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home for the holidays (part two) - r.c.
âď¸ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series âď¸ (part one here!)
summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. Itâs gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you overâŚ
content âenemiesâ to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni
(taglist for this series is closed. please see author's notes at the end of the chapter for important info about the taglist!)
Somewhere between his house and yours it dawned on Rafe, much to his annoyance, that he had a big, stupid crush on you.
He tried everything to suppress it. He reminded himself that you didn't like him, that you probably thought you were better than him. He reminded himself how stupid itâd be to get attached to someone only a few months before graduation.Â
Jesus, really man? He thought. Sheâs not your type, Rafe. She hates you. Be a fucking man and pull it together.
But it was the way you were perched in the driverâs seat, scooted all the way forward leaving no room between you and the wheel, smiling as you sang along to Mariah Carey. You looked so soft and cute, the sleeves of his hoodie slipping over your hands as they clutched the steering wheel.
Fuck, he definitely had a crush on you, and he hated having a crush. There was way too much room for rejection. This was one area in which heâd never really grown up, so he opted for his usual defense mechanism - pushing your buttons, like he was ten years old on the playground, pulling your pigtail just to get a reaction.
âSo was I right about you not having many hookups in college?â He blurted out sometime during the third play of All I Want for Christmas is You.
Your head snapped toward him, complete confusion and not even a smidge of amusement on your face.
âWhat the fuck?â You grumbled. âThatâs kinda personal, actuallyâŚâ
âIâm just saying, Iâve never seen you at parties, and you donât seem to have a boyfriend. Four years is a long timeâŚâ
âEverything is about sex with you, huh? Some of us are actually in college to learn,â you scolded him. It was his intention to push you away, and yet the repulsion in your voice still stung.
âAlright, Iâll stop asking,â he conceded.
âGood,â you huffed, shoulders slumping a little.
He looked over at you every so often, determined to find a flaw, some blemish or ick that he could use as a dealbreaker. This plan backfired terribly, his eyes only discovering more pretty features and cute little mannerisms that made his stomach leap every time he looked at you. He felt like a moth, brainless and hopelessly drawn to the warm light of a lamp that was sure to zap him dead at the slightest touch.
After twenty minutes of freezing him out for his âno hookupsâ comment, you gasped and excitedly pointed out the first of many road signs for your hometown, your annoyance with him replaced with excitement as the signs advertised you were getting closer and closer to home.Â
Then you finally gave him something to resent you for. After a remark about how excited you were to see your family, you looked over at him with big, kind eyes, nervously broaching the topic with a light touch on his arm, âIâm sorry about your family leaving you behind. That totally sucks.â
There was a softness in your tone that was so warm and inviting it made him want to jump out of the moving car. He knew he was fucked up for being mad that you were being nice, but he couldnât help it, the tenderness in your gaze made him feel like a wounded puppy, and he hated your pity.
He pulled his arm away from your gentle fingers like theyâd hurt him.
âIâm fine,â he snapped. âThey didnât leave me, it was just a miscommunication.â
You withdrew in more ways than one, pulling your hand back and falling awkwardly silent. Rafe kicked himself mentally, of course just when youâd started to come around to him, he pushed you away. Little did those girls in your dorm know, that was the true Rafe Cameron special.
âSo, uh, you were saying something about presents for your brothers? How old are they?â He asked, praying he hadnât made you shut down for good, trying to re-stoke the fires of the friendship you had been building since you offered for him to come home with you.
You were chewing on your nails, picking at the dead skin nervously. At his prompting you started to speak again, though a bit less enthusiastically than before heâd shut you down.
âUhm, well,â you sat up a little. âThereâs Luke, heâs sixteen. And then Reese is thirteen and Bennett is ten.â
âFun ages,â he nodded, wincing at his clichĂŠ words.
âThey are fun,â you nodded, a smile returning to your lips at the thought of your little brothers. The sight of you smiling again soothed the ache in his chest and he leaned back into his seat, full of relief.
âLuke is such a teenage boy, too cool for everything. I got him some Nike cleats because he plays football, heâll pretend he doesnât like them but I think heâll wear them. And Reese is quieter, heâs always been a bit more sensitive. He wants to be a photographer, so I got him a vintage Polaroid camera. Benny was the easiest to shop for,â you smiled at the thought of your baby brother, Rafe could tell you had a special love for him. âI got him one of those giant gummy bears that comes in its own plastic case. It cost a fraction of what I spent on the other two but I guarantee you heâll be the most excited.â
âIâm sure theyâll all like what you got them,â he assured you.
âThey better, they cost me a whole paycheck,â you huffed, thinking of all the hours youâd worked slinging drinks at your collegeâs go-to student bar to pay for the presents that were currently sitting in your trunk.
âItâs better than what I got my sisters,â he reminded you with a laugh.
âHey! I spent six whole dollars on those souvenirs!â You scolded him, smiling at the memory of the crappy little knick-knacks in the backseat.
âAnd Iâm sure theyâll love them,â he agreed.
âWhat about your sisters? How old are they?â You asked.
Surely, you were just being polite, keeping the conversation going after heâd asked about your brothers. But he wanted nothing less than to talk about his family right now, the thought of them all hanging out at the Bahama house, completely forgetting that he existed, still stung fresh. He wondered if Sarah and Wheezie even asked his dad where he was, why he wasnât on the plane. Maybe they were relieved to celebrate the holiday without him annoying them, he probably deserved it.Â
âHey, isnât that your exit?â He pointed at the highway sign, advertising that the off ramp to your hometown was only half-a-mile away, trying to distract you from your question.
âYes!â It worked, you sat up in your seat, excitedly pressing a little harder on the gas as you celebrated the proximity to home.
âWoah, slow down, Iâd like to celebrate Christmas alive,â he joked as the needle on the speedometer climbed higher and higher.
âOh shit sorry,â you giggled, pulling your foot back to slow down a little. âIâm just excited. Itâs gonna be so cozy. My dad will have put a bunch of colored lights all over the front of the house, and the tree will be up, probably a fire going and Christmas music playing. I canât wait to see them!â
His jealousy was almost debilitating. What must it be like to feel this excited to go home? To know what was waiting for you was going to bring you so much joy? He wanted what you had so badly, he was tempted to reach out and touch you just to see if he could absorb your happiness by osmosis.
The little town you called home was just as small as Rafe was picturing, if not more. Though, the tiny houses lining the main street were decked to the nines with Christmas decorations, so much merriment in such a tiny little hamlet. The further into the country you drove, green street signs giving way to rickety, hand-painted ones, the more he felt like he understood you.
You smiled at all the lights, body absolutely buzzing with each turn that brought you towards home. Finally, you turned on a long dirt road, past a field of horses Rafe recognized as the farm you said you grew up next to. Approaching a mailbox with your last name on it, your smile fell from your lips, eyebrows creasing as you turned onto the property.
At the end of the long driveway was a small little split level home Rafe surmised to be yours, only where he expected a display of twinkling christmas decor, there was only one single flickering porch light. If he hadnât known better, heâd assume the family who lived here didnât celebrate Christmas at all.
âWhat the hell?â You mumbled under your breath, concern on your face growing as you pulled the car up and parked behind an old, rusting mini-van.Â
Arms full of presents, Rafe helping with your bags, you stumbled anxiously through the front door. The inside of your house was just as disappointing as the outside. It was messy, dishes on the counter and the echo of obnoxious video games ringing through the halls where there should be the familiar chatter of your family having dinner.
âHello?â You called out, setting the presents down on the kitchen table. You peaked your head over the island, into the open space of the living room. In the far corner, where there shouldâve been a Christmas tree, there was a pile of unfolded laundry.Â
Two messy headed boys peered over the back of the couch, the third head not moving from its fixation on the TV as his fingers continued to click away on his controller.
âGigs!!â The smallest one, who Rafe assumed to be Bennett, shouted, he and the second smallest, who he identified as Reese, rose from the couch and made their way towards you.
âGigs?â Rafe repeated under his breath.
âAs in Giggles. Itâs my childhood nickname,â you explained, and when you saw his teasing smirk added, âshut up.â
Reese and Bennett nearly tackled you, colliding into you with little bear hugs. Reese was nearing your height, though not quite there yet, and Bennett was small but stocky, his chubby arms squeezing the air from your lungs.
âRice and beans!â You sang affectionately as you returned their hugs, messing up their hair and pinching their cheeks. You looked to Rafe to answer the question you could see already forming on his lips, ârice and beans, as in Reese and Bennett, their nicknames.â
He smiled at your affectionate embrace with your brothers, nodding with a little, âah.â Something in him ached, like a haunted limb, a muscle he didnât even have that was sore from lack of use.
After several moments, Bennett pulled away, eyeing Rafe and pointing a stubby little finger right at him, âwhoâs he?â
Reese covered his brotherâs finger, forcing his hand down correctively.
âBenny, thatâs rude,â you said, unable to suppress the little chuckle at your brotherâs boyish indifference.
In your concern over the state of the house, you hadnât planned out how to explain Rafe to your brothers. âHeâs a friendâ wasnât totally accurate, but it was the only language theyâd understand. Before you could open your mouth to explain anything, though, your youngest brother blurted out, âare you Giggyâs boyfriend?â
âBennett Alan,â you snipped at him through gritted teeth, giving him a motherly glare as you used his full name in warning. âYouâre being rude, and he is not my boyfriend.â
This was true, though Rafe wasnât sure there was any need for the tinge of disgust in the way you said it. He could sense Bennett formulating another pot-stirring question and jumped in before he had the chance.
âIâm Rafe,â he set his bag down next to the counter and held out a hand.Â
Bennett puffed out his chest, putting on his best adult voice as he shook Rafeâs hand, âIâm Bennett, my friends call me Benny.â
You and Reese gave each other knowing smirks, sharing eye rolls over your brotherâs precocious antics.Â
âAnd which should I call you?â Rafe played along with his all-business tone.
âDepends, how much money you got?â
Rafe smirked, but you were mortified. âOh my god, Beans! You canât ask people that. Here, make yourself useful and put these presents under the tree.â
âWe donât have one,â Reese told you, the first words Rafe had heard him speak, and by his quiet tone and the way he avoided eye contact he understood why youâd called him the sensitive one.
Rafe caught the way you allowed worry to flash across your face for only a second before you smoothed your features back into faux nonchalance, like you were putting on a show for the kids.
âOh okay, well then I guess weâll just leave them on the table,â you shrugged, as if you hadnât been raving about your familyâs grand Christmas trees just minutes ago.
Your eyes drifted back to the living room, where your remaining brother still hadnât risen to greet you.
âLukey? Help me with my bags?âÂ
The shaggy haired boy finally turned, eyeing Rafe with a cold distrust that felt like looking in a mirror.
âLooks like heâs already got âem,â he grumbled.
You gave him an authoritative glare that had much less playfulness than the one youâd given Bennett.
âWhere are mom and dad?â You asked Reese in a hushed tone, shielding the question from Bennett, who was busy dragging a chair over from the kitchen table.
âItâs Thursday,â Reese responded, giving you a knowing look like you should know what that meant. When you clearly didnât, he added, âchemo day,â in a whisper so quiet Rafe could barely hear it. âMomâs been asleep since they got back and dad had to work the evening shift.â
Rafe did hear though, and your eyes flicked to him quickly with a vulnerability he hadnât seen from you yet, like he somehow had something to hold over your head now. He wanted to say the exact right thing to put you at ease, to let you know your familyâs business was safe with him. As he was formulating the words, Benny was climbing up on the chair heâd dragged over, standing directly between you and Rafe.
âHow tall are you?â Benny asked Rafe once he could meet his eyeline.
âUhm,â Rafe cleared his throat, pulled from the moment, âIâm 6 '2.â
âIâm 4 foot 1 and three quarters,â Benny explained, as though if this were a competition, he was just a few points behind Rafe, and gaining.
âNice! 4 '1 is very respectable,â Rafe smiled, deciding it was best to be on Bennyâs good side.
âAnd three quarters,â Benny corrected through gritted teeth.
âRight, sorry, and three quarters,â Rafe put his hands up in defense.
Benny crossed his arms and gave Rafe a once over, as if he was the man of the house deciding if he was allowed to stay.Â
Sensing your brother was about to say some other rude thing to embarass you, you stepped in, âBenny why donât you go show our guest where we keep the air mattress,â you grabbed him off the chair and lowered him to the ground with some difficulty, âand be nice,â you added in his ear.
Benny obeyed but gave Rafe narrow, suspicious eyes the whole way down the hall.
âThereâs like a thirty percent chance Benny tries to fight him,â Reese noted as the two of you watched them go.
You chuckled, settling on the couch between your two brothers.
âSo who is he really?â Luke asked, still not pausing his video game but at least acknowledging your existence.Â
âHeâs just a guy from school,â you shrugged. âHeâs Brodyâs friend.â
âIs Brody here?â Reese asked hopefully. You and Brody had been friends your whole childhoods, and your brotherâs were always big fans.
âNo, he had an internship or something, but Iâd already told Rafe Iâd give him a ride, and when we got to his house his family was just, like, gone,â you explained. âThey went on a trip and didnât even tell him.â
âYikes,â Luke said. âThatâs shitty.â
âLanguage,â you scolded, making him roll his eyes. âBut yes, it is shitty,â you added, making him smirk.Â
âHeâs like Kevin from Home Alone,â Reese quipped. All three of you laughed.
âHonestly? It was kind of exactly like that, only sadder. Like a lost puppy. I mean, who just forgets their kid?â You lowered your voice a bit, hoping it wouldnât carry down the hall. âI felt so awkward I didnât know what to do so I said he could come here.â
Your brothers seemed satisfied with your explanation. Even though nothing you said was technically untrue, you still felt like you were somehow being dishonest. Youâd never admit it, but it wasnât all out of pity, there was some small part of you that wanted to bring Rafe home, that was intrigued by him and wanted to see more. But there was no way to explain that to two teenage boys, so you settled for the Home Alone excuse.
Benny came back around the corner, leaping onto the couch and nearly knocking over Lukeâs soda.
âBeans, chill,â Luke groaned as he narrowly caught his Mountain Dew before it spilled all over the coffee table.
âWhereâs Rafe?â You asked Benny, looking around to see if heâd followed your brother back out.
âHe said to tell you heâs going to bed, he seemed kinda grumpy,â Benny shrugged, stealing Lukeâs soda when he wasnât paying attention and taking a swig.
âOh,â you said, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in your voice. âOkay.â
Down the hall, Rafe snuck quietly into the laundry room as the fading voices of you and your brothers were drowned out by the sound of the water heater, which sat in the cramped space right next to the air mattress Benny had helped him set up.
Your voice echoed in his head, âI felt so awkward I didnât know what to do.âÂ
So it was a pity invite. You saw him as some sad character from a 90s movie, not an actual companion you wanted to spend the holiday with.Â
He settled on the uncomfortable inflatable mattress. He was in a house full of people, and yet he was beginning to think he might actually feel less lonely all by himself in Tannyhill.
Up before the sun, out the door before breakfastâs done; thatâs the way your dad had been your whole life, working a string of manual labor, blue collar jobs that meant he was usually gone before you woke up.
This morning however, you were determined to talk to him before he left, to confront him about the complete lack of Christmas youâd found at your homecoming. You set your alarm at an ungodly hour so you could wait for him to come down the stairs.
Hunched over the counter by the brewing coffee pot, you ran your hands over your face. Your holiday homecoming was nothing like you imagined, the biggest surprise of all being the person you came home with, but youâd figure out how to broach that subject later.
âHi Gigs.â Your dadâs footsteps were so quiet, you hadnât heard him enter the kitchen. When you turned to meet him, he flashed you a tired grin.
Heâd gotten home after you went to sleep last night, this was the first youâd seen him since your anticlimactic arrival. He looked more exhausted than you ever remembered seeing him. Even more tired than after Bennett was born and he had colic for six months.
âHi dad,â you approached and gave him a hug before returning to the coffee pot to pour some for him in a travel mug.
âCouldnât sleep?â He asked.
âA lot on my mind,â you said, turning to face him. âMade you some coffee. If you stay and talk to me I might just be persuaded to make you breakfast.â
Your dad slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, pulling on and lacing up his heavy work boots.
âNo time for breakfast,â he waved you off. âYou know that.â
âDad, whatâs going on?â You asked, knowing your window to get answers was closing quickly.
But he didnât answer, he just sighed heavily and shook his head, avoiding your gaze.
âJust not a breakfast guy thatâs all,â he joked. You knew he knew thatâs not what you meant.
âYou didnât even hang any lights,â you mumbled softly, feeling a bit childish. âAnd thereâs no tree.â
Your dad sighed again. You wondered if there was a record for how many times someone could sigh in one conversation.
âIâve been working double shifts, there just hasnât been time. Iâm sorry,â he shrugged. âItâs been a long year, kid.â
âWhy didnât you tell me itâs gotten so bad? I wouldâve come back sooner,â you said, pulling a side eye from him that you read as: and thatâs exactly why I didnât tell you.
âI donât know, why didnât you tell me about the frat boy in the laundry room?â He countered.
âOh, right,â you blushed, feeling like when you were twelve and he found you hiding a stray cat in the garage. âWas gonna mention him but, you know, you were working.â
âCouldâve told me you were bringing your boyfriend home,â he scolded you.
âHeâs not my boyfriend,â you rushed to explain. âHeâs Brodyâs friend. He needed a place to crash.â
âAh, Brodyâs friend. That makes me feel so much better,â he rolled his eyes.Â
Your dad was never a fan of Brody, too much of a âknuckleheadâ as he called him. You knew Rafe wouldnât fare much better in your dadâs good graces, no guy you liked ever did. Not that you liked Rafe. Fuck, your blush was getting deeper. You quickly looked down at your feet, hoping your dad wouldnât notice.Â
Luckily, he was too tired to read your facial expressions, he huffed as he rose from his chair and approached you, digging in his pocket for some cash. âHere, grab a tree and some gifts for the boys -â
âYou havenât even gotten them gifts yet?â You sighed.
âI know, I know,â he nodded, his baggy, tired eyes begging you for a little slack. Youâd never seen him look so tired, sympathy overpowering your disappointment. âIâm trying here, gigs.â
âI got it,â you gave him a small, dutiful smile and pocketed the cash.
âI knew you would,â he gave you a side hug and accepted the travel mug of coffee you handed him. âIâm sorry things arenât exactly what you expected. but I am glad youâre home.â
As he slipped out the front door into the chilly dusk, your mind spiraled. You knew your mom was having a rough patch with her breast cancer, but you had no idea itâd gotten this bad. No Christmas was simply not an option, maybe things would never go back to normal for you, or your parents, but that was adulthood wasnât it? Your brothers shouldnât have to grow up just yet, and youâd make sure they didnât.
Everything felt wrong, off kilter in a way that made your stomach twist with the familiar anxiety that comes with any situation you canât control. So you did what you always do when things feel uncertain; you made a list.
Pulling a notebook from the kitchen junk drawer, you uncapped a pen and quickly scribbled everything you could think of that needed to be done:
DecorationsÂ
⢠box in garage? lights working?
Presents for the boysÂ
⢠wishlists? budget??
Buy and decorate treeÂ
 ⢠Douglas Fir? tree lots still open?
Under each item you scribbled all the steps you could think of, as well as any conflicts you might hit along the way. Maybe if you could just work the problem, you could fix this, save Christmas and by extension, your family.
You eyed the empty checkboxes next to each item with worry. If you were going to pull all of this off in just two days, youâd need to call in some reinforcements.Â
The door to the laundry room squeaks if you open it slowly, which you did deliberately, milking it for all the disruptive sound itâs worth. Rafe was sprawled out on the air mattress, which had deflated just a bit in his sleep, making his legs stick up in the air a little higher than his upper body.Â
He was snoring away, just like he had in the car, your noisy opening of the door not doing what youâd hoped it would.Â
You sighed loudly, he didnât stir. You cleared your throat, still nothing. You coughed theatrically, he was still out cold.
Finally, you opened the lid to the washing machine, taking off one sock and dropping it in, letting the heavy metal lid slam closed as you started a rinse cycle. At the crash, Rafe shot up, nearly falling off the air mattress.
âOh good, youâre up!â You chirped, as if you hadnât caused the sudden awakening.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â He grumbled at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair stuck up at all angles and he squinted, barely able to open his eyes in his exhaustion. You gave yourself one second to think about how cute he looked before redirecting your focus to the reason you were in here.
âJust doing some laundry,â you told him as he reached around in the dimly lit room for his phone. âBut since youâre awake...â
âWhat time is it?â He slurred, still half asleep.
âI dunno probably like 9,â you shrugged, knowing full well that wasnât the case.
âI canât find my phone,â he sunk back into the mattress, making like he was going to go back to sleep. That wouldnât do.
âOh, here!â You flicked on the fluorescent overhead light, making him wince and pull the covers over his head.
âGah! Turn them off please!â He cried out, voice muffled from under the blankets.
âItâs time to get up, we have a big day ahead of us,â you walked over to the mattress, kicking it to jostle him around on the half-inflated plastic.
âIâm on vacation,â he protested.Â
âYes, exactly, Christmas vacation,â you walked around to the end of the bed, grabbing the covers in two hands and pulling them from his body, making him groan and curl up in the cold air like a rolly polly bug. âWe have Christmas things to do.â
You tried not to notice the sculpted arms revealed by his grey tank top, and you really tried not to notice how the thin material of his flannel pajama pants was leaving very little to the imagination. He looked up after a moment, blinking his eyes open to catch you staring, his lips twisting in a cocky grin. He opened his mouth to say something smug and flirtatious, but before he could, his eyes caught the clock on the wall behind you.
âItâs 6am?!â He yelled.
âOh is it?â You laughed, no longer trying to hide your scheme. âMy bad, 6s and 9s look the same to me.â
Swiftly, Rafe stretched out his long leg, hooking his foot behind your knee and pulling you toward him, sweeping you off your feet and onto the mattress. A sharp âoof!â left your lips and as you crashed down onto what little air was left in the mattress to catch you. Landing hard, you immediately slid towards him, your body settling square on top of his.
âYou wanna talk some more about 6s and 9s?â He grinned at you, his morning voice low and raspy in a way that sent goosebumps rushing up your spine.
âUgh, youâre a pig!â You smacked him on the shoulder, pins and needles lingering in your hand where your skin had met his, and tried to push yourself up.
Wobbling on the plastic mattress, your attempts to get off of him only had you wriggling further down until your face was hovering over his. This was the closest you had ever been to him, suddenly noticing just how blue his eyes were. The glow of them under the fluorescents actually knocked the wind out of you, freezing your body in place over him as you took them in, feeling like you might drown in them if you stared too long, but letting the waves pull you under anyway.
âMorning,â he lips curved into a smile that was so handsome it almost made you forget your mission.
Grasping at your reason for coming in here like it was a lifeboat, you decided to use the compromising position you had him in to your advantage, leaning a little closer as you said, âI need you.â
Rafeâs eyebrows shot up in shock, was this really about to happen, right here in your parentâs laundry room?
âOh yeah?â He flirted, muscles tensing in anticipation beneath you. âWhat do you need, hmm?â
âJust say yes and Iâll tell you,â you purposefully dropped your voice lower, adding a tinge of suggestion to your words to really bring it home.
âAnything,â he agreed, his mind five miles ahead of you in the wrong direction.
You sat up, straddling him, and pulled the list of tasks from your pocket.
âGreat, get dressed, weâre leaving in five,â you smiled down at him, relishing the completely baffled look on his face. âWeâre gonna save Christmas.â
âNo, we donât have time to stop, we gotta stick to the list,â you protested as Rafe turned the car off the road and pulled into a drive thru.
After tricking him into agreeing to help you, youâd rushed him through getting ready and out of the house, convinced the stores would be packed as soon as they opened. He dragged his feet the whole way, but somehow youâd managed to wrangle him into the car, insisting he drive so you could look through some catalogs to map out gifts for your brothers.
âIf I have to be up at the asscrack of dawn, Iâm getting coffee,â he shot you down.
âOkay, fine, but if we get there and all the good deals are gone, Iâm blaming you,â you conceded.
You tapped your knee anxiously as the line of cars in the drive thru crawled like a herd of snails. Rafe watched your fingers strum out of the corner of his eye, noticing for the first time the way your nails were bitten down to the beds. He wasnât paying much attention, but he was fairly sure they werenât that messed up yesterday.
âWhat do you want to order?â He asked, unsure why but suddenly only caring about finding a way to distract you.
Without needing to look at the menu, you recited, âventi blonde americano with two extra shots of espresso and a splash, like a really small splash, of oat milk. Actually no oatmilk. And four shots.â
Rafe blinked back at you, your fidgety fingers lifted to your lips as you chewed on your cuticles.
Pulling up to the speaker, he leaned in and said, âyeah grande black coffee for me, and uh, a tall green tea please.â
âThat is not what I ordered!â you snipped as he pulled forward to the first window.
âYeah, Iâm cutting you off,â he explained. âIf I let you have any more caffeine, you wonât have any fingernails left.â
You dropped your hand quickly, surprised that he had noticed. You were miffed that he was denying you your coffee, but he was probably right. You took a deep breath and sipped your tea as he drove to the first stop on your list.
Somewhere along the highway, the radio jingled the familiar first notes of All I Want For Christmas is You. You sat up, excitedly reaching to turn the volume up.
âIf I have to listen to this song one more time, I swear Iâm gonna drive the car off this bridge,â he groaned, his hand covering yours to stop you from making his misery louder.
âOh my god youâre so dramatic,â you raised your eyebrows, giving in and returning your hand to your lap. âSheâs the queen of Christmas!â
âPlease,â he gave you a pouty lip from the driverâs seat. âItâs killing me.â
âOkay, fine,â you laughed, rolling your eyes at him. âNo more Mariah Carey.â
The department store parking lot was swarming with last minute shoppers. You hated that you belonged with them, punished for procrastination. Usually you did things early and thoroughly, now people would think you were one of the careless who pushed things to the last minute. It was a silly thing to worry about, but everything seemed to worry you today. You even made Rafe exchange phone numbers with you in case one of you got lost in the crowd and you couldnât find each other. Your mind was running wild with worst case scenarios.
Rafe found a spot far from the door, as you walked towards the storeâs entrance, you flipped through the catalog youâd snatched from your parentâs junkmail.
âOkay, so I circled everything thatâs similar to whatâs on the boysâ lists but on clearance,â you explained to him as he grabbed a cart, not fully listening to you. âWeâve got like fifty dollars for each of them, I think we can find a couple good things.â
Once inside the door, Rafe immediately grabbed a bag of chocolates off of the stocking stuffers display.
âThatâs not on the list,â you reminded him, jaw dropping when he opened the bag and started eating the candy right there in the middle of the aisle. âAnd you didnât pay for that!â
âRelax,â he held the bag out to you, âhave some chocolate. Get into the Christmas spirit.â
âSince when are you the expert on the âChristmas spirit?ââ You eyed him, noticeably not accepting a piece of his stolen candy. âYou just threatened to throw Mariah Carey off a bridge.â
âNo, I said I was gonna throw myself off a bridge if I had to listen to her one more time,â he placed his hand over his chest as if he was proving his innocence. âBesides, one of us has to have a little joy,â he noted, tilting his head a little to emphasize his point.
He was right, you were stressing a little too much. If Rafe Cameron was out-Christmasing you, then clearly you needed an attitude adjustment.Â
âYouâre right,â you sighed, accepting one of his chocolates and popping it in your mouth as you looked around the store to map out your shopping plan. âAlright, aisle ten for Reeseâs camera lens and then aisle four for Bennyâs lego-â
Your sentence was cut short at the feeling of Rafeâs thumb on the corner of your mouth, his face cool and casual as the pad of his finger ran across your lip. Your eyes shot around, there were at least a dozen people in this section, all close enough to see him circling your mouth with his finger.
Before you could push him off, not that you really wanted to, he pulled back. You stumbled a bit, subconsciously chasing the feeling of his touch. He revealed his thumb to you, heâd collected a little glob of chocolate that had smeared around your mouth.
âYouâre gonna get us caught for our little shoplifting scheme,â he joked, licking the chocolate off the pad of his thumb as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and not an incredibly sensual action for a fluorescent lit department store at 7am.
âW-we are not shoplifting,â you stammered, fighting speechlessness and praying he didnât notice the way your cheeks were burning. âYou better pay for those.â
âOkay, okay,â he laughed. Iâll pay for them, I promise. But if I forget, Iâm saying you took them.â He dropped the chocolates into the cart before you could protest and wheeled toward the first aisle on your list, making you scurry a bit to catch up with his long legs.
âBastard,â you mumbled, still feeling flustered.
Somewhere between the frozen food section and the office supplies aisle, you actually started having fun.Â
Your cart filled slowly, the rush you were in when you entered the store slowing with every moment that passed walking around the store with Rafe. You joked about the hideous holiday decor, and the cheesy romance novel shelf. You stood on the back of the cart as he wheeled you around, nearly taking out a display of canned goods, and got a stern warning from a stock boy that sent you both into a fit of mischievous laughter. He tried on a series of truly awful hats for you, and even let you snap a few pictures.
As you laughed and shopped together, you couldnât help but notice the cheery looks of the older ladies that passed you in the aisles. You returned their friendly glances with a blush, wondering, though it made you feel like a silly schoolgirl, if they thought Rafe was your boyfriend.
Youâd remind yourself how foolish the thought was as you checked items off your list, seeing as this was not the real Rafe Cameron. The real Rafe Cameron wouldnât be caught dead shopping for gardening gloves and barbeque tongs for your parents, heâd rather be pregaming a party or kicking the girl from last night whoâs name heâd already forgotten out of bed.Â
And yet, here he was, pushing the cart while you rattled on about Christmas when you were seven when it snowed so hard the power went out, the last time you remembered actually having a white Christmas. The way he nodded along intently had you actually wondering if it could be real, if being with him could be more than just a distraction from a stressful morning.
Your thoughts spiraled even further when he stopped to point out a his and hers sweater set, one reading ânaughtyâ and the other ânice.â
âAs long as I get to be the nice one,â you smiled as he pulled the itchy wool over his head.
He leaned down to tug its partner over your head, his voice low in your ear, âOnly âcause I know you like it when Iâm naughty.â
Butterflies did pirouettes in your stomach, you snapped a picture of the two of you in a mirror, Rafe towering over you from behind as he smiled for the camera.Â
âYeah, weâre definitely buying these,â he said, tucking the tag into your collar, his knuckles ghosting over the skin of your neck.
After a few more shenanigans, you realized two hours had passed, and you still had several more items on your list.
âHow about this? For your brothers?â Rafe asked, pointing out an Xbox in a display case.Â
You snorted, âthereâs no planet on which my brotherâs would think that actually came from our parents. Theyâre still using an old PlayStation someone gave us years ago.â
âWell then Iâll get it for them, you can say it came from Santa,â he shrugged, as if the astronomical price tag below it didnât even exist.
âOur Santa brings, like, socks and candy. He doesnât have a black card,â you pulled his arm, guiding him to a cheaper aisle.
âAnd what does your Santa usually bring you?â He questioned, a not so subtle way to find out what you wanted for Christmas.Â
âI donât ask him for much,â you brushed the question off. âI just want my family all together.â
Rafe didnât push any further, watching you out of the corner of his eye, realization dawning that you were serious, you actually didnât expect to get any gifts for Christmas.
Not noticing his eyes on you, you scanned over everything in your cart, adding it up on your phoneâs calculator for the hundredth time. You couldnât remember a day in your life you werenât worried about money. Every penny counts now more than ever with your mom not working and your dad unable to find a job that pays enough to keep everyone afloat without completely running himself into the ground.
Without realizing it, you brought your fingertips back to your mouth, biting your nails anxiously for the first time since Rafe had pointed out the bad habit several hours ago.
âHey you know what?â Rafe said, and you were so lost in worried thoughts that you flinched at the sound of his voice. âWhy donât we split up to get the rest of the list? Weâll cover more ground that way. Also, I think I saw some fake trees on sale back there, so I can grab one.â
âOkay,â you agreed, feeling the little bubble of your flirty shopping spree pop.Â
He was clearly ready to be done with this little excursion. But youâd had more fun than you thought you would, and there were still several days of break left to enjoy with him. You could feel the walls youâd so carefully built around your heart swaying just a little bit in his wind. The thought terrified and thrilled you all at the same time.
After collecting your half of the gift list, you searched the store for Rafe. You found him in the jewelry section, leaning against the glass display case. You made your way towards him, prepared to tease him for wasting time in a section that wasnât on the list, before you saw his reason for being there. You stopped short, ducking behind an inflatable Santa to watch with a disappointed glare.Â
He was chatting up a pretty sales girl, her store uniform fitted tightly as she smiled down at him, her cheeks rosy pink and pretty smile blindingly white.
Rafe gave her the charming grin youâd begun to hope he only reserved for you, probably drawling some cheeky compliments to cause her to blush in the way you surely did when he talked to you.
The feeling in your chest was unfamiliar, and painfully uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you identified it as jealousy. No, no, you were not jealous over this obnoxious frat boy, you wouldnât allow yourself to be. That was not how you were gonna start your Christmas break.
Just as youâd resolved not to be jealous, he reached up and brushed his hand against the necklace she was wearing, admiring her jewelry surely just as an excuse to bring his hand close to her chest. She beamed at him, his attempts at flirting clearly working.Â
A deep frown settled on your features. He was supposed to be shopping for your little brothers and instead he was feeling up a sales girl? You felt so delusional for thinking youâd misjudged him on the drive down. He was the same guy you thought he was when he showed up at your car yesterday, you should've trusted your gut.
Hoping he wouldnât catch you watching, you turned quickly on your heel, beelining for check out.
Taking the bag from the sales girl with a wink, Rafe tucked the small item at the bottom of his cart, under the presents heâd collected for your brothers, and began searching for you in the crowded aisles, looking forward to the pleased look on your face when he informed you heâd found everything on his half of the list.
When he found you, you were already half way through checking out, loading items onto the belt and watching with tense shoulders as the total on the screen climbed higher and higher.
âWhat, were you gonna leave without me?â Rafe joked as he started adding his items to the belt.
âWeâre on a schedule, we donât have time to keep fucking around,â you grumbled.Â
Rafe met eyes with the college-aged guy who was working as cashier, both of them flashing knowing smirks as if to say, âchicks, am I right, man?â Their boyish camaraderie made you even angrier.Â
Once your cart was empty, you started to help Rafe empty his cart, but he jumped around to the front before you could, blocking your access.
âNo, no, I got it,â he said nervously, his body blocking you from reaching into his cart.
Irritation crept up your chest, threatening to take over completely. You suddenly felt so petty and immature, like you were Bennyâs age, knowing you were about to say something rude youâd later regret.Â
âFine!â You shoved the cash your dad had given you in Rafeâs hands, âIâll just go pull the car around then.â
Rafe watched you leave through the storeâs sliding glass doors, arms crossed as you exited to the parking lot, which was wet and slippery from the wintery sleet mix that had started falling at some point when you were in the store. You paused and huffed deeply, annoyed by the shift in weather, throwing the hood of your jacket up as you jogged across the lot to your car.
He had no idea what had changed in the thirty minutes youâd been shopping separately. There had been a moment earlier when he thought heâd finally won you over, and now you were back to treating him like he was the bane of your existence.
âThis too?â The cashier asked, holding out the decorative mistletoe Rafe had thrown in the bottom of his cart, thinking he could work in some cheeky joke with you and get that perfect eye roll/reluctant smile expression you make that heâd become a little obsessed with.
âYeah, sure, whatever man,â he agreed with a frown.
As promised, you brought the car around, giving Rafe the cold shoulder as you loaded the gifts into the trunk. When you got to the fake tree Rafe had snagged from the holiday section, you paused.
âWhatâs that?â You questioned him.
âA tree?â He snapped back. âI told you I was gonna grab one.â
âNo,â you shook your head, âwe have to get a real tree.â
Rafe looked up at the sky pointedly, the worsening weather causing shoppers around you to duck and run to their car to get out of the misery.
âAre you serious?â He grumbled. âWhatâs wrong with this one?â
âIt justâŚit has to be real, okay?â You huffed. âI found the last tree lot in the county that still has Douglas Firs, so you can take this one back.â
âWhy donât we keep this one just in case you change your mind,â he suggested.
âFine, keep it, but Iâm not changing my mind,â you threw the box with the fake tree into the trunk and slammed it closed, nearly catching Rafeâs hand in the heavy door as you did.
You stomped around to the driverâs side, leaving Rafe to return the carts to the main entrance, his jaw clenched in frustration the whole way. What had started as disappointment in your change in demeanor had turned into full-on anger. He may not be your favorite person, but you werenât the only one having a shitty Christmas, and he definitely didnât think he deserved whatever the fuck this was.
âIâm telling you, it was veer left, not turn left!â
The windshield wipers were working overtime, squeaking against the glass as they tried and failed to keep the freezing rain out of your line of vision. You sat all the way forward in your seat to see through the watery streaks they left behind. You had pulled onto some muddy back road as Rafe read directions from the GPS, trying to find this obscure tree lot several miles outside of town.
âVeer left doesnât make any sense, I know that road, itâs all factories and empty lots,â you waved him off.
âOkay, well itâs clearly not this road! Is this even a road? Itâs like a fucking swamp out here, I donât know how your tires are even still moving,â He argued back.
âNot everything around here is as nice here as it is in the Outer Banks, Rafe. Weâre doing our best, sorry if we donât meet Cameron standards,â you griped at him.
âOh my god, thatâs not what I meant, just admit youâre fucking lost,â he snipped back.
âI am not lost. Itâs probably just taking me on a shortcut. The road will clear up any minute.â
As you said those fateful words, the road got even more unstable, dirt and gravel mixing with the precipitation to make what looked more like a vat of chocolate pudding than a road.Â
Stubbornly, you accelerated, determined to get out of this patch of road and prove to him you were right. As you sped up, the steering wheel turned erratically under your hands, your tires skidding on the slippery road, eventually stopping movement at all.
âHmm interesting,â Rafe quipped sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you try to navigate the situation youâd gotten yourself into.
âItâs fine, I just need toâŚâ you accelerated more, your spinning back tire kicking up mud as it fought for forward motion.
âStop, youâre gonna - â
POP! The car skidded forward violently just an inch before stopping altogether, the weight of it sinking underneath you as a loud whistling noise echoed from the rear tire.
â- blow your tire,â Rafe threw his hands up in exasperation as the low tire pressure light on your dash illuminated with a little âding!â
You avoided his eyes, hands still clutching the steering wheel as you clenched your jaw in anger.Â
âThanks a lot,â you mumbled.
Rafe blinked at you in disbelief, jaw hanging slack.Â
âMe?â He scoffed, looking around the car as if there was someone he could look to for confirmation that you were being insane. âHow is this my fault?â
âYouâre rushing me! I know how to drive on back roads but you were distracting me!â You were grasping at straws, you knew it, he knew it, but logic had flown out the window when the tire blew.Â
Rafe just chuckled humorlessly, pinching the bridge of his nose, âletâs just call someone and -â
But you were already opening your door, booted foot landing with a squelch in the mud.
âWhat are you doing?â He called after you.
You leaned down to look at him through your cracked door, ânever changed a tire before, rich boy?â With a smirk, you slammed the door in his face.
Scrambling in the mud behind you, Rafe tried to reason with you.
âItâs pouring, youâre gonna get sick! Please just let me call someone and we can get a tow home - â
âWe still have to get the tree,â you shut him down, loosening the spare tire from the back of the hatchback.
Rafe threw his hands out in disbelief, âyouâre not serious right? Youâre still trying to find this fucking farm that, I gotta tell you, Iâm starting to think doesnât even exist.â
âYes,â you said simply, lowering the tire to the ground and pulling the lug wrench from the trunk.
âYou might actually be the most stubborn, ridiculous person Iâve ever met. What is it about getting this tree?â He yelled over the steadily increasing rainfall.Â
âBecause, Rafe, I can!â You dropped the wrench in the mud and turned on him, tears stinging your eyes as you yelled, letting all your frustration out on this boy, who just yesterday was a stranger. âI canât get my dad a better job, and I canât buy my brothers the presents the really want, and I canât cure fucking cancer! But I can get a goddamn Douglas Fir, like we have every year since I was born. So Iâm getting this tree! You can call your new friend from he jewelry department to come pick you up, but Iâm staying here and changing this fucking tire!â
Standing back, Rafe buried his hands in his coat pockets, nodding along as you let it all out, the loose threads all twisting to finally weave together an explanation for your shift in mood. He spotted the tears as you mentioned your powerlessness over your dadâs job and your momâs cancer, feeling like he was starting to understand your stubborn insistence to make this cursed Christmas joyful.
Though he knew he should be comforting you, he couldnât help the little upward twitch of his lips at your comment about the jewelry girl. That explained your mood at check out, and if he was being honest, made his heart leap a little at the thought of you actually being jealous for his attention.
After several moments of his eyes on you, sizing you up as he digested your outburst, you suddenly felt exposed, and a little silly, âwhat?â you asked him with a burning blush.
âNothing,â he shook his head with a grin, leaning down to pick the wrench up from the mud, âjust didnât know you were the jealous type.â
Your jaw fell slack, out of all youâd just said, of course he was zeroing in on your comment about the girl in the store. You were somewhat relieved though, glad to have an excuse to move on from talking about all the sad, stressful things going on at home.
âYouâre such an ass,â you laughed, the air between you growing a little lighter. âI bet people call you that a lot.â
Rafe knelt down in the mud, beginning to loosen the screws of the flat tire.
âNot everyone, some people go with âlost puppyâ,â he muttered under his breath.
Your smile fell from your lips, your eyes grew as you realized he was quoting you back to you. He had heard you talking about him to your brothers last night. You replayed all your words in your head with a wince - laughing about how he was like the kid from Home Alone, saying you only brought him home because you felt awkward. God, now you felt like an ass.
âRafe, IâmâŚIâm so sorry, that was not coolâŚâ
âItâs fine,â he said, a small grunt leaving him as he used the wrench to loosen a particularly rusted bolt.
âNo, itâs not. We shouldnât have been laughing. I didnât just bring you home because I felt bad-â
âWhy did you then?â He stopped what he was doing, his eyes landing on yours so suddenly, you jumped back a bit, taken by the striking blue, and the vulnerability you were seeing in them for the first time.
Deciding it was time to get your own jeans muddy, you knelt down next to him, hands wrapping around the wrench handle next to his to help him pull, both of you struggling due to the rain making the wrench so slippery.
The bolt still didnât budge, and you paused for a minute, sitting back on your heels and looking at him.
âBecause itâs Christmas,â you answered his question. âAnd I wanted to spend it with a friend.â
The tips of his ears burned red, he hoped youâd think it was just from the cold.
Going in for a second try, you both tugged on the wrench again, gritted teeth and white knuckles as you combined your strength to turn it as hard as you could. Frosted rain slipping between the end of the wrench and the bolt made it slip, the metal flying through the air. You and Rafe both slipped in the mud under your knees, Rafe trying to catch himself on his hands so he didnât land on top of you, but not quite in time. His large body landed on top of yours and you both went tumbling down the side of the road, landing side by side in the muddy ditch with an unsettling squelch.
Both of you completely covered in mud, panting and shocked, Rafe turned his head to look at you, âfake tree?â
âYeah,â you breathlessly agreed. âFake tree.â
You and Rafe snuck in through the garage, both of you tracking mud with every step. There was no way youâd make it all the way up to the bathroom without destroying the floors in your wake.
Youâd laughed together the entire drive back to the house. What a disaster the shopping trip had turned into, and yet, you were more in the Christmas spirit now than you had been in a long, long time.
âOh shit,â you yelped, slipping on your own muddy boot and knocking down a pile of boxes as you tried to stabilize yourself.
Rafeâs arms shot out to catch you, your nails digging into his forearms to hold yourself up. You eyed him, still wearing the ânaughtyâ sweater you hoped heâd remembered to pay for.
âWell these are ruined,â you sighed, looking down at your own mud-soaked pullover. âAnd thereâs no way weâre making it upstairs without tracking in mud.â
Before your sentence was even finished, Rafe was hooking his hands into the collar, pulling the sweater up and off with one pull, peeling off the soaked t-shirt underneath it, too.Â
Failing miserably to hide your shock at his sculpted form, you bit your lip to silence the gasp that was begging to escape. He was just as built as you expected, if not more. His abs creased in a perfect set of six, sturdy pecs and two thick blue veins running through each bicep. He was somehow tan in the middle of December, and his skin was perfectly smooth apart from the little line of rough hair that ran from his belly button down to the waistband of his jeans.Â
He caught you staring, of course he did, and smirked as he flustered you further by unbuttoning his jeans and letting them fall to the floor in a muddy heap, left in only his black boxer-briefs.
Frozen in place, you subconsciously pulled your sleeves down over your hands, as if covering yourself up more could clear the cloud of attraction fogging your brain. Rafe turned and walked towards the door that led into the house.
âWha-where are you going?â You asked him, snapped out of your trance.
âTo take a shower,â he said, like it was obvious. âIâm fucking freezing, but you can stay here and drip.â
He smiled at you expectantly, there was a challenging dip in his voice as he over pronounced the last word. Something competitive rose in your chest, he clearly didnât think you had it in you to strip down, too. At the end of the day, you were a classic oldest child - you didnât take kindly to losing.
Keeping your eyes locked to him, you grabbed the hem of your sweater and pulled it off over your head, copying him by pulling the shirt underneath off too until you were standing in front of him in just your bra. Rafe tilted his head as his eyes raked over you, raising his eyebrows when he got to your jeans, just as muddy and destroyed as his had been.
With a hard swallow, you undid the button and zipper with shaky hands, shimmying your hips a little to pull the wet denim over your curves. Rafe went pale and speechless, taking in the little show with a heavy rise and fall of his chest. You piled all of your clothes in the corner, hoping no one in your family stumbled upon them before you had the chance to wash them.
Rafe didnât even try to hide the way he was drinking you in as you padded towards him in your underwear, brushing past him to get to the door first.
âI mean, damn,â he wolf-whistled at you, quietly so no one inside the house came looking for the sound.
âShut up,â you rolled your eyes, stepping ahead of him so he couldnât see your pleased smile.
He followed your tiptoed steps through the hall and up the stairs, stopping at each corner to make sure no one was going to come around it and catch the two of you sneaking around in your underwear.Â
Once you made it to the upstairs bathroom, you turned on the shower, excited to step into the steamy water and finally warm up. You were surprised to find Rafe still standing in the open doorway when you turned, sure heâd get the hint that he should wait outside when it came time for you to really strip down.
âWhat are you doing?â You whisper-scolded him.
âEnjoying the view,â he winked.
âOh my god,â you groaned, pushing him by his chest so he stumbled back into the hall. âI donât need your help for this pa-â
Your sentence was cut short by the creaking of wood under incoming footsteps. Panicking, you grabbed Rafeâs wrist, pulling him into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.Â
âWoah, is this really happening?â He asked breathlessly, licking his lips before you slapped your hand over his mouth to shut him up, his eyes going wide at your boldness.
âSomeoneâs coming,â you mouthed, urging him to be quiet as you kept your palm firmly sealed over his lips.
The footsteps in the hall grew louder, their owner getting closer and closer to the door, not knowing you had a half-naked man pushed up against the other side as steam swirled around your bare bodies.
As you both waited with baited breath, your eyes drifted over Rafeâs body, so close to yours in the tiny bathroom. You couldnât help it, sure that desire was painted all over your features. There was no use in denying it, as the warm steam caused a single drop of sweat to roll down his chest and into the ripple of his abs, you finally allowed yourself to accept that you wanted him, bad.
He felt it too, you were sure of it, his eyes half closed with heavy lids as he looked down over you, drinking in all the exposed skin and soft lace of your underwear set.Â
Just as his hand slowly started rising toward your hip, a knock on the other side of the door made you both jump, a little yelp of surprise almost leaving your lips before Rafe threw his hand over your mouth, the tables turned.Â
âHey Gigs?â Bennyâs little voice called from the other side of the door.
You tried to move Rafeâs hand from your mouth, but he only allowed you to lift it enough to respond before covering your lips again.
âY-yeah, Beans?â Your voice cracked in response, Rafe flashing you a teasing grin at your flustered state. You shot him a warning look, praying your little brother couldnât sense what was going on.
âCan we open the presents you bought us now, pleaseee?â Benny asked.
Normally youâd say no, that they had to wait until Christmas day. But as you were about to reject his request, Rafe pulled his hand from your mouth, letting his thumb tug your bottom lip down as he dragged his fingers to your jaw and brushed the soft skin of your neck. You could tell by his wicked grin he was enjoying seeing how far he could push you, drunk off your blushes and gasps.
âYes, sure, th-thatâs fine,â you told Benny, eager to get him away from the door. Rafe chuckled quietly at your compliance, making you clench your jaw even harder in annoyance at him.
âSweet, thanks!â Benny called, hurrying back downstairs, clearly not having expected you to give him the answer he wanted.
Once you were sure the coast was clear, you glared up at Rafe, âyou canât do that!â
He threw his head back in satisfied laughter, bringing it back down only to drop his lips close to your ear.
âSo, how about that shower?â He whispered.
With a little grin of your own, you leaned in too, âRafe?â
âYeah?â
âGet out.â
Rafe managed to find his way back to the laundry room without bumping into any of your brothers. He ran his hair under the utility sink faucet to get the flecks of mud out, throwing on some clean, warm clothes before heading to the kitchen in search of a much needed glass of water, his mouth still full of cotton at the thought of you nearly naked in front of him.
As he rounded into the kitchen, he stopped short, surprise flashing across his face.
A painfully thin woman, who he could only assume to be your mother, stood in the middle of the small space, bony hands on the back of an empty kitchen chair. Her bald head was wrapped in a silky scarf, and she smiled an easy grin that reminded him so stunningly of yours.
âYou must be Rafe,â she said. âHave a seat.â
(to be continued)
a/n: okay not the single longest post I've ever made on this website. period. thank u for reading!! two more parts w the last taking place on New Year's Eve. merry everything!!
taglist note: the taglist for this series will be posted in replies asap and has gotten very long so it is closed. I'm soooo thankful that ppl want to know when I post you have no idea! but it takes me a long time to do and makes posting difficult, so I am asking that in order to stay on the list for the rest of the series, you interact with each post in some way (reply with feedback, a rb, an ask - anything you'd like!) it really helps me as a writer! thank you!!
if you missed the taglist, just follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs to be first to know when I post!
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x yn#rafe#rafe fic#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe obx#obx fic#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron au#college au#frat!rafe#frat!rafe cameron#frat rafe cameron#christmas fic#holiday fic
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blurb based of joes frustration at the end of the game pretty plzzzzz
itâs not the first time youâve seen him like this, jaw tight, eyes stormy, the weight of a thousand unspoken words pressing against the set of his mouth. but tonight feels different. sharper, maybe. rawer. his shoulders slump as he sinks onto the edge of the couch, the post-game silence clinging to him like an ill-fitted coat.
you donât say anything at first, because whatâs there to say? you know better than to try and fill the cracks with empty wordsâheâd see right through you anyway. instead, you linger in the doorway, arms crossed loosely, studying the way his hands rub at his face, frustration bleeding through the spaces between his fingers.
ârough one,â you offer finally, voice quiet, testing. itâs not much, but itâs something.
he doesnât look at you, just shakes his head in that way thatâs less no and more donât even start.
âjoeyââ
ânot tonight.â his voice cuts across the room, low and strained, and it stings more than you care to admit. not because heâs angryâitâs not the first time the aftermath of a loss has made him shortâbut because he wonât let you help carry the weight. he never does.
you hesitate, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. you could leave him to stew in his own misery, give him the space he seems to want so badly.
but then again, thatâs never been your style.
you push off the doorframe, making your way toward him despite the tension crackling like static in the room. the air feels heavier with every step, but you donât stop until youâre standing right in front of him. he still doesnât look up, but you can feel the heat of his frustration radiating off him, see it in the way his leg bounces like a drumbeat he canât silence.
âiâm not trying to fix it,â you say, your tone soft but steady, letting the words settle between you. âi just donât want you sitting here drowning in it alone.â
his hands drop to his lap, and finally, finally, his eyes meet yours. theyâre tired, bloodshot, and edged with something sharp enough to cut. âi donât need a pep talk,â he mutters, his voice a low rasp. âi know what went wrong. i donât need anyone telling me how to feel about it.â
âgood thing iâm not here to give you one,â you reply, easing yourself down onto the couch beside him. close, but not too close. itâs a delicate dance, one youâve learned to navigate over time. âbut i am here. whether you like it or not.â
his gaze flickers to you for a moment, a brief flash of something softer breaking through the storm before he looks away again. he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, head dropping into his hands. âitâs just⌠god, itâs so fucking frustrating.â the words come out ragged, pulled from somewhere deep and aching. âi know weâre better than this. i know iâm better than this. but tonight⌠it felt like nothing i did was good enough.â
thereâs a beat of silence, heavy and loaded. you let it hang there for a moment before leaning back against the couch, your head tilting slightly as you watch him. âyou ever think that maybe itâs not all on you?â
his head snaps up at that, and you can see the protest forming on his lips before he even says a word. âit is on me,â he argues, voice sharper now, cutting through the quiet. âthatâs my job. thatâs what being the quarterback means. iâm supposed to lead, supposed toââ
âsupposed to be perfect?â you cut in, raising a brow.
the question hangs in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, he just stares at you, his jaw working like heâs trying to find the right words to throw back at you. but then he exhales, the fight draining out of him just as quickly as it flared up.
âitâs not about being perfect,â he says finally, quieter now, almost like heâs trying to convince himself. âitâs aboutâŚâ he trails off, his hands running through his hair in a way that makes it stick up in every direction. âfuck, i donât know. i just hate losing.â
âi know.â your voice softens, the sharp edges smoothing out as you reach over to nudge his shoulder gently with yours. âbut itâs not just about tonight, is it?â
he doesnât answer right away, but the silence says enough. you know how he getsâhow the losses pile up in his mind, not just the ones on the field but the ones in his own head. every missed pass, every fumble, every moment where the weight of the world feels like itâs on his back. itâs not fair, but he carries it anyway, like he doesnât know how to do anything else.
âyouâre allowed to be mad,â you say eventually, your voice low but firm. âyouâre allowed to be frustrated, to hate losing, to feel like shit about it. but you donât have to shoulder all of it alone. thatâs what iâm here for, joey.â
he doesnât say anything, but the way his shoulders drop just a fraction tells you heâs listening. you reach out, your hand finding his on the couch between you, your fingers brushing lightly against his knuckles. itâs a small gesture, but it feels like enough.
for now, at least.
his hand shifts on the couch, brushing against yours for just a second before he grabs it. firm, almost desperate. itâs a small move, but it catches you off guardâjoeâs never been one to reach out like this, not when heâs all wrapped up in his head. but then heâs tugging you toward him, his grip strong enough to make it clear heâs not letting go anytime soon.
he doesnât say a word as he pulls you into his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck. the hug is tightâbone-crushing, reallyâbut you donât mind. if anything, it tells you just how much heâs been holding back.
âi hate this,â he mutters against your skin, his voice muffled but no less raw. âi hate feeling like this. like i let everyone down. like iâm not good enough.â
âjoeyâŚâ you start, but he shakes his head against you, cutting you off before you can say anything else.
âjustâlet me get it out, okay?â his words come fast, tumbling over each other like theyâve been bottled up too long. âthe offense couldnât get going. the o-line was all over the place. and me? i was fucking useless out there. missing reads, throwing late⌠i donât know what the hell was wrong with me tonight.â
you donât interrupt, donât try to argue with him or tell him heâs being too hard on himself. you know better than to try and fix it for him, not when heâs like this. instead, you just hold him tighter, your hand moving to his back to rub slow, soothing circles.
when he finally pulls back, itâs only to sink down onto the couch, pulling you with him until youâre lying back against the cushions. he rests his head on your chest, his weight pressing into you in a way that feels grounding, like heâs letting himself find a moment of peace in the chaos.
your hands move without thinking, running up and down his arm in that slow, rhythmic way you know he likes. itâs a small thing, but itâs enough to make his breathing even out, the tension in his body easing bit by bit.
âitâs not all on you,â you say quietly, your voice breaking the quiet thatâs settled over the room. âyou know that, right?â
he doesnât answer right away, and for a moment, you think maybe heâs fallen asleep. but then he shifts, turning his face into your shirt, his voice muffled but steady. âi know. i just⌠i canât help feeling like it is sometimes.â
âyou donât have to carry it all, joey,â you murmur, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his arm. âthatâs why youâve got a team. thatâs why youâve got me.â
he doesnât respond, but the way he relaxes against you says enough. and as the silence stretches on, the only sound his slow, steady breathing, you let yourself hope that maybe, just maybe, heâll let himself believe it, too.
âł make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
âł thank you for reading all the way through, as always âĄ
#joe burrow bengals#joe burrow#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow x oc#joe burrow x you#joe burrow x y/n#joe burrow smut#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow fic#nfl imagine#joe burrow fluff
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messy
When Elgar'nan and Solas battle in Rook's mind, she gains a new sense of empathy for Lucanis' struggle with Spite -- and Lucanis finds a new fear. Lucanis x Rook, a little angst, a little whump, lots of cuddles and conversation. 2500 words, post-"Blood of Arlathan."
---
Lucanis followed Rook and Neve, his senses muted and muffled. This was not the real world, this trap of Elgarânanâs. He knew that much even without Spite raging in the back of his mind. The world shimmered around them, gauzy and insubstantial, as they tried path after path only to be transported back to the beginning.
âWeâre wasting time,â Rook lamented, her pale eyes wide with worry. Soot and blood smudged her cheeks, remnants of their earlier battles against Ventatori and darkspawn. âWe have to find the clan!â She charged forward again into the fog, then stopped suddenly, looking confused.
âDid you two hear that?â she asked, gaze fixed on something Lucanis couldnât see.Â
âHear what?â Neve asked, giving Rook a curious expression.
There is nothing here, Spite agreed. Trapped! We cannot get out!
âNo,â Lucanis said, troubled.
Rook took a few more steps into the mist, then stopped, twisting her head to one side as she had when Elgarânan had attempted to sway them all. She rubbed at her face, her eyes darting wildly. âI just heard Solas. Tell me you heard that.â
âNo,â Lucanis said slowly as Neve shook her head. Rook winced, distress crossing her face.
âI donât know how, but I can hear him. He says there isnât much time, that heâs going to try to distract Elgarânan somehow. Come on. I think itâs the only chance weâve got.â She led them into the haze, and Lucanis matched her pace to stay by her side.Â
He had long ago learned to control his fear, something all Crows faced young. One could not survive as an assassin by operating from a place of fear. Fear led to exploitation by enemies, to holding back when the killing blow was at hand. He had not been afraid for his own life for many, many years.
But seeing the way Rook stopped abruptly, tilting her head with one long ear pressed against her shoulder, her grey eyes vacant -- new fear roared up within him, and he did not know how to quell it.Â
He waited for her to speak, praying that she came back to him.
âTheyâre fighting,â Rook said, each word looking like it took great effort. âItâs nasty. They loathe each other.â She gritted her teeth. âCome on.â
âAre you all right, Rook?â Neve asked, reaching out and touching her on the shoulder. Rook startled at the touch, her eyes wide and haunted.Â
âIâm fine. Weâve just -- got to keep going.â
Not possessed! Something else, Spite said urgently, and Lucanis wanted to believe him. But Spite was a normal demon, if there was such a thing; he was not a god, and he did not have the powers of one. Who knew what Elgarânan and Solas could do to Rook?
Mist billowed around them, then a sensation of shifting, the sense that they were back on solid ground. âYou led us out!â Lucanis said proudly.Â
Rook gave him a wan smile. âThank Solas, not me, and hurry.Weâve still got time to save the clan.â She broke into a run over the stonework path, staff held tight in one hand, and Neve and Lucanis ran after her.Â
âSheâs got this, Lucanis,â Neve said under her breath. âI donât think whateverâs happening is hurting her, exactly. Weâve just got to hope it helps.â
Canât see it. Canât hear it! Spite said. I would know a demon!
And a god? Lucanis thought. But then Venatori rounded the corner, rushing at them, and he and Spite flowed together, a blur of blades and blood. Neve was right. They had this, and they would find a way to stop the sacrifice and save the Dalish.Â
He parried a Venatoriâs blade, then drove his own deep between the manâs ribs, Spite cackling with glee. Around the battlefield magic flew, the iron stench of blood magic, Neveâs crisp clean ice spells, the musty-sweet scent of Rookâs necromancy. The tide was turning --
âRook! On your left!â he shouted as a Venatori knight rushed her from the side, shield raised and sword at the ready. She should have sidestepped, skimming across the surface of the Fade to reappear safely on the other side. He had seen her do it a thousand times.Â
But she didnât turn, didnât respond at all, and his heart leapt into his throat. âRook!â He ran to help her, Spite urging him on faster. He was nearly there when a burst of ice magic shattered against the knight just as he reached Rook, battering her with a single blow of his shield as the chill took hold. She crumpled. Lucanisâ dagger tore through the manâs throat an instant later, and he shoved the body aside, turning his attention to Rook.
Lucanis dropped to the ground beside her. âNo, no --â He turned her over, his heart pounding, Spite incoherent and frantic. Relief washed over him.
She was pale but alive, dazed but conscious. His hand scrabbled at his belt for a healing potion, and he forced himself to steady his hands as he tilted it to her lips. She swallowed, coughing, the color in her cheeks looking better instantly. âThanks, Lucanis,â she gasped, taking his proffered hand as he hauled her to her feet.Â
His heart slowed again, and Spite ceased his agitated chatter. Rook. Is all right!
Lucanis scanned the battlefield. There was only one more enemy left, and with a howling blizzard conjured up by Neve, the Venatori mage collapsed and breathed her last. He let out a long sigh and turned back to Rook. âWhat happened? I tried to warn you, but I couldnât get there in time --â
âI couldnât hear you,â she admitted, nearly in tears. âTheyâre deafening.â She winced as he reached out to touch a slash on her head. âNever mind. We have to --â She grimaced, twisting her head to the side, one ear down toward her shoulder. âShut up already!âÂ
Neve reached them, her face tight with worry. âRook. Come on. I know you have this,â she said.Â
âYeah,â Rook said, breathing heavily. âLetâs finish this.â
Rook hurts. Help Rook!
I donât know how, he thought, and he shoved the fear down as deep as it could go.
---
It seemed like days since the battle and rescue at Arlathan Crater, but realistically it was a matter of hours. Theyâd found the elves at last and gotten to safety. Somehow they made it through what happened: the hike back to the Veil Jumpersâ eluvian, making sure the rescued elves were safe, tending to injuries and meeting with the team.Â
So much in such little time. Lucanis felt the exhaustion deep in his bones. He knew there was still so much more to come -- slaying Elgarânanâs archdemon and killing the gods, aiding Treviso, Minrathrous, their team. He hoped he could manage to sleep tonight after everything.
But he knew heâd never manage it if he still feared so for Rook. The way sheâd gone so distant, face empty; heâd lost her even though she was right beside him. That loss, even for a moment, had been terrifying. And the thought that kept crawling back into his head, just as terrifying --
Is this how she feels when Spite takes over?
He shook the thought away as best he could. She was here now, safe from Elgarânan, safe from Solas doing whatever heâd done. He had to believe it, for her sake as well as his own.
He took the stairs lightly, then made his way down the narrow hall to her room. He raised a hand and rapped at the door. âItâs me. May I ââ
The door swung open before he could finish the sentence. Rook smiled tiredly at him, a welcome sight. Sheâd traded her armor for soft linens in Mourn Watch greens and violets, and sheâd let her dark hair down for the evening, hiding some of the fresh scratches on her face. âWell, well, well. Iâd been getting ready to come see you. Thanks for saving me the trip.â
His face creased into a smile. âYouâre all right.â
âIn a manner of speaking,â she said. She smiled back at him, but it didnât reach her eyes. âAnyway, do come in. I wanted to say⌠that is, thereâs some things I wanted toâŚâ She crossed her arms, heading back to the settee. He followed her and closed the door behind him, and they sat down together. âEurgh. Iâm a mess right now.â
âA beautiful one,â Lucanis pointed out.
She snorted, then laughed. âHow are you somehow the most earnest man who ever lived?â
âIt is easy to be earnest when speaking the truth,â he said, shrugging with a soft smile. He hoped to have put her at ease, but as her laughter faded, he could see something dark and shuttered behind her eyes. Not all right, then.
He reached out cautiously. Their first attempt at a kiss had been disastrous, but he was growing more comfortable with the language of touch, especially smaller touches like her hand in his, a close embrace, small, still-clumsy kisses. But those had been moments of stolen sweetness, not attempts to offer comfort after dark times. He rested his hand on her shoulder, hoping this was right.Â
âHow are you really?âÂ
She looked up at him, her smile gone, her face stricken. Then she closed the distance between them, scooting beneath his arm and resting her head against his chest. He froze for a moment in surprise, then softened, welcoming her closeness.Â
âSorry,â she said, her voice muffled as she wrapped her arms around his waist. âI just â wanted to feel you were here. That I was here.â
He let his arm relax around her shoulders and pulled her closer, sighing. âYou have nothing to apologize for.â He took a deep breath. Her hair smelled freshly cleaned, with faint scents of lavender and woodsmoke â
Smells like fear. Confusion!
He frowned. âSo⌠you are all right. Only in a manner of speaking.â
âIâm sorry,â she said.
âFor what?â he asked, bewildered. âYou led our team safely through a den of vipers. We rescued the elves. What more could you have done?â
âItâs not that. Itâs⌠I understand better now. What it must be like to have Spite in your head, all the time.â She lifted her head, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. âSolas has been in my head since this all started, but⌠itâs different. The connection between us is tenuous, and heâs only been able to make contact through the Veil when I meditate and drop all other thoughts. Itâs been my choice to contact him. The prison heâs in in the Fade is powerful, and it keeps him bound.â She shivered. âUntil Arlathan.â
âWhat did you hear?â Lucanis asked gently. âNeve and I never truly heard what you did. You said that Elgarânan and Solas fought ââ
âIt wasnât just words,â Rook said, releasing her arms from around him and leaning back against the settee. She reached up to where his arm circled her shoulders, and took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly. âIt was all-encompassing. It was difficult to see, to fight, to walk, even to breathe. Their rage was so tremendous. Their power. I felt like an ant beneath them, and as for my own thoughts â when I could get them back â I kept thinking, And Lucanis struggles with Spite, all the time.â
We have a deal! Spite chimed. Not a struggle! Not now. Not so much.
âIt is better between us,â Lucanis said. Not a struggle still wasnât exactly true, but it was not like the early days, when he stayed awake for two or three days at a time, refusing to sleep and lose control. He shivered. âNot like a god. I think⌠I know how to bear him now.â He sighed. âBut you, Rook⌠it was hard to see you like that.â He squeezed her hand, his heart aching.
âWhy? What was it like?â Rook asked haltingly.
He thought for a moment. âYou are fierce in a fight, you know. Your focus, your power, your magic -- you are brilliant.â
She gave him an awkward, surprised smile. It was terribly charming. âIâm sorry, was I asking why Iâm so incredible?â
Lucanis chuckled. âYou may as well have been.â His smile faded. âBut seeing their voices in your mind, knowing I couldnât help you -- it frightened me, Rook. And I am the sorry one.â
She reached up, laying her hand against his cheek. âWhat could you have to be sorry about?â
âIf you -- feel as I do --â He ducked his head. âThen seeing Spite take control of me must beâŚâ He exhaled heavily, and she looked at him, her eyes too bright. He closed his own, hesitating.
âBefore, I did not wish you to see me that way for my own sake. But now I wonder if you felt this same fear as I did. Seeing the woman I--â Not that word, not yet. But⌠soon. â-- care about, struggling against what could not be controlled, knowing I could do nothing to save you --â
She gazed into his eyes, then rested her head on his shoulder again, drawing him close once more. âLucanis, you never need to apologize for who you are. For what Spite is. If I worry for you, thatâs mine to bear. What was it you said before? âI deserve better than you and your messâ? Well, itâs too late for that now. Itâs our mess.â
She felt so right in his arms, solid and true, warm and close. He bowed his head over her. âOur mess. I think I can handle that.â
She laughed, warm huffs of breath against his neck. He shivered. Oh, but she felt good this way.
âLucanis?â
âYes, Rook?â
âCan I ask you something?â
âBut of course.â
She sat up, the smile on her face fading. âWould you⌠stay the night tonight?â
For a moment his mind whited out, Spite curious and cackling in the background, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. Rookâs face flashed immediately with understanding, and she rested her hand on his vest.Â
âNot for that. Iâm exhausted, and I know youâre not ready,â Rook said gently. âI just meant, could we fall asleep together?â
He felt a smile slide over his face. To hold her in his arms for longer, to wake up beside her in the morning? That would be a fine thing indeed.
âI am yours, Rook.â
---
They did not sleep at first; there was still much talking to do of the elves, of the gods, of Treviso and the Antaam. Her determination and her clever plans were just as intriguing to him as her smile and her laugh. But when at last Rookâs eyes fluttered closed and her breathing grew deep and heavy, Lucanis leaned back against the settee, finding a way for them to fit together. Her elbows nudged his ribs, and her chin was somehow dagger-sharp, digging into his breastbone. But she was warm and soft and safe within his arms, and he fell asleep beneath the Fadelight, his fears at last forgotten.
#lucanis x rook#rook x lucanis#rookanis#datv#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age spoilers#datv spoilers#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#lucanis dellamorte#liesl ingellvar#kinda had to duke it out with this and still not sure it works? but oh well it's finished#my datv fic#gonna need to make a masterpost for datv soon... maybe this weekend's project
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The silence before the storm was always the most dangerous. Lena had learned that early in lifeâboardrooms, labs, and now, in the heart of her office at L-Corp, standing across from Kara Danvers. Correction: Kara Zor-El. Supergirl. Her wife. Or at least, her soon-to-be ex-wife.
The tension in the room might as well have been a grenade, pin pulled, seconds from detonating.
âYou filed for divorce,â Kara said, her voice low, tight.
âYes.â Lena kept her arms crossed, her face calm. She had practiced thisâpracticed detachment, practiced not letting Kara look at her with those wide blue eyes and make her doubt her decision.
âYou actually filed for divorce.â Karaâs voice cracked, disbelief and anger curling together into something sharp. âLena, how could youâ?â
âHow could I?â Lenaâs voice rose sharply, her mask fracturing. She pushed off the desk, closing the distance between them in two quick strides. âDonât you dare stand there and act surprised, Kara! How could you?â
Kara recoiled slightly, her eyes narrowing, her jaw tightening. âI didnât tell you because I didnât want to hurt you!â
âAnd yet, you did.â Lenaâs voice was cold, cutting. âEvery single day you lied to me. Every moment you pretended to trust me while keeping the biggest part of yourself hidden. Did you think I wouldnât find out eventually? Or was I just supposed to live my entire life being the idiot who didnât know her wife was Supergirl?â
âI wasnât trying to make you feel like an idiot!â Karaâs hands curled into fists, trembling at her sides. âI was trying to protect you, Lena! Donât you understand that?â
âNo, Kara.â Lena stepped closer, her voice like ice. âI donât understand, because thatâs not protection. Thatâs control. You decided for me. You decided I didnât need to know. That I wasnât worthy of the truth.â
âThatâs notââ Karaâs voice faltered, her shoulders sagging. She looked at Lena, her eyes pleading now. âThatâs not why I didnât tell you. I was scared.â
Lena barked out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. âOf me? Kara, I loved you. I trusted you completely. I would have died for you, and you were scared of me?â
âI was scared of losing you!â Kara shouted, her voice raw, reverberating through the office. Her fists slammed against her thighs, and Lena could see the way her fingers twitched, like she wanted to punch somethingâanything.
For a moment, they stared at each other, the tension in the room so thick it felt like the air itself might shatter. Then Kara reached into her jacket and pulled out the manila envelope.
Lena recognized it instantly.
âI canât believe this is what you want,â Kara said, her voice low, shaking. She slammed the envelope onto the desk with a crack that echoed through the room. The wood splintered beneath it, a jagged fault line spreading across the surface.
Lena flinched but didnât step back. She refused to let Kara intimidate her, even unintentionally.
âYou want your divorce so badly?â Kara spat. âFine. Take it.â
The desk groaned ominously, the split widening. For a moment, neither of them moved, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room.
Lenaâs lips parted, words teetering on the edge of escape, but nothing came. Karaâs chest heaved, her fists still clenched at her sides, and for the first time, Lena felt the full weight of Karaâs angerânot just the anger at her, but the anger Kara carried toward herself. Lenaâs body tensed, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She told herself to step back, to stay in control, but the pull of Karaâof her fury, her presenceâwas impossible to resist. Even now, with anger still simmering in her veins, Lena hated how much she wanted her.
And god help her, Kara had never looked more breathtaking.
Lenaâs composure cracked completely. She hated herself for noticing the way Karaâs chest heaved, her lips parted in anger. Oh lord, why does she have to look like that? The thought scraped against her resolve, shattering it entirely.
She surged forward, grabbing Karaâs shirt and yanking her down into a kiss. It was messy, frantic, their teeth clashing before their mouths found a rhythm, before their anger melted into something else entirely.
For a moment, Kara froze, her mind racing. She didnât deserve thisâdidnât deserve Lenaâs touch, her anger, her loveâbut Rao, she couldnât stop herself. Her hands found Lenaâs waist, pulling her closer as if drawn by a force she couldnât resist. Lena could feel the heat radiating off her skinâsomething warm, almost electric, like sunlight trapped beneath Karaâs clothes.
âThis doesnât meanââ Lena gasped between kisses, but Kara cut her off, her lips capturing Lenaâs again, stealing the breath from her lungs. She tasted faintly sweet, like honey and something unplaceableâsomething not of this Earth.
âDonât talk,â Kara murmured, her voice low and rough, her hands sliding up Lenaâs back. âJustâdonât.â
Lena didnât argue. Her fingers fisted in Karaâs collar, pulling her closer, the fabric taut beneath her hands. Karaâs strength was dizzying, a palpable force beneath her touch. When Kara lifted her onto the deskâsplintered wood and allâLena felt a fleeting rush of safety, absurd in its contrast to the chaos between them.
The papers were crushed beneath them, forgotten, as Kara pressed forward, her hands everywhereâLenaâs hips, her thighs, her waist. The touch of her fingers was firm, grounding, but never too much, as if Kara was still afraid of breaking her.
âKara,â Lena breathed, her voice shaky, her hands threading through Karaâs hair. Her fingertips grazed the soft waves, tugging just enough to make Kara groan low in her throatâa sound that sent heat pooling low in Lenaâs stomach.
It was intoxicating, the way Karaâs control slipped in moments like this. The way she kissed Lena like she was both holding her together and tearing her apart.
âYou drive me insane,â Kara muttered against Lenaâs lips, her voice low and husky. The scent of herâclean, crisp, with a faintly alien warmth that Lena couldnât nameâwrapped around her like a cocoon.
âGood,â Lena whispered back, her nails dragging down Karaâs back through her shirt. The fabric bunched under her hands as she scratched lightly, just enough to make Kara shudder. âNow shut up and kiss me.â
Kara obliged, leaning in again, her lips searing, her hands gripping the edge of the desk to steady herself. The desk groaned under their combined weight, but neither of them cared.
It wasnât forgivenessânot yet. It wasnât a resolution to the anger and hurt that still lingered between them. But it was somethingâsomething raw and real and theirs.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were panting, their foreheads pressed together. Karaâs hands were trembling where they rested on Lenaâs thighs, and Lenaâs lips were red and swollen from the force of their kisses. Her heart thundered in her chest, her body still thrumming with the aftershock of Karaâs touch.
âI hate you,â Lena whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
âI love you,â Kara replied, her voice just as shaky, her gaze searching Lenaâs face.
Lena let out a choked laugh, shaking her head. âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd youâre infuriating.â
For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.
But the tension that had suffocated them for weeks now felt⌠lighter. Not gone, but no longer insurmountable.
âLetâs talk,â Kara said softly, her voice breaking the silence.
Lena nodded, her hands still clinging to Karaâs shirt. âOkay. But not here.â
Kara smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair out of Lenaâs face. âAnywhere you want.â
And for the first time in a long while, Lena thought they might actually be able to fix this. Together.
#supercorp#kara x lena#supergirl fanfic#supergirl#kara danvers#ao3 writers#fanfiction#wlw fiction#femslash#wife#divorce
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âcan you love me (like i love you?)
đđ â in which, red robin likes to shows up at your apartment for an irenic moment from the harsh lines of Gotham. he meets you and you meet him, all of him.
TIM DRAKE x CIVILIAN! GN!READER mild angst. reader pining over tim, vice versa if you squint. 3.8k. â this was so fun â requested
The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked asphalt and blooming jasmine from the park nearby. You always found it comfortingâan odd juxtaposition of Gothamâs grit and its rare moments of beauty. Tonight, however, it wasnât the air that brought you solace. It was the quiet creak of boots landing on your fire escape.
You smiled before even turning to look. âYouâre late,â You teased, peering over your shoulder at the figure perched outside your window.
âGot caught up,â Red Robin replied, his voice light but tinged with fatigue. He stepped into the room with a practiced ease, his cape swaying slightly as he entered. The mask didnât hide muchâthe sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed from the weight of the nightâs patrol.
âYou okay?â You asked, setting down the tea youâd been preparing next to an additional mug, turning around to face him in the living room, ignoring the pressure of your island on your lower back.
It had become routine by now. After weeks of these impromptu visits, youâd learned his habits: the subtle signs of exhaustion, the occasional wince from a barely hidden injury.
âIâm fine,â He said, though the way he sank into your worn-out armchair betrayed him.
You sighed and let the warmth seep into your palms as you spun around and took a mug from the counter and handed it to him. He took it without argument, the warmth seeming to settle him as he leaned back. âLiar,â You quipped. His nose tensed when he lied.
It had started months ago, the first time he appeared outside your window like some wayward bird. Youâd been startled, of courseâwho wouldnât be? But he hadnât come for trouble, just a quiet moment away from the chaos. And somehow, without ever planning to, you became part of his nightly routine.
The first few visits had been awkward. After all, how often does Gothamâs very own Red Robin show up uninvited? But over time, the strangeness faded. He was careful never to overstep, never to ask too many personal questions or reveal too much about himself. Instead, your conversations meanderedâbooks, movies, music, even the weird quirks of Gothamâs neighborhoods.
It wasnât just him who needed the company. You found yourself looking forward to his visits more than you cared to admit. He was steady, like the ticking of a clock in the background of your life, even if you only ever saw him at night.
Tonight felt different, though. He wasnât as talkative as usual, his responses short and clipped. You watched him over the rim of your own mug, debating whether to press.
âLong night?â You ventured.
âSomething like that,â He replied, staring out the window at the city below. âSome nights are harder than others.â
You hesitated. You didnât want to pry, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that tugged at you. âWant to talk about it?â
He shook his head, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips. âYouâd make a good therapist.â
âIâm just nosy,â You said lightly, hoping to draw out more of that smile.
And for a moment, it worked. He chuckled softly, the sound like a warm ember in the cold.
âThanks,â He said after a beat. âFor this. For letting me . . . just be here.â
âYou say that like youâre intruding.â
âArenât I?â
âNo,â You said firmly. âYouâre not.â
The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that didnât need filling. Youâd grown used to these quiet stretches, knowing that sometimes words werenât enough to smooth over the rough edges of the night.
After a while, he stood, setting the empty mug on the counter. âI should get going,â He said, his voice softer now.
âBe safe out there,â You say, facing him on your place on your chair, the words automatic but heartfelt.
He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows as seamlessly as heâd arrived.
A foggy evening, after his patrol, he arrived later than usual. His uniform was damp, and he looked more worn than youâd ever seen him.
When his eyes met yours, you let out an amused huff, walking to the closet in the hallway to your room, grabbing a beige towel and making your way back to him. âTake a dip in the lake Red?â You teased, handing him the towel as he stepped closer to you.
âSomething like that,â He said, echoing the same vague answer he always gave. Even with the mask, you could feel the dam that wanted to implode.
Your brows furrowed.
âYou donât have to do this alone, you know.â
He looked at you sharply, as if the words had hit a nerve. âIâm used to it,â He said after a pause, his voice low and guarded.
âWell, maybe you shouldnât be.â
The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut.
âI donât⌠I canât risk that,â He said finally. âLetting people in. Itâs complicated.â
âLifeâs complicated,â Your countered. âBut you donât have to keep everyone at armâs length. At least not me.â
He stared at you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. Then, as if breaking under the weight of his own defenses, he said, âI wish it were that simple.â
You didnât bring it up again, sensing it was a line he wasnât ready to cross. But the moment lingered, coloring every interaction that followed.
Youâd open up to him. Though it wasnât as reciprocated, you didnât mind because he listened. Sometimes, when the night was soft, you two would talk about the random things that reminded you of each other, it was your favorite part of when heâd come to your apartment, relaxing in each others presence; it left a sapid taste in your mouth.
Youâd talk to him about your life in Gotham University, talked to him about the enigma your heart palpitated for. How his voice made your smile bright and cheeks warm, how it rang though your mind constantly throughout the day, echoing off the walls and finding itâs way back to your heart, the devil that wouldnât calm down.
You hadnât realized that underneath the mask, he looked at you with a smile lining his eyes, his own devil pounding in his chest.
When asked if he knew of your feelings, your smiled turned bashful.
âHe doesnât even know my name, Red. Iâm just a random with a crush.â
Youâre not random, youâre mine. Is what he wanted to say, he wanted you to know who he is. Not the man with the mask â rather the man behind it.
He distanced himself from you at school because he thought that if he didnât, youâd figure out heâs âBoy Wonderâ a bit too easy for his taste. He scares himself every night thinking about what would happen if you find out.
And then one night, he laughed.
Not just the quiet chuckle youâd heard before, but a full, unrestrained laugh that lit up his face. It was over something stupidâa poorly told joke youâd heard from a coworker. But the sound warmed you to your core, and for a moment, it reminded you of your enigma, Tim Drake.
How could someone do that? Look so familiar but unknown at the same time? Your eyes seeing one person, Red Robin: Gothamâs hero. But your heart seeing, hearing, feelingâ
âTim.â
The name left your lips in a whisper, your heart hammering in your chest. You hadnât meant to say it. You werenât even sure how you knew, but it was thereâlike a puzzle piece falling into place.
He froze, his entire body going rigid. âWhat did you say?â
âTim,â Quieter this time, you repeated it. âThatâsââ
He didnât answer, but the look in his eyes confirmed it.
âI . . . I didnât mean toââ You started, but he cut you off.
âHow?â he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
âI donât know,â You admitted. âI just . . . knew.â
The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of what youâd just revealed.
Red RobinâTimâhe stepped back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read the truth there. You could feel the tension in the room, thick and unyielding, and for a moment you thought he might leave. But instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping as though a great weight had finally pressed him down.
âIâve been careful,â he said softly. âIâve spent so long making sure you â no one could ever connect me to . . . to this.â
You didnât know what to say, the gravity of his words grounding you to the spot. Finally, you managed, âI didnât mean toâto figure it out! Itâs not like I was trying. It just . . .â
He ran a hand through his hair, the motion uncharacteristically unguarded. âI shouldnât have come here. I shouldnât have let this go on for so long.â
âDonât say that,â You pleaded, stepping closer. âI know you think youâre protecting yourself, or me, but you donât have to do this alone, Tim.â
Hearing his name in your voice seemed to shake something loose in him. He looked at you, really looked at you, and the mask of Red Robin slipped away for just a moment. Beneath it was someone young, someone tired, someone who wanted to believe you. The enigma who became more familiar.
âI donât know how to stop,â he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. âI donât know how to turn it off, how to let someone in without putting them in danger.â
You reached out, your hand hovering just above his arm. âYou already let me in,â You said quietly. âThatâs why you keptââ You stop yourself. ââthatâs why you keep coming back.â Your hand connects with the rough material of his suit and you wish you could feel his skin on yours.
He didnât pull away. For a long moment, the two of you stood there, the sound of rain against the window the only noise in the room.
Finally, he spoke. âYou deserve better than this. Better than me.â
You shook your head, your throat tight. âDonât decide that for me.â
The words seemed to hit him like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Instead, he turned his head, staring at the rain running down the window as though it could give him the answers he sought.
âIâve thought about it,â You continued, your voice soft but steady. âIâve thought about what it would mean. What it would mean to care about you âreally care about you. Even though it was for Tim at first, thereâs more to you and I want to care for you and everything that comes with it. And Iâm still here. Iâll always be here Tim.â
That seemed to break him. He sank down onto the edge of the couch behind him, his head in his hands. âYou donât understand what youâre saying. What my life is like. The people I go up againstâthey wouldnât hesitate to hurt you to get to me.â
âAnd you donât understand what you could mean to me,â You countered. You sit on the floor, right at his feet so you can lock eyes with him even though his domino mask hides them, you can still see the blue of his eyes you admire so much.
âI see the risks, Tim. I see them every night when you walk out that window, not knowing if youâll come back. But Iâm still here because I care about you. And you need to stop deciding what I can handle.â
He looked up at you then, the walls heâd so carefully constructed were crumbling, and you saw the man behind the vigilante.
âI care about you too,â He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. âMore than I should, and â and it scares the hell out of me.â
You rose from sitting criss-cross to your knees, resting your arms on his, you wanted to get impossibly closer, closing the gap between the two of you. âThen letâs be scared together.â
The confession hung in the air, raw and real, and for the first time, neither of you looked away. You didnât know what the future held, didnât know if this thing between you could survive the dangers and secrets of his world. But in that moment, none of it mattered.
He reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm. âThis wonât be easy,â He warned you gently.
âI know,â You said, squeezing his hand. âBut Iâm not going anywhere.â
And for the first time in a long time, he smiledânot the practiced smile of Red Robin, but something softer, something real.
âI donât deserve you,â He murmured.
âMaybe not,â You teased, a small smile tugging at your lips. âBut youâve got me anyway.â
The two of you stayed like that for a while, the storm outside mirroring the quiet storm of emotions between you. And when he finally left that night, it wasnât with the usual heaviness of his patrols.
This time, he carried a piece of you with himâand left a piece of himself behind.
Šmiwsolovely do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms . likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3
#. ( batfam masterlist. )#x reader#tim drake x reader#tim drake#red robin#red robin x reader#tim dc#red robin dc#tim drake dc#timothy drake#tim wayne#dcu#dc universe#dc#dcu comics#dcu x reader#dc comics#dcu au#dc au#dcu x y/n#dc x y/n#red robin x y/n#red robin x you#tim drake x you#tim drake x y/n#reader insert#red robin fanfic#red robin fanfiction#red robin fluff#red robin angst
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Training for the Ballet Potter?đŠ°
summary: James Potter x Reader, James takes a ballet class and crushes on the teacher (you)
cw: sexist remarks? it is kind of just gender stereotypes of ballet I guess, i didn't proof read this so just pretend it's good for me
word count: 2.6K
James thought that he might actually quit. This was ridiculous in every sense of the word. It was humiliating and a cruel punishment for sure.
His quidditch coach had the brilliant idea of signing the whole team up for ballet classes. Ballet, as in, turns and tiptoes and tights. This was emasculating to him, so beneath his training and dedication to the sport he should be practicing.Â
His coach announced the classes on the last day of spring training. He stated that they were to attend every class until their season starts, no exceptions. He went on and on about how it would benefit the team to become more agile and graceful. But James didnât understand the logic at all, he needed to be quick, strong, sturdy. Not exactly what ballerinas are known for.Â
His coach emphasized the fact that these lessons were mandatory by stating that those who fail to attend would be cut from the team. He was not joking. A few of his teammates tried to protest, but his coach made the ultimatum. He said that if they wanted to be professionals and play on this prestigious team, they would learn grace and elegance in their training.
James loved and valued his position on the team, so he wasn't so fast to say no to these lessons. He was also trying to become captain of the team this year, and pretending to be excited and grateful for these lessons seemed like a way to earn him some brownie points.
So he pretended to the best of his abilities, he got the team together to encourage or change their attitudes, saying that it would be a great experience for the summer and that it was only three months of these lessons. Well, two lessons every week for three months, but that still wasnât too bad.
When the coach overheard some of the team still complaining about ballet, he made them run and condition until half of them were throwing up. He was not here to play about these lessons.
âGot your leotard?â Sirius teased James from the couch. He had his head resting in Remusâs lap.Â
James had lived with his two best friends since the end of school and he couldnât be happier. Well, he could do with a little less of the making out and the groping he would catch every now and then, but he couldnât blame them both, they were happy and in love. He just⌠didnât need to see it all the time. And now, he didnât need to be teased to add insult to injury.
âNo.â James replied, rolling his eyes. He grabbed his red workout bag with his teamâs logo from the opposite couch that his friends were sitting on and slung it over his shoulder.
âI think itâll be good for you, Prongs,â Remus chimed in, âYou could learn a thing or two about grace.â
James again rolled his eyes. He wasnât in the mood, he was sore from yesterdayâs practice, and was now about to prance around like an idiot for an hour.
âI just need to get through this,â James said. âI want to look good when my coach is choosing captains this season.âÂ
âAnything for that position, eh, Prongsie?â Sirius chuckled from Remusâs lap. âLook on the bright side though, youâll be surrounded by fit girls in tight clothes and tiny skirts.âÂ
Remus smacked the top of his head for the comment, earning an âouchâ and small apology. Remus rolled his eyes this time, annoyed by his loverâs crude statement.
James supposed that there was that to look forward to, he would never say it out loud like Sirius, but he was⌠intrigued by the idea. His male teammates were all put into the Monday/Wednesday classes with a strict teacher apparently. He was selected for the Tuesday/Thursday classes, which he found out were much smaller and taught by a new, younger teacher. A few of his teammates made sure to let him know how lucky he in fact was, the Monday/Wednesday teacher sounded like a hard-ass and a mean old witch.
Another bright side of the classes was that he would be with Marlene, one of his best friends on the team. If he had to endure this torture, he was glad to do it with her at least. It was actually Marlene who was picking him up so they could go to the lesson together. She should be here in about⌠now.
James bid farewell to his friends and raced out the door before any of the last minute teasing could make it to his ears, and rushed out to where Marlene was waiting in her car for him.
âHey,â he greeted her, sliding into the passenger seat of her car which felt much too tiny for him to squeeze into.Â
âReady for the ballet Potter?â she giggled, wiggling her brows as she put the car in drive. James found it quite humorous, the two of them, going to their first ballet lesson. The two of them who look like they should keep far away from anything to do with ballet. James, who was a 6â1 burly man with all the elegance of a rhino and knocked into possibly every piece of furniture he owned on a daily basis, and Marlene, with chipped black nails and a self-cut mullet who looks like she would eat the posh little ballerinas for lunch.
Sooner than he would have liked, they reached the dance studio. Marlene parked and they both just sat there for a moment breathing in deep. He turned to her and saw the look that he himself was wearing. One of regret and annoyance.Â
âCome on Marls, it's an hour and then weâre done.ââ James reminded her.Â
She groaned but opened her door and slipped out.
They both made their way to the door of the building. He opened it and allowed Marlene to walk through first, pretending that it was just a courteous, gentlemanly thing to do, but in all reality, he was just holding onto any time he could have left not doing ballet.
He stepped into the building and into a crowded area with chairs and fake plants, a waiting room for the parents coming to pick up their little ballerinas from lessons. The waiting room was littered with moms scrolling on their phones and looking at their watches. Great.
James and Marlene had to wait for the teacher to come get them and escort them into the correct studio. Marlene plopped herself in a chair and motioned for James to do the same, but he just stood and lingered around the area.
James heard a door open and the chatter and giggles of many children. He heard many âThank you miss Y/Nâs and âBye miss Y/Nâs followed by a flood of little girls all dressed in colorful leotards and skirts filling the waiting room. The children all ran up to their respective mothers and told them about their lesson and how nice their new teacher was and that they all got stickers and how fun everything was. Some of the little girls eyed James and Marlene up and down, Marlene just stared back until the girls got scared and ran over to their adult.
As soon as the chaos broke into the little waiting room, it left. The last little girl put on her pink sparkly light up shoes and bounded out the door with her parent. This reassured everything that James had already felt; that this was useless, meant for little girls. Definitely not quidditch players, definitely not James.
He heard the door open again and turned to see a small woman, about his age, walk out with a clipboard. Her hair was pulled up into a bun. She was clad in a pink leotard and matching pink skirt, light pink tights, and pink ballet shoes. She was pretty, not in a typical perfect ballerina way, but in an entirely different way. James was definitely not expecting someone like her to be in a studio like this, let alone to be teaching.
Her eyes snapped up from what she was reading on her clipboard and instantly lit up.
âOh hello!â she squeaked. âAre you two here for the 4:00 class?âÂ
âUh, yeah.â James replied.
âPerfect! Youâre right on time. Iâm Y/N, by the way, Iâll be your instructor. You can follow me right in here to studio B.â she said, motioning them to follow her down the hall to the studio. Marlene stood and the both followed. âAnd here we are,â She said, turning on the light switch, allowing for a better view of the studio.
It was a very small room with light hardwood floors, mirrors lining the back wall. There were mats stacked up in the corner and two parallel bars mounted on the two walls without mirrors.
âYou two can go ahead and set your stuff on the wall with the mirrors and then we can get started with stretching.â she announced chipper.
âArenât we going to wait for the rest of the class to show up?â Marlene asked from beside James.
âOh no, you two are the whole class.â She smiled. âYou can think of it more like a private lesson, more one on one.â
Private ballet lessons⌠Sirius was going to have a field day. He looked over at Marlene who just shrugged and made her way to the mirror wall to set her stuff down. James followed.
âItâs just us?â James whisper yelled to Marlene, trying not to let the instructor hear.Â
âIs that a problem?â Marlene asked back. âSheâs hot.â
James just huffed and pulled off his jacket, tossing it in his bag.Â
âLook Potter, think of it this way,â She tried to reason with him, âNow thereâs less people to look like an idiot in front of. All of the embarrassing moves will stay just between us three.â She smiled and James nodded his head, feeling like maybe it was a blessing to be in such a small class. âBut⌠I canât promise I won't make fun of you or use it against you.â She joked.
âAlright, are you both ready?â Y/N asked sweetly. They both nodded and made their way to the center of the room where she was waiting for them. âAlright first things first, welcome to ballet! My name is Y/N, you don't have to call me Miss or anything like the little ones do, just Y/N is fineâ She said, her eyes glowing.
 Marlene was right, she was hot. But James wouldnât be that forward about it, she was incredibly beautiful. If James could do with a touch of grace, she was bathed in it, dripping in it. She radiated confidence and elegance. James didnât know what to do with his hands all of a sudden.
âI understand that your coach has signed you both up?â She asked. Marlene nodded in confirmation. âOk, that is perfectly fine, we teach a lot of different athletes here at this studio. But in all honesty, I am a bit new to all of this,â She blushed, looking to the floor, âI mostly work with beginner classes and children so, bear with me.âÂ
She looked back at them and smiled. âNow, usually we require ballet shoes, but I won't require them for you two, socks or barefoot will be just fine.â she explained. âIt is also better if you could wear things that are a little bit tighter. You donât have to wear leos, but I need to be able to see the lines of your bodies better, so leggings, shorts, tank tops, those are all great!â
She was so cheery. Not only was she elegant and grateful, but kind and bubbly. James felt this warmth within the pit of his stomach now.
âLastly, I want you two to have fun. I know that this is very different for you but, I promise I will make it as fun and educational for you so that you benefit the most that you can from this experience.â She finished, eyes sparking again.
âAlright with all that being said, letâs start our warm up!â she said.
Y/N led them through a series of stretches, most just like the ones they did at quidditch practice, others that were uncomfortable and pulled on his tight muscles. She assured them that with time, those stretches would get easier.
After, she led them to the bars mounted on one of the walls. She taught them the different positions of ballet; first, second, third, etc.. She taught them plies and releve, coupe and passe, and other French words he didnât understand and would need to be repeated to him most likely all summer.
âGood Marlene.â James heard Y/N critique from where she was situated behind him. For all the gripe that she gave, Marlene was actually pretty decent at all this.
All of a sudden James felt hands on his abdomen and back, straightening his back into the correct posture. He was startled but continued on.
âThere you go,â Y/N chuckled. âAnd..â she began but cut herself off by setting her hands atop his broad shoulders, pushing down on them. âYou gotta relax, your shoulders are too tense. We donât want them up by our ears,â She said, demonstrating to him by pulling her own shoulders up. âWe want an elongated line from our neck and down our spine.â She explained, relaxing her shoulders and looking perfect.Â
Next Y/N ran them through some basic turns and steps and they practiced by repeating them across the floor. James couldnât believe this but, he was actually getting a pretty good workout. He was using muscles he didnât even know he had, and he knew that if he dared mention that he was sore from ballet in front of Remus and Sirius, they would never let him live it down.
Time actually flew, and class was over before he knew.
âGreat job today.â She said to them both, smiling as James caught her eye.
âI heard you give out stickers.â Marlene mentioned, mischief laced in her voice, making Y/N giggle. James loved the sound, decided that he wanted to do anything, everything in his power to hear that again. Hear it forever if he can.
She walked over to where her clipboard lay on the other side of the room, picked it up, then returned to where James and Marlene were now packing up. She peeled off a smiley face that said âawesomeâ and placed it on Marleneâs shirt. Marlene smiled and started out the door.Â
Y/N peeled another off, a star that said âyou did greatâ and placed it on Jamesâs shirt. She pressed it into the fabric, making sure it stuck. James felt the warmth of her fingers radiate through his shirt and into his skin.Â
He smiled at her and made his way after Marlene. He turned back to say âSee you Thursday!â
She smiled back, waving goodbye to him and repeating that she would see them on Thursday.
Exiting the studio and climbing back into Marleneâs car, James couldnât get rid of the goofy smile that etched itself into his face. Marlene looked at him and shook her head. âDonât make it too obvious, Twinkletoes.â She mocked him with a new and reactive nickname.
âWhat are you talking about?â James asked, pulling his seatbelt on.
âYour little crush.â Marlene said plainly.
James wasn't going to deny it, so what if he had a little crush on the cute ballet teacher? She was gorgeous and so warm. He liked to see the passion in her eyes when she was explaining ballet to them.Â
He couldnât believe it and he would probably never say it out loud but he was excited for his ballet lesson on Thursday.
i wrote this cause I miss ballet and love the athlete x ballerina trope. also ballerinas are in fact athletes, dance is a sport â¤ď¸đ𩰠also please let me know if you would like to be added to any tag lists
taglist đ: @navs-bhat
#marauders#marauders era#marauders au#james potter#marauders headcanon#marauders fanfiction#james potter x reader#the marauders#sirius black#remus lupin#james x reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fanfiction#james potter fluff#james potter x self insert#prongs#james x you#james x y/n#james x self insert#my favorite trope#james fleamont potter#moony x padfoot#wolfstar#background wolfstar#james potter headcanon#james potter smut#james potter angst#marlene mckinnon
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A Bauble
Satan/f!Reader
Summary: You become the fair judge Satanâs typist. Youâll learn what a lonely job that can be.
Warnings: Possessive Behavior, False Imprisonment, Workplace Sexual Harassment (Taken up to Eleven), Mild DubCon, Penetrative Sex, Size Difference, Temp Play (?)
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Whoever had made the decision to forgo introducing you and Satan had made a big mistake, which was made clear by the fact that, as the official stenographer, you were the one literally typing up his uncharacteristic pauses, stutters and stumbles throughout the trial. It was uncomfortably obvious that much of his speech delays correlated with his gaze boring into you as well.
By the end of it the defendant had been quickly disposed of and you were shocked to feel yourself being picked up as you read through a long scroll of âumâ, âuhâ and âerâs.
âYour Honor!â You clutched the court documents to your chest as Satan held you up to his eyes. The look in those four molten orbs left you feeling flushed and overheated⌠or perhaps it was being so close to the dragonâs mouth.
âWould you care to join me in my office, Miss?â Satanâs drawl left you blinking rapidly. âI would be much obliged to see what you wrote of these proceedings.â
His smooth countenance defied your initial impression of the Sin, and while you were bewildered at the change, there was no real way you could decline his invitation. You adjusted your spectacles and straightened up in the palm of Satanâs hand, nodding resolutely.
âOf course, Sir.â
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The memory of your first conversation with Satan was fuzzy. At best, you could recall how his stare continued to shift while you spoke. Those eyes continued to warm you as they softened until you felt like youâd been wrapped up in an electric blanket.
Near the end, when you had run out of things about your prior work experience to say, you felt Satanâs large finger run down your flank. The tender gesture had made you shudder, and you crossed your arms over your chest at the eerie feeling of being exposed and undone.
âMy court is lucky to have you.â This coming from the very soul that had been notorious for murdering a good many of his previous court reporters (and jury men, attorneys, defense lawyers, emotional support aides) in his rage made you balk.
âYou are indispensable.â Satan continued. âWeâll need to provide you with better provisions to ensure you stay satisfied with your position.â
The dragonâs claw curled around you like a serpent, bumping you forward gently yet dragging your hooves over the ground. You had no choice but to steady yourself with a hand to his muzzle, nails digging into his skin unintentionally as he grumbled.
No, not grumbled. Satan purred.
He pushed you the rest of the way with that giant digit so that your front was pressed against his face entirely. Your eyes shut as hot air from his nostrils blew back your hair, and opened in time to see Satanâs eyelids flutter.
******
Your âbetter provisionsâ consisted of a podium modified to tower above everyone else save for Satan himself. You were in his direct line of sight, and the position of the podium had changed to somewhere much closer to the center of the room. It was a confusing change, although that confusion turned into discomfort when you stepped onto the platform to see your basic desk and chair had been replaced with luxuries.
The new, plush furniture that resembled bedding more than an office space did not distract you from the spire fence that had also been installed at the border of your podium.
âThe barrier is simply to keep you safe.â Satan said when you questioned it. âWe canât let our treasured reporter fall and break her pretty neck, now can we?â
You swallowed, feeling small beneath the weight of his honey voice and warm blanket gaze and intimate closeness. Satanâs breath followed you, always billowing upon you gently until you smelled like smoke for the rest of the day.
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Kept within the warmth and sanctity of his court, Satan had unraveled you so much that soon you couldnât remember what it felt like to be cold.
The skies of Hell were accessible by looking through the window outside of your podium. Your temp agency had cut all contact with you. And although the counselor that flitted at Satanâs side had said he would get to the bottom of things, you felt as though he had also left you in the lurch.
Heat left you indolent. You lounged upon your priceless silk pillows more than you typed, hands busy fanning your face and wiping the sweat from your brow than continuing the farce of being a simple journalist.
Satan would open the gate once legal proceedings had ended, and he would take you in hand before adjourning to his private chambers. The breeze to and fro was a welcome relief â from the sweltering courtroom, the dizzying height, Yogirtâs insufferable grin, and Satanâs eyes following your every move.
He chuckled as he opened his hand to find you laid out on your back, exhausted.
âOh little one.â The Sin brought his arm to his torso, cupping you to his well-defined chest. âThe day has been long, hasnât it?â
Your eyes rolled up to see the great dragon cast an indulgent smile upon you. The smile grew in size when lifted you higher, tickling your bared skin with a soft nudge and quiet snort.
His purr rolled over your muscles until you were numb, and the lick of his tongue on your midriff garnered no reaction. You sighed, resting your eyes again.
Satan jostled you. âOh I know youâre tired, but thereâs something I need to show you.â
âAnother provisionâŚ?â Your own voice sounded so very far away.
It disappeared within Satanâs quietened laughter, still loud enough to echo around the room.
âYou could call it that.â He murmured. âBut it's not something I advertise, so you best keep it to yourself.â
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âFuck ââ You gasped, feeling the heat of him sear you inside and out. This swelter was inescapable, no matter if the harbinger himself shrank down to be three heads taller than you instead of three-hundred thousand.
Satan had held you in his arms, crushing you to his well-kept physique of claret and golden scales. You awoke from your overheated daze to feel his body envelop yours and his smirk draped over your slackened mouth.
You felt his tongue slither in, still large enough that you could only suck on it. Satan groaned, igniting a flare up inside your belly. The flare pulsed and fluttered, growing into a roaring flame as the Sin carried you to the nearest plush surface. He laid you down, adjusting you with his tail wound below your behind.
Silk and satin and velvet brushed along your body in Satanâs caresses, his kisses and licks. Your thighs were pulled apart and the flames ate you up until you were screaming. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you were left begging for the Sinâs cock, even when at a glance it stood erect in angry, burning phosphorescent reds and oranges.
You dripped onto the bedspread as your lover turned you over and shoved pillows under your hips to elevate them.
The lordly dragon stretched you beyond your capacity, beyond what you had taken when he had delved into your sopping cunt with his thick fingers. The impale of his cock, felt deep into your womb, filled you too full.
âOh please! Please move.â You sobbed. âI'll do anything, Your Honor!â
There was an audible snort of smoke as the Sinâs legs flexed and his length eased out of you. You shivered as you were nearly free, then squealed as he arched his hips and speared you again. The beast repeated the move again, before jarring you with a shallower thrust.
His experimental rhythm lasted for less than a minute as Satan found the speed that drew out the loudest and sweetest noises from your lips. What made you clutch his scaly fingers as they tightened around your figure, inching upward to palm at your breasts. You spasmed at the novelty of him being able to cup both of them with just one hand.
Satan draped himself over you, angular head resting over your shoulder while he lifted you up by the chin to look back at him.
âYouâre enjoying yourself?â His gravelly tone rolled over your back.
You nodded. âYes⌠yes⌠I-Iâm gonna cum.â
Another groan rattled through you, with Satan losing control just enough to shove you into the mattress with his bulk.
âPlease, can I cum?â You whined against the sheets. âPlease let me cum, Your Honor.â
Satanâs hips smacked against your ass wetly, audibly. His thrusts came faster and harder as he humped into you with wild abandon. âCall me Satan. Call me â ! And Iâll give you everything, little oneâŚâ
âSa-Satan! Can I c-cum?!â The words swirled together, slurred through a deluge of drool and mindless ecstasy. âCan I pl-please cum-m Satan? Plea-se Satan! Satan!â
The climax that savaged your body left you writhing and convulsing, barely able to comprehend Satanâs roar as he followed you into the abyss and glutted you with his white hot seed.
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stop the clock 𦹠matsukawa i. x reader
day 8: the name drop
in collaboration with get ugly by @eggyrocks @warlocksoup
an: if you guys haven't seen my rampant screaming, eggy's new phenomenal fic get ugly is in the stc universe!!! you must go read it and give eggy love otherwise ill eat you
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âYou broke my heart, you know that?â
Issei calls out to the expanse of the store as he enters, foot barely past the threshold before he speaks.
âUh, sorry?â
Suddenly, his blood runs cold. The voice coming from the desk is not the one heâs come to love, but a completely new one. He turns slowly, preparing himself for the embarrassment he will have to endure.
Sitting in her perch was a shorter guy, with a streak of blonde cutting right through his hair. Heâs looking at Issei like he knows him, which is confusing because Isseiâs sure this is the first time heâs seen him.
Upon seeing his face, the guy from the counter breaks into a huge grin.
âOh my god, you must be Mattsun.â
Adjusting slightly to appear more relaxed, he gives a tentative smile.
âUh, yeah. I am.â
The guy leans forward on his elbows, watching him like a TV show.
âHow much money have you actually spent on cherries? Itâs got to be like ÂĽ4000 at this point.â
This peaks his interest significantly. He hasnât told anyone but Makki and Suna about the cherries, because he had to explain the new business expense heâd been logging, so it must have been her.
This of course means-
âShe talks about me?â He can hardly contain his glee at this news.
âYeah. Itâs not-â
Issei puts a hand up to stop the guy. He doesnât care to hear what sheâs been saying, for better or for worse. Since itâs likely worse, the knowledge that he consumes the tiniest bit of space in her brain is enough for him.
As he does so, the guy splits into a huge grin.
âYouâre just like I imagined. Can I please watch you flirt? I need this for science.â
Before he can do anything, the guy behind the counter yells out to the store.Â
Yells her name. Something in Isseiâs head starts to spin.Â
He wanted to know her name. So badly that he was chastised relentlessly by Makki for spending his whole shift on his phone with Suna. They had scoured every corner of her spotify account, looking for anything to identify her.
Tragically, sheâd prepared for him. Her username was just a bunch of numbers, she had no profile name or picture, and all the playlists were simply numbered 1-16.Â
So yes, knowing her name was like fireworks sparking in his head. But this was not how he wanted to learn it. He likes that she makes him work; he wanted it to be a prize that heâd earned.
At the sound of her name, she appears behind the little isles and looks over at where they are. Issei canât help but notice sheâs in his corner. Where the cherries are.Â
As she makes eye contact with Issei, her facade cracks. Surprise, embarrassment, realization, embarrassment, collected, all in the span of a few seconds. She comes around to round out their circle, not really looking at Issei.Â
He thinks itâs weird seeing her from this angle. Sheâs not different, maybe a little nervous, but not enough to really change her demeanor. Yet, without the safety of her counter she looks more vulnerable.Â
âIs something wrong, Noya?â She asks the guy behind the counter, seemingly unprepared to handle Issei.Â
Noya grins cheekily, and gestures to the space between them as if inviting the show to begin. She glowers at him but he seems unaffected. Isseiâs impressed; if he was on the receiving end of that glare heâd need some new pants.
Noya beams wider before turning to him again. âCmon, letâs see it! Lay on the charm man.âÂ
âYouâre gross. And stealing from me by still being clocked in,â She bites back before Issei can even start. He just stands back and watches their exchange, like a spectator at the zoo.Â
Something in him is jealous of Noya and the way he can get her to shed her skin. Regardless, he takes what he can get. Despite his nasty gut feeling, heâs seeing a side of her heâs never gotten access to. What sheâs like with her friends, when sheâs not putting on her facade. Who his mystery girl really is.
Noya eventually concedes after being threatened short of death and is pushed out of the store. Before he disappears into the dusk, he whispers something to her that makes her eyes roll all the way to the back of her head.Â
She watches him turn the corner and disappear into the night, and Issei notices the steadying breaths she has to take.
Upon re-entering the store, she looks more collected. As she tucks her hands in her back pockets, she rocks a little on her feet. He looks down and notices the boots sheâs sporting, and the tiniest little streak on the toe.
âSo.â
His attention is brought back up when she addresses him, still swaying slightly.
âSo?â
She shifts her shoulders back reflexively, like sheâs ready for a fight. âYou know my name now.â
He looks back at her, saying nothing. She doesnât take the bait.
âWhat, you arenât gonna berate me to death? Wax poetic about how beautiful it is and how it suits me and how when you heard it, angels sang?â
He tries to hide a smile. âDo you want me to?â
âNo.â
âThen I wonât.â
She narrows her eyes at him. âWhat happened to you?â
He gives a tiny shrug.
âI donât know what you mean. Iâm still the same old Issei.â
Unconvinced, she glares at him a little longer. He takes it on the chin. When she presses, he stands firm.
Issei thinks sheâs sorting things out in her head. Heâd give her whatever she needs, even if it makes his knees a little weak, and right now that means a silent dressing down. His hands are sweaty.
âThis is unnerving.â She admits after a few moments, then turns on her heel to walk back deeper into the store.
Issei waits a couple moments then follows.
âWhat is?â
âYou.â She reaches her destination, and starts to restock his cherries.
âHavenât I always annoyed you though?â
âYeah. But this is different.â
She continues picking up the pots from the box, rotating them around and sliding them into their place. Thereâs about 20 little jars, only taking up a single shelf.
Issei lingers nearby, leaning on the doors of a fridge. His back radiates enough heat to make some condensation. âHow do you mean?â
She stops for a second in contemplation; looking over her shoulder to peer at him again, turning thoughts over in her mind. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it just as fast.Â
In her hesitancy, Issei notices a touch of vulnerability in her eyes. Itâs hidden deep behind her irises, but he knows her now. With a blink, itâs gone.
 Instead, she lets out a deep sigh, a bit of frustration and a drop of disappointment.
âI dunno. Never mind.â
âHey, cmon.â Issei tries to probe her again, keep her talking, but she grows resolute in her decision. She quickly emits an energy that is impenetrable. He doesnât have the tools yet to identify a crack.
He stands and waits for an opening, one that she doesnât give. The condensation from the fridge starts to drip down his neck.Â
He feels a buzz in his pocket, and sees a text.Â
suna [9:57 pm]: ur gonna b late. get some salt while ur there, quit harassing women, and hurry up
He canât help the small grunt of annoyance he lets out, resentment growing at everything around him.Â
When he looks back up, sheâs staring at him in a way heâs never seen. Thereâs not a lack of emotion, thereâs too many to sort. He expects her to glance away, and she does.
The whirr of the fridges is louder than normal.
âIâll uh⌠Iâll see you around,â Issei starts, feeling oddly small. He scuffs his shoe, hoping sheâll ask him to stay, or ask him a clarifying question, or anything other than this suffocating silence. When nothing comes, he pushes off the wall and starts down the aisle.
He really does try to leave, but sometimes he canât help himself. He pauses, and she watches.
âFor what itâs worth, I think itâs lame your friend ruined that bit. It was kinda fun having the mystery.â
She takes the peace treaty gratefully, but still doesnât speak.
âIf you want, we can agree to forget it? Iâll earn it fair and square?â
Thereâs a little chuckle, mostly to herself, before she replies.
âAre you even capable of forgetting that?â
He laughs, somewhat from relief that he had managed to salvage whatever heâd fucked up.
âNah, probably not. I can try though.â
She dismisses that with a wave of her hand.
âWhy bother. Iâll just⌠put bleach in Noyaâs shampoo or something.â
He grins at her, easy and open. She doesnât return it, but stands up a bit more casually.Â
The unspoken words between them weigh heavy in the air, but itâs returned to a level that Issei can manage. Theyâre closer than heâd thought.
He realizes heâs been staring, trying and failing to place her perfume. Issei ducks his head quickly, before turning and walking out more intentionally.
Right before he reaches the door, he turns around one last time. To his surprise, he meets her eyes.Â
âI- I hope the concert was good. Iâll see you tomorrow.â
He canât hear her from across the store, but sees her mouth âbye.â
By the time he gets to work, heâs distracted. Anytime a woman tries to flirt with him, all he can think of is the melody behind her eyes, and what was going through her head.Â
Issei doesnât make that many tips that night.
Sheâs hunched over her drawing table, various trashed doodles surrounding her. Her phone is plugged into the wall, just above 14%. It always dies faster when sheâs on the phone.
âI donât see what the big deal is?â
Sevenâs voice is breathy over the speaker, sheâs out in the cold. She fills in the background of her strip with haphazard crosses.
âSo heâs a little dorky guy with a crush. Is he threatening?â
She lets out a half-there chuckle. âNo. He likes batman band-aids.â
âSo whatâs the problem?â
Her pencil tip breaks from the pressure.Â
âI-â
Instead of sharpening it, she fishes for another.
âI think he actually likes me. Like, not as a bit.â
Over the speaker, some rock radio comes over from Sevenâs side. Itâs loud enough that she can hear it. It makes her cringe.
âIs that so bad?â
The response takes so long that Seven has to ask if sheâs there.
âYeah. It is.â
She hangs up before sheâs faced with the next probing question.
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#haikyuu#hq#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu smau#hq smau#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu matsukawa#matsukawa x reader#matsukawa issei#matsukawa issei x reader#issei x reader#matsukawa x you#issei x you#matsukawa smau#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#mw.matsukawa issei#stop the clock
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Same Difference.
Pairing: Jake Kim x F!Reader
Summary: Never the one to speak of your father, Jake beat you up to it. Finding the irony of the situation.
Genre/Trope: Fluff, established relationship, friends to lovers.
Details: 1.1k words, tomboy!reader, f/name stands for father's name, reader's dad is gen 0 hotshot.
A/n: It's only been two days since I last posted. I'm just itching to write/post and not doing it actually makes me tweak. I love feeding y'all đ As always I don't do requests.
Masterlist
"Hellooo...! Earth to (Name)."
The snapping finger finally released yourself from your daydream.
"Huh?" You turned to Jake. "Oh, sup J." You brushed your hair back.
"You alright? How far are you?" He leaned on the desk to your side. You shake you head, ignoring his question. "Sorry, what were we talking about?"
"Right." He nodded, decided not to pry on you further. He gestured the boxes and files, "You were helping me getting rid of these junks?"
Giving him a weird look as you put two and two together since it's obvious that he could've just given this task to anyone.
"If you wanna hang you could've just said so, you know." You deadpanned.
He shrugged innocently, "Guilty but I wanna be careful. See if there's some stuff I might wanna keep."
You grimaced, pulling a grin. "Might."
"Might." He cringed. "Because see this." He pulled out old photos to you. Most of them were Gapryong Kim, no doubt. Few were him with other folks.
You took them from his hand, looking closely for yourself, "What are you hoping to find? I thought you hated the guy."
"Can't a guy look around without feeling bitter? I ain't a sissy."
His casual reply made you rolled your eyes. But you get him. And good for him for getting over the grudge. Or not. It's no rocket science that he's just hiding it for the sake of his image. Especially to you. To anyone, really.
"Huh."
"What?" You turned at him.
"Didn't know he and (F/Name) knew each other. Not surprised but, damn."
Your brows lit up but luckily he didn't notice. You leaned closer towards him to take a good look at what he meant. And well what'd you know? His old man and your old man standing together.
"You...know him?" Jake nodded, "Not much. But I heard enough. I always wanna learn (F/Name) fighting style. That fist. I just couldn't get it right." He formed his own fist, demonstrating his failed attempt.
Your gaze trailed at his body posture curiosity. You take notes to what he lack. Almost as if you're be able to scan him right here and then.
"Like this." You instead automatically showed him how it's done without feeling like you're showing off. You aren't. You're just show what you know. So forming a fist of your own, you leaned your upper body forward slightly and push the air, mimicking a subtle punch.
"This?" He followed you, again still getting it wrong. You shook your head, scratching your neck, "It's a bit complicated. I don't know how to explain."
Jake grinned and relaxed his body once more. "Don't be like that. Teach me. You know didn't you? I've never seen you kick ass up close before, it's not fair."
You only chuckled and continue with the junks. But does he stop talking about (F/Name) after that? No. And it confuses you. What did he see in your father that you don't? To you, he was just a guy with knowledge to pass down before he grow old. But an old fashioned influencer? You legit thought the guy was a nobody. He was an isolated man. Respect or feared by many. Never in your life thinking he'd get out there. Let alone having friends. Friends are too generous. Colleagues are more like it.
"Does he...have any kid?" You didn't know why you asked that, but you were mindful enough be vague about it. You were quite curious now that you know your pop was, or still is a big shot. Might as well use the privilege by hearing it from Jake.
He nodded, tossing the papers into the burning barrel. "One. A son. Never seen him. People said he's good too. His first kill was when he was nine."
Your face hardened. First kill. Nine years old. You really didn't wanna hear about that. Seems like words do come around here. And a son. People refer you as 'the son'. It makes you wonder if that's what your father rather see you as or you just look like one. Besides, you hardly get by proper friends back then. Son or daughter, same difference. They were all afraid of him. The thought still makes you slightly somber. Your movement slowed.
Jake notices but continue, "Got something you wanna share? I won't bite. I'll get it if you have a bitter pasts with him. Consider how knowledgeable you are." He tossed the last one in his hands then sit down on a portable chair. "But I'm curious about what you've learnt. Hell, I'm not gonna lie, I'm very curious. So...why not be a doll and share it? With your favourite boy Jakey?"
Your solemnity faded, replaced with a snicker, "'Jakey'? You really know how to persuade me. You persuade better than girls do."
"Yes, well, it's part of the big deal." He lays out his one-liner like winning an award. You laughed, tossing the papers towards him but missed completely as they flew to the opposite direction. "Oh my God. You're not gonna stop using that, are you?"
He laughed with you, leaning back only to lose his balance and landed his back on the ground. You both shared another round of laughter.
"Okay but seriously. I can't know?" He kept himself laying on the ground for a bit, eyes stayed on you.
"I never said that. I'll be honoured to teach you." You sighed, stretching your arms. "Besides, I hate to keep you in the dark. We're friends-"
"Boyfriend and girlfriend." He quickly corrects you.
"Right, sorry. And I'm too guilty for not telling you that (F/Name) is actually my dad."
He nodded, "Yeah, I totally get that. I'd be to- wait." He paused, "...What??" now standing up to look at you properly. He comes forward and grasps your shoulder firmly with intense eyes. "Please. Teach me."
Save to say he took it pretty well. And as promised during your spare time you spar with him by teaching him what your father had taught you. Seeing him so concentrate surely piqued your interest. You have so much to focus on. From fixing his postures and techniques to his constant shirtless, sweaty, covered-in-tattooed self.
"That's it for today." You exhaled, wiping your sweat with a cloth.
"You go ahead, I'll meet you inside later." He insisted. But you didn't leave yet. "You could use the break too. I hate to...hit the shower alone." You muttered, hoping he didn't hear that part. But he did, now staring at you like a deer caught in a headlight. Now you feel embarrassed. You're no better than him. Flustered as he is.
"Nevermind, um, forget I said that." You turn your head sheepishly. He was quick to catch up with you. "No, no. I'll come too."
"No, it's fine-"
"I'm coming, no take backs. You, me, shower. Yes? Yes. Okay." He fastened his pace, pulling you by his arm effortlessly. He's totally gonna be the death of you.
#dood writes!#lookism x reader#jake kim x reader#kim gimyung x reader#lookism fic#lookism fanfic#lookism imagines#lookism imagine#lookism#lookism manhwa#lookism webtoon#webtoon#manhwa#jake kim#kim gimyung#lookism jake kim#lookism x you#x reader#x you#fanfics#imagines#my writing
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Bruce got up from a coma to find that the Manor had become the site of a baking contest, with everyone who was anyone in the superhero community participating, either as contestant or judge.
"What the fuck," he croaked to Alfred the moment he could.
"Steady on, Master B," Alfred said staidly. "You had so many visitors in your...state, that I'm afraid Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie took horrible advantage of it. Master Richard reluctantly agreed, citing morale as the reason, although I suspect it may have just been his sweet tooth that won the day."
"Alfred," said Bruce wearily. "How likely is it that my awakening will go unnoticed."
"Your 'awakening', as you put it, although that word rather implies that you are a mummyâ"
"...Alfred!"
"âwill be noticed in no time. Master Clark has been...quite assiduous in his visitations."
"How assiduous?"
"He visits everyday, and checks on you twice or thrice. There is just no keeping him away. He has brought over Masters Jon and Conner. They are rather ahead on the scoreboard."
"There's a scoreboard?" Bruce rubbed his face. "Alfred, please tell me you have not taken part in any of this tomfoolery."
Alfred looked mildly guilt-stricken. "Well I'm afraid you see, sir, that I am...head judge."
"What about Selina?" asked Bruce, his head wandering.
"Miss Kyle has submitted her lioness, Nala, along with Master Damian's pet tiger, to the 'animal judges' section of the baking contest."
Bruce grit his teeth in annoyance. "The more I learn, the more I wish I had stayed in bed. But, I suppose, every buffoonery must end."
Alfred stopped in his tracks. "Buffoonery, sir?"
Bruce looked up at him, sliding on his gown. "Well surely you don't agree this should have been done?"
Alfred looked still. "Well, sirâ"
He looked away. Bruce's hackles rose. "What?"
"You forget. The participants of this contest were not here for this...buffoonery, as you put it. They were here because they cared about you enough to drop their lives and come to your home, and stay with your children in their grief, and bake silly cakes that they probably had no interest in baking. They stood here as your heart rate fluctuated and stabilized, they supported each other and were stronger together. And the thing that bonded them was you, sir." Alfred turned to the heart rate monitor, and turned it off. He still had his back to Bruce. "Most persons would be lucky to have half so many people their lives, who cared half as much."
Bruce's face grew still. "Alfred, you don't thinkâthat I don't appreciate it."
"Of course not, sir," said Alfred soothingly. "I know you have a hard time expressing your feelings. And some of the blame, I'm afraid, rests with me."
"Noâ"
"Yes, sir. I never taught you how to say thank you. You have many virtues, but I'm afraid gratitude's one that was missed." Alfred gathered up the sensors, and stuffed the syringes, tidying up. "So you can start with me, and work your way up."
He looked up at Bruce expectantly.
"Thank you," said Bruce, in an abashed voice. "I know I haven't been the best atâ"
"You're welcome, dear boy," said Alfred, his wrinkled face illuminated with a smile. "You're always going to be welcome."
Bruce leaned forward and hugged Alfred. Alfred's lean body returned the hug with a fierceness that Bruce had not expected from the seventy-year-old man.
"Now," said Alfred, after they both had cleared their throats and looked away in embarrassment. "The winners of the contest are to be given their prize by you. So I suppose there will be multiple reasons for people to be happy you have awoken."
"Who has won?" Bruce asked, thinking about the people who visited him in his coma: strong firm hands that held his and did not let go, a woman's subtle perfume that enveloped him with one kiss, and a small boy's warm tears that fell on his father's face.
"Hal Jordan," announced Alfred, checking the scorecard.
Bruce groaned. "Not that man."
"I'm afraid so. The judges were unanimous, after tasting his soufflĂŠ. I suspect he used extra-terrestrial ingredients, but although that went against the spirit of the competition, it did not go against the letter of it." Alfred smoothed down the sheets. "I must inform you, Master Harold has been instrumental in keeping Master Damian's hopes up, in regards to your recovery. 'Your father is one tough bastard to beat', I believe were his words."
Bruce stood up. "Well, I suppose I can give Hal Jordan his stupid prize." He corrected his sleeves, brushing lint off them. There was something stupid in his heart. He suspected it to be fondness. When had so many good people started caring for him? And why would they care for a fuck-up?
As usual, Alfred read him to a tee. "Let us put our self-doubt to rest, Master Bruce. Go upstairs and be a bloody good host."
Bruce sighed, although his heart was almost content, for once. "Yes, Alfred."
#batman#bruce wayne#dc comics#dc fanfiction#humor#batfamily#batkids#funny#alfred pennyworth#hal jordan#green lantern#justice league#dc fandom#dc fanfic#fanfiction#clark kent#superman#jon kent#damian wayne#robin#selina kyle#catwoman#original#my fic#one shot#drabble#jla
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high up | cowgirl!madison beer
fluff, & smut.
a/n: hello again my loves 𼰠iâve missed you all. iâm sorry for being gone so long but iâm back and better than ever. hopefully this suffices as an apology for leaving you all for a bit.
âźď¸smut warnings: semi-public sex, strap on usage, hair pulling, rough sex, slight degradation & humiliation.
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a whole year had passed since you set foot on the farm. since you and madison met and started your whirlwind romance. a whole year and you were the happiest youâd ever been.
while you celebrated the exact one year marker with your grandparents, feasting over your grandmotherâs chili, madison had suggested you two spend your one year together back in the city.
initially, you were reluctant to go. all your favorite spots were in the country. everywhere you and mads had spent making memories rested in the peace of the farm.
but she was persistent, and you knew your girlfriend wouldnât relent. she argued that you spent a whole year learning the ins and outs of her biome. it was time for her to learn more about your roots too.
so the two of you found yourselves in madisonâs truck, pulling into the parking of your condominium. you two had done the trip yourselves despite your parents offering, but you wanted the insurance of madisonâs truck around in case she needed to get back.
your parents had been out working when the two of you arrived. you unlocked the front door to your penthouse apartment, welcoming madison into your home.
as madison stepped in, she marvelled at the space the penthouse offered. she knew your family had money, but now she was seeing it.
she was greeted with marble floors leading into carpeted ones depending on where you went and a massive living room with tall windows that looked like they could go on for miles.
you went to put your stuff in your room but she was left stunned. you poked your head back out to check on her and smiled at the sight of her mouth agape.
âlike what you see?â you teased her, bringing her out of her daze.
âiâve never been this high off the ground before. weâre practically in the clouds!â she exclaimed, taking her hat off.
you stepped closer to her and took her hat from her, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards your room, walking backwards. you held a mischievous smirk on your face, one she knew too well.
when you opened the door to your room, you giggled at her face. your room had a wide rectangular window that covered the entire wall, overlooking the city below.
your room was⌠so you, madison thought. it was littered with small trinkets that she found adorable. the wallpaper was your favorite color, she started to grow fonder of it when she learned how much you loved it.
she stepped closer to your vanity mirror, admiring the photos that were attached to it. photos of you and your friends, photos of you and your parents. even a few baby pictures. she was deep in thought again, but you were quick to make sure she didnât get too absorbed by her own mind.
âhey.â you said, practically barking a little at her. she quickly spun around, catching the tail end of you dropping your dress for it to pool at your feet.
you opted for comfort on the drive, which meant wearing this dress that drove madison crazy. it was loose on you but still showed your figure off perfectly. but she enjoyed it off just as much.
âdid you wanna get a closer look at this window?â you side eyed the window while madison reached for her bag.
âhell yeah i do.â she whipped out the strap-on like she had x-ray vision and knew exactly where it was.
she threw the strap-on onto the bed for the meantime, walking closer to you and capturing your lips in a kiss with many words. she missed you while on that drive, having to focus on the drive.
you were the object of her affection, she could never go for very long without trying to show her love for you.
she pulled you closer by your waist, stepping forward and backing you up until your ass and back were against the cold glass of the window. you squealed a little, the chill sending goosebumps across your skin. she swallowed every noise you made.
you unbuttoned madisonâs shirt, pushing it off and yanking it until it untucked from her jeans. you made quick work of her belt, pulling it off in one swift motion and getting her jeans off. she pulled away to put the strap on around her hips.
you watched her with your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes never leaving her body. no matter how many times youâd seen her naked, you found her absolutely flawless.
she got close to you again, her chest pressing against yours as she kissed you. you felt her fingers slip between your drenched folds, a smile plastered across her face.
âso wet already baby, we just got here!â she snickered and dropped to her knees, lifting one of your legs to rest on her shoulder. she buried her tongue between your folds, your breath hitching as an immediate reaction.
despite being out of her comfort zone, madison felt good with you. being so high up in the clouds with the bustling city beneath you both, it worried her a little bit. but her heart beat for you, and in turn you promised to make yourself a safe place for her with your legs wrapped around her head.
âshit!â your body jolted as her lips wrapped around her clit, sucking and flicking with her tongue. she slipped a finger into you as your head fell back against the glass.
she knew how to work you perfectly, being alone on the farm gave you two a lot of privacy to get to know each other on an intimate level. a hand of hers ran up your body, squeezing one of your tits, the mix of stimulation caused your head to spin.
youâd missed her like this, it wasnât going to take long untilâŚ
âmads⌠madsâŚâ you tapped the top of her head. âi donât wanna cum yet.â you warned, not wanting to get too tired yet. you were both exhausted from the drive but refused to hold yourselves back from intimacy.
âokay, princess. want me to fuck you then?â she asked, her southern drawl felt more prominent when she was out of her natural habitat.
âpleaseâŚâ you begged. she nodded and quickly spun you, your hands pressing against the glass window. she pushed you forward, your tits and face against the glass now too.
âcâmon, baby. be good for me. show them how good i fuck you.â she said, slowly inserting the 8-inch silicone dick into you. you whined at the intrusion, trying to find something to grasp onto. your efforts were futile as all there was in your reach was the window pane.
madison started slow, wanting to make sure you were comfortable. in truth, this was turning you on so much that you wouldnât have cared. looking down at the city below, knowing madison would have no problem fucking you on the sidewalk if you asked.
she wanted them to know that she would fuck you better than anyone could. she wanted you to know that your pussy was eternally hers and hers only.
âyouâre being so good for me.â she grunted in your ear, pressing her chest against your back as her fist circled in your hair, tugging softly. âwant everyone to know how good i make you feel. i make you feel good, donât i?â
âyeah! yeah⌠mads, right there! fuck! donât fucking stop!â you cried out, gasping for air. her sneaky fingers made their way to your cunt again, rubbing quick circles around your clit.
your eyes squeezed shut, the pleasure getting to you. madison was now thrusting harder into you, hitting that spongy spot that made you see stars.
âdonât you wanna cum for me, darlinâ? wanna see you cum on my cock.â she whispered into your ear, peppering kisses on your back.
madisonâs verbal encouragement was enough to push you over the edge, slick juices coating her strap as you reached your orgasm.
âah! fuck!â you called out as you came on her cock and fingers, you heaved as your body relaxed.
madison wasnât done yet though.
she spun you back around and pushed you to your knees, pushing the tip of the strap against your lips. you eagerly took it in your mouth, sucking your cum off as madison watched you.
you caught as her stomach flexed, knowing the friction of the strap against her own wetness would be enough to finish her off too. you bobbed your head at a rapid pace to assist her in reaching her own orgasm.
âyeah, baby. i love the way you take me in your mouth.â she leaned forward. her hand pressed up against the glass as she towered over you, tryung to keep herself stable. âkeep going, princess.â
her breathing got shaky as she commanded you, your hands got thrown into the mix to help jerk her off, rubbing at the places your throat couldnât reach.
âthatâs it, baby. doinâ so fuckinâ ah!â she groaned softly, reaching her peak. her legs shaking a little while she released all over the strap on.
she paused for a second, you backed off and helped her take it off, letting the dildo drop to the floor. you stood and grabbed her hand again, walking her to the bed.
you gently pushed her down onto the mattress and she moaned at the touch.
âholy shit, this bed is so comfy.â she adjusts her position so you can take your place on her chest. you put your head on her and kissed her gently.
âyouâre comfy.â
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a/n: heyyy⌠i know this was a short one but i fully intend for a part 2 to this madison in the city era. itâll be a bit longer cause there will be a proper storyline but i wanted to post something to let you all know i was still around. sooo much love. i adore you all.
#madison beer#madison beer smut#cowgirl!madison beer#madison beer x reader#madison beer x reader smut#madison beer x fem!reader#madison beer x f!reader#madison beer x female reader#madison beer x y/n
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STOLAS AND BLITZ'S CURRENT RELATIONSHIP IS A TREASURE TROVE
Helluva Boss is the ideal source material for fanworks in so many ways. Especially because of where Blitz and Stolas's relationship is right now.
One of the show's more obvious issues is the pacing, and while I don't know a ton about animated productions, it's always seemed to me like they're creating an enormously ambitious production on a pretty limited budget, so they kind of have to power through these episodes at a hundred miles an hour without the luxury of going at the slower, more nuanced pace they deserve. But that's where fanfiction and fanart can really elevate what canon gives us, because the show is creating so much potential to explore, and we have time in between episodes to play!
Basically: I love it here and this episode was a buffet of goodness.
Following Mastermind, Stolas and Blitz are discovering that despite their physically intimate relationship and their feelings for each other, they don't actually know each other.
In Sinsmas, we see Stolas and Blitz discovering so many new things about each other, to the point where you wonder what they ever talked about until you remember: sex. When they reunited as adults, they never re-learned who each other is now. Instead, they jumped past personal intimacy to physical intimacy.
And now that they're working on their personal intimacy, I love that Blitz has flipped completely from acting cold to Stolas out of uncertainty and self-defense to committing to him, unrelentingly loyal and affectionate. The way he is with Loona.
So we have them learning each other in doses:
⢠Blitz's horse thing
⢠Stolas's secret medication
⢠What Stolas eats
⢠Social norms Stolas didn't have to know when he was part of the wealthy ruling class
⢠Hellborn culture
⢠Blitz's genuine love for the company he built, not just pride
⢠Just how different Blitz's way of life is from the one Stolas is accustomed to
⢠And the real Blitz as opposed to the idealized version Stolas invented in his fantasies
In Mastermind, Stolas has that line, "Why am I throwing my freedom away for this idiot?" in part because he was still mad at Blitz, but also because Blitz has been knocked off his pedestal, and Stolas has to relearn him from nothing.
But the thing is: this idiot loves Stolas.
He's not ashamed to eat with Stolas in public, not ashamed to protect him from the other Hellborn who hate Stolas because of the trial.
He's genuinely delighted spending his time with Stolas.
He'll hunt rats in an alley just to make sure Stolas is eating what he likes.
And he champions Stolas's very first secretarial attempt in very characteristically giddy flavor.
He risks his life to save Stolas's, a flip from Mastermind.
He wraps Stolas in his own jacket to keep him warm, even though Blitz just complained about Earth's winter topside.
And he wraps Stolas in a blanket, then eats hot coals/brimstone(/whatever those rocks were) to become a hot water bottle for Stolas.
Because ultimately, what Blitz wants and perhaps realizes he wants in this episode is that he wants to be a complete family with Stolas and their daughters.
And they'll get there in part by talking to each other about what matters.
Not fighting, not yelling, not walking away, just talking to each other. About their vulnerabilities and their fears and what hurts. About their past hurts and their worries for the future.
And they've never done that at length before.
The trial gave Blitz the wakeup call he needed, and now the season is ending with Blitz completing another curve of his character arc. Does he believe he deserves Stolas? No. Does he have the family he wants? Nope! But to get there he has to make things right with Stolas, and he's (mostly) done that.
What comes next for them in season three will be up to Stolas.
Blitz has embraced Stolas, but it's not quite reciprocal yet.
So I look forward to aaaaaaalllllllllI the fic and fanart along the way. :>
#helluva boss spoilers#helluva boss sinsmas#helluva boss#stolas x blitz#stolitz#i love this show so dearly ugh the ART in that last scene
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how do you deal with shame? bc i suffered with severe depression and im just getting my own apartment at 30 years old. i still have no degree, the job i go to in ashamed everyday even though it pays my bills and take care of my kids because i see everyone who i went to high school with graduated and some got their masters. im ashamed of what i been through and ashamed of where im in at my life and im carrying deep deep depression and shame because i feel like im not enough and embarrassed of where im at because i know i couldâve did more with my life.
I really want to answer this because I also remember feeling behind at one point and I definitely remember my friends comparing themselves to me because we didnât make the same life decisions.
Just want to warn you Iâm going to give you some compassion combined with a little tough love.
Iâm really, REALLY sorry youâre feeling this way. No matter how different your life looks to others, itâs your life. Itâs easy to compare yourself to people who seem to have it all figured out, but their paths arenât yours. Just because you are seeing someone during the good times in their lives, doesnât mean it will always be that way or that it wonât be for you when the time is right.
I remember feeling so much judgment because all my friends were married, had serious boyfriends, or kids. Back then, Iâd leave our dinners in tears, feeling like a failure. Looking back now, the pressure I felt seems almost comical, but it was painful at the time. For context, Iâve been engaged more than once, yet I wasnât ready to settle. Now, many of those women are divorced and starting over, often without financial independence, while Iâm at a high point in my life and considering settling down on my own terms.
The lesson here is that life isnât a race or a checklist. Itâs not linear, and it doesnât have to follow a timeline. Some people hit their stride at 20, others at 30, 40, or beyondâand thatâs okay. Life is meant to be experienced, not rushed. The lessons we learn along the way shape us. Societyâs timelines and standards are just thatâstandards. You donât have to follow them to live a fulfilling, meaningful life.
Depression is incredibly hard to deal with, and itâs not something I take lightly. But since youâre committed to working on yourself, itâs so important to remind yourself to keep pushing forward. That said, I think youâre being way too hard on yourself right now. Who wouldnât feel overwhelmed? But letâs take a step backâyou have your own apartment for the first time, which is incredible! You have a job that allows you to provide for your kids, putting food on the table and showing up as a parent who loves them deeply. How lucky are they to have you?
From my perspective, youâre incredibly strong. Youâve faced depression and still found the courage to keep building yourself up. Thatâs no small feat. Donât let negative thoughts get in your wayâpractice reframing them. Instead of focusing on what you feel is lacking, focus on how far youâve come and the amazing things youâre doing right now. Youâre stronger than you give yourself credit for.
You may not like where your life is now, but you have to realize that it is under your control. If you want to change your life now, today, you can. Your life will start to change when you yourself commit to change. And that starts with your thoughts. Work on your perspective. Donât beat yourself up for what could have happened or didnât happen because youâre wasting even more time for absolutely nothing. You feel like youâve wasted years, why would you want to continue wasting any more?
Shame often stems from the story we tell ourselves, so try to shift that narrative. You wouldnât shame your friends for struggling; youâd remind them of their resilience. Focus on small winsâ change your perspective. Start focusing on showing gratitude for the things you do have and what youâve overcome. Gratitude for everything and anything. Gratitude attracts miracles and abundance. I know this sounds dumb or unrealistic, but itâs true. Besides, it doesnât hurt to try.
Iâm very proud of you and you can do so much more, anything you want if you just had a little bit of faith in yourself. Your worth isnât defined by what youâve been through or what youâve accomplished. Itâs defined by the fact that youâre here, trying and pushing forward. That alone makes you more than enough.
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Rejection
A first glimpse into the mind and adventures of my Rook Harea Ingellvar and why it sometimes helps to talk to friends that make you laugh again. đ
Spoilers for Lucanis romance under the cut.
Rejection
Rook sat beside Assan on the edge of the cliff, stroking the griffon's sleek feathers as she gazed into the endless horizon of the Fade. The unnatural breeze tugged at strands of her long hair, but she didn't mind. Nor did she mind when Assan began to nip at one of the loose strands, his beak tugging gently.
The moment in the pantry played over and over in her mind. His face close to hers, his eyes lingering so clearly on her lips. The way her heart had leapt when he'd put his hand against the wall. His words had drawn her out, excited her, encouraged her to flirt - not her usual lighthearted banter, but something deliberate, something bolder. She felt her cheeks heating up again as she remembered the warmth beneath her finger.
She still couldn't believe she'd done it - let alone thought it was a good idea. Not that she'd been thinking at all at that moment. Yet, despite her hopes, he hadn't kissed her.
Rook had been so sure he would. She'd felt it in the way he'd leaned down, in that moment before she'd closed her eyes. But instead he had pulled away, apologised and left her standing there, lips pursed like the fool she was. He had said he needed to collect himself, and as true as that was - especially for him - it still hurt more than she had thought.
Of course he wasn't interested in her like that. Of course he didn't have a head for... whatever she'd thought that might be.
Maker, he'd just learned that there was the possibility that his cousin had betrayed him. And Spite's continued interference only made things worse.
"I'm an idiot," she murmured, burying her face in her knees. It was so embarrassing, she would have laughed if it hadn't hurt so much.
The click of Assan's tongue interrupted her, sharp and deliberate. She shook her head and reached up to scratch his beak. "A friend would strongly disagree with such a statement..." she muttered. But the ache wouldn't go away, even when she tried to rationalise her thoughts. She had no right to feel this way. No right to expect anything, especially from him.
"Rook?" The voice startled her and she looked up, turning to see Lace standing a few paces away. She must have been heading for the kitchen. "Are you all right?â
Rook's mouth opened, instinctively ready to brush it away, to tell Lace that all was well. But the words didn't come. The lump in her throat tightened before she could stop herself, the tears spilling over. Lace's eyes widened in surprise as Rook turned away, burying her face in her hands. Lace stepped forward and placed a hand on Rook's shoulder.
"I'm sorry... I'm fine... It's just..." Harea's voice wavered as she tried to reassure Lace, but the words faltered. She bit her lip hard, clinging to the small sting to keep the sob lodged in her throat from escaping. She couldn't even tell herself why the tears were coming - maybe it was everything at once. The frustration, the endless weight of expectations, the impossible role she was supposed to live up to. Maybe this rejection was just too much...
"Come, let's get you inside." Lace said in her soft voice and Rook nodded, stumbling to her feet and following her friend towards the greenhouse. Assan, ever curious and unwilling to be left behind, followed. He moved with an unusual calm, his usual playfulness replaced by a quiet awareness - proving to be far more perceptive than Davrin would ever give him credit for.
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As Rook sank into the familiar chair near Lace's bedroll, she pulled her knees up again. Her eyes were still wet with tears, but the short walk from the courtyard indoors had been enough of a distraction to help her regain control. The griffon settled down beside the armchair, his head resting heavily on the armrest. Rook's fingers found its feathers again, scratching the point between its ears. Only then did she look up - and saw Taash. The dragon hunter had been kneeling quietly by one of the flower beds across the room, and Rook hadn't noticed their presence when she'd entered.
"Why are you crying?" Taash's tone was brisk and Rook quickly rubbed her cheeks.
"I'm not... I'm fine."
"You don't look fine to me. Did Spite do something? I knew I shouldn't have left you alone with him." Taash stood up, wiped their hands on their trousers and walked over to Lace's bedroll and sat down cross-legged.
"Here." Lace had used the short moments until Rook had settled down to pour her a cup of tea.
Rook took the cup from Lace's hand and smiled at her. "Thank you... you really don't need..." but Lace interrupted Rook before she could finish.
"Oh, none of that, Rook. I know you. What happened?"
Rook took a shaky breath. "It wasn't Spite." Taash relaxed a little at that reassurance. Lace tilted her head as she sat down beside Taash, leaning against them.
"After I sent Taash away, I spoke to Spite. He seemed angry with Lucanis, but before he could explain exactly why, Lucanis regained control."
The dwarf nodded thoughtfully, while Taash let out a low grunt. Spite's impulsive behaviour was nothing new to any of them, but it always managed to leave a lingering tension in the air. She took a sip of tea to prolong the pause. "He apologised, and then he said..." Her grip on the cup tightened. "He said he didn't want me to see him like that again. I'm sure he still feels bad about what happened at the Chantry in Treviso."
Lace frowned, leaning forward slightly, her expression carefully neutral. "What did you say?"
"I told him I hadn't seen anything that bothered me. That I wasn't afraid of Spite or him. I mean, why should I be? I've been around ghosts in the necropolis all my life. Spite isn't the worst thing I've seen, not by a long shot.â
Taash shifted slightly, always a bit uncomfortable when reminded that Rook was a Mournwatcher. Rook took another sip of tea. "The conversation shifted... it got more personal somehow," she said then, looking down at the reflection in the tea.
Lace leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing with interest. "How personal are we getting, Rook?"
Rook's grip tightened around the mug as heat rose to her cheeks, betraying her embarrassment. "I don't know," she murmured, still not meeting their gaze. "He just... he changed. He started saying things - about how I was breaking through his clouds of doom, how I shouldn't have to deal with his mess."
"That sounds like Lucanis," Lace replied dryly.
Taash snorted, though they didn't look entirely amused. "He said that to you? That you shouldn't bother with his mess?"
Rook nodded, her voice quieter now. "Yes. And I told him... I told him that he's more than the mess he's going through. That it didn't bother me.â
There was a beat of silence.
"And then?" Rook could hear the smile on Lace's face.
Rook looked up at last, her cheeks darkening. "Then he... came closer. Put his hand against the wall next to my head, actually."
Taash's brow shot up. "He what?"
"It wasn't... it wasn't what you think," Rook said quickly, holding up a hand. "He said it wasn't a good idea, and I..." She hesitated, biting her lip.
"Go on. Don't leave us hanging."
Rook sighed and briefly covered her face with a hand as she leaned back in the chair, her voice barely above a murmur. "I told him sometimes bad ideas are better."
She was grateful to have someone to talk to - even if at that moment she wished the Fade would just swallow her whole.
Lace's laughter erupted immediately, loud and uninhibited. "Maker's breath, Rook."
Rook groaned, putting down her tea and burying her face in her hands. "I know. It's terrible..."
Taash grinned from ear to ear and leaned forward. "And then what happened?"
Rook shook her head, her voice softening. "Lucanis said something about me walking too close to the edge... and then he smiled at me."
The memory caught in her throat and she hesitated. "And I... I told him, 'So do you.' And then..." She winced, as if saying it out loud might somehow make it worse. "I reached out and ran my finger up his chest."
Lace leaned forward, her grin - worse than when she had a bloody good hand in Wicked Grace. "You traced your finger up his chest... and told him bad ideas were better?"
Rook groaned, snapping her head up to glare at her. "I wasn't thinking, okay? You didn't see that damn smile or heard his voiceâŚ"
The two exchanged glances, barely containing their laughter.
Rook rolled her eyes and sank back into her seat. "It doesn't matter anyway. I thought we were going to kiss, and then... he turned away. Said he needed to clear his head and left."
Taash stared at Rook with surprise that turned into disappointment, murmuring something under their breath that sounded like âcowardâ.
Lace's smile faded too, her expression turning wry. "So that's why I found you crying out there?â
"And so what?" Rook shot back, though there was no real bite in her voice. "You tease me endlessly when I flirt without meaning to. This time I did it on purpose - and he ran. So much for Varric's grand claim that my charm is irresistible when I really try. Of course I am not happy."
Taash and Lace exchanged glances, matching grins spreading across their faces. Rook let out a loud moan and buried her face in her hands. "Why are you grinning now?"
"Because you're you," Taash replied with a casual shrug, as if the answer were obvious.
Lace leaned forward and grinned. "Caring, fearless, a little reckless, and charming without even trying. Of course he ran away. He's not equipped to deal with someone like you."
Taash snorted and grinned even wider. "Honestly, I'd pay gold to see his face when you touched him like that. I bet his brain just... stopped. Completely."
Harea peered through her fingers and gave them both a half-hearted look. "That's not helping."
"Oh, we're helping, you've stopped crying.â Lace said cheerfully, lifting her cup.
"Still, what did you expect him to do? Someone with a demon in their head isn't exactly the picture of emotional stability."
"I didn't expect anything," Rook said, dropping her hands to her lap. Her voice softened as she reached for the cup again. She considered her next words for a moment. "It just felt... right. For a moment. And then he left, and now I feel ridiculous.â
Lace tilted her head, watching Rook closely. "You're not ridiculous, Rook. You're just... braver than most when it comes to showing how you feel."
Rook half smiled, but remained silent for a long moment. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. He made himself clear." She shrugged weakly, as if to convince herself. "I'm not going to do anything else. I'm not... chasing after him. I don't need things to get more awkward."
Taash nodded. "Agreed. You've got better things to do anyway. Like killing gods and chasing dragons. Speaking of which - are you ready for tomorrow?"
Rook nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "I'm always ready."
"Good," Taash replied with a grin. "Because dragons don't get overwhelmed by little flirty elves and run away."
Lace chuckled and Rook groaned, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Maybe I'll just let you hunt the dragon alone and hope it eats you both."
"You'd miss us," Harding teased with a knowing grin.
Rook shook her head in mock annoyance, though her smile remained. "True."
Assan, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, let out a squeak, as if to add his own laughter to the mix.
#dragon age#the veilguard#dragon age lucanis#dragon age the veilguard#lace harding#taash#taash dragon age#scout harding#rook x lucanis#mourn watch#female rook#rookanis#lucanis dellamorte#spite dragon age#datv spoilers#mourn watcher rook#dav rook
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Marry-Me-Salmon | Joel Miller x F!Reader
The amount of game Joel fics arenât enoughâźď¸ Taking matters into my own hands. Though I think they somewhat behave the same! I saw these recipes of âmarry me salmonâ going around and got inspired lol. Just tooth rotting fluff and a bit predictable but I just wanna see this man happy :(đŠˇ
(Set in Jackson and Joel lives forever in MY blog âđź)
Joel had bought a ring.
It was like his body moved on its own. When he laid his eyes on the thing, he thought there could possibly be no ring that could be more you.
That was a week ago. Why he bought it, he still doesnât know. Well.. He knows exactly why. Just didnât want to do it. Scared to do it. And this is coming from a man who isnât scared of much.
You were arguably the best thing to ever walk into his life. Why you chose his hard-ass, heâll never understand. After three years of you shutting him up and convincing him that you love him (youâd make him repeat it too), by default heâd say that yes, you do love him. But deep down, he still has a hard time believing it. He just knows that heâs very scared of losing you. And that heâs a goddamn lucky bastard.
So he decided, he doesnât want to scare you off until heâs perfectly sure you wanted to be with him (yes, three whole years and he still isnât sure). The ugly insecure monster within him thinks the day will never arrive. But in the comfortable silence that you two occasionally shared tangled with each other, he somehow had a feeling. Though fleeting, he did feel from the way you squeezed his hand, that you wanted this forever thing just as much as he did. So maybe â just maybe â your words did pierce through him. And he keeps the ring in his back pocket all the time just in case.
A week ago, you had overheard some ladies in the Square telling a story about how her husband of thirty-six years decided to propose to her because she cooked him the marry-me-salmon. You scoffed at the idea. There was no way it was that simple. Right?
Fast forward to present day, a salmon fillet was laid in front of you. You didnât know how, you didnât know why, but you managed to pull the strings. Although.. you know exactly why. Just didnât wanna admit it. Shy to say it. Hence the salmon. You just wanted to cook Joel something nice. A lie you tell yourself.
The problem is, you donât really cook. You learned to, yes, and occasionally do because of the situation of the world. But the marry-me-salmon intimidated you, the scribbled recipe mocking you from the counter. Were you too desperate? No use crying over spilled milk. Or in this case, killed salmon.
âWhatâs this Iâm smelling?â You can hear the faint sound of Joelâs teasing as he made his way downstairs. You rolled your eyes, knowing heâd make fun of you attempting to cook. Before you know it, he was already behind you, trying to take a peek at what youâre making.
âGo away, itâs a surprise,â you quickly say, rushing to cover the recipe title. You would rather die than have him see that. He chuckled at your panicked reaction and raised his hands up in defeat.
âAlright, darlinâ,â he grinned ear to ear, leaving a kiss on the top of your head before retreating to the dining table. âJust donât burn down the kitchen,â he teased again. You clicked your tongue in annoyance though you canât help but smile.
You messed up the recipe a bit. And it didnât help that Joel kept looking up from the book that Ellie lent him to see what youâre cooking. You shouldnât have said it was a surprise because youâve got him awfully curious. At least itâs finally finished. You tried to plate it nicely, earning a few chuckles from Joel from how endearing you looked. It was lost on him why you had to be doing all this.
âAnd what did I do to deserve this?â He asked, cocking a brow at you when you put down the dish in front of him. He immediately closed his book, taking a whiff of the salmon.
âJust.. Cause I love you,â you smiled, taking a seat across him and propping your cheek on your palm. He chuckled again, warmth spreading in his chest. There was no way you cooked for him without any ulterior motive. If Joel learned anything from those three years with you, it is that you hate cooking unless you really have to.
But when youâre this beautiful, speaking to him so softly with that angelic smile? All for him? Joel chooses to believe you. He was a goddamn lucky bastard indeed.
âWell I love you too darlinâ, thank you,â he says genuinely in that baritone voice of his. The sweetness of the moment didnât last very long as he starts cutting the fish and you anxiously waited for his reaction. You just hope that the little mistake you made wasnât very crucial to the dish. He eventually puts it in his mouth and started chewing.
âWell?â You ask, not even giving him a second. He hummed, taking a moment to process the taste. It was quite alright. He thought it could use more salt.
âSâgood,â he nodded with a little smile. You knew damn well he was lying. And you knew that he would finish the whole thing anyway just because you made it. You wondered if the mistake you made had been that bad or if the lady at the square was full of shit.
âItâs bad, isnât it?â You pouted, pulling the plate and taking a fork to taste it yourself.
âDarlinâ, I said it was good,â he insisted, his brows knitted together. Heâd tease you til his death but heâs so sweet when he needed to be. It made you feel really bad. You finally tried it yourself and none of you were exactly right. It was just.. Average. Okay. Edible. Just needed more salt. You felt silly for not giving it a taste test before serving it.
âIâll fix it,â you say, abruptly standing up to look for the salt above the counter. It wasnât there. You hurriedly searched the kitchen like a cop scanning for drugs.
âDarlinâ,â Joel chuckled, standing with you. âWould you just sit down?â You didnât listen, suddenly remembering that you ate breakfast in front of the TV and brought the salt with you. You were already running to the couch before Joel could stop you.
As he shakes his head with a loving smile, he sees it. The scribbled recipe on the counter. The marry-me-salmon.
He felt like the wind got knocked out of his lungs. This was it. You wanted to marry him. He quickly reached into his back pocket as if he was trained to do so upon hearing the information. His mind was screaming at him, now! Now! Now! Hell, did he even prepare a question?
You got back to the kitchen to find Joel on one knee. A ring between his thumb and his pointer finger. Funny enough, you thought it really was because of the salmon. In a way, it is kind of true. Are all salmons hexed with a marriage spell no matter how bad they taste? Doesnât matter. Joel Miller, the love of your life, was finally proposing to you. You shakily exhaled as if youâve been holding your breath for a while.
âDarlinâ..â Joel began, his voice shaking. Though he didnât really know what to say except for the desperation that he felt. The urgency to just be with you. âPlease marry me?â
As tears formed in your eyes, still not believing whatâs happening, you canât help but ask him, âIs it because of the salmon?â
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What Clarity Are You Receiving?
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Pile 1: The clarity you are receiving is one that has to do with family. I'm getting you may have had some bumps in the road in your relationships with family and may be, in particular, a specific family member. You have learned that it's not your responsibility to carry them towards their goals. You now understand that everyone is responsible for their own life and you don't owe anyone anything. It's nice to spend time with your family and make lasting memories, but you have stopped burdening yourself with their baggage. That's on them baby!!! I'm also getting that you are maturing and taking action in regards to your own goals and moving towards what really fulfills you on the inside. Some of you may be planning a big move to a new city, state, and/or country and Source wants you to know that it's the right move and that you will become even more of your best and truest version of yourself when you follow through with your plans. You now understand that it's your life and you get to choose how to live it, even if some people in your family don't like it. â¨đâ¨đ
Pile 2: The clarity you are receiving is in regards to your goals. You are now coming to to terms with the fact that going after your goals may mean leaving people behind and you have become okay with that. You now understand that doing what's best for you is a sign and act of self love. Maybe in the past you may have been a people pleaser and wanted to make sure that everyone around you was doing well but no one ever did the same for you. After giving so much to others with very little return, you've decided to be super giving to yourself. You are now your own biggest cheerleader and this is making you shine from within. Sometimes when we are evolving we tend to think that our friends and family will support us and sometimes they do!! And other times they don't or maybe they just flat out leave you hanging. You've learned to forgive and move forward with joy because you understand and have clarity that those who are meant to be in your life and on your path will stick around for the long haul. Keep smiling because your smile is beautiful and be thankful for all that you've learned so far because on this next part of your journey, you're really going to be too caught up in the beautiful moments to care about the past.đâ¤ď¸âđĽđĽ
Pile 3: The clarity you are receiving is that all things go. Everything eventually fades away so it's good to cherish the good times and be ready to receive even better times. I feel that many of you tend to spend time in the feeling of nostalgia. Some of you really miss the past. I get it you like to look at the past with rose colored glasses, but now it's time to take those rose colored glasses off and be present. Your time now is a gift from God (hence the name present, hehe). You're understanding it's better to be here and now. You're realizing all your energy and feelings of creativity is in the now. The past and future are "illusions". There is only here and now. You are also gaining clarity on the fact that you may have been wrong about how someone felt about you based upon lies that someone else was spreading. Those lies that that individual told are now being brought to light and exposed. You are understanding that things, people, places all come and go, but the truth, real love, and genuine people never leave your side. Leave the nostalgia behind you and embrace what's meant for you here, in the present moment.đŤśđđŞˇ
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