

It had been almost a year since the first time he met her, and he had fallen in love with Daisy just as easily as he had stepped inside Y/N’s house. He acted like a dad. No bars held, he had dance parties, tea parties, pirate-parties (which you had questioned, but had simply been told by Henry with a patch over his eye and a foam sword in hand, that you wouldn’t understand the law of the sea) and had taken her to him as if he had known her his entire life. Daisy rarely wanted you to read bedtime-stories anymore, unless Henry was away for a shoot, because that was his job - and he had happily done it every night he could, and you were sure there was a small indent in Daisy’s mattress from where he spent most nights.

You hadn’t really talked to him about it, the whole idea of being a stepdad, but he very much had fallen right into the role with no problem. He made blueberry pancakes in the morning and had even started picking her up and dropping her off at kindergarten whenever Y/N had a rough morning or was late for work. It was magical, even with the teachers falling over their feet when they saw Henry Cavill hand in hand with your daughter, some sort of glittery sticker stuck on his cheek or pants. He didn’t care that he might look stupid: He once came back home with a full Prince Charming outfit and had shrugged at your dumbfonded expression, telling you with a smirk that Richard Madden knew someone. And so, he had spent a majority of the last three months dressed as Prince Charming, bringing your daughter teacups and teddy bears at her demand. “Mama, you think Henny like it?”Daisy pulled you from your thoughts and you looked at her - her lips quivered and her eyes were wide. “Oh, baby, he’ll love it. I promise.” You said, engulfing her in a tight hug. She sniffled slightly and pulled away, looking at you. “I miss him.” she said in a small voice, the one that was reserved just for you, whenever she wanted to tell you a secret. You smiled and ran a hand over her hair softly. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.” You answered honestly. It had been hard over the last month, especially since you were both used to him being around all the time, and now he’d been gone for a month and all you had was video calls from him. Daisy sighed and swayed a little on her feet. “What’s going through your head, princess?” You asked gently, trying to coax her to tell you whatever made her look like a lost puppy. She shrugged. “Now, don’t do that to me. What’s our rule?” You said and made her say it with you. “No secrets.” You sat down with crossed legs in front of her and she practically ran into your lap and sat down, her small hands around your neck as she buried her face in your chest. “What’s going on, baby?” “I dunno.” she said, her voice muffled by your shirt. “That’s a lie.” “Yes.” you sighed and pulled away slightly, forcing her to look at you. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?” She nodded seriously. “Then tell me what you’re thinking about.” She grimaced. “I just really, really, really want Henny home.” she finally said. You knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but you also didn’t want to pressure her - she’d tell you if she wanted to. “How about we try calling him before we go, Daisy?” you asked, pulling your phone out and speed dialling his number as she nodded vigorously. He answered on the fourth ring, his face popping up - Daisy squealed and waved wildly, almost taking your eye out. “Easy, tiger.” You muttered. “How are my favourite girls?” His voice rang out through the speakers and you felt a deep gratitude for the man, who smiled from the screen. You loved him deeply. “Henny!” Daisy grinned at him and stood up, clearly showing her outfit off. “I got dance today!” she said happily, bending down slightly so her face was on the screen as well. “Aw, darling, you look beautiful.” He said with a soft smile. You frowned as you took in his surroundings - or, rather, the lack thereof. “Where are you, love?” You asked. He grinned. “The car. We had to move location, so I’m driving there.” you nodded. The blackness around him made sense. “Henny, Henny, Henny, wanna see?” Daisy jumped up and down, her tutu flying everywhere. He chuckled and you shook your head lightly. “One move, we gotta go soon, okay?” You said sternly to your daughter, who just squealed and stepped away from you to do a very fast - and somewhat unstable - spin on her feet, before doing a small jump. She looked adorable. “Oh, wow! I wish I could see it in real life.” He said and clapped. You could hear someone whooping and grinned. “Tell Carl hi.” The driver, Carl, had followed Henry and at this point, Daisy knew him as Uncle Carl. He was there most of the time and always brought some weird, stuffed animals with him - you had to make an

entire section of your living room a stuffed animal kingdom with the weirdest animals, because Carl truly knew how to pick them. “Ucnu Carl!” She screamed happily. A deep voice sounded from the speakers. “Hi, Daisy-flower. Good luck tonight!” Carl’s voice rang out and you smiled happily.

When you had started dating Henry and later introduced Daisy to him, you didn’t expect a full, extended family to come along - but it had, and you were eternally grateful for it. Daisy felt more love every day than you could’ve ever hoped for. “Thanks!” She said happily. “Daisy, go grab your shoes, alright?” You asked her as you stood up, smoothing down your dress and looked at Henry. “I’ll send the video in a bit. She’s very proud of it.” You said softly. He smiled. “Can’t wait, love.” You sighed. “We miss you. I miss you so much.” you said quietly. He smiled sadly. “Miss you too, love, but I’ll be home before you know it, alright?” You nodded, feeling your heart tug a little. You wished he’d be able to come home earlier. “I love you, Y/N.” He said softly. You grinned. “And I love you. I better go before she does one of those fancy jumps and trash the vase, your mom sent me.” He rolled his eyes. “As if you’d mind. You hate that vase.” You shrugged and winked at him. “Daisy, love, come say goodbye to Henry!” You yelled and Daisy came out, her pink, glittery rubber boots on the wrong feet and her jacket haphazardly thrown over her shoulder. She waved and took the phone, hugging it tightly. “I love you!” She said happily and handed your phone back. Your eyes were wet, just as they always became when she said those three words to Henry. He was choked up as he blew her a kiss. “I love you, pumpkin.” he blew you a kiss as well. “See you soon, my love.”

—-------------------

Daisy was nervous with a capital N - she was jumping from one foot to another, wringing her hands out as you kneeled in front of her. “Baby, your teacher is right there, okay? I’ll be right down there, watching every second. I promise to film, okay?” You said, your heart tugging a little at the thought of leaving her alone. She nodded with wide eyes. “Promise I can see you?” She asked in a small voice. “Of course, honey.” You nodded. “I’ll be sitting so you can see me, okay?” She nodded and you caught her teacher’s eye, who smiled at you and walked to you and Daisy. “Come on, Daisy, we’re meeting and doing a big group-hug!” The teacher, Ms. Landam said brightly. Daisy threw her arms around your neck and squeezed tightly. You hugged her back just as tightly and finally let go, waving softly at her as Daisy grabbed her teacher’s hand and went to the group of other kids.

As soon as her back was turned, you hurried down from backstage, finding the seat that was reserved for you - you heard mumbling and a few excited voices, but didn’t think much of it, as you sat down next to a broad, tall man. You wrung your hands as you looked to the stage, anxious for it to start.

A big hand found yours and you blanched. “I’m sorry…” You started, turning to the tall man, but your words died in your throat as you saw who it was. Suddenly, the voices and whispers had made sense. “Henry!” You gasped his name and practically tackled him in his seat. He chuckled and hugged you tightly. “What the hell are you doing here? How?” You asked breathlessly. He smiled widely and leaned in, kissing you softly. “I couldn’t miss her first recital, are you kidding? The earth would have to swallow me whole to make me miss this, and maybe not even then.” He said, weaving his fingers with yours. “Oh, my god, she’s going to lose her mind.” You grinned. “Wait, how, though? I thought you were in Scotland?” He grinned and kissed the back of your hand.

“I caught a redeye and Carl and I have been driving all day.” He said, nudging his head towards the seat next to him, where Carl sat with a wide grin on his face. You felt tears well up at the gesture. “Oh, I don’t even know what to say. I love you.” You said meekly. “It’s not not enough to describe what I’m feeling right now, but holy shit, I’m going to show you my appreciation as soon as we’re home..” You said with a grin. He bit his lip and cocked an eyebrow at you. “I’m counting on it.”

The lights in the hall dimmed and you turned to face the stage with a giant grin and Henry’s hand in yours as the curtain went up, and 12 four year olds entered the stage, all nervous energy. Daisy instantly searched for you and her eyes found you quickly - and then they fell on Henry, and the most dazzling smile, you’d ever seen, fell on her lips, she waved wildly and grinned at you, pointing to Henry and then she saw Carl next to him, and jumped up and down giddily.

The recital itself was wonderful. Daisy did really well, twirling and grinning all the time to the tune of Faust and you had clapped wildly, drying your tears quickly, as they finished. You were incredibly proud of your little girl, and to your surprise, Henry had wiped a tear away as well, his chest puffed out with pride. When the lights came on, a man tapped Henry on his shoulder with a shy smile. “I’m sorry, could I…?” He pointed to his phone. “My friends won’t believe me if I don’t have proof.” Henry smiled graciously and nodded, lining up to take a picture as you waited for Daisy to make her way down to you. “Which one is yours? I didn’t know you had a kid.” The man asked. Henry grinned proudly and pointed to Daisy, who was running down the stairs from the stage. “That little fireball.” Henry had answered. You smiled softly. He saw her as his.

“DADDY!” She shouted and almost jumped into Henry’s arms, hugging him tightly. You both stared at each other as he held her tightly. He looked like he had been hit by a grenade, eyes wide and mouth agape. You reeled, trying to collect yourself slightly. He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her curls and you were sure you saw a few tears fall from his eyes. They stood there for a while, hugging tightly and you saw your chance to grab Carl and hugged him. Henry didn’t look like he ever wanted to let go of Daisy, holding her like a drowning man would cling to a liferaft, and your heart felt like it was about to pop out of your chest at the sight; Daisy’s small legs were around his waist, her arms around his neck and her face buried in the crook of his neck. “You came!” She said happily and Henry caressed her face softly and kissed her forehead. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He answered, lowering her to the ground. His hands were shaking. Daisy ran to you and you picked her up easily, wrapping her in your arms. “You did so good, baby!” you said with a smile. Daisy grinned and waved at Carl, who waved back and told her congratulations. “I didn’t fall at all!” Daisy bragged before squirming to get down from your arms. You let her, and she grabbed Henry’s hand with her smaller one, leading your variegated group out of the theatre. You faltered as you saw the car - Henry had not pulled any stops, because he was walking happily towards a limousine, opening the door gracefully for Daisy, who squealed and jumped inside. “MAMA! Come look!” You raised your eyebrows at him and narrowed your eyes. “What did you do?” You asked. He grinned mischievously. “Nothing.” “Liar.” You said and got inside. At first, you couldn’t even see Daisy.

The entire inside of the limousine was covered in red and pink roses (thornless, of course), daisies, teddybears - you noticed a pink dragon, you were sure Carl had picked out - candy, several princess-dresses and a heap of other things. Daisy was laughing loudly, picking different teddies and hugging them, glancing at you. You turned to Henry, who came in behind you and he grinned widely. “What? After such a good performance, it would be a crime not to get her anything.” He said, grabbing Daisy by the waist and placing her in the toddler-seat, he had installed. You rolled your eyes. “Normally, that’s one flower or one teddy. Not five thousand.” you said, but couldn’t help but smile.

“What can I say, I just… I wanted to treat her.” “More like spoil her.” You said before kissing him. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” The car moved and Daisy told every single thing she had done on stage, as if you both hadn’t been there. He had wrapped his hand around yours and found your eyes.

“What am I going to do with you?” You asked softly. He kissed you - Daisy giggled - and he smiled at you. “Just let me be here, forever. I think that’ll do.” “As long as you’re okay being daddy.” His smile was dazzling and he reached for Daisy’s hand - she grabbed his and held tightly. “There’s nothing I’d rather be.”

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

TAGLIST:

@acaceta @summersong69 @luclittlepond @keiva1000

@a-skov @thatonechickhere @themanfromu

@spookyboogyuniverse @one-sweet-gubler @timetraveller4

@angelmather1 @kebabgirl67 @yourlocalhoney

@fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @thelastpyle

[deepseaorchid]

Homesick Part 2 - Argyle x Byers!Reader

A/N: The long awaited sequel to “Homesick” is here!

Summary: A heated argument with your brother, Jonathan, leaves your spirits crushed. Luckily for you, the sweetest stoner is here to boost your mood and leave butterflies in your stomach by taking you on an unforgettable date!

Warnings: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Some language, Possibly spelling and grammar mistakes as this was written on my phone. Reader is implied female.

...

“What do you mean, I can’t see him tomorrow?” You cried out as you paced the kitchen. Your older brother Jonathan was angrily pacing the kitchen in front of you.

“For crying out loud, Y/N! He’s MY friend!” Jonathan yelled back, gesturing madly. “What makes you wish I’d honestly want you going on a date with Argyle?”

“He’s a good person!” You shouted back, eyes beginning to sting. “And he was nice to me. Why can’t you just accept that I like him?” You screamed so loud your throat hurt. Jonathan took a step back at your sudden outburst, shocked. Tension shook the living room and kitchen as you both stared at each other, chests heaving. The tears in your eyes had begun spilling down your cheeks.

“I’m not doing this right now.” Jonathan quickly turned on his heels and stormed back to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. An ugly sob left your lips as you slid down the wall. Just minutes ago, you were on cloud nine, overjoyed that your crush had asked you on a date for tomorrow. Now, you felt defeated. Sometimes it felt as though Jonathan sapped all the happiness from you on purpose. But isn’t that an older sibling’s purpose?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the front door opening. Your mother stepped in and removed her shoes.

“Hey Y/N! So I swung by the grocery store. They didn’t have those blueberry muffins you like. I hope carrot is-” she stopped mid-sentence noticing you on the floor. “Sweetie, what happened?” Joyce led you to the dining table and put her arm around you gently

Your sobbing only increased. Through tears, you explained the situation to your mother. She patiently listened as you struggled to get through your story. When you finished, she took a deep breath, processing all you said.

“Would you like me to have a word with Jonathan?”

“No, that’ll only make it worse,” you whispered, voice hoarse. You didn’t know how your mom could help you through this situation.

“I think I should head to bed,” you sighed wiping your tears. Joyce’s eyes remained fixed on you as you walked upstairs to your bedroom, all the way until you closed the door.

You had no more tears left to cry. In the dim light of your bedroom, you slipped off Argyle’s button down shirt he gave to you. You held it in your hands as delicately as possible, almost as if it would break if you were too rough with it. Changing into pyjamas, you tucked yourself under the covers in your bed and placed Argyle’s shirt beside you amidst your stuffed toys from your childhood. You felt your heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Argyle tomorrow. That is, if your brother would let you. Why was he so bothered about you seeing Argyle? That was a question for later. As exhaustion crept over you, you turned the bedside lamp off and felt your eyes close slowly.

...

You awoke to the smell of pancakes creeping through your door. Today is the day. You carefully planned your outfit. You weren’t sure what Argyle had planned but decided to throw something a little dressed-up on, just in case.

By the time you had finished putting on your clothes and fixing your hair and makeup, it had turned 12. Anxiety bubbled in your stomach. Argyle would meet you at 1pm to pick you up, but your next concern is making it past Jonathan.

“Y/N! Are you going to have breakfast or should I clean up?” Your mother’s chirpy voice called down to you.

“Coming, Mom!” You called back. Closing your compact, you walked downstairs to grab the last of the pancakes your mom made. As your feet thudded downstairs, you caught a glimpse of Jonathan drinking a glass of juice at the table. When he noticed you, his eyebrows furrowed and the look in his eyes hardened. You gulped. Of course his mind hadn’t changed since last night.

Sitting down at the table, you grabbed the nearest pancake from the stack and started cutting into it.

“Big day today Y/N! When are you and Argyle meeting?” Joyce beamed. Your eyes flicked nervously to Jonathan who was staring daggers at you, knuckles almost turning white around the glass.

“He’s coming to pick me up in about an hour, Mom.” You responded nonchalantly. At that response, Jonathan got up and stormed out of the kitchen, heading back to his room and slamming the door. You rolled your eyes into the back of you skull.

“Just ignore him. He’ll get over this eventually,” Joyce patted your shoulder reassuringly.

“Yeah, eventually.” You moped.

Just then, a long and drawn out honk sounded from the driveway. Joyce peered out the window, then turned to you and smiled.

“He’s here!”

Crap. Your heart sunk into your stomach. It’s only 12:30pm, he was supposed to be her at 1. Scrambling up from the table, you ran to the bathroom to check your hair in the mirror. It will have to do, there’s no time for changes now. You rushed to put your sneakers on, saying a quick “goodbye” to your mom on the way out the door.

You opened the door right as Argyle had started another honk. He quickly rolled down the window.

“Hey brochacho! You ready to have the time of your life?” He beamed at you. A smile creeped up your lips in turn.

“No, she’s not.” You whipped your head around. Jonathan was heading up the path towards Argyle’s van, taking long strides as he went.

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath. You broke out into a run towards Argyle’s van, opening and slamming the door behind you. Jonathan was hot on you tail.

“Argyle, drive!” You gasped. You didn’t have to tell him twice. Argyle hit the gas and sped down the road, leaving your brother behind in a trail of dust.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen your brother look so pissed. What did you do to him?” Argyle joked once you’d reached a red light. You signed, pushing your hair out of your face.

“I went on a date with you,” you sighed turning to Argyle.

“Ah, well don’t worry. You and I are about to have the best time. Maybe then Jonathan will see I’m not so bad, huh?” Argyle grinned at you while giving you little shoves. That smile he loved so much crept across your lips. His gaze lingered a little too long on you. Your eyes flicked up to meet his. Argyle quickly flicked his eyes back to the road, swallowing hard. In that moment, Argyle knew he’d do anything today to keep seeing that smile.

...

Argyle’s van pulled into the parking lot of... a junkyard? You squinted, trying to make out the shapes and and objects. Scrap metal laid strewn across the ground and broken cars lay abandoned in heaps. This wasn’t quite what you had in mind for a date.

“What... is this place?” You asked quietly, not taking your eyes off the sight in front of you.

“This,” Argyle said, turning off the van, “is the most awesome, amazing hangout spot in all of Lenora Hills.”

Stepping out of the van, Argyle opened your door and held out his hand, helping you down. Your fingertips brushed his calloused ones, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. Argyle disappeared into the back of the van and retrieved two golf clubs, and a big bin full of golf balls.

“We’re playing... golf? In a junkyard?” You asked apprehensively. This man was challenging every idea you’ve ever had on what a “first date” should be like.

“Not just any type of golf. Watch this,” Argyle gripped the club between his hands and swung. The ball sailed through the air, disappearing from sight. Suddenly, a loud crash rang out, followed by the tinkling of breaking glass.

“Aw sweet, I think I hit a window!” Argyle crowd out in triumph.

“So we just break things with the golf balls?”

“Yep, pretty much. But I was thinking we could talk while we play. Maybe we can get to know each other better,” the long-haired man smiled at you. God that man knew how to make your heart beat faster.

Taking a golf club in your hand, you lined the end up with the ball.

“So, what made you take me here as a first date, and not like, the movies or something” you asked, not breaking your focus from the ball.

“I wanted to take you to do something I like doing. I come here to blow off steam and chill here with Jonathan.”

Jonathan. That name was leaving a sour taste in your mouth. You were still mad at your older brother. Taking a deep breath, you swung your club over your shoulder, getting ready to make the hit.

“I wanted to get to know you as well as Jonathan. Well, maybe better than Jonathan. No disrespect to my bro but you’re like, way prettier than him.”

*Crack*

Your club collided with the ball. The ball veered completely to the right, breaking the mirror of a rusty red pickup truck.

Your breath caught in your throat. Did you hear that right? Argyle actually thinks you’re pretty?

“Really?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Really really,” he laughed, lining a ball up. You were amazed at how calm he seemed to be. You were currently freaking out.

As argyle concentrated on his aim, he shot a quick glance at you. “Tell me about yourself,” he said softly.

“What would you like to know?” You asked, watching the way his knuckles gripped tightly around the club. You studied the details of his face. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly and his tongue darted out from his soft red lips for a moment.

“Tell me anything. I only know what Jonathan tells me about you, and what I’ve noticed about you. Something tells me you’re not as annoying as Jonathan makes you out to be,” he smirked. You scoffed quietly.

“What kind of movies do you like?” He asked, taking the shot. The ball missed the cars, making a sad thud in the dirt.

“Well, when I was a kid, my favourite movie was Alice in Wonderland. Now though, I think Star Wars is my favourite,” you looked at him smiling.

“Oh sick dude, for real? That’s one of my favourites too!” Argyle nodded, offering a warm smile. You felt your face warm up. It was your turn to swing now.

...

You and Argyle bounced back and forth with conversation in between shots at cars for hours. When hunger began gnawing at your stomach, you insisted on taking Argyle to your favourite pasta place. You and your date were by far the most underdressed people in the restaurant but all eyes were on you two. Argyle cracked another stupid joke making you laugh out loud. Tears pricked your eyes as you gasped for breath. It was nearing 7 o’clock and in these few hours, it felt as though you’d known Argyle your whole life.

Argyle threw an arm around your shoulders, walking you back to the van after insisting on paying the bill. You hadn’t stopped laughing, even into the parking lot. Holding his hand as he helped you climb into the van, you felt your heart warm as you looked into his gentle brown eyes. Argyle bit his lip, and in that moment you wanted nothing more than to throw you arms around his neck and kiss him.

“There’s one more place I want to take you,” he spoke up, snapping you back to reality.

“Where to? Another surprise?” You asked him as he climbed into the van, winking. His Adam’s apple bobbed but he kept composure.

“You know me too well, dude,” Argyle chuckled.

The drive was relatively silent on the way to the final mystery location. Perhaps what made you silent for the first time that day was the growing ball of nerves forming in your stomach. Maybe it was the way the dim streetlights lit up Argyle’s face perfectly, perfectly cast shadows dancing across his face. In that moment, the crush you had on Argyle grew into a deep want. You wanted so badly to kiss him, to be held by him, to touch him, that it was almost unbearable.

The van came to an abrupt stop, snapping you out of your thoughts. You’d arrived at a cliff overlooking the entirety of Lenora Hills. The lights of the houses and buildings flickered and danced under the stars. ‘Magical’ would be an understatement.

Argyle flicked the radio on and dialled it to a slow jazz station. Turning to you, he spoke in barely more than a whisper.

“Dance with me.”

Your feet carried you out the van and towards him. Argyle wrapped one hand around your waist, cautiously pulling you in closer to him. One of your small hands laced it’s way into his large ones. Your free arm reached behind his back, swaying chest-to-chest.

As the music played softly, Argyle swayed the both of you from side to side, spinning you around once in a while. You felt lightheaded and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

As the song drew closer to an end, Argyle drew you in closer, your head leaning on his shoulder. He tilted his head towards your ear.

“Is it okay if I kiss you right now?”

You felt your whole world freeze. You met his gaze. Swallowing hard, you glanced down at his lips. You leaned in slowly and Argyle met you halfway. His lips were soft against yours. You sighed softly, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. Argyle hummed into your lips, moving his hand from yours, to your cheek, stroking it softly. Your grip around his back tightened. You never wanted to let him go. If only you could freeze time...

You broke away for air, resting your forehead against his.

“Woah,” you giggled.

“Woah,” Argyle responded, voice playful as always. You both laughed together, before you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

...

Argyle turned the van onto your street, slowing down as he approached your house. A sad feeling built inside you. You wished this perfect date never had to end.

“Can I see you again?” Argyle asked shyly.

“Only of my brother doesn’t kill me first.” You joked, making Argyle smile. You leaned in and pecked him on the lips.

“I pick the next date though, k?” You smiled, batting your eyelashes at him.

“K,” he breathed, mesmerised by you.

“See you at school, dude,” you winked at him, climbing out the van door.

“Not if I see you first, dude,” Argyle grinned. You laughed, sliding the van door closed. You gave him one last wave before you opened the door to your house.

...

Joyce was staring daggers at the door, waiting not-so-patiently for your arrival. When the front door clicked open, she immediately ran to open it for you. Flinging it open, she only had one question on her mind.

“How was the date?” She asked frantically. You smiled at your mother.

“It was great, Mom. We’re going on another one,” you grinned. A second figure at the dinner table instantly made your smile drop. Your older brother sat at his place, with an emotion on his face you couldn’t quite read. Joyce picked up on this.

“I’ll let you two talk. Tell me all about the date later,” she whispered, patting your shoulders and walking off.

Silence washed over the room at your mother’s departure.

“So...” You started, hoping to break the tension.

“I’m sorry.” Jonathan stated.

“Sorry for what?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes into his head. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you going on a date with Argyle.”

You grinned at your victory.

“Thanks Jonny,” you smiled.

“Don’t push it, Y/N.” Jonathan tried to remain serious but couldn’t help but break out into a chuckle. You laughed too, stretching your arms out for a hug. Jonathan stood up and obliged. You missed those tight hugs from your older brother.

“It’ll take some getting used to, but I’m happy you’re happy Y/N.” He smiled. “Tell me about it in the morning, k?” Jonathan turned and walked towards his bedroom.

“K!” You called back before his door closed.

Of course days that have the roughest starts, have the happiest endings.

[wrenqueenisboss]

Your New Family (SBI!Family x gn!reader) Part 2

Hello again, You guys really liked the first part so... here we are.  part 1

Warning: angst!! implied cursing

Time skip to when the twins are 21, y/n is 20, and Tommy is 18. So, a fifteen-year time skip.

- you have learned that the earlier you wake up the better - if you wake up earlier, you can get your breakfast in peace, and call dibs on the bathroom - so most mornings, you get up a couple minutes before your brothers to grab breakfast - Dadza is usually awake and is the one who made breakfast. He loves making pancakes with chocolates or blueberries - istg, even TECHNO asks for fun designs with the stuff       - Tommy = chocolate chips, blueberries, strawberries, and maple syrup. He wants everything       - Wilbur = he either gets plain pancakes or pancakes with a decent amount of strawberries too       - Technoblade = chocolate chip pancakes with a couple strawberries on top. but he likes to create fun designs (secretly)       - Philza = blueberry pancakes with syrup       - you get whatever you want (ofc)

- ever since Philza first found you, Techno has been super protective of you - for that reason, he has mandatory training lessons with you - you’re actually really good, which surprises everyone (even yourself) - it’s hilarious, tho - you and Techno have actual conversations as you swing weapons made to kill at each other basically what happens: Techno: You’re sword skills are literal shit, I can’t believe we kept you Y/n: *laughing* *knows he’s joking* I mean, we kept Tommy so... Tommy, from somewhere else: I HEARD THAT! - you and techno have surprisingly deep conversations at random times too - I do think that c!Techno is socially awkward and has trouble holding a conversation, but I do really think that once Tech is comfortable with you, he’d have little to no issues - Also, the Voices love you, so he isn’t as scared of hurting you - in fact, he’d rather hurt himself a million times over that cause you a single scratch (the Voices are very protective of you) - You also help Techno with the voices - when they get really intense, you guys will sneak out to the forest right by the house and just sit and talk - sometimes, Techno talks more and you listen - sometimes, you talk more and Technoblade listens - but Techno’s favorite thing, is when you recite the Greek Mythology stories he would tell you (before bed when you both were younger) all the while, braiding his hair - if you were ever stressed, he’d return the favor; telling you and epic Greek tale as he braids your hair (assuming it’s long enough. if it isn’t, imagine he’s just running his finger through it repeatedly) - there was one time when Dream managed to kidnap you to use you as leverage against Wilbur. - everyone was shocked when you got kidnapped because you were such a capable fighter that something truly horrible had to happen for you to be taken - Techno was absolutely FERAL  - her nearly killed Wilbur in his rage       - “Your idiotic ideals and egotistical goals are what got our sibling kidnapped. If they die because you failed, I’m going to kill you, Wilbur. Remember, Blood for the Blood God.” - he fights tooth and nail to get you back - when he sees you again, he actually cries (much to his embarrassment and everyone else’s utter shock) - keep in mind, you’ve been tortured for information for two weeks straight so... you aren’t exactly in your best shape - when he pulls back from his bear hug to look you over he growls, eyes darkening - “I am going to kill Dream.” - You hug him with as much strength as you can muster and say “thank you for rescuing me. I’m okay now” - He is so protective, but also knows to give you your space after that incident - when everyone else betrays him or leaves him, you stay. He also stays with you. (It’s a mutual stay-ing) - you guys are always there for each other

- You and Wilbur have always been less close, but you still have an amazing relationship - You’re the first person he talks to about his new songs, and he gets so excited about them it’s so cute - He will not hesitate to play his guitar and sing to help you fall asleep - it’s like his unofficial job in the family. He helps Tommy, for sure, you when you need it, techno’s just shy and can’t ask (he enjoys it tho) and Philza can sleep just fine. - I also think that you and Wilbur would be such a chaotic duo - not as much as you and Tommy, but more scary chaotic (you and Techno together are just scary. No one wants to mess with you or him) - you and Wilbur would slowly accumulate varying degrees of blackmail for each member of your family - after you collect the blackmail, you go do crazy stuff and use the blackmail to not get in trouble, or not get as serious of a punishment - Wilbur is SO protective, it’s almost suffocating ngl - if you even mentioned dating someone, he’d want to know literally everything about them.  - I know it kinda contradicts the whole blackmail thing, but you and Wilbur actually are kinda chill. You know that you can always talk to each other and will always be there - which is why he feels so destroyed when he finds out that Dream kidnapped you to use as leverage against him - he was a MESS - wasn’t eating, sleeping, or taking care of himself. Philza had to force him to do so - He did everything he could to get you back without antagonizing Dream into doing something worse, which was a difficult and painful balance to maintain - when you finally were rescued, he couldn’t look at you (at your tapestry of wounds and scars) without nearly vomiting from the overwhelming guilt - because of this, your sibling relationship sadly collapsed - you were no longer anywhere as close as you once were

- you and Tommy are a nightmarish duo - you know how Techno is infamous for arson and murder? and Sapnap is infamous for murdering pets? Well, you guys do that for fun - and despite how annoying you are to other people, they would never dream of trying to stop you - Tommy looks up to you so much - I swear, you are his hero - you were the one that helped train him after his lessons with Techno weren’t going so well - despite being two years younger than you, this man would murder anyone who ever talked shit about you - he did get in trouble for that once - someone called you a name and he just snapped - your heart breaks when Tommy is forced into situations no one his age should be forced into, so you help him as much as you possibly can - because of the stressful time period in which you guys live, he has bad nightmares - he made you swear not to tell anyone when you walked in on him suffering from the after-effects of a nightmare. (you only agreed because you knew that was the only way he would actually tell you what was going on) - so now, you help him go to sleep by playing one of his music disks and sitting next to him in bed, just... talking - speaking of music disks, whenever you get sick, he’ll just sit by your bed for a while while the music disks play in the background - I 100% think that he’d play all the songs that the two of you loved from when you were younger, in the hopes it’d make you feel better (mentally, at least) - when Wilbur and Techno return from a patrol without you, faces clouded with heavy emotion, he deep down suspects what happened but still asks - “where’s n/n?” His voice gets a little more desperate when he asks again. “Where the f- is my sibling?!” - Wilbur flinches before answering and when he does... Tommy just stops functioning - his brain stops, blanks. He can’t believe it. His favorite sibling. His favorite person. His protector. His friend. The person he trusted. The person he thought would always be there wasn’t. And it wasn’t even my choice. That was the worst part. - When he hears that it was Dream the captured you, when he hears what dream is doing to you....? My mans is almost as scary as Technoblade - like everyone is low-key scared of how angry he is - Philza makes him stay home during the big rescue mission, so he spends the entire time anxiously pacing. - He has a panic attack and listens to his disks to calm himself down. This makes him feel even worse as you were the one who would calm him down from the attacks - anyways, once you got home he was so relieved he nearly collapsed - his heart broke when he saw all of your injuries - he let techno take care of you, tho, since he knew that his brother would be able to take care of you much better than he could

All in all, you have a wonderful family in the Sleepy Bois. As unfortunate as your past may be, you are so grateful that you were so abandoned in the snow; so grateful that Philza found you and took you home. So grateful for your wonderful brothers who would do anything for you.

tag:

@beeissdead

[painsandconfusion]

Fluffy Pancakes

Whumping the Whumpers: Part Eighteen

(tw: blood/torture mention, mild panic, brief nudity mention (unsexy), implied kidnappee, fluff. this is just fluff.)

[Previous | Masterlist | Next]

Ethan jolted awake, air punching through his lungs like it was trying to pop them open - then they burned again at the loss as he struggled upright, kicking away whatever tangled his feet, threatening to drag him down.

He sat up, panting. Head spinning. Heart thrumming against his throat. He stared frantically around the room.

“Blueberries.” Nate articulated.

Ethan’s eyes snapped to Nate’s face, staring blankly. Chest heaving. Sweat trickling down his temple. Nate stood in the doorway, absentmindedly whisking some kind of batter in a bowl.

Ethan cleared his throat, swallowing down the ill-timed panic.

“...Blueberries?

Nate quirked an eyebrow up, smiling slightly. “Wow, you were really dead to the world there, weren’tcha?”

Ethan blinked at him, forcing his breaths to slow. He hadn’t recognized the room at first. Probably why he was so freaked.

Wait. Shouldn’t he be more freaked out about waking up to Nate? Not that he was afraid of Nate.

…Of course he wasn’t.

Afraid of Nate, that is.

But he could at least be perturbed about some guy barging into his room while he’s sleeping, right?

Right.

Ethan tried again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Blueberries?”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Yes, Ethan. Blueberries.” He was still mixing. “Do you like blueberries in your pancakes? I’m gonna add some, but I won’t if you don’t like them.”

Ethan glared at the bowl. “...pancakes?”

Nate sighed. “Yes, pancakes.” He paused. “You know what? You missed your chance for input. I’m adding the damn blueberries. You can pick them out if you’re a wimp about fruit.” He grabbed the doorknob, abandoning the whisk. “Get dressed and come downstairs - these will be ready soon.”

Ethan stared as the door closed.

Then he was alone.

He didn’t have to take the time to get dressed - he’d never undressed. He wasn’t exactly used to having nightclothes and he wasn’t stripping down in a place like this. So, he just waited a few long moments, ensuring he had a grip on his heart rate after that rude awakening, then started downstairs.

Didn’t take long for him to wind his way into the kitchen.

Nate barely glanced over his shoulder as Ethan lurked in the doorframe - well, Ethan wouldn’t call it ‘lurking’. More like…standing perching. Watching? Standing completely normally? Definitely not awkward at all.

Fuck, today was weird. It was making him weird.

Ethan wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t still dreaming as Nate flipped a pancake, splatting it onto the griddle. “There’s orange juice and milk in the fridge. Glasses in the cupboard on the left of the sink.”

Ethan blinked at him.

Nate finished flipping and turned back to Ethan. “Okay, come on. If you’re going to live here, you need to be able to at least get around the house. Stop being so skittish all the time - just…do something.”

Ethan pulled back a chair and sat.

Nate let out a deadpan breath. “I guess that’s something.” He made a move for the cupboard he’d mentioned before. “What do you want to drink?”

Ethan’s eyebrows pricked together. “Aren’t we going to…I don’t know. Go downstairs and-”

“Sure.” Nate clanged two glasses on the table, cutting him off. “After you’ve had a real breakfast. You didn’t even eat supper last night.”

“I wasn’t exactly-”

“-I know. But that’s why you’re eating now. Then you can go make the little fucker bleed all you want. Sound good?”

Ethan leaned back slowly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Good,” Nate clipped.

He pulled a pitcher from the fridge. “You’re getting orange juice.”

Ethan grimaced. “Orange juice with syrup? Seriously? It goes sour-”

Nate shot a glare at him, enunciating each syllable a bit too clearly- “Then you should have gotten the milk when I gave you the chance.”

Even as Nate slid him the freshly-poured glass, Ethan had to press back a smile that came to his face at Nate’s tone.

Why was he even smiling. Stupid weird-ass fucking morning.

“Fine.” He grabbed the glass. “But we eat fast.”

Nate shrugged. “Fine by me.” He tucked the pitcher back inside the fridge. The door closed again with a quiet snap.

Nate leaned against it, the ghost of a smile pulling across his eyes. “How long do you think it will take him to break?”

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(tags: @prisonerwhump, @whumpawink, @mabledonut, @heathenwhump, @paleassprince, @jadeocean46910, @wormwriting, @distinctlywhumpthing, @whump-cafe@jo-doe-seeking-inspo @azayta @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @batfacedliar-yetagain @there-will-always-be-blood @siren-of-agony @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101)

[moocha-muses]

“- honey, I can’t come over, I’m making breakfast. Just send me pics and I’ll tell you which one looks cuter. But hurry - if I leave this pancake batter unattended the yeast might explode.”

“Nice. I didn’t know we even had blueberries.”

“Went to the farmer’s market. Someone implied my cooking needs work.”

“I heavily implied it was cute.”