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harrysfolklore · 1 month ago

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birthdays - cl16

summary: charles and yn's love story spans over two decades, beginning when they meet at charles' 6th birthday party, where she promised to be there for all of his birthdays. wc: 4.6k

folkie radio: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY MAIN BOY 🥹🥹 a few years ago i wrote a fic like this for harry and it’s one of my favorite things i’ve posted so i felt like doing a charles version! i hope you like this as much as i do <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

6th birthday

The sun shone brightly over Monaco as YN and her mother walked down the tree-lined street. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the salty breeze from the nearby Mediterranean. The little girl clutched her mother's hand tightly, her eyes wide as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings of their new neighborhood.

"Are you excited for the party, sweetheart?" her mother asked, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She nodded hesitantly. "But what if the other kids don't like me?"

"Don't worry, darling. I'm sure you'll make friends in no time," her mother assured her as they approached a beautiful villa with colorful balloons tied to the gate.

As they entered the backyard, they were greeted by the sight of children running around, laughter filling the air. A large bounce house dominated one corner, while a face-painting station was set up near the house. Tables adorned with race car-themed decorations were scattered around, laden with snacks and party favors.

A warm voice caught their attention. "Welcome! You must be our new neighbors."

YN looked up to see a kind-faced woman approaching them, a welcoming smile on her face.

"I'm Pascale Leclerc," she introduced herself, shaking her mother's hand. "And this must be YN! We're so glad you could make it."

She shyly hid behind her mother's leg, peeking out at Pascale.

"Charles!" Pascale called out. "Come here, darling. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

A small boy with tousled brown hair and bright blue eyes came running over, his cheeks flushed from playing.

"Charles, this is YN. She's new to the neighborhood," Pascale explained. "Why don't you introduce her to your friends?"

Charles grinned widely, revealing a missing front tooth. "Hi! Do you want to play with us? We're having a treasure hunt!"

She looked up at her mother, who nodded encouragingly. Slowly, she stepped out from behind her mother's leg.

"Okay," she said softly, "And happy birthday."

Charles's grin grew even wider. He reached out and took her hand. "Come on! I'll show you where we've found clues already!"

For the rest of the afternoon, YN found herself caught up in the excitement of the party. She and Charles searched for treasure and bounced in the bounce house. By the time the cake was brought out the little girl was laughing and chatting with her new friends as if she'd known them for years.

As the party began to wind down and parents started arriving to pick up their children, Charles approached YN, a serious look on his young face.

"YN," he said, "will you come to my other birthdays too?"

"Yes!" she nodded enthusiastically. "We should be friends!"

Charles's face lit up. "Best friends!" he declared, holding out his pinky.

The girl linked her pinky with his, sealing their newfound friendship. As she left the party, clutching a goody bag and wearing a bright smile, she knew she had found something special in her new home.

12th birthday

The wheels of their bicycles whirred as YN and Charles raced down the winding streets of Monaco. The sun beat down on them, but the breeze created by their speed kept them cool. YN's laughter echoed off the buildings as she pedaled harder, trying to keep up with Charles.

"Come on!” Charles called over his shoulder, a mischievous grin on his face. "We're going to be late for my own party!"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. "It's your fault for insisting on this bike race, birthday boy!"

They skidded to a stop in front of Charles's house, both breathing heavily but grinning from ear to ear. The front yard was already bustling with activity - balloons bobbed in the breeze, and the chatter of arriving guests filled the air.

As they walked their bikes to the garage, YN nudged Charles with her elbow. "I can't believe you're twelve already. You're practically ancient."

Charles laughed, running a hand through his windswept hair. "Says the girl who's been twelve for a whole two months. Come on, I smell cake!"

The party was in full swing, with kids from their school playing games and enjoying the sunny day. Charles's parents had outdone themselves this year, setting up a mini go-kart track in the backyard. The birthday boy, of course, was the undisputed champion, zipping around the track with a skill that left his friends in awe.

As the afternoon wore on, everyone gathered around a large table. In the center stood a cake, decorated to look like a Formula 1 car, complete with Charles' lucky number on the side. Twelve candles flickered atop the cake, their flames dancing in the gentle breeze.

Charles's eyes widened as his parents brought out the cake and the guests began to sing "Happy Birthday," their voices rising in a cheerful chorus. YN sang along enthusiastically, watching her best friend's face light up with joy.

As the song came to an end, Charles took a deep breath. With a determined look in his eye, he leaned forward and blew out all twelve candles in one go.

While Charles's mother began cutting the cake, YN edged closer to her best friend. "So," she said with a grin, "what did you wish for? To finally beat me in Mario Kart?"

Charles glanced around conspiratorially before leaning in close. "I wished to win the Monaco Grand Prix one day," he confessed, his green eyes sparkling with dreams of future glory.

YN's smile softened. Even after six years of friendship, Charles's passion for racing never failed to impress her.

"Wow," she said. "That's a pretty big wish."

"It's my biggest dream. But you can't tell anyone, okay? Or it won't come true."

"Your secret's safe with me," she promised. Then, struck by a sudden thought, she held out her pinky finger. "Hey, remember when we promised to be friends forever at your sixth birthday?"

"Of course!" Charles's face lit up with recognition, "Best decision I ever made," he said, linking his pinky with hers.

"Well, let's renew that promise. Friends forever, no matter what. That way, when you win the Monaco Grand Prix, I'll be right there cheering you on."

"Deal," Charles agreed, shaking their linked pinkies. "Forever friends."

As they sealed their promise for the second time, both of them felt the weight of it. At twelve, forever seemed like an awfully long time, but neither could imagine a future without the other in it.

16th birthday

The Italian sun was setting, painting the sky in orange and pink as YN made her way through the bustling paddock. The air smelt of rubber and gasoline, the sounds of engines filling her ears. She clutched a small, wrapped package in her hands, her eyes scanning the team garages for a familiar face.

Finally, she spotted him - Charles was standing next to his Formula 3 car, deep in conversation with his engineer. Even from a distance, she could see the intensity in his eyes, the determination set in his jaw. At sixteen, Charles was no longer the little boy she'd met at that birthday party a decade ago. He was taller now, leaner, with the beginnings of stubble on his chin.

"Charles!" she called out, waving to catch his attention.

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and his serious expression melted into a wide grin. "YN! You made it!" He excused himself from his engineer and jogged over to her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Of course I made it," YN laughed, returning the embrace, "I couldn't miss your birthday, even if you insisted on spending it at a racetrack in Italy."

Charles pulled back, his eyes shining with excitement. "I'm so glad you're here. Come on, let me show you around."

As they walked through the paddock, Charles pointed out different teams and drivers, explaining the intricacies of Formula 3 racing. She listened intently, asking questions and marveling at how much Charles had grown not just in stature, but in knowledge and passion for his sport.

They ended up in Charles' team garage, where a small cake sat on a tool cart, a single candle stuck in the center.

"The team got it for me," Charles explained, looking a bit embarrassed. "They said we had to have something, even if we're not having a proper party."

YN smiled softly. "Well, then we better make it count." She lit the candle and started singing "Happy Birthday," her voice soon joined by the mechanics and other team members who had gathered around.

Charles blew out the candle, his cheeks slightly flushed. As the cake was being cut and distributed, YN handed him her gift.

"It's not much," she said as he unwrapped it, "but I thought you might like it."

Inside was a leather-bound journal, the cover embossed with Charles' initials.

"I thought you could use it to write down your thoughts, your goals… maybe even your future Formula 1 strategies," she explained with a wink.

Charles's eyes lit up. "This is perfect. Thank you." He pulled her into another hug, this one lasting a bit longer than usual.

As they sat on the pit wall, eating cake and watching the sun set over the track, YN turned to Charles. "So, how does it feel? Being here, racing in Formula 3… you're so close to your dream now."

Charles nodded, his expression turning serious. "It feels amazing, but also a bit scary. Everything's happening so fast, you know? Sometimes I worry…"

"Worry about what?" she prompted gently.

"That I might not be good enough," Charles sighed, "That I'll let everyone down."

"Charles, look at me," YN reached out and took his hand, when he met her eyes, she continued, "You are the most talented, dedicated person I know. You're going to make it to Formula 1, and you're going to be amazing."

"You really think so?" a small smile tugged at Charles's lips.

"I know so," she affirmed,then, with a playful nudge, she added, "Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything," Charles replied without hesitation.

"When you make it to Formula 1 and become a big star, don't forget about me, okay?"

Charles's expression softened, and for a moment, YN thought she saw something flicker in his eyes - something more than just friendship. But before she could analyze it, he squeezed her hand and said, "I could never forget about you. No matter what happens, you'll always be my best friend."

What YN didn't know was that in that moment, Charles was fighting the urge to tell her how he really felt. That she wasn't just his best friend, but the girl he had fallen in love with years ago.

But the timing wasn't right, not yet.

So he pushed the feelings down, locked them away. There would be time for matters of the heart later. For now, he had a championship to win and a birthday to celebrate - with his best friend by his side, just as she'd always been.

21st birthday

The Monaco night was alive with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. Charles Leclerc's 21st birthday party was in full swing at a rooftop bar overlooking the Mediterranean.

The who's who of the racing world mingled with Charles' friends and family, all gathered to celebrate the young Sauber driver's birthday.

YN stood at the edge of the crowd, nursing a glass of champagne as she watched Charles work the room. He moved with an easy confidence, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with team principals and fellow drivers. Yet every few minutes, his eyes would scan the crowd until they found her, and he'd flash her a quick smile before returning to his conversations.

As the night wore on, YN found herself on the balcony, enjoying a moment of quiet away from the party. The view of Monaco at night was breathtaking - the lights of the city twinkled below, mirroring the stars above.

"There you are," a familiar voice said behind her. "I've been looking for you."

She turned to see Charles approaching, two fresh glasses of champagne in his hands. He handed one to her before leaning on the balcony railing beside her.

"Sorry," she said with a small smile. "I just needed a bit of air. It's quite a party in there."

"Yeah, I think the team might have gone a bit overboard," Charles chuckled, "But I'm glad you're here."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their champagne and looking out over the city.

"So," YN said finally, turning to face him. "How does it feel to be 21? Official adult now, Formula 1 driver… you're living the dream, Charles."

Charles's expression turned thoughtful. "It feels… surreal, honestly. Sometimes I can't believe this is my life." He paused, then added softly, "But you know what the best part is?"

"What's that?"

Charles turned to face her, his green eyes intense in the moonlight. "That you're still here. After all these years, all these changes… you're still by my side."

YN felt her heart skip a beat at the earnestness in his voice. "Of course I am, Charles. I'll always be here for you. We made a promise, remember? Best friends forever."

Charles felt his heart race at her words. "Best friends forever." The phrase that had once brought him so much comfort now felt like a bittersweet reminder of the feelings he'd been harboring for so long.

As he looked at her, bathed in the soft glow of the Monaco night, memories flooded his mind. He thought of her cheering him on at his first go-kart race, of late-night study sessions where he'd catch himself staring at her instead of his textbooks, of the way his heart had leapt when she'd surprised him at his race in Italy on his 16th birthday. He realized he couldn't pinpoint exactly when he'd fallen in love with her because, in a way, he always had been.

The weight of his unspoken feelings suddenly felt unbearable. The thought of going another day, another year, without her knowing the truth seemed impossible. Charles took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do.

"YN," he said softly, setting down his champagne glass and taking her free hand in his. "There's something I need to tell you."

She looked up at him, curiosity and a hint of something else – was it hope? – in her eyes. "What is it, Charles?"

Charles swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his ears. "You're right, we did make a promise to be best friends forever. And you are my best friend, YN. You're the person who knows me better than anyone else in the world. But..." he paused, gathering his courage. "But you're not just my best friend. You're the one I'm in love with. I always have been."

YN's eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. Charles pressed on, unable to stop now that he'd started.

"I can't hold back anymore. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Every success and failure, every moment of doubt or triumph – you're the one I want to share it all with. Not just as my friend, but as... as more."

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know this might change everything between us, and if you don't feel the same way, I understand. But I couldn't let another birthday go by without telling you the truth. You're it for me, YN. You always have been."

For a moment that felt like an eternity, she stood frozen, her eyes locked with Charles's. The weight of his words hung in the air between them, charged with years of unspoken feelings and shared history.

Then, without warning, YN closed the distance between them. She reached up, cupping Charles's face in her hands, and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. Charles, caught off guard for only a split second, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as he returned the kiss with equal fervor.

When they finally parted, both slightly breathless, YN rested her forehead against Charles'. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears of joy as she whispered, "I love you too, Charles. I think I always have."

Charles felt his heart soar, a smile spreading across his face that was brighter than any he'd ever worn on a podium. "Really?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder and hope.

She nodded, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Really. I just... I never thought you'd feel the same way. You're Charles, I'm just-"

"You're everything," Charles interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "You're my best friend, my biggest supporter, the person I want to share every moment with. You're the one who knows all of me, not just the racer, but the boy who still gets nervous before every race and who can't sleep without his lucky charm."

YN smiled, remembering the small trinket she'd given him years ago that he still kept with him at every race. "We've been quite oblivious, haven't we?" she said, shaking her head in amusement.

Charles chuckled, pulling her close again. "Maybe. But we have all the time in the world to make up for it now."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms with the twinkling lights of Monaco as their backdrop, both felt as though they were exactly where they were meant to be. The sounds of the party drifted out to them, a reminder of the celebration waiting inside, but for now, they were content in their own world.

"Happy birthday, Charles," YN murmured, leaning in for another kiss.

Charles smiled against her lips. "Best birthday ever," he replied before closing the distance between them once more.

24th birthday

The sun was setting over Monaco as YN stood in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She smoothed down her dress, a sleek number in Charles' favorite shade of red. As she fastened her earrings, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist from behind.

"You look absolutely stunning," Charles murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder and meeting her eyes in the mirror.

She smiled, leaning back into his embrace. "You clean up pretty well yourself, birthday boy," she replied, taking in his sharp suit and perfectly styled hair.

Charles pressed a soft kiss to the curve of her neck, causing her to shiver slightly. "You know," he said, his voice low and playful, "we could always skip the party. Stay here, just the two of us…"

"Nice try, Leclerc," YN laughed, turning in his arms to face him, "But your team worked hard on this party, and all your friends and family are waiting." She reached up, straightening his tie. "Besides, I put a lot of effort into your gift. I want to see your face when you open it."

"Oh? Any hints about what it might be?" Charles' eyes lit up with curiosity.

"Not a chance," YN grinned, tapping his nose playfully. "You'll just have to wait and see."

He pouted for a moment before breaking into a warm smile. "Fine, keep your secrets. As long as I have you by my side, that's all the gift I need."

YN felt her heart melt at his words. Even after all these years, Charles still had the ability to make her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you," she whispered against his mouth.

"I love you too," Charles replied, deepening the kiss for a moment before reluctantly pulling away. "But you're right, we should get going. We don't want to be late to my own party."

As they drove through the winding streets of Monaco, the city lights twinkling like stars, YN couldn't help but steal glances at Charles. Suddenly, she noticed that they were heading away from the bustling city center.

"Charles?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice. "I think we're going the wrong way. The party's downtown, isn't it?"

Charles smiled mysteriously, his eyes never leaving the road. "I thought we'd take a little detour first. Trust me?"

"Always."

They drove in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, the familiar sights of Monaco giving way to a quieter, more residential area. Finally, Charles pulled up in front of a beautiful house, its elegant facade bathed in the glow of streetlights.

"Charles, what are we doing here?" YN asked as he came around to open her door.

He took her hand, helping her out of the car. "I have something to show you," he said softly, leading her towards the house.

As they approached the front door, Charles pulled out a key. YN's eyes widened in surprise. "Charles, is this...?"

He unlocked the door and gently guided her inside. The house was empty, but even in the dim light, she could see its potential - high ceilings, large windows, and an open floor plan that seemed to invite warmth and laughter.

Charles watched her take it all in, his heart pounding with nervous excitement. Finally, he spoke.

"YN, from the moment I met you, you've been my home. No matter where I am in the world, no matter what challenges I face on the track, you're my constant. My safe haven."

She turned to face him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Charles continued, his voice thick with emotion. "But I realized that while you've given me a home in your heart, I've never been able to offer you a physical place that's truly ours. Until now."

He took both of her hands in his. "This house... I bought it for us. I want it to be our home. A place where we can build our future together, where we can come back to after long days or weeks apart. A place filled with our love and hopefully... our family someday."

Tears were now flowing freely down YN's cheeks. "Charles," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"I know my career keeps us traveling a lot," he said, reaching up to wipe away her tears gently. "But I want you to have roots, a place that's ours. Where you can always feel safe and loved, even when I'm not there."

YN let out a watery laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "You never cease to amaze me, Charles Leclerc. This is... it's perfect. It's more than I ever dreamed of."

"So, what do you say?" Charles pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers, "Ready to start our next chapter here?"

Instead of answering with words, she closed the gap between them, pouring all her love and gratitude into a passionate kiss. When they finally parted, both breathless, she whispered, "Yes. A thousand times, yes."

They stood there in the empty house that would soon become their home, holding each other close. The party, the guests, the whole world outside ceased to exist for a moment. It was just the two of them, standing on the threshold of their future together.

After a while, Charles chuckled softly. "You know, we're probably very late for the party now."

"I know," she said, her voice still thick with emotion, "It's supposed to be me giving you gifts on your birthday, not the other way around."

Charles chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, I've never been very good at following rules," he teased. "Besides, seeing your face when I showed you our home? That's the best gift I could ever receive."

YN shook her head, a warm smile playing on her lips. "You're impossible, you know that? But I love you for it."

"And I love you, for as long as I can remember."

27th birthday

Charles stood on the balcony of their home, the same one he had surprised YN with three years ago. His fingers absently traced the outline of a small velvet box in his pocket, his heart racing with anticipation and nerves.

Inside, he could hear her moving about, putting the finishing touches on his birthday dinner. The aroma of his favorite dishes filled the air, bringing a smile to his face. At 27, Charles had achieved more than he ever dreamed possible – multiple Formula 1 wins, a strong contender for the championship, and most importantly, a life shared with his best friend and the love of his life.

"Charles?" her voice called from inside. "Dinner's ready!"

He took a deep breath, patting the ring box one last time before heading inside. The dining room was bathed in soft candlelight, the table set beautifully with their best china. YN stood by the table, looking radiant in a deep red dress that matched the color he wore on race days.

"Happy birthday, my love," she said softly, pulling him into a tender kiss.

As they sat down to eat, Charles couldn't help but marvel at how far they'd come. "You know," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand, "I was just thinking about my sixth birthday party."

"The day we met," she said with a warm smile. "How could I forget? I was so nervous about moving to a new place."

Charles chuckled, remembering the shy little girl who had hidden behind her mother's leg. "And now look at us. Twenty-one years later, and you're still the best gift I've ever received."

YN felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "I remember you asked me to come to all your future birthdays," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"And you've been here for every single one," Charles replied, his green eyes shining with love.

The weight of the ring box in Charles' pocket seemed to grow heavier, but he resisted the urge to pull it out just yet. Tonight was about celebrating. The proposal could wait for another perfect moment.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he continued, "but I thank my lucky stars every day that you walked into that birthday party all those years ago. You've made every birthday since then more special than the last."

"Oh, Charles," she whispered, tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. "You've given me more than I ever dreamed possible. That little girl who was so scared of not fitting in found her home in you."

They came together in a kiss that was soft and sweet, yet filled with the depth of their shared history and the promise of their future. As they held each other close, both were transported back to that sunny day in Monaco, two six-year-olds making a promise of friendship that had blossomed into a love story for the ages.

When they finally pulled apart, Charles rested his forehead against hers, a soft smile playing on his lips. "So," he said, his voice light but filled with emotion, "think you might stick around for a few more birthdays?"

YN laughed, the sound like music to Charles' ears. "Just try and keep me away, Leclerc. You're stuck with me for all your birthdays, forever and always."

As they finished their dinner, Charles felt the ring box in his pocket once more. Soon, he thought, he'd ask her to make it official, to promise him not just all his birthdays, but every day in between.

But for now, he was content to bask in the glow of their love, celebrating not just his 27th birthday, but the incredible journey they'd shared.

#charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fake instagram #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc fanfiction #harrysfolklore #f1 x reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 grid x reader #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc birthday

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criminalamnesia · 10 months ago

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ok but price and simon could give such tolerate it vibes.

him with a younger partner. he finds your naivety and youth charming. you look up to him, and you can’t believe someone older and wiser is with you.

you met him when he was on leave, and things started getting serious after a few months, but then he was facing deployment again. so, with teary eyes and a broken heart, you watched him leave and promise you’ll write every day.

he chuckles and nods his head, placing a chaste kiss to your hair before slipping away.

you do write him everyday, and at first it’s endearing how worried you are. you don’t know what’s happening, and you’re so concerned— and he appreciates that. find it charming, even.

he comes home from that first deployment and you’re there, waiting with a battle hero’s welcome. streamers and balloons and a fucking cake you baked yourself on the dining room table of his flat. you, beaming brightly and clutching your hands together in glee, waiting by the door.

he laughs it off, tells you he appreciates it, but it was unnecessary. you tell him you think he deserves more.

time passes, and the charm of your naivety and doting loses its shine. you’re boasting to all your friends about your man, how amazing and strong and brave he is. and he tolerates it, laughs it off.

the next time he comes home from deployment, you’ve decorated your now shared flat. the whole nine yards because it’d been a longer deployment. his favorite meal, hot and fresh on the table. a bottle of his favorite liquor.

he can’t help but be annoyed. it was cute at first, and now he doesn’t understand it. he doesn’t care for the festivities— he’s done things no man should be proud of, yet here you are, celebrating him.

he doesn’t want to fight, so he tolerates it. puts on a smile, eats a few bites of dinner, and slips away for the evening. you frown but don’t question it.

soon it’s like you’re living with a shell of the man you loved. he’s quiet. gone a lot. barely affectionate. when the two of you talk, it usually ends in an argument. he won’t introduce you to any of his friends.

you still shower him with love, talk his ear off about plans and your day and whatnot, and he nods along absentmindedly.

your friends tell you he doesn’t deserve you. you’ve basically become a live-in housemaid that he occasionally fucks. you don’t believe it at first, but you come to realize it’s truth.

your love should be celebrated, not tolerated. you should be with someone who loves you as much as you love them.

the next time he’s on deployment, you move out. pack all your shit into a u-haul and move in with a friend for the time being. leave a note stained with tears on the dining room table.

he gets home from deployment, expecting what’s become normal. you, waiting anxiously by the door, jumping into his arms as soon as he’s inside. the smell of dessert or his favorite dinner wafting from the kitchen. balloons and streamers and confetti.

the house is dark when he steps through the door.

part two here, part three (ending version 1) here, part three (ending version 2) here

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wisleychalke · 2 years ago

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Birthday drawing for a friend, everybody's coming together to celebrate <3

Posted using PostyBirb

#Dog #Hugging #Lifting_Up #Party_Blower #Birthday #Party #Table #Decorations #Cake #Multi-Layer_Cake #Balloons #Confetti #Flags #Streamer #Presents

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eventplannercom · 2 years ago

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Top 5 Trends Of Balloon Decorations You Need To Know

In recent years, Balloon Decoration in Bangalore has gained popularity. Balloons are now a necessary component of decor for every occasion, from birthday parties to weddings, business events, and even grand openings. Balloon decoration has advanced past the traditional balloon arches and centerpieces thanks to new developments and innovative ideas. https://occeanicevents.in/top-5-trends-of-balloon-decorations-you-need-to-know/

#what are the best balloon decoration ideas #what are the latest trends in balloon decor #how to decorate a stage with balloons for a party #what are low-hanging balloon table decorations

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keeryhours · 18 days ago

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birthday cake - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

It’s Iris’ first birthday, and Rafe may have gone a little overboard.

Warnings:

None, just birthday party fluff, some kissing

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N:

I love baby daddy Rafe. Let me know if you want to see more!

—

“Well don’t you look absolutely gorgeous!”

Iris smiled and clapped her hands, giggling at your excited expression. She was dressed in a big poofy pink dress, white Mary Janes on her feet. Her light brown hair had been gathered into two tiny pigtails. She had a party hat you would try to get a picture of her in later, but you knew better than to try to get her to actually wear it.

It was May 26th, exactly one year since the best, most amazing day of your life.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” JJ called as he walked through the living room carrying an armful of gifts. He had been packing the car the entire time you’d been getting Iris ready.

You picked up your daughter and sat her on your hip, grabbing her diaper bag and your purse with your free hand as you followed JJ to the door.

JJ got the last of the party supplies packed in the back of the car while you buckled Iris in her car seat, which turned out to be more difficult than expected with the floofy dress. You briefly wonder if you should have changed her at the country club.

You got it done eventually, and then you and JJ were on the road to Figure 8.

Rafe had insisted you hire a party planner. You argued with him on it at first, because you are perfectly capable of planning a first birthday party yourself, but he wouldn’t drop it, saying he didn’t want you stressing about planning and setting it up yourself. You had rolled your eyes, but he was paying for it, so you figured, what the hell.

It actually wasn’t bad at all. The party planner had involved you every step of the way just like you’d wanted to be. She let you make all the decisions while she made it all come together. It was honestly amazing.

You arrived at the country club just in time to get settled before guests began to arrive. JJ carried the gifts while you carried the baby. You had planned the party for the perfect time, she was freshly up from a nap and would probably stay in a great mood for the whole event.

Your eyes widened as you, JJ, and Iris walked into the event space that had been booked for the party. The theme you had decided on was Berry First Birthday, and it was the most extravagant baby’s birthday party you’d ever seen.

When Rafe had told you he wanted to take care of the party, you didn’t know what to think. He told you you’d still have full creative control because he knew you’d been looking forward to it, but he was going to cover it and he wanted to hire a planner. He let you make every decision, mostly staying out of it, his only instruction being “It has to be the best for my girl.”

There was a big balloon arch made up of red, white, pink, and berry colored balloons, including some actual strawberry balloons, sitting in front of a large pink backdrop with printed strawberries that said Iris’ Berry First Birthday. A vintage looking white high chair sat in front of it, a banner attached to the front that said One with pink and red tassels.

There was a long table filled with food, including some cookies in the shape of strawberries and a large spread of fresh fruit. There was a table that held champagne, which you thought was kind of funny for a one year old’s party. Another table held a giant 3-tiered white cake decorated with strawberries.

He had really gone all out. You weren’t sure why you had expected anything less.

Rafe came walking over the second he noticed you walk through the door, a grin on his face.

“There’s my birthday girl,” he said, reaching his hands out for Iris. She immediately held her arms out, leaning forward towards him.

You handed her over with a laugh, knowing you were no competition when Rafe was around. She was a complete daddy’s girl.

He placed a big kiss on her cheek as he settled her in his arms, and she giggled.

“You look so pretty, baby girl,” he complimented her, smoothing down the puffy skirt of her dress. “I love your dress.”

“Dadadadada,” she babbled in response, a gummy grin on her face. She still only had about 5 teeth. Rafe wore a pink shirt and khaki colored pants, and it was adorable the way he matched with her.

“You really went all out,” you said, taking in the extravagance of the event.

“Yeah, well,” he said, brushing you off and not taking his eyes off the baby, “she only turns 1 once.”

Rafe was always a real baby hog. Once he took her when you arrived, you had a hard time getting her back. You busied yourself arranging the gifts on the gift table and setting out the gift bags you had put together for all the guests.

Guests began to arrive not long after. You and Rafe greeted them together with Iris, the star of the show, in his arms. She absolutely ate up all the attention, giving everyone a big smile and tolerating being passed around to friends and family.

“It’s my bestie!” Sarah squealed as she walked up with Wheezie next to her, holding her hands out for her niece. Rafe reluctantly handed her over, mostly because Iris had already been reaching for Sarah anyway.

Sarah and Wheezie cooed at the baby, fussing over her outfit and hair. Rafe watched, looking impatient to get her back.

“I can’t believe you’re one already,” Sarah said, looking emotional as she hugged Iris to her chest. Iris tolerated the hold for about 2 seconds before she was wiggling free, and then she was reaching for Rafe again. Rafe took her back with a smug grin on his face.

“Me either,” you said, fighting back tears. You had been emotional all day, you definitely didn’t need to be reminded how monumental of a day it was.

You had been satisfied with cell phone pictures, but apparently Rafe had hired a whole photographer. She called you over now, to the backdrop.

There was a whole photo session while the guests helped themselves to the food and refreshments. Photos of you and Iris, Rafe and Iris, you, Rafe, and Iris together. Pictures with Iris, Rafe, Sarah, Wheezie, Ward, and Rose. Some of you and JJ with her. And of course a group photo with the pogues with the birthday girl in the center.

When it was time for cake, you settled Iris into the vintage high chair. JJ brought over her smash cake, which was a smaller version of the big cake - small, round, and white with strawberries painted in icing decorating it. There was a big 1 candle on top.

JJ handed the cake to you, and Rafe pulled out a lighter and lit the candle.

The two of you walked over to the high chair, holding the cake in front of Iris close enough to see but far enough away that she couldn’t reach the fire.

The whole party began to sing happy birthday, and it was then that it really hit you.

The past 365 days of your life flashed before your eyes. First smile, first laugh, first tooth, first word, learning to crawl. First night home from the hospital, when Rafe never strayed far from your side, holding newborn Iris every chance he got so you could eat and shower and sleep. The day she was born, when Rafe held your hand the entire time you were in labor, wiping the sweat off your face, feeding you ice chips, and telling you You’re doing amazing, babe. How it had been a complicated labor, and when she was finally out and you heard her cry, you both looked at each other and breathed out a collectively held breath of relief. Seeing your daughter for the first time, just a tiny little thing, brand new to the world and snuggling into your chest for comfort. Rafe holding her for the first time, looking at her with pure adoration, and the way he cried (but made you promise not to tell anyone about that).

Your eyes moved up to look at him, and like he had the exact same thought at the same time, he turned and his gaze met yours as you continued to sing the song. Tears welled up in your eyes and you saw his become glassy, too. You both smiled at each other, a million unspoken emotions conveyed between them.

When the song was over, you and Rafe blew the candle out together, watching Iris’ delighted face. Rafe removed the candle and you placed the little smash cake in front of Iris.

She examined it first, cautious. Rafe grabbed her little hand, dipping it in the icing and bringing it to her lips. She gladly put her fingers in her mouth, they were usually there anyway, but her face lit up with a smile when she tasted the buttercream icing.

“See? Mmm, yummy,” Rafe said, beaming at her.

“Ummy,” Iris repeated, and she dipped her hand into the cake willingly this time, grabbing a big handful and bringing it to her mouth.

Rafe laughed, delighted, and clapped his hands together once. Guests were taking pictures and videos on their phones, the photographer getting plenty of shots. Everyone continued to watch as Iris devoured her smash cake, eating until she couldn’t anymore.

You and Rafe cleaned all the cake off of her when she was finished, which always made her cranky. She screamed as you wiped her off, but you and Rafe only laughed. You were still feeling emotional.

The big cake was served to all the guests by country club staff, and again it occurred to you that you had never in your life seen such a grand event for a one year old.

Presents were opened after everyone ate, you and Rafe on either side of Iris as she ripped into her gifts. She was more interested in the paper and empty bags than the gifts inside them, but at least she was having a blast. You knew she’d be excited about the actual gifts later.

The gift table was already overflowing with the amount of guests at the party, but you swore that Rafe himself had brought half the table. It seemed like every other present handed your way had From Daddy written on it in Rafe’s handwriting.

Iris was asleep in Rafe’s arms by the time the guests began to leave. She was absolutely knocked out from all the excitement of the day.

Rafe stroked her hair absentmindedly as you both saw your guests off, thanking everyone for coming.

It was just close family and friends left, JJ and the pogues were loading up the car with Iris’ gifts while you ate another piece of birthday cake.

“Turned out pretty good,” Rafe said, speaking softly as he held your sleeping daughter.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. You did not have to go all out like this.” You raised your eyebrows at him, icing smeared on your lips.

Rafe reached forward with his free hand, swiping his thumb across your lips and gathering up the icing. He popped his thumb into his own mouth, sucking the icing off as he held eye contact with you. You watched him, stunned for a minute.

“It’s no big deal,” Rafe said as if nothing had happened. “I wanted her to have a good party.”

You just looked at him. He was unbothered as usual.

“Well, it was a great party,” you finally said. “I appreciate it, Rafe.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me for doing things for our daughter. I want to.”

You knew he was being honest. Rafe went overboard sometimes, this being a perfect example, but he had the best intentions and it wasn’t hurting anyone. It was hard not to fall in love with him when you watched him being the world’s best dad.

When the car was packed full and there were still plenty of gifts left, Rafe told the guys to start loading the rest in his truck.

“I’m worried all this stuff isn’t gonna fit in the house,” you said, furrowing your brows as you threw away some trash.

“Anything there’s not room for she can keep at my place,” Rafe offered. Most of her stuff was at your and JJ’s house, because that’s where she spent most of her time, but she certainly was spoiled at Rafe’s too.

When everything was successfully packed up, Rafe buckled Iris into her car seat. She was so tired she barely stirred, continuing to nap as he snapped the buckles around her body and carried her to your car.

Rafe locked the car seat into the base in your back seat. He turned to you, suddenly standing so close.

“I’ll follow you back to the house,” he said quietly. “Help you unload all this stuff.”

Back at the house, you carried Iris’ seat inside, unbuckling her and bringing her to her bedroom while Rafe and JJ unloaded the cars. You changed her out of her dress and into something comfy and let her hair down.

You rocked her in the glider. She was so worn out from her day she started to drift back off quickly, her eyes fluttering shut and body relaxing in your arms.

When you stood to lay her in her crib, you noticed Rafe standing at the door. You slightly jumped when you saw him, not expecting him to be there, which made him chuckle quietly and you gave him a playful glare.

You stepped out of the room, closing the door behind you and Rafe softly.

“She’s tired, huh,” Rafe observed, smiling at you. He was in a good mood today - it had been a good day.

“Worn out,” you agreed.

Rafe reached forward, rubbing his large hand down your arm. “You did really good, by the way.”

“It was fun,” you said. “But the planner definitely did most of the work.”

“She just did the boring part, you made the whole thing come together.”

You smiled back at him. He was being sweet, he was making an effort.

“I know everyone’s been saying it all day, but I can’t believe she’s actually one,” Rafe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It feels like she was just born.”

Your smile was tinged with sadness, the emotions from the day sticking with you. “I know. It’s too fast. All of it,” You shook your head, thinking of how fleeting her baby days had been.

“I just wish…” Rafe began, looking down at his hands instead of at you as he spoke, “That I didn’t have to miss out on any of her life.”

You were silent. You knew what he meant. But you also knew that a relationship didn’t work between the two of you. It was toxic, you were both jealous, you fought all the time. When you co-parented as two single parents, things were easy. If only you could ignore the way he made you feel.

Rafe sighed when you didn’t respond. He said your name softly. You turned to look at him, finding his deep blue eyes staring into yours. He walked up to you until he was standing right in front of you, hand reaching up to play with your hair.

“Rafe…” you breathed, and you knew you should push him away, walk away, anything, but you don’t.

Rafe leaned down until his lips met yours, kissing you softly, gently. You felt yourself melt into his kiss, like every bit of common sense in your brain was dying.

His arms wrapped around your hips, pulling your body flush against his. Your arms went around his neck, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, massaging your own.

You moaned against his lips, which only egged him on more as he slid his hands around your body to grab your ass.

You pulled away just enough to speak. “JJ could walk back here at any second…” you whispered against his mouth.

Rafe’s lips quirked up in a smirk, because he didn’t particularly care about that. But he knew you did.

“Maybe we can go to your bedroom, then?” he proposed, his fingers stroking over your body and sending shivers across your skin.

You wanted to say yes. But it was always a bad idea, always such a bad idea - maybe for once you’d make a smart decision.

“I can’t…” you said, sounding like it pained you.

Rafe just held you for a second longer. Finally, he pressed his lips to your forehead, giving it a kiss as he pulled away from you, squeezing your arm as he let you go.

“I better get going then,” he said, and neither of you wanted him to, but you didn’t change your mind. You didn’t stop him.

Rafe turned and left the house before you could even say anything. You stood in the hallway until you heard the front door closing, his truck starting outside.

You briefly thought about running after him, begging him to come back and spend the night with you. But you don’t. You decide to have more respect for yourself than that.

But you spend the whole night in your bed, thinking of him, aching for him. Until you reach for your cell phone, charging on the bedside table. You send him an impulsive text, just seeing if he’s still up.

His response comes immediately.

Rafey

Knew you’d regret letting me leave.

692 notes · View notes

baldval · 8 months ago

Text

VALENTINE'S DAY W HAZBIN!₊˚⊹♡

characters: vox, charlie, valentino, lucifer, adam, lute, alastor

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, slightly suggestive content if you're reading adam.

VOX:

𖹭 the place is absolutely decorated when you get up in the morning.

𖹭 i'm talking heart balloons, flowers, and rose petals all across the floor.

𖹭 when you come into the living room, he's still in his jammies and sitting on the couch.

𖹭 you loved when he looked like that, so carefree, a contrast from his usual self.

𖹭 "Vox, what's all this?" you ask smiling

𖹭 "it's all for you, obviously."

𖹭 he stands up and walks towards you, he lifts you up and spins you around.

𖹭 you place your hands on his chest as he gently lowers you back to the floor.

𖹭 "you deserve the entire world," he whispers.

𖹭 he plants a kiss on your lips and you instantly blush.

𖹭 with a foolish smile, he wishes you a happy Valentine's Day.

𖹭 you give him lots of kisses, leaving marks all across the screen.

𖹭 you say, "I have something for you."

𖹭 "you do?"

𖹭 "duh" you chuckle

𖹭 you were aware that Vox had his eye on this watch.

𖹭 it had this gorgeous crimsom strap that matched his tie. 𖹭 when he notices it, all he does is look at you. 𖹭 love obscuring his vision 𖹭 he's amazed that you're his. 𖹭 and he feels quite fortunate. 𖹭 he carefully places the watch on the counter. 𖹭 then gives you a kiss so intense you almost feel like you're actually in heaven.

CHARLIE:

𖹭 when you walk in to your room, there are roses on your desk.

𖹭 with an enormous chocolate box of course

𖹭 and a, quite long, love letter

𖹭 the fact that she can't wait to just see you and be able to actually hold you

𖹭 you're grinning broadly to yourself.

𖹭 and you joyfully shove chocolate after chocolate into your lips.

𖹭 she doesn't meet you in the lobby, like you thought she would.

𖹭 she appears at your room.

𖹭 "hi, babe," she exclaims, excited.

𖹭 she approaches and greets you with a kiss.

𖹭 "thank you so much for everything. you say to her, "I have something for you too, you know."

𖹭 she is unable to remove her lips from yours.

𖹭 you take something out of a desk drawer as you pull her into your lap. 𖹭 you pry it open, and she lets out a half-gasp.

𖹭 you were able to get her a unique, gorgeous necklace. 𖹭 at the center is a quite shiny heart. 𖹭 you help her put it on, and the chain fits neatly around her clavicle. 𖹭 she has what is probably the biggest smile you've ever seen. 𖹭 from now on you notice, she never, ever removes the necklace.

VALENTINO:

𖹭 extravagant king.

𖹭 his name is literally Valentine so of course he'll take the day off for you.

𖹭 you and him are hand in hand on a pier.

𖹭 he's obviously wearing his best clothes, and of course you are too.

𖹭 before you know it, it's just the two of you on a small yacht.

𖹭 and the necessary employees, but they're not the main focus.

𖹭 he lavishes you with presents

𖹭 chocolate, that perfect piece of jewelry, and a tiny plush animal that he says reminded you of him

𖹭 you share a meal on the balcony while chatting and having fun.

𖹭 all while playing footsie beneath the table.

𖹭 he seems to be focusing solely on you when you talk to him.

𖹭 because he really is, staring at you with adoration.

𖹭 with your backs against each other, you sit in the living room.

𖹭 your head resting on his shoulder while his fingers comb through your hair

𖹭 he breathes steadily and deeply.

𖹭 "i wouldn't really mind if this was all we did for the rest of our lives," he says

𖹭 you plant a kiss on his shoulder while gazing out to sea.

𖹭 "that wouldn't bother me either,"

𖹭 in some way, he draws you even nearer to him.

𖹭 he kisses your face all over

𖹭 "well that's great. since you're everything to me."

LUCIFER:

𖹭 truly a hopeless romantic

𖹭 his pissing in his underwear while waiting for you.

𖹭 you open the door and say hello to him.

𖹭 the ceiling and walls are illuminated by candlelight, creating a dim atmosphere.

𖹭 there are rose petals all over the path that leads to the living room.

𖹭 you walk slowly towards him.

𖹭 he's kinda just standing there.

𖹭 and it's pretty obvious he's nervous.

𖹭 he grabs hold of your hands and draws you in.

𖹭 "hey," he says, his voice cracking right away.

𖹭 "i missed you," you say

𖹭 he murmurs back, "yeah, I missed you too, so much."

𖹭 for a small instant, he remains silent.

𖹭 but he goes on after that.

"i love you so much, and i know we've talked about how we both want to get married. and, i'll be honest, i can't imagine my life without you, and i'm just so... so in love with you, and I'm sorry, I'm rambling, it's just-" he stops suddenly, taking a deep breath.

𖹭 as he drops to one knee, his hands follow your hips and sides. 𖹭 he takes out a tiny velvet box from inside his coat. 𖹭 you have mentioned getting married before. 𖹭 and you are well aware that he is pretty much your soulmate. 𖹭 and it's Valentine's Day, so of course, he's popping the question. 𖹭 and you naturally answer: "yes". 𖹭 he stands up rapidly, your lips colliding with his. 𖹭 he tightens his grasp around the small of your back. 𖹭 he will always hold onto you.

ADAM:

𖹭 the sun began to set on valentine's day.

𖹭 adam, as charming as they come, is dressed to impress.

𖹭 he strutted alongside you as you walked towards a bench.

𖹭 the bench had this incredible view of the sea.

𖹭 adam sat down right beside you, your thighs touching.

𖹭 the times where adam was in silence were not many, yet always impactful.

𖹭 you stared at the sun as he stared at you.

𖹭 his eyes were fixated on your face, analysing your features.

𖹭 "why are you looking at me like that?" you're blushing.

𖹭 "i got something for you." he avoids your gaze now.

𖹭 clearly, adam is not used to vulnerability.

𖹭 and there was something about him being with you that just made him feel seen.

𖹭 he takes out a small box.

𖹭 "it's nothing really" he says as you open it.

𖹭 inside there's a mixtape.

𖹭 you read the names of the songs, not recognising any.

𖹭 "are these yours?" he nods.

𖹭 "the last one is named after you, actually"

𖹭 you look at him, eyes wide open, surprised at his gesture.

𖹭 with a sly smile and a playful roll of your eyes, you leaned in to steal a kiss, your heart fluttering with excitement.

𖹭 "who knew the first guy to ever exist would be such a romantic?" you teased, unable to hide the fondness in your voice.

𖹭 "you should play the mixtape as we fuc-"

𖹭 "of course you had to ruin it" you chuckle as he smirks.

𖹭 he wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lay your head on his chest.

LUTE:

𖹭 she gives you several quick kisses to wake you up.

𖹭 "hey, sleepyhead. i need you up.

𖹭 you blink away the sleepiness, as she continues to plant lips on your cheeks and jaw.

𖹭 "come on, babe, we have a reservation," she whines.

𖹭 "a reservation, huh?"

𖹭 "yes, please get up right now."

𖹭 she puts on a sharp dress shirt and matching dress pants.

𖹭 she gives you a bouquet of your favorite flower as you meet her at the door.

𖹭 she takes one of the flowers, clips it, and tucks it behind your ear.

𖹭 you then walk to a close cafe, arm in arm.

𖹭 it isn't really that fancy but it is beautiful.

𖹭 the place is filled with tulips and it smells like what you figured spring would smell like.

𖹭 in a quiet space, a table is already prepared for the two of you.

𖹭 you two laugh while eating breakfast.

𖹭 you two could chat for hours on end and never get bored.

ALASTOR:

𖹭 he's just getting started with all of this relationship stuff.

𖹭 he had no one to share valentine's with before to this year.

𖹭 thus, he is anxious and perplexed.

𖹭 but of course he will do everything in his power to hide it, keeping his smile to appear calm.

𖹭 after work, he brings a bouquet home with him.

𖹭 they are your favourite colour and flower.

𖹭 because of course he knows every single thing that you love.

𖹭 and he brings cake instead of chocolate.

𖹭 "aw, Alastor." you blush

𖹭 "well, i didn't find any chocolate boxes shaped like hearts, but i did find a cake shaped like a heart."

𖹭 you chuckle

𖹭 but it doesn't truly bother you

𖹭 quietly, he says, "i made sure to get your favorite flavor, and i swear there's no human parts in this"

𖹭 "it may not be much, but it is what I could find,"

𖹭 you interrupted him with a kiss.

𖹭 "Alastor" you say his name and his eyes flutter.

𖹭 "i don't think you could ever guess how happy you make me"

𖹭 he feels like his heart is trying to burst out of his chest. 𖹭 he draws you into a close embrace. 𖹭 you spend the evening eating cake and snuggling on the couch.

2K notes · View notes

sometimesanalice · 23 days ago

Text

Are You Gonna Be My Girl?

Summary: It’s been a couple of months since the two of you have started hooking up, and it’s no secret that Rooster is hung up on you. He takes the gamble and invites you to the yearly Halloween bash at the Hard Deck. The only problem is he can’t figure out what the hell you’re supposed to be.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.2K

Warnings: allusions to smut and Rooster being a simp (but what else is new 😂) (mdni)

The Black Keys’ “Howlin’ for You” playing loudly over the static-y speakers of the Hard Deck masking the sound of Rooster’s fingers as he impatiently drums them on top of the worn table, uncaring of the fact he’s out of tempo with the song.

Penny’s yearly Halloween Spooktacular has always been a fan favorite with those stationed at North Island. A name that Amelia had thrown shade at no less than five times as she worked on designing the event flier the afternoon that the Daggers had been bribed with free beers for coming in on their free time to help decorate.

There wasn’t an inch of the bar that was left untouched, and it wasn’t just that Bob had gotten carried away with the downy spider webbing. There were orange and purple string lights threaded around the circular mug racks, floating candles over the pool table, dangling bats and streamers, and an enthusiastic but poorly executed attempt at a balloon arch over the entry door.

The wispy fog covered punchbowl with a suspicious dark purple beverage bubbled away on the bartop, tendrils cascaded over the side only adding to the atmosphere. The stuff was so potent that Bradley was pretty sure it would put the jungle juice he’d thrown back in college to shame.

Rooster had been tasked with curating the playlist for tonight’s party, and if he’d been paying even a little bit of attention, he’d have known his choices were being well received by the boisterous crowd. But his attention is half split trying to listen to Hangman’s story about the Halloween prank gone wrong that left him with twelve stitches and half listening for-

Ding

He’s quick on the draw to pull out his phone from the chest pocket to check if it was his that went off.

When he’d arrived Nat, decked out in a sequined pink gown with a gun he wasn’t sure was fake or not strapped to her thigh for her Miss Congeniality costume, had given him a look of disdain and said what he was wearing was low effort even for him.

Rooster tucks his phone away with a disappointed sigh when there are zero new notifications on his lock screen.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so whipped over a girl before, Bradshaw,” Hangman drawls, leaning into the gunslinging cowboy thing he has going on for the evening. His shirt is unbuttoned more than is strictly necessary, and is complete with a belt buckle that is larger than the state of Texas and too heavy looking to have been bought off Amazon.

Ding

Bradley fishes out his phone again from the pocket he’d put it back in only moments earlier.

You, 10:32pm: “u up?”

He grins.

“And we’ve lost him,” someone snarks, but he’s too busy punching in the password to unlock his phone to care.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:32pm: are you ever going to let that go?

You, 10:32pm: Mmm, no. You were so bad at being a fuckboy, it was funny.

You, 10:33pm: But in a very hot way, might I add. And clearly, it worked in your favor since I let you come over and hit it a second time.

Rooster snorts in amusement.

It was the first and last time he’d taken Fanboy’s advice and you teased him about it every opportunity you got. He had been a little rusty with the ins and outs of no-strings-attached sex with someone who wasn’t in the Navy. But he’d more than made up for it that same night by eating you out until your legs were shaking and you were weakly pushing his head away as he’d coaxed you into coming just one more time against his tongue.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:33pm: don’t remember hearing you laughing last night when your pussy was dripping all over my cock

He takes a sip of beer as he waits for your response.

You, 10:33pm: Look! You’re already so much better at sexting than you were when we met!

You, 10:34pm: “u up?” is still on the table, by the way. Not to brag, but I even have a pumpkin shaped pizza.

You, 10:34pm: If you want to come over.

If you want to come over. He shakes his head reading the text again.

As if he’d ever pass up on getting to spend time with you.

As if Rooster hadn’t been hooked on you since the moment he’d met you.

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗔𝗚𝗢

As a general rule, Bradley hated grocery shopping.

He’s never had the patience for it, with the way that everyone is in their own world. He gets tired of always having to weave around people and the way that there always seems to be carelessly parked carts or people catching up standing between him and the items on his list.

Which is why when he noticed the parking lot was mostly empty on his way home, he decided to stop and spare himself the headache of doing it over the weekend when everyone else was out and just get it done.

He’d expected to be in and out in record time until the uniform lines of colorful cartons of ice cream caught his attention as he was tossing in a few bags of frozen chicken into his cart. Normally it was always so crowded that he never felt like he could take his time looking without being in someone’s way, that he’d skip it entirely and later try to convince himself that his Greek yogurt was just as good. But tonight since no one was around, he was taking his time.

Under the glare of the fluorescents, he stands there with the hum of the freezers competing with the too-twangy-for-his-taste country song playing over the speakers and debating his options when he feels an arm thread around his own, surprising him out of the pros and cons list he was making in his head between the healthier low-calorie choice versus the one he actually wanted.

“Hi, hello there.” Bradley glances over to see the prettiest pair of eyes looking up at him expectantly. “Do you mind playing along for a few minutes, there’s some creep who keeps trying to bother me.”

He looks over the top of your head to see some guy lingering at the end of the aisle. “The guy who looks like off-brand John Mayer?”

You scrunch your nose up. “That’d be the one.”

“How good are you at picking out ice cream flavors?” he asks, standing up straighter and pulling his shoulders back.

You blink at him in confusion before your lips tick up in a relieved smile. “Very good, as a matter of fact.”

“Great, you came to my rescue just in time.” Bradley guides you closer until you’re in front of him, lightly resting a hand on your hip the way he would if you were his girlfriend. “Is this ok?” he asks under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear.

When you nod, he feels the knot in his chest loosen. Because while he wants this to be convincing to the guy still loitering at the edge of the aisle, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“First things first, we need to establish a baseline.” You point at the carton covered in cartoony looking chocolate chip cookies. “What’s your opinion on cookie dough?”

“Overrated,” he answers, not missing a beat. “I’d rather just eat the stuff out of a tube instead.”

You lean back into him a bit more. “Ooh, tough crowd,” you tease, your head finding his shoulder. “Ok then, mister tempting-fate-with-salmonella, what’s your stance on the great vanilla bean vs French vanilla debate?”

Bradley takes a quick look around to make sure they’re not blocking any other late night grocery shoppers. He pretends to ponder for a moment before responding, “I like the one with flecks.”

“A dignified choice.” You say it so solemnly that he can’t help but chuckle.

The easy back and forth banter goes on for a few more minutes. Sometimes you rib him about his answers and other times agree. It shouldn’t be so fun standing there in front of the cooler filled with tubs of ice cream, but it is. It was the last thing he could have expected when he’d decided to stop in at the last minute on his way home after hitting up the Hard Deck.

When he tells you the two choices he had been contemplating before you’d come up to him, you hum contemplatively and tap a finger against your cheek, “Well this changes everything if you’re dairy free.”

“Nah, just watching my figure. The containers are smaller and I have a sweet tooth.”

“Respectfully, I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about. You fill out those khakis just fine, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Rooster wonders if you can hear his self-satisfied grin. “Not every day I get a pretty girl telling me she was checking out my ass.”

You let out a small, amused scoff and all he feels is pleased with himself.

“I was not checking out your- oh.” The surprise in your voice has him leaning back enough to get a look at your face. “Wait, is he gone?” You peer around his shoulder, but don’t make a move to pull away from the gentle hold he has on you.

“He left around the time you were giving a very impassioned speech about how overlooked spumoni is. I probably should have mentioned it sooner, but you were making a pretty compelling case and I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, trying to play it off casually and hoping that he didn’t just become the creep in this story when you tell it to your friends later.

“Oh, ok. That’s, um, that’s good.” You sound almost… disappointed? You take a step towards the case and he drops his arm back down to his side, already missing the feel of you under it. “Thank you so much for committing to the bit. Seriously, I truly appreciate it,” you say over your shoulder, opening the glass door.

He rubs the back of his neck, watching as you grab a carton out of the freezer, not sure whether to move on with the rest of his shopping or not. But when you turn back towards him, he’s hit with the full force of your smile, feeling it all the way to his toes.

“Rocky Road,” you say, setting the carton into his cart. “It has peanuts in it, which is a nutrient-dense food and an excellent plant-based source of protein. There’s collagen from the gelatin in the marshmallows. And chocolate has antioxidants in it and is known to trigger the holy trinity of happy brain chemicals. It’s basically a superfood.”

Rooster grins. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“No, unfortunately, it really doesn’t,” you agree, playfully leaning a hip against his cart. “But it’s more fun this way, don’t you think?”

He’s so fucking charmed by you and he doesn’t even know your name yet.

While he’s glad he was there at the right time and got to play a small part in deterring that guy from continuing to hassle you, he kind of wishes the two of you could have met under different circumstances, because he’d jump at the chance of being able to score a date with you. He sighs and shakes the thought out of his head.

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” Rooster offers, ready to abandon his groceries for a few extra minutes with you.

“Oh wow.” That mischievous gleam that had been in your eyes changes to something softer. You tilt your head, taking him in with a thoughtful expression on your face. “You’re one of those rare genuinely a gentleman types, aren’t you? Like the kind who always walks closest to the curb and mows their elderly neighbor’s yard without being asked.” Bradley just lifts a shoulder. He’s used to looking out for other people, it’s just something he’s always done. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you muse, contemplatively, “I should let you know though, knock-off John Mayer is my ex.”

He feels his hackles rise up immediately and scans the area again to double check the guy isn’t still hanging around. “Is he harassing you?”

“Oh no, it was only an unfortunate fluke, I promise,” you say, patting his hand that’s gripping the handle of the shopping cart reassuringly. “He’s just a jackass who thought he could cheat on me and that I’d still take him back.” Bradley grunts at that, even more irritated than he was before. “But he was still trying to test the waters, even after I told him I was seeing someone,” you continue, with a roll of your eyes, “Which was technically true- even if I am in fact single right now- because that’s when I saw you over here gazing very intensely into the freezer case like you’d been personally victimized by Ben and Jerry.”

“You’re out of his league anyways,” he rasps.

There’s no way in hell Bradley would fumble a girl like you.

You grin widely, clearly amused at his annoyance on your behalf. “He was a tool with an overinflated ego and a flat ass.” Rooster barks out a surprised laugh. “And you’re so much hotter than him, so I really lucked out there with you as my knight in ironed khakis,” you say unabashedly, reaching out to straighten out his already perfectly straight name tag. “You really went above and beyond for your country there helping me win the break up.”

“I don’t think you needed me for that part. It’s pretty clear you came out on top.” His eyes dart down to your hand on the cart, like you forgot it was still resting on top of his. “But I was more than happy to help all the same.” He takes a half step closer into your space, deciding just to go for it. “I’m thinking we should keep up the ruse though, you know, just in case he is lurking by the pasta or something.”

You quirk a knowing eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

“I could also use your professional opinion on cereal. That is if you still have some more shopping to do,” he suggests, nodding to your mostly empty handbasket.

There’s no question that he’s caught your interest, not with the way you’re looking at him. That smile you’re wearing tells a story of its own. “What a coincidence, that just happens to be my forte.”

“I had a feeling you might be the right girl for the job.” Bradley takes your basket from you and sets it in his cart and gestures for you to lead the way.

He learns your name around the same time he does about your hottake on Frosted Cheerios.

And later that night, his groceries are packed away in your fridge as the container of Rocky Road the two of you were sharing melts on your coffee table- the condensation puddling on the marble surface reflecting the credits rolling across the TV screen- as you ride him on your couch. Your hands tightly fisted in his hair and your breathy whines in his ear urging him to fuck you harder and faster until you come with his name in your mouth.

And in the morning, he gets your number over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

The two of you have been fooling around for a couple of months now.

On the nights Rooster wasn’t fucking you, he was getting himself off to the thought of you and wishing you were in bed with him. You’ve never been to his place, so he doesn’t even have the bonus of that bright citrus scent of you lingering on his sheets on the nights he spends alone.

The sex was great. Mind-blowing. You were loud and enthusiastic and gave just as good as you got. Bradley found your confidence sexy as hell. You were the type of girl who knew exactly what she wanted and he was always up for the challenge of finding new ways to make your back arch and toes curl.

But he was just as much of a fan of the parts that came before and after getting you spasming around his cock.

He liked the way your mind worked. You were always telling him about something interesting you’d read, because you were naturally curious about the world around you. You asked him thoughtful questions about his job and his life in the Navy, but not in the way he was used to from the tag chasers that frequented the Hard Deck. There was no mistaking you were asking because you wanted to know more about him, and not fixated on the shiny sheen of his golden aviator wings.

Rooster has never laughed as much as he has with you. In those moments between catching your sighs with his mouth and waiting for the knock on the door for whatever late-night craving was being delivered, you’d have him laughing and grinning until his cheeks ached.

The closest he’s ever gotten to taking you on a proper date was that one late night drive-thru run when everything on delivery apps were closed. You’d looked like his favorite daydream sitting there under the glow of the streetlamp in the nearly empty parking lot in a shirt of his that he must have accidently left behind after a hook up.

That night was the most real it’s ever felt. And he wanted more nights just like that.

He liked the way you always seemed to have a documentary to recommend for any given topic, he has a list on his phone and has been working his way through them. He liked the way the glasses you wore sometimes seemed slightly too big for your face because it was cute the way you’d constantly push them back up your nose. He liked that you texted in full sentences with complete and proper punctuation.

Bradley could already imagine how tonight would most likely go.

He’d dip out of the party early and come to your place. Your tongue in his mouth and your greedy little hand tugging to get his belt undone before he’d even made it through the door. The two of you going at it until someone has to tap out- which he is smug in the fact that more often than not it’s usually you- now that he knows all the best ways to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you. Sometimes the two of you order in, and other nights you’ll pass a bowl of ice cream or cereal back and forth over the island in your kitchen where he gets to hear you laugh and tease him and tell him about your day. Then do it all over again and once you’re thoroughly spent, he’ll hold you as you fall asleep. And then in the morning he’ll press a kiss to your cheek and take one more look back at you before leaving through the same door he’d shown up at only hours before.

And that was fine for now, but he wanted more of you. He didn’t want to be just a casual hook up, he wanted to date you.

He wanted to be soft launched and hard launched, or whatever it was that Mickey was talking about that night he’d taken his misguided advice and sent the much teased “u up?” text. He wanted to block people in the chip aisle of the grocery store as you talked him into getting some crazy flavor, turning his least favorite chore into the highlight of his week. He wanted knockoff John Mayer to see he got the girl and knew how to treat her right.

He wanted you to be his girl.

“Aren’t you too old to be in a situationship, Bradshaw?” Jake asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” Rooster grumbles, his eyebrows furrowed and his thumbs still hovering over the screen. A couple minutes have ticked by since your last text as he sits there stewing. He knocks back the remainder of his beer, it’s mostly foam, “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“No, you’re not. Bob hasn’t even performed the dance routine to “Thriller” yet,” Nat says, pinning him to his stool with a look, “Come on, Bradley, just invite her here.” She reaches overs and squeezes his shoulder. “You’ve been seeing her for a couple months now. You’re clearly into her, and you wouldn’t disappear on us as much as you do if she wasn’t into you too. This is a low stakes environment with everything going on and people off having fun doing their own thing. And the two of you can still go and do whatever you’re going to do after.”

“I don’t know, Phoenix, she might dump him when she sees what he’s wearing at a Navy bar on Halloween,” Hangman drawls, unhelpfully, grinning around that damn toothpick.

“Shut it, Bagman,” they both say simultaneously.

“Just throw it out there and see what she says.” Nat slides out of her seat, the beads on her dress scraping against the edge of the stool. “Now, we’re going to let you panic in peace for a few minutes while we get another round.”

“We’re?” Jake asks slowly, deliberately drawing out the word.

“Yep,” she confirms, the look on her face leaving no room for arguments as she tugs him off his seat. “And you’re paying, let’s go.”

Bradley scrubs a hand over his face, but not before he sees Nat punching Seresin in the arm on their way to the bar.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all of a sudden, he’s never had an issue asking girls out before. Not that he’s ever had to work that hard for it, but still.

His knee bounces on the foot rest as he works out what to say. He types out the message and gives it a quick once over and hits send before he can overthink it.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’d never say no to you or a pumpkin shaped pizza. But I’m actually at a Halloween party right now at the bar near base with some friends. And I’m thinking you should stop by.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’m sorry it’s a last minute invite, but it’s always a good time and I think you would have fun. I’d like to see you, if “ur up” for it.

He tries not to dwell on the fact he just double texted you, a thing he didn’t know he should be worried about before Fanboy warned him about doing it.

It’s like he’s been hit by lightning the way he shoots up in his seat when he sees those little dots appear on the screen. Rooster holds his breath when they start and stop a few times, each time they disappear and come back again his heart pounds a little harder in his chest.

You, 10:44pm: I’m all in. What’s the address?

All the bubbles from the beer he’d had earlier swarm and rush to his head at once as he drops you a pin.

Nat pushes a shot of bourbon towards him across the table when they return. “Did it go well?”

He nods. “She’s on her way.”

“Good, because you know Halloween is my favorite holiday and your sulking was bringing the vibe down.”

He chuckles, there’s no way he’s beating those whipped allegations now.

She clinks her own shot with his and they throw them back together, the warmth of the expensive tasting liquor sticks behind his sternum.

The next thirty minutes are the longest of Rooster’s life. His head swings to the front door every time it opens, hoping that it’ll be you outlined by the purple, green, and orange string lights.

When he sees you come through the swiftly deflating balloon arch scanning the bar for him, he almost does a double take.

You’ve got on a black and white polka dot top, the cuffs are a flared ruffle that are tied with a bow at your wrist. Your skirt is plain black, but the way it hugs your hips leaves little to the imagination. He can’t even begin to guess what you’re dressed as because other than the night he met you, it’s the most clothes he’s ever seen you in.

Excluding those little silky matching sets you’re usually wearing when he comes over. But those don’t usually stay on too long before they end up on the floor of your living room. Or bedroom. Or kitchen.

He usually has to leave before you, so he’s usually headed out your front door while you’re still wrapped up in one of those fluffy white towels you have. He’s enjoying seeing you here in his favorite bar in that outfit and heading towards him like you’re just as happy to see him as he is to see you.

“Huh, if I'm not mistaken I’m pretty sure that’s what I sent you into work in this morning,” you say, grinning up at him and lightly tugging on the zipper of his flight suit. “Are you supposed to be a Walk of Shame?”

Bradley wraps an arm around you because he can’t help himself. “Please, we all know it’s called the Stride of Pride. It’s never a shame when I get laid.” He presses his fingertips into the swell of the top of your ass before leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear, “Plus, I didn’t have time to go home and grab my costume because someone lured me back into bed this morning.”

He had to do 200 extra push-ups and stay behind to do paperwork as penance for being late the third time that week, but it was worth it. But by the time he was finished, the sun was already well on its way to setting. If he’d been a bit more forward thinking he would have brought the costume he had planned with him, instead of thinking he’d have time to swing by his house to change. Bradley didn’t think it was too much of a let down for you, not with the way you’re looking at him. It’s that same heated way that tells him you’re remembering your reaction to it the first time you’d ever seen him in it.

“Sounds like poor planning on your part,” you tease, your finger tracing the edge of his nametag. “I can’t believe you’re wearing your work clothes to a Halloween party, Rooster.”

“Ok, funny girl. Tell me then, what’re you supposed to be?” He takes a step back and gives you a blatant once over, taking his time admiring the shape of you from your head to your toes in some wicked looking heels and back up again.

Maybe if things went well tonight, you’d leave them on for him later when he gets you alone.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to spend the night guessing,” you smirk, the curve of your mouth promising mischief. “But I think you’ll like it once you figure it out.”

“Bradshaw, are you going to introduce us to your sexy librarian?” Hangman hollers, waving the two of you over back to the table with his hat. Bradley doesn’t hear as much as he sees the oof that comes out of the blonde when Phoenix sends an elbow into his side.

Rooster glances at you with a raise of his eyebrow and you shake your head. Not a sexy librarian then.

“I take it you know the rodeo clown?”

He tips his head back and laughs, already looking forward to telling Hangman. “I do. And Gracie Lou Freebush over there too.”

You wave over at Nat, gesturing to her costume and mouth obsessed, before turning back to him to ask, “Is that gun real?”

“I’m too afraid to ask,” he jokes, only half kidding. “C’mon let me get you a drink, I have an in with the bartender.”

“Are you trying to show off for me, Bradley?”

“Definitely.” He reaches out and toys with the end of the bow on your sleeve. “Is it working, Leslie Knope?”

You just send him that devastating smile of yours and thread your fingers through his. “I think I'm going to have so much fun with this tonight.”

“But full disclosure, you see Napoleon Bonaparte?” He points over to where Mav is behind the bar wearing tasseled shoulder pads pouring pints behind the bar next to a bedazzled Penny in a white neoclassical style dress. “That’s my godfather and his fiancée.”

You school the surprise on your face quickly. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you a nepobaby?”

“That’s a story for another time.” He chuckles, carefully winding his way around a Fred Flintstone and a Deviled Egg to the bar. “Be warned though, the Blue Slime Sipper is lethal. I had four last year and put on an a cappella performance of the Ghostbusters theme song.”

“Please tell me someone has a video of that,” you laugh.

“I called in every favor I had to get all evidence of that particular performance erased.”

At the bar, you order two Blue Slime Sippers looking the picture of innocence as you admire the giant spider affixed to the top of the bar by the till, even though he knows better.

One for him and one for you.

He briefly introduces you to Penny and Mav, trying to keep it casual. Thankfully, it’s busy enough that there’s not more time for small talk or jokes about the frosted tips he had when he was thirteen.

Their guess at a modern day I Love Lucy was also met with a no.

But he’s pretty sure Mav’s attempt to stealthily shoot him two thumbs up after you get your neon blue colored drinks fails based on the way your lips are pressed together in an attempt to smother the smile that he sees toying at the corners of your mouth.

Over the course of the night, it becomes a game that the rest of the team joins in on as he introduces them to the girl he’s been hung up on for weeks.

You help him kick Payback and Fanboy’s asses at the Eyeball Beer Pong that Penny had set up outside on the deck.

“Damn, Lawyer Barbie has an arm,” Fanboy says, the spring of the Slingy Dog costume sagging sadly between him and Payback, watching as you sink another doodled on ping-pong ball into a cup.

“I think we need a rematch,” Payback countered after their loss, “Flight Attendants have great hand-eye coordination, it’s an unfair advantage.”

Both guesses were met with a no.

When you side with Nat over Death Becomes Her as the best, but most underrated, Halloween movie, she throws her hands up in victory, “Thank you! Finally, someone with good taste… Olivia Pope?”

It’s another no, but he’s happy to see how much fun you’re having with his friends.

Between the riotous costume contest voting, and the one-man performance of “Thriller” that Bob puts on, and the pumpkin tic-tac-toe, Rooster has a lot of fun making his own guesses.

Except for the time he offers up Miss Bliss, he nearly chokes on his Cauldron Cooler when you ask him, “Is that a porn thing?”

Which in hindsight, he probably should have specified from the show Saved by the Bell, that he only knew because he’d been into Tiffani Amber Thiessen as a kid, but he doesn’t get to because you’re too busy delightedly laughing at his near spit-take.

He sticks close to your side, an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist. There’s a moment when he gets worried he might be smothering you, but then you’d lean your head on his shoulder and he figured you were right where you wanted to be.

The two of you step outside when the Monster Mash smashburger contest starts up, the song following you to the sun-bleached wooden deck.

There are less people out here now, a few people are stationed behind the ping-pong table and others are seated on the picnic tables chatting and swapping stories. Most of his friends had stayed inside to cheer on Coyote’s attempt to hold onto his burger eating crown.

It’s the first time all night that he has you on your own, and while he appreciates how welcoming his friends are with wanting to make you feel included and slipping in more than a few jokes at his expense, he’s ready to have you to himself for a while.

But first.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re supposed to be?” He runs a finger along the ruffle down the front of your shirt. “I think I’ve lost count of how many failed attempts I’ve made now and It’s starting to take a toll on my ego.”

“How about this, you tell me what you were supposed to be and then I’ll tell you what my costume is,” you offer, playfully.

You’re still toying with him like a cat does a string and he doesn’t mind a single bit.

He steps in close, winding an arm around your low back pulling you in close. “James Bond,” he says, enjoying the way your eyes light up.

“Now that’s something I would love to see,” you murmur, running your hand along his arm. “Not that the flight suit isn’t working for me.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you.

Rooster shakes his head amused. “I’ll put it on for you later if you want.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you, but you haven’t seen him in a tux yet. “Now, I’ve been dying to know since the moment you walked in, what are you dressed as?”

You grin, wide and bright, like you’ve been waiting for this all night.

“Your future girlfriend, I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Bradley doesn’t waste a moment bringing both of his hands to your face and getting his lips on yours. A surprised noise escapes from the back of your throat before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more. His tongue chases after the sweetness of your mouth. He can’t get enough of it.

He can’t get enough of you.

“So I take it, you like my costume then?” you ask against his lips.

“I’m about to go swipe that trophy from Cousin Itt because yours is the best one here by far.” You giggle when he pulls you back in to kiss you again- or tries to. “C’mon, sweetheart, I need you to cooperate here. I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend.”

But then his teeth click against yours because now you’ve got him smiling too.

You skim another soft kiss against his mouth and lean back. “You know, I did have a back-up costume, just in case things didn’t go well.” You put a finger up and twist a little in his arms to rummage in your purse. And when you turn back towards him you’ve got a bright red clown nose on your face.

“Are you kidding me? The only clown here is Seresin.” He chuckles and gently pulls it from off your nose. “I’ve been trying to figure out how lock this down for weeks now. That tux was going to be my ace. It’s about a half size too small, but I figured it might do the trick to make things more official. It’s a good thing I’ve got a girl who knows what she wants.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Bradshaw. I still want to see you in it.”

“I can make that happen. Especially since that means I get to take you home with me tonight.” He drops a kiss on your cheek. “I’ve got an idea about what we can be next year though.”

“It’s not even midnight yet, and you’re thinking about next year?”

Bradley shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m all about playing the long game. Just want to give you something to look forward to.”

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, giving him an expectant look.

“Considering how we met and all, I think contestants from Supermarket Sweep would be a solid choice for us. There’s nothing sexier than some khakis and sweatshirts.”

You look delighted and amused and like his.

“Done. You know I am a big fan of you in a pair of khakis.”

Rooster tugs you to him again needing to taste your grin. He hears a cheer go up inside of the bar, probably for whoever won the contest, but he pretends it’s for him.

After all, he’s the one who got the girl.

Happy Halloween! I'm dropping a smitten Rooster into everyone's candy bucket this year! Thank you for reading!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine

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memorableeventz · 1 year ago

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How to Create a Balloon Decoration Wall

A balloon decoration wall is a gorgeous backdrop for photos and a great way to highlight your party buffet or gift table. It can also be used to draw guests' attention to a specific area, as Hazel Burgan did at this sweet sixteen with this partial balloon arch and decorative sign display.

Balloon Garland

Once the balloons are inflated and ready to attach, a friend can help you hold the balloon strip against your wall to determine where to hang it. Then, begin assembling your garland by inserting the knotted ends of each balloon into its respective hole on the balloon decorating strip. Alternate the color of each pair as you go to add variation in the look of your finished garland.

When all of the medium sized balloon decoration wall are attached, take a step back to admire the overall look and determine whether you should add more or less of certain colors. For extra design appeal, add in some light greenery or flowers by poking them into the gap between the 5" pairs.

When the 5" balloons are added, tie and glue them into clusters of two to make a "duo" or four to make a "quad." This is a great way to fill in any gaps and make your garland stand out.

Balloon Arch

An arch is a great way to draw attention to a certain area of the room. It can also serve as a backdrop for photos or a statement piece for the entrance of an event. These are popular for birthday parties, weddings, and grand openings.

There are several ways to create a balloon arch. One popular option is to use a wire base. This allows you to shape the arch to fit your space and can have various toppers added to it. Another option is to make a balloon ring and tie it to the ceiling or other surface. This is a simple and inexpensive way to create an eye-catching decoration.

When creating a balloon arch, it is important to have the right tools. A blunt needle (this makes stringing easier and safer) is helpful, as is a low temperature glue gun to fill out your arch. Adding fresh flowers and foliage can also be a nice touch.

Balloon Flowers

The Balloon Flower (Platycodon grandiflorus) is a hardy and easy-to-grow perennial that makes a stunning addition to any garden. Its unusual flower buds resemble balloons, which is where it gets its namesake. The plant produces a variety of colors and blooms throughout the summer. It is also a good choice for mixed perennial plantings and stands out as an individual specimen.

The plants thrive in bright sunlight and cool temperatures but can tolerate some shade. They are best grown in well-draining soil with a pH of 5.5 to 7.5. Plant the seeds directly outdoors or start them indoors in early spring to acclimatize to outdoor conditions.

The flowers are pest-resistant and require very little care after the initial planting. If the plants are becoming leggy, trim the stems to encourage denser growth. Remove spent blooms regularly to promote continuous flowering.

Balloon Backdrop

Whether you are decorating for an outdoor wedding or indoor party, you can use a balloon backdrop to make a stunning statement. This eye-catching decoration can also be used as a photo booth or cake table backdrop.

A balloon decorations Sydney can be made with any type of decorations. For example, this emojithemed backdrop by Exclusive Balloons is perfect for a girl’s birthday or any other celebration that kids will love. For a winter event, this spectacular Frozen-themed balloon display featuring blue, white, clear and snowflake balloons is sure to wow guests.

If you are looking for a more simple and affordable way to dress up your party, try using a balloon backdrop. A backdrop can be a simple as sticking balloons on a wall, or it can be a more elaborate creation like this one created by Harmony Event Planning for a baby shower.

To create a beautiful balloon backdrop, you will need a frame, some weights and of course, a bunch of colorful balloons. It is important to balance colors and sizes when creating a balloon arrangement for the best effect.

#balloon decoration wall #balloon decorations on wall #balloon decorations for party #balloon decorations Sydney #balloon decorations table

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muniimyg · 26 days ago

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𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (1) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist

note: omg !!! written for the 1st part cos i need to set the MOOD. hope u guys love it <3 i'm super hungover and this fic idea helped me recover buwhauhaa. pls give this new bbydady couple lots of love !

warnings: rawdogging, dirty talk, impregnation kink, daddy kink, creampie !

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo @ddanasjk @luvismenu @remgeolli @parapiop7 @lil0u0 @crazyovayou @mggv97 @thvgukk @rpwprpwprpwprw

the sound of laughter and chatter spills into the hallway as you and hyemi hurry toward yoongi’s condo. as you balance a large steaming dishes in your arms, the tantalizing aroma of the main course wafts behind you two.

“how much shit do you think they’re gonna give me for being 45 minutes late?” you ask, glancing sideways at hyemi.

she adjusts the way she holds the 2 bottles of wine to knock on the door. they clink together as she answers you;

“they can eat shit,” hyemi laughs. “you know everyone starved themselves today for your food, right?”

just then, jin answers the door.

he greets you both, taking the meals from your arms. as you step inside, you hear everyones laughter and conversations clearer. nam joon’s earnest chatter with yoongi and hobi, jin calling taehyung to help him in the kitchen, and jungkook annoying jimin.

yoongi’s condo is filled with balloons and decorations celebrating their clinic’s launch, and the scent of various appetizers danced in the air. everyone is sprawled around the spacious living room, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces. everyone is in their own clothes and it feels strange to see them without their scrubs… not to mention; all together.

it feels surreal to think they’re all celebrating the launch of their private clinic.

the dream they had worked so hard to achieve.

the dream they deserve to have become a reality.

“finally!” nam joon cries out. he makes his way to you two, greets you, and then pulls hyemi into a hug. they exchange a quick kiss before wrapping her in his arms and turning to you. “thought you were gonna bail on us.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“how is it that you’re a doctor but always make it out like i’m busier than you?”

nam joon shrugs. “you’re a chef. that shits just as hard.”

“it’s not medical school,” you argue. “but i appreciate the recognition of my career choice… are you sucking up to me because you're hungry?”

nam joon puts his hands up.

“you can’t be the chef of our friendgroup and expect us not take advantage of it.”

you share a look with hyemi.

“joon, i’m expecting full free health care from you as payment for all the times i’ve fed you. from all the times i’ve fed all of you—”

jimin and jungkook raise their beer cans at you.

“yah! you’re the reason my body gets enough protein—”

as the group gathers around yoongi’s dining table, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement and camaraderie.

you’re in the kitchen, finishing the last touches on the meal you’ve prepared. you spent the entire day crafting this feast, and satisfaction blooms in your chest, especially with your final dish—a beautifully plated coq au vin, featuring tender chicken simmered in rich red wine, mushrooms, and pearl onions, all nestled together like a cozy family.

“dinner is served!” you announce.

as you approach the table, you scan for a seat or space for yourself. just as your gaze flits around, yoongi catches on and instantly stands up, his demeanor relaxed yet attentive. he gestures for you to take his seat.

“sit here. i’ll grab a chair from the living room,” he says, his voice calm and sure.

“it’s okay. i can—o-oh. wait—” you start, but before you can finish, yoongi is already striding toward the living room, his movements effortless. he returns, chair in hand, setting it down beside your spot and patting the seat next to him with a casual invitation.

your eyes meet for a moment, and the world around you fades as you hold his gaze, warmth blooming in your chest.

you smile and sit beside him.

“everything looks amazing, by the way,” yoongi leans in to whisper into your ear. “thank you for cooking for us tonight.”

he places his hand a little above your knee, a light touch that sends a thrill through you.

your heart skips for a moment, and just before it can race, he pulls his hand away.

“alright, everyone! before we dive in, let’s raise our glasses…” nam joon declares, lifting his glass of wine high. “here’s to our hard work and dedication. i can’t imagine being in this field of work without you guys… we did it! we have our own private practice. cheers!”

“cheers!” everyone echoes, their glasses clinking together.

as the group begins to serve themselves, you watch them dig into the coq au vin, anticipation swirling in your stomach. carefully, you observe their expressions transform after the first bite. jin and hobi’s eyes widen in delight, jungkook scrunches his face in exaggerated anger, while jimin and taehyung slump back in their chairs, clearly taken aback. hyemi and nam joon share a knowing look, and yoongi tilts his head, a small smile gracing his lips.

“holy shit, ___."

“you’ve outdone yourself.”

“i’m so glad i was skinny today… i have extra room in my pants to eat everything here,” jungkook moans. “fuck, ___. let me know when you wanna get married.”

everyone chokes on their food. from the corner of your eye, you watch for yoongi's reaction. he doesn't make a face or say anything. instead, he continues to eat and ignore jungkook's childish comment.

then, as you look away, you catch the way his grip tightens around his fork and knife.

puffing your cheeks, you turn your attention back to the group.

"marriage? you know i want a baby,” you huff, half-joking but with a hint of truth. "fuck, i want a baby so bad."

hyemi rolls her eyes. “we’ve been known.”

the baby fever you have is no secret to your friend group; it’s been a running joke since the beginning of time. with every glimpse of a baby in a stroller or at the mall, to the endless stream of baby videos shared in the group chat—everyone knows. the irony is that you’re simply too busy to have one. work takes most of your time, and you’re barely into dating, yet the baby fever lingers, woven into your very being. like how some people are just meant to be moms? that’s you.

everyone bursts into laughter, their playful jabs surrounding you like a warm blanket. everyone except for yoongi. he stays quiet, stealing a glance your way, a slight crease in his brow as he observes.

as you begin to eat, yoongi bumps shoulders with you, the casual touch sending a small jolt through your side.

“___,” he starts, his voice low and teasing. “i might have to request a cooking lesson. your food is too good.”

you bump shoulders back, a smirk playing on your lips. “don’t you cook?”

“not like this. not like you.”

you scoff lightly, shaking your head. “sure, i’ll accept your cooking lesson request… but only if you pay for the ingredients.”

he leans back in his chair, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes.

then, he places his hand on your upper thigh again. this time, he squeezes it.

your heart begins to race.

yoongi’s soft gaze shifts toward you, the confident glint in his eyes paired with a playful smile.

“sure, ___. whatever you want.”

once dinner is finished and the dishes are cleared, everyone gathers around the living room. hobi puts on a movie, but the flickering screen fades into the background as everyone spreads out. jungkook is lounging on the couch, flanked by jimin and taehyung, who are playfully bickering. on the opposite end, nam joon and hyemi are cuddled together. meanwhile, hobi, jin, you, and yoongi are settled on the floor, engaged in a mindless card game. there's an easy banter flowing between you all.

“honestly, i don’t think i’ve fully processed it yet,” jungkook admits, scratching his head with a sheepish grin. “guys… we have our own fucking practice. we’re so adult.”

taehyung’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans back against the couch. “well, since we’re all adults now, let’s celebrate like we did back then—with something childish.”

jimin’s eyes light up at the suggestion.

“oh, i know exactly where this is going.”

yoongi rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. he puts his cards down and turns to taehyung and jimin.

“you guys can’t seriously be suggesting truth or dare.”

suddenly, everyone sits up.

“why not?” hyemi teases, nudging namjoon. he sits up, suddenly interested. “awh, we used to play that all the time! let’s use a wine bottle for the questions and shots for the skipping.”

“yes, let’s do it!” taehyung chimes in, bouncing slightly in excitement. “might as well go all in.”

as the group settles into the idea, everyone sprawls on the living room floor, cushions scattered around them.

the movie playing in the background has been completely forgotten. you head to the kitchen to grab a wine bottle, along with a few shot glasses, and return to find your friends buzzing with anticipation.

with a grin, you place the bottle in the center of the circle, pouring shots for everyone as you settle next to jungkook and hyemi.

“whose going first?”

“i will,” nam joon says, and with a determined flick of his wrist, he spins the bottle. it lands on jungkook. with a playful grin, nam joon asks, “jungkook, truth or dare?”

“dare,” jungkook replies confidently, puffing out his chest.

“i dare you to text an ex and say you miss them.”

jungkook’s confidence wavers for a brief moment. his bravado fades. “t-truth! i pick truth—”

“boo!” everyone hollers, giving him a few playful hits.

defeated but laughing, he pulls out his phone and reluctantly types the message. as the sound of the text being sent echoes through the room, cheers erupt from his friends.

“who’d you text?” jimin asks, curiosity bubbling over.

“your mom,” jungkook quips with a smirk.

jin snorts before breaking into laughter. jungkook raises his hands in surrender. “you guys said you wanna be childish? fine by me!”

the game continues, laughter and playful banter filling the air. after a few more rounds, jimin finally gets a chance to spin the bottle, his excitement palpable.

it lands on yoongi.

jimin grins, the tension in the room shifting into something playful. “alright, yoongi, you’re up. truth or dare?”

“truth,” yoongi replies, his expression cool but his eyes glinting with intrigue.

“okay,” jimin says, his voice laced with mischief as he shoots a devilish glance around the room. “if you could sleep with anyone in the world with no consequences, who would it be?”

laughter erupts, mingling with the muffled sounds of the movie. yoongi holds jimin’s gaze for a moment, and you notice his eyes flicker to you, almost imperceptibly.

the moment is fleets but it's lingers in your heart the moment he looks away.

without a word, yoongi lifts his glass and takes a shot instead, opting for silence.

“shit…” taehyung gasps, breaking the tension. “is it me?”

as the laughter continues, you look forward and meet yoongi's eyes. he clears his throat and turns away. for a moment, you think;

shit.

it's me.

the night goes on with more playful dares and laughs, but as it winds down, everyone soon heads out the door. hyemi and nam joon hug you goodbye as you gather your cooking equipment. once they leave, yoongi walks into the kitchen, surprised to see you still there.

you two are alone.

when you two are alone… things change. you aren’t sure how to describe the feeling or the exact shift in atmosphere… but it’s there. it happens and there’s always this lingering silence that suffocates you. it’s not uncomfortable, it’s rather… daring.

though it’s unspoken, you two find difficulty in ignoring the loud bells.

maybe it was the way yoongi’s gaze lingers on you when you aren’t looking. how he traces the curve of your smile and the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. or how your eyes light up an entire city when someone compliments your food.

truth be told, yoongi's crush on you is like a steady and familiar presence. something he could never quite shake.

not when you two first met.

not when you dated 3 guys in a row and got fucked over each time.

not when you go through baby fever so bad you cry about it like it’ll never happen to you.

yoongi notices things about you that others don’t. like the way you chew your lip when you’re in deep thought or before you admit to something. how you have a specific laugh for different levels of things you find funny.

whatever it is; it just remains as it is.

over the years of being friends with you, there were obvious times he thought about closing that space between you two… but something kept him from doing it. maybe it’s the group dynamic, or simply the fear that you didn’t feel the same.

“sorry, you must be tired. i’ll be out of here in a bit—”

“you’re still here?” yoongi teases.

you roll your eyes at him.

“unfortunately.”

“no, no,” yoongi insists. “take your time. did you drive? or are hyemi and joon waiting for you downstairs?”

“i drove and picked up hyemi. she’s sleeping at joon’s tonight so they left.”

yoongi shifts closer to you, beginning to help you pack up. he looks through his cupboard and finds a bag for you to put all your containers in. when you finish packing up, he takes the bag and walks you to the door.

“so… no answer to that truth question, huh?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "didn't take you for a pussy."

yoongi chuckles softly, looking down briefly before meeting your eyes. “wouldn’t have been much of a game if i gave it away that easily."

“but that’s the literal point of playing truth or dare and choosing truth.”

he scoffs, “for a chef, you’re a big know-it-all… you know that?”

"come on, yoongi," you inch closer to him. “was it really taehyung?”

he pauses, unamused.

"you really want to know?"

you nod, curious but also feeling your heart pick up just a little. your cheeks might flush in a few seconds too.

yoongi leans in slightly.

"fine. it was you."

your eyes widen, unsure how to react to his confession. it surprises you but it’s also such a weird feeling to get this confirmation… you feel warm inside.

you feel butterflies.

attempting to keep your voice steady, you ask; "me?"

yoongi shrugs, keeping it casual though his steady and sincere gaze. "guess you just… crossed my mind. more than once. i don’t know. sorry if this makes you think of me differently—”

a beat.

“no,” you blink. “i… if jimin had asked me the question i would’ve answered the same.”

yoongi tilts his head.

“answered it like what?”

you chew your bottom lip.

just as you gather the courage to make your confession, yoongi drops your things, steps towards you and places his arm around your waist. he doesn’t waste a second.

he pulls you in—

yoongi kisses you for the first time.

“holy fucking shit—” yoongi hisses in between your legs. “you taste so good, ___.”

you lift your head and watch him.

yoongi’s head bobs up and down. you fight the urge to squeeze your legs together as you feel the texture of his tongue brush the insides of your fold. you feel him spit on your clit and suck on it. when he does this, it gives you no choice but to grab a handful of his hair.

you moan.

yoongi smirks, loving the way you’re reacting. you feed his ego more than he ever anticipated you to. it’s so special to him.

as yoongi finishes eating you out, he shifts his body on top. softly, he runs the back of his hand from your waist to your ankles. he takes one of them and puts it over his shoulder. you shuffle, getting more comfortable in his bed.

“you’re really pretty,” he blurts. “i.. uh, i really like you in this position.”

you blush, tightening your lips.

“t-thanks,” you say a little awkwardly. there’s a silence between you two as the literal position begins to sink in your head. “are we g-going to…”

yoongi’s soft gaze cuts short. “oh. shit, yeah. sorry, you… you just distracted me.”

you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re about to fuck me and you’re saying my face is distracting you?”

he shrugs.

“you have nice tits too.”

he grabs them without warning. squeezing them, you laugh a little louder. then, he slaps them and a small gasp escapes your lips.

“shit. let me get a condom—”

you shift and shake your head at him. you bite your bottom lip, you offer him a sincere look.

“i… i don’t sleep with people that often. i know you’re a doctor and all but i—”

yoongi chuckles.

“fuck, do you have an impregnation kink?” he pieces it all together. “i mean, no shit… and i’m okay with fucking you raw. i haven’t slept with anyone in like, 2 years—”

“what?” you ask in disbelief.

yoongi is hot. he's a fucking dermatology nurse practitioner too... he can cook and is gentle... not to mention, his dick is huge.

“too busy. too tired. too lazy.”

you snicker at him. “really? you aren’t too tired right now.”

yoongi smiles cheekily before leaning in and kiss you. he kisses you deep, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. you suck it as he pulls away.

he rests his forehead against yours and hums, “can we have sex now?”

you laugh and hit his bare shoulders.

he places himself back into his desired position and slides his cock in between your folds. he sinks it in a little, sending shivers down your spine. you feel how hard it is—how veiny and thick it feels against your skin. yoongi then sharply inhales as the sound of his dick slapping against your wet pussy echoes.

“f-fuck.”

you let out a whimper and clenched your fist. “put it in. need you.”

your words are music to yoongi’s ears.

he sinks himself inside you. your lips part as you adjust to the feeling of his dick entering inside. it’s big and girthy. the curves it has hits spots you didn’t know could hit.

“oh m-my god,” you breathe. “y-yoongi… think y-you’re too big.”

“am i supposed to feel sorry for you?” he snarks. “come on, ___. you can take it.”

you nod, gulping with determination. you shut your eyes, feeling him thrust in and out of you. he does so slowly but surely, making sure to push in every inch of his length. you wince a couple of times, feeling the burn.

then, after a few more strokes… you feel it.

the pleasure.

yoongi picks up the pace once he sees your begin to enjoy the feeling. he smirks, leaning down for another kiss. you kiss him back, passionately. when he pulls away, he cups your face with his hand and places his thumb in your mouth.

you suck it.

yoongi watches.

he watches as you play with his thumb. licking it, sucking it, and swirling your tongue around it. he watches as your tits move to his thrusts. he watches as your eyes roll back.

he loves it.

the sight is beyond beautiful.

it’s life changing to him.

then, he shifts. he takes your leg down and fully sets himself on top of you. he fucks you faster, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms and legs around him as he digs himself deeper and deeper. he moans in your ear and it feels like with all the lewd sounds in your room—your pussy might explode.

yoongi feels you tighten.

his dick gets harder.

“s-shit, ___… you’re so tight. you feel so good.”

his voice is low and drips with sin.

just when he feels himself about to cum, he pulls out.

you reposition yourself.

this time, you spread your legs out like a v. yoongi plants his hands on either side of you. you reach over and put his dick inside. he bows his head low, biting your shoulder as he begins to fuck you.

yoongi pounds you.

like, to the point where you’re practically screaming.

“o-oh! oh my god, y-yoongi. d-don’t stop. f-fuck, yes. yes, yes yes!” you chant. "fuck! ngghhh, i love your dick. mpffhh—oh god, oh god!"

again, it’s music to his ears.

“i’m gonna cum—”

you reach down and pull his dick out.

“w-what—”

you tug yoongi’s body down and roll over until you stradle him on top. as you sit on him, you quickly put his dick inside you. by now, yoongi’s climax has calmed.

“can you cum inside me?” you ask, lacing your fingers together.

you begin to grind on him. yoongi’s eyes flutter to watch the way your hips move against his stomach. he watches as you fuck yourself on him.

“please, yoongi? i want a baby. remember?”

yoongi nods. “i remember. fuck, you want my cum?”

batting your eyelashes at him, you pout. “mhm.. will you give me a baby? i want your cum. don’t you think i deserve it? see how good i’m fucking myself on you right now?”

“yes.”

“tell me i’m doing a good job, daddy.”

yoongi hisses.

he doesn’t really give a fuck about the whole daddy kink thing… or the impregnation bullshit. people are into what they’re into. but for some reason… this drives him crazy. the way your tone is so soft and desperate, he thinks to himsef;

fuck.

i have to give it you.

you’re too pretty to say no to.

“you’re doing so good, ___. fuck, i love how you fuck me.”

you place your hands on his chest and lean forward for stability. you bounce on his hard cock, making sure the sound of your ass hitting his abdomen is as loud as it can be.

“do you like it when i fuck you like this?” you say, slightly panting. “you like it when i’m about to milk your cock? gonna make you cum. need it.”

“mhm?” yoongi moans. “f-fuck, yeah. you need my cum? you need a baby so bad? you want my babies?”

you nod viciously.

“yes, daddy. need every drop, yoongi. i'm gonna be mad at you if you let it spill out. need your babies.”

with that, yoongi reaches over and grabs a handful of your ass. he helps you fuck him faster and faster. by now, you’re out of breath and yoongi can barely keep his eyes open. the pleasure is so vibrant. it’s sharp and so ready to be released.

“f-fuck, ___. i’m actually gonna cum now. gonna pull out—”

you pout.

“b-but i was serious,” you confess. “you can pull out… but just know; i don’t want you to.”

there’s a look in your eyes that tugs yoongi’s heart strings. he isn’t sure how to go about this. he’s never cum inside someone before… but this was you.

you’re so special to him.

and you want it so bad…

yoongi never thought he’d be this way. laying here with you on top of him, begging for his cum. without even trying, it’s like you make him question every decision and wall he puts up. it’s stupid, really—he knows he’s in control of his decisions here. no one is forcing anyone to do anything and you aren’t convincing him in a way where he’s uncomfortable.

but it’s different.

with you, it’s fucking different.

you caught him off guard and the way you ask him for this makes everything feel so simple.

perhaps its the way you offer him a gentle smile or the way he’s always known you’ve wanted a baby… and the opportunity to give that to you? even if it’s not for real and this is just an in-the-moment kind of thing… fuck, how could he deny you this? he can’t ignore it.

maybe he doesn’t want to.

his thoughts take him away for a second too long. your smile turns into a nod. just as you’re about to get off him, he grabs your waist and helps you fuck him fast.

chasing the high, he groans as he reaches his climax.

he tugs your body as close to him as possible.

yoongi might have lost his mind because—

he folds.

yoongi cums inside you.

he cums so much that his creampie spills out. you giggle as you get off and lay down next to him. yoongi gets on his elbows and spreads your legs open. with soft touches, he takes his fingers and helps shove the spilling cum inside your pussy.

you play with his hair as he does this.

then, when he’s finished he moves back to lay beside you.

a thick silence fills the space between you two.

“i.. w-wow,” he stutters. “are you okay?”

you gulp.

“yeah… thank you for… u-uh… i don’t know if that was awkward for you but it really… i really… i liked it a lot. thank you.”

yoongi chuckles.

he shifts and fixes his sheets for you. he drapes his blanket over your body and adjusts the way you lay on his pillow. leaning in beside you, he kisses the top of your head and caresses your cheek.

“i liked it too. besides,” he says softly. “what are friends for?”

#bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi scenario #yoongi crush #yoongi dilf #yoongi x yn #bts yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts f2l #yoongi f2l #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts friends to lovers #bts daddy au #bts dilf au

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hubbvrd · 28 days ago

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first night at home | JB9

summary — It's the first night at home with your newborn daughter. When you wake up in the middle of the night and Joe is no longer lying next to you in bed, you find Joe and your newborn daughter in their baby room and what you see there melts your heart

pairing — joe burrow x reader

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your eyes filled with tears again as you followed Joe carrying the baby carrier with your newborn daughter into your home for the first time.

Two days ago, Amelia Grace Burrow had seen the light of day, making you and Joe the happiest of people and your family complete for the time being.

Amelia was almost a one-to-one copy of your boyfriend, she had even inherited his tangled, almost curly hair, which was clearly visible from birth as she had been born with an incredible amount of hair.

The living-dining room was adorned with colorful decorations. There were countless helium balloons in the shape of a baby bottle, a teddy bear, a princess and Amelia's name.

There was also a garland with 'Welcome home, baby & mommy' written on it. The dining table was heaped with presents and food so that you could only just make out the wooden top of the table.

"Wow," you marveled as you blinked hard at the tears that were already filling your eyes and making their way down your cheeks.

You had thought that your hormones would settle down quickly after the birth, as you had already been quite waterlogged during the pregnancy - but no way. Your hormones had been going crazy almost non-stop since the birth of your little girl, so you had already used up countless tissues and there seemed to be no end in sight.

"Did you do all that?" you looked over at Joe, who carefully placed the baby carrier on the couch and squatted down in front of it.

Amelia had slept all the way from the hospital to your home, which you were quite grateful for - because you had been terrified of the first car journey.

It probably hadn't been the best idea to read the experiences of other mothers on various websites, as most of them had described the first car journey with a newborn as the 'horror ride'.

But Amelia seemed to have been a calm and contented baby not only in the hospital, but also on the car journey and even now, as she continued to slumber soundly in her seat.

"The decoration? Yes. The gifts and food are from a few neighbors, but most of the things are from my teammates - most of them really went overboard with the gifts. I'm sure one or two of them will spoil Amelia as she gets older," he laughed, whereupon you joined in with his laughter.

Because you could imagine all too well how much Joe's team colleagues would spoil your daughter.

Ja'Marr, Tee and Sam in particular had adored the little one ever since they had known you were having a daughter.

The three of them had even been on hand to help set up the baby's room and had already bought countless cute outfits for Mini Burrow (including, of course, a Mini Burrow jersey from each of them so that she could - according to the boys - support her favorite uncle).

As you laughed, you began to feel your abdomen tighten slightly in pain. Even though the birth had not brought any complications, you had a painful pulling sensation in your abdomen from time to time, which was normal according to the doctors at the hospital, so you lay down on the soft cushions of the sofa next to the baby seat.

Joe carefully undid the baby seat belt and then took out your daughter, who was quite tiny, and sat down on the sofa next to you with her in his arms.

Amelia's eyes were closed and there was a pacifier in her mouth that was almost bigger than her face.

A Bengals cap sat on her head - how could it be any different, of course, because according to Joe she had to be taken directly to her favorite team.

"She's so tiny," you gushed quietly as a tear began to roll down your cheek.

You still couldn't believe your happiness about your little family, which you had wished for since you were little - it would certainly take some time before it happened.

"And so beautiful, like her mommy," Joe added, causing a soft sob to leave your lips.

"I love you so much," Joe breathed, as seconds later he carefully put his free arm around you so that your head found its place on his shoulder, where you had an even better view of the sweet little creature lying perfectly in Joe's arm, sucking on her pacifier and leaning.

"We love you too. So much," you whispered softly before your eyes drifted shut from sheer exhaustion and you too fell into a peaceful sleep.

—

You were startled out of your sleep by a scream, so that you sat up straight in bed and looked around in the dark bedroom, which was only lit by a faint ray of light from the street lamp.

You could still remember falling asleep next to Joe on the sofa. But you couldn't remember getting into bed on your own, so Joe must have carried you up and put you to bed.

But before you could turn the covers aside and swing your feet on the bed, Joe was already jumping out of bed.

"I'm going, go back to sleep," he breathed softly to you and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before pushing you back onto the mattress and putting the covers back over you.

And the moment your head touched the pillow, you were already asleep again.

It was crazy how little you slept with a newborn and how quickly you fell asleep once you'd taken care of the baby or your partner took over.

But you wouldn't trade anything for the chance to sleep through the night again.

—

The next time you woke up and looked to your left, Joe still wasn't back.

A glance at your cell phone, which was lying next to you on the bedside table, told you that it was only 4:55am.

Carefully, your hand touched the empty side of the bed next to you, which was quite cold, so you knew that Joe must have been with your daughter for some time.

Even though you couldn't hear a sound - not even Amelia's crying - you decided to check and relieve Joe, because maybe Amelia needed her mommy now.

The wooden floor creaked softly under your bare feet as you followed the source of light coming from Amelia's nursery.

The closer you got to the baby's room, which was by far the most loving room and your favorite room in the whole house, you heard Joe's soft voice.

So as not to elicit another creak from the floor, you tiptoed the last few meters over to the bright room with the flowery wallpaper, where you leaned slightly against the door frame and took a look inside the room.

On the cozy armchair in the middle of the baby's room, Joe sat with Amelia in his arms and handed her the bottle, from which Amelia drank greedily.

Joe gently rocked the two of them back and forth while his hand held the bottle and his index finger stroked your daughter's tiny hand.

This sight made your heart warm up and your heart skip a little. It really was a beautiful view that almost brought new tears to your eyes - but only almost.

"You're really hungry, huh?" he asked softly as a smile spread across his lips.

"That's good, you'll be a big and strong girl. But do you know what you already are? My sweet girl. My sweet girl, who I will always protect. Come what may. I will also make sure that no boy will ever break your heart and if he hurts you because of Uncle Ja'Marr, I will make sure that he suffers. But also the whole team will always make sure that you don't get hurt. Because they are family. They are your uncles. You'll never be alone..I promise you that,A."

The quarterback leaned in slightly to kiss your daughter's little forehead, causing Amelia to let out a soft sweet sound.

A wide smile crept onto your lips and you couldn't stand there any longer, just watching the two of them.

You crossed a few steps before you reached Joe and Amelia, who had just finished the last of the bottle and now had a wide grin on her lips, which seemed to grow twice as big when she spotted you.

"You've discovered mommy. She probably couldn't sleep anymore because I wasn't there and you've completely taken over me" Joe grinned as he gently tickled your daughter's tummy and then put her over his shoulder for a burp and patted her gently on the back.

"How long have you been awake?" you asked Joe as you carefully adjusted the burp cloth lying on his shoulder.

"I don't know, half an hour?"

"Why didn't you wake me up? I would have done it already. You got up earlier..."

You were slightly plagued by guilt, because before you went home, you had both agreed that you would take turns whenever Amelia cried or was hungry so that you both got enough sleep.

"Hey, babe..." his voice sounded soft as he reached for your hand and stroked the back of it. "You slept so deeply and I wanted you to get some sleep after the exhausting birth two days ago. I'm fine, really. My tiredness has been blown away. I mean look at her, she's mesmerizing me."

Joe's gushing caused him to start yawning softly and it was only now that you saw clearly how deep the circles under his eyes actually looked.

"Come back to bed. Let's cuddle up in our bed as a family. And when you fall asleep, you'll sleep through the night" you promised your boyfriend and together you made your way back to the bedroom, where the three of you snuggled into bed.

Joe lying on his back, with Amelia curled up on his chest, who already seemed to be in a milk coma, with your head in the crook of his neck.

And it wasn't long before the two of you drifted back to sleep overjoyed and you could hardly wait to start the next day together as a family.

#joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow #nfl imagines #nfl fic #nfl #nfl imagine #cincinnati bengals

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goldfades · 4 days ago

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baby shower! | JOE BURROW⁹ [003]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.4k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your baby shower gets a little overwhelming for you and joe.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | pregnancy mentions/descriptions, doting mothers, arguments, slight hurt to comfort, joe standing up for you like the man he is, a sweet little heart to heart at the end there.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐍, but the second you stepped into Maisie’s meticulously decorated living room, you knew it was going to be anything but relaxing.

“Where’s the punch? Who put the finger sandwiches there? They’ll block the dessert table’s aesthetic!” Maisie’s voice rang out like a battle cry, cutting through the soft hum of conversation and the tinkling notes of an instrumental playlist she’d personally curated. She zipped by in a blur of pastel pink and blue, her hands clutching a checklist that looked more intimidating than your OB-GYN’s appointment schedule.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the nausea that had plagued you all morning still simmering low in your stomach. The room, while beautifully decorated with clouds of balloons and a sprawling “Oh Baby!” banner, felt uncomfortably warm.

“Sit down, sweetheart!” your mom chirped, swooping in like a hawk in a lavender sweater set. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder and guided you toward the plush loveseat near the fireplace. “You shouldn’t be on your feet too much, especially not with that glow,” she said, her tone sweet but with the underlying force of someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you assured her weakly, but it was pointless. Robin, Joe’s mom, appeared out of nowhere with a plate of fruit skewers and a cup of sparkling water.

“You need to stay hydrated,” Robin said with the kind of motherly authority that left no room for argument. “And these are good for the baby—full of vitamins.”

You offered her a tight-lipped smile, though the thought of eating anything right now made your stomach churn.

“Robin, don’t hover too much,” your mom chided playfully, though she was already fluffing a throw pillow and tucking it behind your lower back. “She’s got to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable,” you lied, shifting awkwardly in your seat.

The truth was, you were anything but comfortable. Your dress—a flowy, neutral-colored number Maisie had practically forced on you—clung in all the wrong places. Your lower back ached from the extra weight you were carrying, and the wave of nausea that had become your constant companion wasn’t helped by the sugary smell wafting from the dessert table.

Maisie stormed back into view, muttering something about the confetti placement being “all wrong.” She paused just long enough to point a manicured finger at you.

“Are you feeling okay? Do you need a fan? A bucket? A full-on evacuation plan?” she asked, her tone frantic but laced with genuine concern.

You forced a laugh. “I’m fine, Maisie. Promise.”

Maisie narrowed her eyes at you like she didn’t quite believe it, but before she could press further, someone called her name from the kitchen. With a dramatic sigh, she marched off, her checklist clutched to her chest like a lifeline.

“I don’t think she’s slept in a week,” you murmured to your mom, who chuckled softly.

“She’s excited,” Robin said, sitting down beside you. “We all are. This baby is going to be so loved.” Her expression softened, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of Joe in her—the same quiet intensity in her eyes, the same way her smile felt like a reassurance.

The thought of Joe brought a small pang of guilt. He’d been hesitant about the whole baby shower thing, mumbling something about how it was more of a “girl thing.” You’d convinced him to make a brief appearance later for the gift opening, but he’d spent the morning at the gym, promising to show up “cleaned up and ready to charm.”

A sudden wave of queasiness hit you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You shifted uncomfortably, hoping no one noticed, but of course, both moms were on you in an instant.

“Are you okay?” Robin asked, leaning forward.

“You look pale,” your mom added, her hand flying to your forehead.

“I’m just—ugh.” You rubbed at your temple, willing the sensation to pass. “I think it’s just the heat in here. Or the smell of those sandwiches. Or maybe the fact that I’m growing a whole human.”

Robin smiled knowingly. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? The shower, the attention… It can be a lot.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, sinking further into the loveseat.

Your mom glanced toward the kitchen, where Maisie was now rearranging cupcakes with the intensity of a bomb squad technician. “Should we get you some fresh air?” she suggested.

You shook your head. “No, I’ll be okay. I think I just need a minute.”

Robin squeezed your hand. “Take all the time you need, honey. The important thing is that you and the baby are okay.”

The baby. The words still sent a jolt through you every time someone said them, a mix of excitement and terror that hadn’t quite settled. Across the yard, Maisie was now directing a small army of family members and friends, her voice rising above the chatter. “No, the games go over there! Do you want to ruin the flow of the whole party?!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite your discomfort. “She’s really taking this seriously,” you said, nodding in Maisie’s direction.

Robin followed your gaze and let out a soft laugh. “She’s been texting me about this shower for weeks. I think she might have more anxiety about it than you do about the baby.”

Your mom leaned in conspiratorially. “She’s been calling me every other night. Last week, she spent twenty minutes debating the merits of a candy bar diaper game versus baby bingo.”

“God bless her,” you said, shaking your head with a small laugh. “She’s going to need a vacation after this.”

Just then, Maisie appeared at your side, clipboard clutched tightly to her chest. “Okay, so the photo booth is almost ready, but the props guy still hasn’t shown up, and I don’t think the centerpiece on the gift table is centered—”

“Maisie,” Robin interrupted gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Take a breath. Everything looks beautiful.”

Maisie’s eyes darted around the yard, clearly skeptical. “You think so? Because the balloons over by the cake table are kind of deflating, and I—”

“Maisie,” you said, cutting her off with a soft smile. “It’s perfect. Really. You’ve done an amazing job.”

She hesitated, then exhaled deeply, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Okay,” she said, though she still looked unconvinced. “But if you need anything—literally anything—you call me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said with a mock salute, earning a small laugh from her before she disappeared again.

The laughter was short-lived, though, as another sharp pang of nausea rolled through you. You set the water glass down, pressing a hand to your stomach and trying to breathe through it.

Robin noticed immediately. “Do you want to lie down?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though the edges of your voice wavered.

Your mom frowned. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. You need to rest.”

“Really, I’m—”

“Stubborn as ever,” Robin finished for you with a knowing look. “Joe’s going to lose it if he finds out you’ve been feeling like this all day.”

You shifted again, trying to find a more comfortable position, and sighed. This was going to be a long day.

┈┈┈

The presents were stacked like a small mountain beside the chair they’d designated as your throne for the day. Wrapped in pastel pinks, yellows, and greens, each box and bag felt like a tiny piece of your future waiting to be unveiled. Joe stood beside you, his tall frame just brushing the edge of the canopy Maisie had insisted on. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, a small furrow etched into his brow as his eyes flicked over the gathered crowd.

You could tell he was overstimulated. The constant buzz of chatter, the occasional bursts of laughter, the sharp crinkle of wrapping paper—it was all pressing in on him, but he stayed rooted to your side. Every now and then, his hand would brush against your shoulder, a silent reassurance for both of you that you weren’t in this alone.

“Alright!” Maisie clapped her hands together, clipboard abandoned for once as she orchestrated the gift-opening session. “Let’s see what this baby is getting spoiled with!”

The first gift was handed to you by Robin, who looked as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. The pink and white polka-dotted bag was adorned with delicate tissue paper, which you pulled away to reveal an impossibly tiny pink onesie. Across the front, in glittering gold letters, it read: Daddy’s Girl.

The room collectively cooed, but you caught the way Joe’s lips twitched into a barely-there smile. He wasn’t a big fan of being the center of attention, but even he couldn’t deny how adorable the onesie was.

Robin leaned in, beaming. “I saw it and couldn’t resist. Something told me it was just perfect.”

“Thanks, Robin,” you said warmly, holding it up for everyone to see before setting it aside.

The next gift was from one of Joe’s teammates, and as you pulled apart the wrapping, you found a set of miniature footballs—one of them signed by Joe himself. A wave of laughter swept through the crowd, and Joe shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little more.

“Thought the kid should start practicing early,” the teammate said with a grin.

The gifts kept coming, each one a mix of sweet, practical, and downright extravagant. There were blankets so soft they felt like clouds, a high-tech baby monitor that you didn’t even know existed, and enough stuffed animals to populate a small zoo.

One of your aunts presented a ruffled pink dress with matching booties, holding it up dramatically for everyone to admire. “She’s going to be the belle of the ball,” she declared.

Maisie, standing off to the side with a skeptical expression, muttered, “Or he’s going to look like a very fashionable dude.”

You tried to stifle a laugh as you moved to the next box, this one from your mom. The neatly wrapped package revealed a handmade quilt, each patch lovingly stitched with little images—stars, moons, teddy bears, and tiny footballs.

“Mom,” you said, your voice catching slightly. “This is beautiful.”

She smiled, her eyes glistening. “Every baby deserves a little piece of love to keep them warm.”

Joe reached out then, brushing his fingers over one of the patches. “It’s really nice, Mrs.—uh, Mom,” he said, the slip into the familial title earning a few approving murmurs from the crowd.

The pile dwindled down to the last few gifts, including one from Maisie, who handed over a bag that was conspicuously neutral compared to the sea of pink surrounding it. You opened it to find a set of gender-neutral onesies in shades of gray and white, each one emblazoned with cheeky slogans like Mom’s Favorite and Future MVP.

“Finally,” Maisie said with a mock sigh. “Someone acknowledges that this baby might not actually be a girl.”

Joe let out a small chuckle at that, his first real laugh of the day. You glanced up at him, grateful for the way he stayed close even though the chaos was clearly wearing on him.

The last gift was from one of your mom’s friends—a pale pink rocking horse, complete with a little saddle and reins. The room erupted into a collective “aww,” but you couldn’t help but notice the way Joe’s jaw tightened just slightly.

It wasn’t a big reaction, but you knew him well enough to catch it. He was overwhelmed, overstimulated, and probably thinking too hard about everything that was happening and what it all meant. You reached out, brushing your fingers against his hand, and he looked down at you, his expression softening instantly.

┈┈┈

The room was still a hum of chatter and laughter long after the gifts had been opened, everyone lingering in clusters to admire the pile of baby treasures and speculate about the baby’s future. At first, it was endearing—watching the people you cared about get so invested in the new life you were bringing into the world.

But as the conversations grew louder and the attention lingered, a familiar unease began to creep in.

Robin held up the tiny pink dress your aunt had gifted, spinning it in her hands as though she were imagining a little girl already toddling around in it. “She’s going to be the most darling thing this side of Cincinnati,” she declared, her voice carrying over the murmur of voices.

“Or,” your mom interjected, “maybe he’ll be the most handsome boy in town.” She shot Robin a teasing smile, but there was a sharpness to the exchange.

“You really think it’s a boy?” Robin asked, eyebrows arched.

“Mother’s intuition,” your mom replied with a confident nod.

“Don’t you think the pink onesie says otherwise?” one of Joe’s aunts chimed in, holding it up like it was a smoking gun.

Maisie, seated on the arm of a chair nearby, caught your eye with a subtle shake of her head, as if to say Don’t engage. You appreciated her silent support, but the voices around you were getting harder to tune out.

“I’m telling you, it’s a girl,” Robin insisted, crossing her arms like she was laying down a bet.

“And I’m telling you,” your mom countered, “it’s a boy. We’ll see who’s right when the baby gets here.”

Other voices joined in, speculating wildly about who the baby might take after, what their personality would be, whether they’d follow in Joe’s footsteps or carve out their own path. The noise was starting to press against your temples, the endless back-and-forth making the air in the room feel too thick.

Joe, still standing beside you, had gone silent. His hands were back in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the floor, and you could tell he was holding himself together for your sake.

“Alright, alright,” one of his teammates piped up with a grin. “How about a little wager? Fifty bucks says it’s a girl.”

“Make it a hundred,” someone else called out, and the laughter that followed was the final straw.

The knot in your chest tightened, and your hands clenched in your lap. You felt tears prick the corners of your eyes—not from sadness, but from sheer overwhelm. The room felt too bright, the voices too loud, and the well-meaning opinions too much.

Before you could say anything, Joe’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

“Enough,” he said, his tone sharp but steady. The room fell silent instantly, all eyes turning to him.

Joe looked up, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with frustration. “This isn’t a betting pool. It’s not a game. Can everyone just… be considerate for once? She’s already dealing with enough without you all making it worse.”

The weight of his words lingered in the room, and the silence that followed was heavy but blessedly calm. Your mom looked sheepish, Robin muttered something about “just having fun,” and even the most boisterous of Joe’s teammates had the decency to look a little ashamed.

You glanced up at Joe, your heart swelling at the way he’d stepped in for you, even when you knew he was barely holding it together himself.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the quiet rustle of the room.

He looked down at you then, his expression softening as he saw the gratitude in your eyes. He gave you a small nod, one of his hands brushing against your shoulder again as if to remind you he was there.

The moment was brief, but it was enough to ground you. Even in the midst of all the chaos, Joe had a way of making you feel like everything would be okay.

The house finally quieted as the last of your guests shuffled out the door, their voices trailing into the evening air. Inside, Maisie and Ja'Marr were clinking dishes together in the kitchen, tackling the mountain of cleanup like the MVPs they were. You’d tried to protest earlier, but Maisie had waved you off with a glare sharp enough to make you sit back down.

Now, you stood on the back porch, the cool night breeze brushing against your face. The chaos of the day felt distant here—muted, softened by the hum of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves. You leaned against the railing, one hand resting absentmindedly on your growing belly, and let out a breath you felt like you’d been holding for hours.

Joe was a quiet presence next to you, leaning on the railing with his forearms, his broad shoulders slightly slumped. He’d changed into a soft hoodie and sweats after the last guest left, his game-day persona stripped away, leaving only the guy you knew best—the one who rarely said much but whose silences spoke volumes.

“Hell of a day,” he muttered after a moment, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the last streaks of sunlight bled into the dark.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “That’s one way to put it.”

He glanced over, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “You okay?”

The question was simple, but the way he asked it—soft, almost hesitant—made your chest tighten. You hesitated, trying to figure out how to sum up the whirlwind of emotions.

“Yeah,” you said finally, your voice quiet. “Just… a lot. The attention, the opinions, the arguing. It gets overwhelming, you know?”

Joe nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. “Yeah, I get it.”

You tilted your head to look at him, studying his profile in the fading light. There was a tension in his jaw, a lingering weariness in his eyes, and you realized he was still carrying the weight of the day too.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “For stepping in earlier. I know you’re not big on… all of this, but it meant a lot.”

He shrugged one shoulder, but the way his lips pressed into a thin line told you he was more affected than he let on. “It’s my job to take care of you. Both of you.” His voice was low, steady, but there was a hint of something raw beneath it—an edge of vulnerability he rarely let show.

Your hand drifted to his arm, fingers curling gently around his sleeve. “You already do, more than you know.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the quiet stretching out between you like a warm blanket. The air smelled faintly of grass and the lingering sweetness of cake from inside, and you let yourself sink into the stillness.

“You ever think about how different life’s gonna be?” Joe asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Different how?”

He straightened, leaning back against the railing as he turned to face you. “I mean… everything. A baby changes everything. There’s no going back to how it was before. And as much as I’m ready to be a dad…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes it just… hits me, you know? Like, are we really ready for this?”

The honesty in his words tugged at something deep inside you. “I think it’s okay not to feel ready all the time,” you said, your voice gentle. “I don’t think anyone ever really is. But we’ve got each other, Joe. That’s enough.”

His eyes met yours then, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours before curling around it, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom,” he said quietly.

Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard against the wave of emotion. “And you’re going to be the best dad.”

Joe chuckled, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll try. Guess that’s all we can do, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, your fingers lacing with his.

The night deepened around you, the stars beginning to poke through the inky sky, and you stayed there together, leaning on each other in the quiet. Inside, you could hear Maisie bossing Ja’Marr around as they finished up the cleanup, her voice a familiar, grounding presence.

For now, this moment was yours—just the two of you, standing at the edge of a new chapter, not knowing what lay ahead but knowing you’d face it together.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#nfl players #nfl picks #nfl football #nfl imagine #nfl lb #bengals #joey b #quarterback #cincinnati bengals #cincinnati football #bengals wags #bengals lb #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joeyb #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow imagine

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aliyahwritings · 13 hours ago

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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (09)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aliyah's Notes: y'all are getting fed cause this chapter and the next one are gonna be cute asf so enjoy :)

Three days before the engagement party felt like an endless marathon, with every hour packed to the brim with decisions and errands. The morning started early—too early for your liking—as Aisha and Nina practically dragged you out of bed.

Nina, ever the “mom” of the group, had already prepared an itinerary. She stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, her phone in hand, while you slumped in a chair, still clinging to the remnants of sleep. “Alright, ladies,” Nina began, her tone brisk, “we’ve got a packed schedule. Venue first, then flowers, then caterers. We’ll fit in the designer appointment after lunch, assuming someone,” her eyes flicked pointedly toward you, “doesn’t take forever to make decisions.”

Aisha smirked, sipping her coffee as she leaned against the counter. “You know she’ll take forever. She was debating the color of napkins for twenty minutes for her birthday party.”

“Because they matter!” you protested, sitting up straighter, your natural energy kicking in. “The wrong napkin can throw off the entire table aesthetic. Imagine gold chargers with plain white napkins—horrible!”

Aisha groaned dramatically, while Nina pinched the bridge of her nose. “God give me strength,” Nina muttered in Tagalog under her breath before clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s move. The decorator is expecting us in twenty minutes, and I’m not letting us be late.”

The three of you piled into Nina’s car, and the drive to the venue was filled with your endless chatter. You couldn’t help yourself; you were excited. Ever since your night at Rafe’s, you’ve been walking around with a weight lift off your shoulders, and a smile on your face. “Okay, but seriously, do you think white and gold is too basic? Should I add a pop of color? Like blush pink? Or emerald green! Oh, that could be so chic—”

“Breathe, Miss. Yapper,” Aisha interrupted, shooting you a look from the front seat. “You’ve already settled on white and gold. Don’t backtrack now.”

“She’s just overthinking again,” Nina said from the driver’s seat, her voice calm but firm. “You always do this, sweetie. Just trust your instincts. They’re good… most of the time.”

“Most of the time?!” you repeated, feigning offense.

“Girl, you’re the one who almost ordered heart-shaped balloons for your ex’s retirement party,” your best friend deadpanned.

“He always complained about his job, alright! I thought he was happy to retire.”

The two of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. They always knew how to make you laugh, even when your perfectionism threatened to take over.

When you arrived at the venue, the decorator was already waiting, surrounded by samples of linens, centerpieces, and lighting options. The grand ballroom looked beautiful even in its unfinished state, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows letting in streams of sunlight. But you could already see a million tiny things that needed to be fixed or adjusted.

Nina took charge of logistics, confirming delivery times and setups with the decorator, while Aisha kept you in check. Every time you tried to change something—a table arrangement here, a floral display there—Aisha would cross her arms and give you a warning glare.

“Focus, Y/N. You’re going to drive this poor decorator insane,” Aisha muttered as you debated, for the third time, whether the table runners should have a satin or matte finish.

“It’s not insane to want things to be perfect,” you argued, though your voice was tinged with doubt.

“It’s insane when you’re deciding between two things that look exactly the same,” Aisha countered.

“Pale beige and normal beige are completely different—”

Nina swooped in to mediate, her tone soothing. “Look, kids, both options are gorgeous. Y/N, pick one and move on. We still have three more stops today.”

You sighed, finally nodding and pointing to the matte finish. The decorator gave you a grateful smile, and you moved on to the next decision.

By the time you left the venue, your head was spinning, but there was no time to slow down. The next stop was the florist, where the three of you pored over bouquets and arrangements.

“Peonies are elegant, but are they too soft for the theme?” you mused aloud, holding up a sample.

“Peonies are fine,” Nina assured you, already checking her phone for the next appointment.

“Roses are boring,” Aisha chimed in, inspecting a cluster of orchids. “But these could work. They’re dramatic. Like you.”

You stuck your tongue out at her, earning a rare laugh from Nina. “She’s not wrong,” Nina said with a small smile.

The florist walked you through the arrangements, but your perfectionism struck again. You wanted everything to complement the aesthetic without feeling overdone. Nina stepped in when she sensed you starting to spiral.

“Y/N, just pick a theme and stick with it,” she said gently but firmly. “You can’t have every flower in the world at your party. Less is more.”

Aisha nodded in agreement. “Listen to her. She’s right. For once.”

Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t dignify the comment with a response.

Eventually, you settled on a mix of peonies, orchids, and eucalyptus, feeling a little more confident as you left the florist.

Lunch was a quick stop at a café, where you barely had time to scarf down a sandwich before heading to your next appointment. The designer fitting was a whirlwind of fabrics, sequins, and pins, with you trying on dress after dress while Nina and Aisha offered their unfiltered opinions.

By the end of the day, you were utterly spent. You stumbled through the door of your apartment, exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter onto the floor, and flopped onto the couch with a moan. Your feet ached, your head was pounding, and the thought of the work you have for tomorrow made you want to cry.

Just as you were debating whether to order takeout or crawl into bed and call it a night. Your phone buzzed—-your new phone that you bought yesterday after losing your original one and your keys at the charity event—-on the coffee table. You reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Rafe: “Longest. Day. Ever.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite your fatigue. You propped yourself up against the armrest and typed back.

You: “Tell me about it. I’m so dead! Who knew choosing flowers could feel like a full-body workout?”

His response came almost immediately.

Rafe: “Yeah? Well, at least you didn’t have to run for AN HOUR!!! My legs feel like they’re about to give up on me.”

You: “Poor baby. Want me to send you a trophy for Most Exhausted Future Fiancé-to-Be?”

Rafe: “Ha. Ha. So funny.”

Rafe: “Are you sure we’re not married yet? You already sound like a nagging wife.”

The audacity of him made you chuckle and roll your eyes. You typed quickly, unable to help yourself.

You: “Excuse you? If I’m a nagging wife, then you’re a whiny husband.”

Rafe: “Whatever you say, nagging wife.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you sank further into the couch. The teasing back-and-forth was an oddly comforting way to unwind after such a chaotic day.

You: “Seriously though, did you at least eat? Or are you surviving off your ego again?”

Rafe: “Does a protein bar and water count?”

You groaned audibly, your fingers flying across the screen.

You: “No, Rafe. A protein bar and water do NOT count. A protein bar is not food; it’s a snack. Please tell me you’ve got something decent in your fridge.”

Rafe: “Define ‘decent’…”

You: “I’m going to kill you.”

Rafe: “That’s very romantic, baby, but you’re avoiding the question. What’s the verdict? Is my fridge decent enough for you, Your Honor?”

You: “No.”

You: “Knowing you, it’s probably full of water bottles, expired vegetables, and mystery leftovers. Am I wrong?”

Rafe: “I don’t like this attack on my character.”

You: “Answer the question, Cameron.”

Rafe: “Fine. Maybe you’re right. I don’t have the energy to argue. Or to cook, for that matter.”

You sighed again, a twinge of concern sneaking past your teasing. You guessed he pushed himself hard during training, but the least he could do was take care of himself after.

You: “Alright, what do you feel like eating? I’ll bring you something.”

Rafe: “What? No. You just spent all day running around. You don’t have to do that.”

You: “Too late. I offered, and I’m not taking it back. So, what’ll it be?”

Rafe: “...You’re really doing this, huh?”

You: “Absolutely.”

Rafe: “Fine. Surprise me. Just nothing too fancy. I’m starving.”

You: “Got it. Be there in an hour.”

Rafe: “Angel.”

Shaking your head, you pocketed your phone and headed to the kitchen. After a quick assessment of what you had on hand, you decided on a simple but satisfying dish: chicken biryani.

Cooking helped you relax after the chaotic day. The process of measuring spices, chopping onions, and stirring the pot grounded you, your mind focused on creating something warm and filling. By the time the dish was done, the air was fragrant with the scent of saffron, cardamom, and cloves.

You packed the biryani into a container, added a side of pudding kheer for balance, and grabbed some naan for good measure. After a quick freshen-up, you were on your way to Rafe’s penthouse.

When he opened the door, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut. Rafe stood there in low-hanging sweatpants that clung to his hips, no shirt in sight, leaving every inch of his toned chest and sculpted abs on full display. His damp hair was a tousled mess, drops of water clinging to his skin, catching the light as they slid down the defined lines of his torso. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze raking over you with a mix of cocky amusement and exhaustion. The lazy grin tugging at his lips was enough to make your pulse stutter—and the way his voice dipped, low and teasing, when he finally spoke didn’t help.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who showed up. My nagging wife bearing gifts.”

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the container in your hands instead of his sexy, very sexy abs. “You want dinner or not, Cameron? ‘Cause I can take it back?”

He instantly straightened up. “Come in, Your Honor,” he stepped aside to let you in, his grin widening when he saw the bag in your hand.

The penthouse was dimly lit, the warm glow of the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You set the food on the kitchen island, trying to ignore the way he was watching you with that infuriating smirk.

You looked at your attire, and rolled your eyes. “Stop staring at my ass and grab plates,” you ordered, sounding stern.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, clearly amused, but he obeyed.

The two of you sat at the island, the meal between you. You put your hair in a bun, and said; “So, this is chicken biryani—” you pointed to it. “—and this is kheer and some naan.”

“This looks amazing, Y/N,” he let out a groan of appreciation.

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. You ever had Asian food before?”

“I had sushi and ramen with my team—”

You chuckled. “I meant South Asian food, Rafe.”

“Oh. South Asian…”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You know, Indian, Sri Lankan, Pakistani, etc… Did you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember. I eat basic white man food, to be honest.”

“I realized,” you laughed. “Well, eat well.”

Rafe took his first bite, and his eyes widened. “Yo! This is delicious, what the fuck?”

You smiled, watching as he devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Told you protein bars wouldn’t cut it—”

“You’re not going to eat?”

“I already ate,” you lied.

“Bullshit,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “Have some with me. I don’t like eating alone.”

You hesitated for a moment before giving in, grabbing a fork and joining him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, the tension of the day melting away with each bite.

For a brief moment, it didn’t feel like you were preparing for an engagement party or navigating the complicated arrangement that had brought you together. It felt easy, natural—like something that didn’t require overthinking.

You stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, rinsing off the plates and containers. Warm water rushed over your hands as you scrubbed away the remnants of biryani and naan. The scent of spices lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of the meal you’d shared. Behind you, Rafe leaned against the counter, his tall frame relaxed but his eyes fixed on you.

“You know,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the faucet, “you really don’t have to do this.”

“You’ve said that already,” you replied without turning around, focusing instead on rinsing the plate in your hand.

“Because I mean it. I can clean tomorrow,” he quipped, folding his arms across his bare chest.

A chuckle escaped you, and you tossed him a look over your shoulder. “Some of us were raised to clean up immediately after eating. It’s a brown girl thing—no one leaves the kitchen messy in my house.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Ah, so it’s cultural?”

“Hell yeah,” you replied, turning back to the sink. “If my mom ever caught me walking away from a pile of dishes, I wouldn’t live to see another day.”

“Sounds intense,” he teased, though his tone was laced with curiosity.

“You’re just white,” you shot back, and he laughed. “But also… I kind of like it,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It feels wrong to leave things undone. Like you’re disrespecting the meal or something.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, not with judgment but something that felt closer to admiration.

“You’re kind of incredible, you know that?” he said finally.

You blinked, caught off guard. “For doing the dishes? Your standards are low, Cameron.”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “No, I mean… just in general. You don’t have to cook for me or clean up after me, but you do it anyway. And you don’t even make a big deal out of it. You’re just… thoughtful.”

His words made you pause, your hands still under the running water. For a man who often masked his feelings behind sarcasm and cockiness, the sincerity in his voice hit you harder than you expected.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, “don’t get used to it. Just because I cleaned your kitchen tonight doesn’t mean I’m signing up to do it forever.”

Rafe grinned, stepping closer. “Noted. One-time deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you shut off the faucet and reached for the dish towel. “Besides, I wasn’t cleaning for you. I was cleaning for my own peace of mind.”

“Still,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “thanks. For all of it.”

You glanced over at him, caught off guard again by the softness in his tone. The cocky grin he usually wore was replaced by something more subdued, more genuine. It made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to think about.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Just food and a few dishes.”

“To you, maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter beside you. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s done something like this for me. I don’t even know the last time I had an actual home-cooked meal.”

That admission tugged at something deep inside you, a mix of sympathy and affection you weren’t quite prepared for. You focused on folding the towel in your hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks warmed.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t live off protein bars and bad decisions,” you said lightly, trying to steer the conversation back into familiar territory.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess I should count myself lucky it’s you.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. The way he was looking at you—soft, unguarded, and almost reverent—made your heart skip a beat.

“Alright, stop,” you said, breaking the moment and brushing past him toward the counter. “You’re making it weird.”

“Making what weird?” he asked, following you with an amused grin.

“Everything,” you shot back, grabbing your bag. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you slacking off while I did all the work. Next time, you’re cleaning.”

“Deal,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “As long as there’s a next time.”

You hesitated at the door, looking back at him. His smirk was still there, but so was that softness in his eyes, the one that made it hard to look away. Bag slung over your shoulder and shoes slipped back on, ready to leave Rafe’s penthouse and head home for what was left of the night. The day had drained you, and though the quiet domestic moment you’d just shared with him was nice—unexpectedly so—you still needed to recharge for tomorrow’s chaos.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” he said, almost too casually, as if trying to disguise the sincerity in his tone.

You paused, glancing back at him. “Rafe, it’s late. I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. We both need sleep.”

He shrugged, his mouth curling into that boyish grin that usually meant trouble. “So? Five more minutes won’t hurt. Sit down, relax. You’ve been running around all day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but relented, curiosity getting the better of you. “Fine. Five minutes,” you muttered, dropping your bag onto the floor again and heading to the couch.

Rafe followed you, sitting on the other end of the couch, though he shifted closer. His arm rested along the backrest, his entire posture relaxed in a way that only made you more aware of him.

“So,” he began, his tone lighter now, “what did you actually do today? Besides fighting with tablecloths and flowers, I mean.”

You groaned, leaning back into the cushions. “It feels like that’s all I did. The decorators kept bringing me options that were either too tacky or too plain. And don’t even get me started on the florists. Nina kept trying to keep me on schedule, Aisha rolled her eyes at every single arrangement, and I was stuck in the middle.”

His laugh was low and warm. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was,” you said, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips now. “But somehow, it’s all starting to come together. Slowly. Painfully. I think we’re making progress.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that quiet intensity he always seemed to have when you weren’t paying attention. “You really care about this party, huh?”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it harder to brush off the question. “Yeah, I guess I do,” you admitted softly. “I mean, if we don’t make it believable then I’d have to go back to my country, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rafe was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft light in the room cast shadows across his face, making him look more vulnerable, less guarded than usual.

“You’re putting so much thought into it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “More than anyone else would, I think.”

You shrugged, your gaze dropping to your hands. “Just doing what needs to be done. Nothing special.”

“It is special,” he said, his tone firm but gentle.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. There was something unspoken in his expression, something soft and unfamiliar that made your heart stutter.

“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, needing to break the tension. “What did you do today, besides run yourself into the ground?”

His smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Practice, drills, meetings. The usual.”

“You make it sound so thrilling,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Oh, it’s a blast,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “Nothing like running suicides and lifting until your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off. And then sitting in a room listening to people tell you how to market yourself better.”

“Sounds glamorous,” you said, leaning back into the couch with a small laugh.

Rafe chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched you. “It’s not. But then again, you make flower arrangements sound like boot camp, so I guess we’re even.”

You smiled, letting the comfortable quiet settle between you for a moment. The hum of the city outside was faint but constant, a reminder of how late it had gotten.

“I should really go,” you said, breaking the silence and sitting up.

Rafe’s hand reached out, brushing against yours as he spoke. “You don’t have to.”

The softness in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you stayed still, his fingers lingering near yours. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, charged with something neither of you were ready to name.

“Rafe,” you said gently, pulling your hand back, though your voice betrayed your hesitation.

“Stay a little longer,” he said, his eyes searching for yours. “This is… nice. Just sitting here. Talking.”

Your heart thudded in your chest at his words, and you looked away, pretending to straighten your bag. “I can’t. I’ve got another long day tomorrow, and so do you.”

He sighed but didn’t argue, leaning back into the couch. “Alright. But you owe me another five minutes next time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood. “Sure, Cameron. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedule.”

He followed you to the door again, his presence warm and steady behind you. As you stepped into the hallway, you glanced back at him, your smile softer now.

As you moved toward the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, Rafe trailed behind you, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants. The quiet between you was comfortable, a marked contrast to the constant noise of the day. Just as you reached for the handle, his voice broke the silence.

“So… my dad called today,” he said, his tone light but deliberate.

You paused, turning slightly to glance at him, curiosity flickering in your expression. “Oh? What about?”

Rafe leaned against the frame, his posture deceptively relaxed. “He wanted to ask about you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “Me? Why? Should I be flattered or scared?”

He chuckled, though it came with a hint of exasperation. “Because you’re about to be my life, and you should definitely be flattered. He’s been… curious, I guess. You’re kind of a hot topic at the moment.”

Your brow furrowed as you adjusted the strap of your bag. “What do you mean?”

Rafe shrugged, though his eyes flickered to yours briefly before looking away. “He’s been asking when he and Rose can meet you. Sarah’s been on my case about it too. She wants to meet you again. It’s like they’re more excited about this whole engagement thing than I am.”

There was an edge to his words, not quite bitterness but something close to it, and you stepped back from the door slightly, your curiosity deepening. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not bad,” he said quickly, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “It’s just… predictable. My dad’s all about appearances, and this engagement makes us look good. You make me look good.”

His words were meant to sound casual, but the weight beneath them was unmistakable. You softened your tone as you leaned against the couch. “Rafe, if you’re not comfortable with all this, you can tell me. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s just… complicated.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “How so?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “My family has this way of… making everything feel like a performance. You know? Like, they’re not just happy about this engagement because it’s a good thing for me. They’re happy because it’s a good thing for them. My dad’s already talking about how it’ll ‘strengthen the Cameron name,’ and Rose keeps mentioning how much she ‘adores your poise.’”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, your step-mother said that? About me?”

He laughed lightly, nodding. “Yeah. I think she’s obsessed with you already.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Wow. And here I thought winning over your dad would be the hard part.”

“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll grill you like a steak the second he gets a chance,” Rafe said, his tone teasing but his smile tinged with something softer. “He doesn’t trust anyone, especially not when it comes to me.”

You frowned at that, your arms crossing instinctively. “Why not? You’re… I mean, you’re his son. Shouldn’t he trust you the most?”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a split second before he masked it with another shrug. “Let’s just say my track record isn’t exactly spotless. And my dad… he’s always been more interested in results than reasons. This marriage? It’s a result he likes. That’s all.”

The raw honesty in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you stepped closer, your voice quieter now. “Rafe, if this is too much—if your family’s involvement is making it harder—I can talk to them. Set boundaries or whatever.”

He shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not your problem to fix.”

“Maybe not,” you said, your gaze unwavering, “but it’s my problem now too.”

“Such a good wife already,” he caressed your cheeks softly, the corner of his mouth twitched, his smirk returning faintly. “You’re really taking this whole ‘teamwork’ thing seriously, huh?”

“I’m a perfectionist,” you replied, matching his tone. “Can’t help it.”

He chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re too good at this, you know. My family’s already halfway in love with you, and you haven’t even met them yet.”

“Maybe I should be worried,” you teased, though there was a softness in your voice now.

“Don’t be,” he said, his tone quieter as he let his hand down your face. “If anything, they’re the ones who should be worried. You’re gonna walk in there, charm everyone without even trying, and leave me to deal with their unrealistic expectations.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Rafe found himself leaning just a little closer, caught up in the warmth of the moment.

“Well, if they’re anything like you,” you said, your voice still tinged with amusement, “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name. “They’re nothing like me,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze lingered on yours, steady and unguarded in a way that made your breath catch.

“Rafe…” you began, your voice trailing off as his expression shifted ever so slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face.

But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. He straightened, his usual smirk slipping back into place like a mask. “You should probably get some rest,” he said, his tone lighter now. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but nodded. “Yeah. You too.”

He followed you to the door, his presence steady behind you as you stepped into the hallway. As you turned back to glance at him one last time, his expression softened again, his blue eyes holding yours for a beat longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Goodnight, Rafe,” you replied, your chest tightening slightly as you walked away, the weight of his gaze following you long after you’d gone.

chapter ten

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