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[monstersholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration ‘Choose your own adventure’ story

Orc x fem!reader— cum eating, dry humping, fingering, voyeurism, rough sex, clitoral stimulation

Pt1

“Hey neighbor, I was just talking about you,” your hot Wolf Hybrid neighbor says as you walk over to his little group hanging out in his driveway.

His Orc, Naga, and Wolf friends all flash you a knowing smirk, their varying fangs glimmering sends a heat in your belly before you quickly stop yourself. You had to tone your horny ass self down. You didn’t wanna make a bad impression on a new city of people by being desperate for everyone’s cocks. You didn’t think that would fly here. As they stare your cheeks begin to heat up in a way you know is noticeable.

“Mentioned how I wanted to bring over a cup of coffee I made you,” he adds as if sensing your thoughts and trying to reassure you.

So he wasn’t going around talking about you to all his friends? Something tells you that’s not exactly true as his eyes gleam with arousal. You imagine it as you take the cup of coffee from his hands. Your hot neighbor sitting around with his equally hot friends, going over every little dirty detail. Raving about how good your tight cunt felt around his thick cock. All of them growing hard as he recounted the noises you made and how desperate you were to be filled while imagining it was them with you instead.

A choked whimper escapes you that you quickly try and hide beneath a pleased hum. You try your best to look casual as you subtly rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. But you’re briefly brought back to reality as your hot neighbor hands you the mug of coffee.

“Thank you for this, but—“ you say as you bring the mug to your lips only for your neighbor to brush a clawed finger along the edge of the cup and tilt it up, forcing you to take long gulps of the nicely warm drink. You meet his burning gaze, unable to look away, the tension simmering between you. And in front of all his friends. Fuck you can feel how wet you’re getting.

When he finally removes his finger you lower the cup with only a bit less than half left. Your mouth smacks as the taste bursts across your tongue. It was bitter as you expected coffee to be but also a bit sweet and… salty? It was certainly creamier than you expected it to be. You liked it. Probably more than you liked whatever blend you usually get. You’ll have to ask what his special ingredient is later.

“Thank you again but I was wondering if you guys could give me a ride? I’m in a really tough spot and I just need someone to get me going,” you say, voice strangely huskier than normal.

You clear your throat, glancing away, and look back up to all four of these damn fine men staring down at you as if they’re about to pounce. Your pussy flutters, clamping down around nothing at the thought of them actually doing just that. Their claws digging into your plush form, fangs grazing your sensitive skin, their big tongues ravaging your body to prepare you for their giant cocks.

“Work that is,” you add, voice growing husky all over again.

Your Wolf Hybrid neighbor chuckles darkly, the sound shooting right down to your core. He glances at his friends and a silent conversation passes between them. Then all of them are moving toward the car as if suddenly eager to get in.

“C’mon, sweetheart. We’re headed to work ourselves but we’ll get you off. Who are we to deny someone as cute as you?” He says smoothly, his raspy voice making that sound much more suggestive than you think he meant to.

Your hot neighbor rounds the car, taking the drivers seat. While his Wolf Hybrid friend quickly takes passenger. As if he didn’t want you getting to it first.

“You’ll have to ride in my lap though,” His Orc friend immediately says with a smirk as he hops in the backseat of the car. You follow after him, not wanting anymore seats taken from you.

“And why would I do that?” You ask, not wanting him to know how much you like the idea.

Just as you’re about to sit in the middle seat instead, the Orc’s giant hands are gripping your waist and plopping you down in his lap. Before you can argue or pretend to complain, the Naga gets in last and he curls half his long rattling tail into the middle seat while the rest takes up the remaining one.

“There’sss no more room,” the Naga says, forked tongue slipping out as he speaks and a second later his eyes dilate.

You blush, knowing he can probably taste your arousal in the air. In fact, they all probably can. The realization has you blushing deeper and growing wetter on the hot Orc. Especially as the Orc tugs you closer to his chest and you can feel the distinct bulge of his half-erect cock pressing deliciously along your clothed slit.

Hot neighbor starts on his way and you share your new place of work with them. They’ll know exactly where you are now nearly every day. It sends a strange thrill through you. Wolf Hybrid neighbor tells you that it’s on the way to their place so they’ll drop you off first but that it might take a little longer. They usually like to down the back roads.

You find that you don’t mind as you’re a lot more than just comfortable sitting in the hot Orc’s lap. That is until they actually start driving down the back roads and their… bumpy terrain.

A small grunt escapes you, eyes widening as the car starts rocking. Each jolt of the car has the Orc’s hardening length rubbing right up against your pussy. Your throat tightens as you try and choke down your moans. The Orc feels huge and he’s rubbing over every inch of your cunt. You swear you feel him rocking in sync with the rock. But what would be crazy.

Small talk fills the car and you’re grateful no one seems to be able to notice your inner torment. Small whines leave you as you practically bounce on the Orc’s clothed dick. It sends shocks through your system and you quickly grow more and more needy. The need to be filled and stuffed full itching at your skin.

“I think you’re wet enough f’me now, sweetheart. My patience grows thin. Fuckin’ need to get inside ya,” the Orc says, breaking you out of your lustful daze. It’s only then you register his panting breaths and the way everyone’s eyes shift toward you in the car.

“W-what?”

You yelp as the Orc jerks off your slacks and panties in one swift move and hooks your legs over each of his knees, spreading you wide for the whole car to see. Your glistening folds spasm as they’re exposed to the cold air.

Thoughts run through your head at a mile a minute. You should want to stop this. To scramble off this sexy Orc’s lap. But you only get more turned on, your arousal gushing out of you at the thought of him so suddenly taking you.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been wantin’ to fuck me since your fine ass walked over. That’s how this place works, right?” The Orc asks, almost mockingly.

His words wash over you, clouding your mind, as his hands explore your body. Slightly clawed fingers trail down and dip into your soaked folds. A low moan leaves you and instead of trying to get away you melt back into his chest, hips rolling with the movement of his fingers. He takes the time to prep you for his length and it slowly has you becoming an absolute mess in his lap. And you haven’t even had his cock yet.

You suck in a sharp breath as the hot Orc’s fingers leave you only to replace them with his thick angry tip. His pre-cum creating an even bigger mess of you. Your mind threatens to gain clarity again but then the Orc is pushing you down and splitting you open on his cock.

“Nngh! Ooh… Oh fuck,” you cry out, throwing your head back. The stretch of his girth forcing your gummy walls to accommodate him has your eyes rolling back. The deeper he goes the more you swear you’ve never been filled this good in your life.

The fact that you’re in a car full of men shifts back to the front of your mind and you lift your head to see them all still watching you with a fierce intensity.

Your hot neighbor continues to drive but you notice the way his eyes keep flicking back to you in the mirror. While his Wolf Hybrid and Naga friends each have all their cocks out, languidly stroking them to the sight of you stretched pretty on their friend’s cock. You whimper, basking in the attention, and a second later the Orc starts slamming you down on his massive cock.

“Fuck, dude, you were right. What a perfect pussy. They’re drenched f’me, just slipped right in. So warm and tight. Poor thing won’t get a moments rest in this place,” the Orc huffs and the car erupts into soft breathless laughter.

Aha! You knew your hot neighbor had talked about you with them. The praise is all you focus on and it has your walls squeezing the Orc’s length, wanting to make him go mad. A low growl vibrates from his chest to your back as he feels you get even tighter. His claws sink into your hips as he starts using his grip to fuck his cock up into you at a bruising pace. His thrusts syncing up perfectly with the rocky jostling of the car that only seems to be getting worse.

You cry out as the car’s movements also deepens the Orc’s momentum. You swear you can feel his dick all the way up in your throat. He’s stuffing you so full of him you don’t know if you can take it. You arch back into the Orc, putting on a show for him and everyone in the car. Through hooded eyes you watch as they furiously pump themselves to the sight of your body. It gets you so fucking hot. Their lustful eyes raking over your form. All of them wanting a piece of you, all of them jealous of the one who gets to fuck you.

The Naga flicks out his tail, the rattle on its tip moves in between your legs, wanting to do anything he can to give you more pleasure. You wait with bated breath and shriek as he rattles his tail, the vibration sending sparks throughout your body. The Orc snarls in your ear and picks up pace, jerking up his hips and meeting your thrusts in a way that has your toes curling.

“How do they look?” Your hot neighbor growls, knuckles white on the steering wheel, and sounding borderline feral. His cock aching against his slacks.

“They look so fucking sexy, man. Their tight pussy can barely take him,” His Wolf Hybrid friend moans, his hips twitching as he jerks himself off even harder.

“But they’re doing ssso well. Pretty thing will be ruined for anyone else,” the Naga adds, roughly rattling his tail against your clit. He thrusts up into each of his hands that pump at both of his dicks. You mewl, vision blurring at the intensity that wracks through you.

“Fuck, I think they’re about to cum!” One of them shouts but you’re too lost in the haze of pleasure to focus on which one it is. But then the Orc’s hot breath is curling around your ear and your mind clears enough to hear his rumbling voice.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuckin’ let go and cum on my cock. Squeeze the damn life out of me, you can do it.”

The cord snaps and jaw drops, fierce screams echo throughout the car as you explode all over his cock. Waves of ecstasy wash over you and you try your best not to pass out. The sight of you coming is a vision of pure art and none of the other men can hold on much longer.

The Naga lets go first, shooting his cum over any inch of bare skin he can reach. The Wolf Hybrid is close to follow in his friend’s footsteps as he cums all over you two. Seeing you all wrecked and messy quickly has the Orc slamming into you, burying himself to the hilt and shooting spurt after spurt of his cum deep inside you.

“Such a pretty slut you are, sweetheart. So easily made a mess from our cocks. You’re perfect,” the Orc rasps in your ear and you preen under his praise.

The rest of the car ride is spent with the monsters cleaning you up as you lay limply in the Orc’s lap. You take the time to regain your strength and you hope you’ll be able to feel your legs enough to walk into work.

When you arrive your hot neighbor gets out and greets you as the door opens. He helps you out and you immediately melt into his embrace. Your Wolf Hybrid neighbor laughs, leaning down and kissing the crown of your head.

“Next time, darling. Now get into work,” he murmurs intimately in your ear. Giving your butt a nudging pat.

As you walk in on wobbly legs, you glance around the lobby, looking for the headhunter that recruited you. He was meant to meet you and show you the ropes of the job. But he isn’t anywhere to be seen and you wonder what you’ll do next. You could ask the Demon Guard by the door where you could find him, head down the closest hall and hope you find the headhunter down one of the rooms, or you could head to your Minotaur Boss’ office and hope he can show you around.

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅵ▬ ⁽ 𝓋𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₄˖₈ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, cringey, NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, vampire/human, unprotected sex, creampie, whiny vampire, overstimulation, spit kink, sloppy kisses, aphrodisiac, blood, dubcon, reader is lowkey at fault but not at the same time. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : ya'll this is so rushed, m'sorry-- i rlly just wanted to get this out, probably won't be as good as the others but enjoy.

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: home for winter break, you find yourself with the house to yourself, right?

꒰subby male!vampire ₊⊹ dom afab!reader꒱

 “ Thanks, Jaime, I’ll see you later. ” 

𝒜fter bidding farewell to your best friend, you stand there, gazing at the car as it swiftly disappears into the night. With your trusty suitcase in tow, you make your way up the dimly lit driveway, carefully sifting through your bag in search of the elusive house key. A sense of relief washed over you as your fingers finally closed around the icy touch of the silver key. Clutching it firmly, you navigate the treacherous icy surface, mindful of each step to avoid any slips or falls.

  Finally making it to the porch stairs, you exerted all your strength to hoist your suitcase up the steps, narrowly avoiding a couple of near-slips along the way. With a sigh of relief, you conquered the last stair, feeling a surge of triumph as you stepped onto the snow-free porch. With ease, you maneuvered your luggage towards the door, unfurling your hand to use the key. It takes a few attempts, but you eventually manage to insert it into the lock and turn the doorknob.

   As you enter the house, darkness envelopes you, with not a single light illuminating the space. However, the comforting warmth enveloping the space indicated that your mother had considerately left the heating on for your arrival. Leaving your suitcase by the entrance, you closed the door and secured it with a lock.

   As you flick the switch, the overhead ceiling light floods the living room with its warm glow, casting away the shadows that had shrouded the space. Eagerly, you venture further into the house, calling out for your siblings who were supposed to be there to welcome you home. However, the silence that greets you is deafening, and the absence of any movement from the game room basement or upstairs is disconcerting. 

   With a sigh, you kick off your shoes and settle down, making yourself comfortable in the unfamiliar solitude. Unlike your siblings, who seem to constantly rely on your mother's support without contributing much themselves, you have always been driven and focused on your education. Your hard work paid off, as you graduated high school with an impressive GPA and secured a spot in your dream college. Now, during winter break, you find yourself back in the comfort of your childhood home, enjoying a well-deserved respite from your academic endeavors.

 The urge to change overwhelms you, especially with the discomfort of your clothes clinging too tightly and irritating your skin. With each step towards the staircase, you flick on every light switch within reach, flooding the house with light. You silently prayed that none of your siblings had invaded your personal space while you were away, either napping or snacking. 

  The creaky ascent up the stairs quickened your heartbeat, the loud squeaks echoing through the otherwise quiet house. A sense of unease washed over you, unsure of who might be lurking around. Finally reaching the top, you let out a sigh of relief upon seeing your room to the left.

  Astonishingly, the room appears exactly as you had left it, save for a few garments strewn about, most likely belonging to your sister. Other than that, everything seems to be in order.  Closing the door behind you, you proceed to delve into your drawers, hastily extracting an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts. 

  In a swift motion, you discard your jeans and let out a grunt as you struggle to remove the turtleneck that has somehow become entangled around your head. Finally freeing yourself from its clutches, you toss it aside with a frustrated huff, swiftly replacing it with the shorts and shirt you had chosen.

  A sudden pang of pain and the rumbling noise emanating from your stomach causes you to grimace, prompting you to clutch your abdomen tightly; evidently, you were famished. Your plans of drifting off to sleep were quickly dashed as you reached for your phone and descended the stairs. 

   Unsure of the fridge's contents, you toyed with the idea of ordering food through DoorDash. Fortunately, to your relief and your wallet's delight, a couple of chicken breasts and broccoli were found in the freezer. Taking the frozen items, you hesitated at the thought of waiting for them to thaw. Without delay, you knelt down and retrieved a silver mixing bowl from the nearest cabinet.

  You get up with a groan, muttering to yourself that you’re getting old. As you twist the faucet handle, you wait for the water to run hot, capable of scalding your skin upon contact. Placing a bowl beneath the gushing stream, you watch as it gradually fills up, before finally turning off the flow and submerging the chicken and broccoli within its liquid confines. Although it would require some time, it was certainly preferable to enduring hours of waiting for the ingredients to thaw. 

  Finding yourself in the living room, you idly scroll through the vast expanse of social media, feeling an overwhelming sense of boredom engulfing your very being. Your attention is not truly captivated by the screen of your phone; instead, your mind wanders aimlessly, causing your vision to blur as a whirlwind of thoughts race through the corridors of your consciousness. Your mind is practically blank, lost in a daze.

   A sudden sound from the basement catches your attention, causing your ears to twitch and tingle. You snap back to reality, leaping off the couch in a heartbeat. The recent reports of vampires breaching human borders and the rising death toll flood your mind.

 The Creatures of the Night, or maybe even Leeches, as they were sometimes referred to- didn't bother you all that much. They were just a tad different from the general population and usually didn't target humans— except for the rare cases highlighted in the news. You had never encountered one personally, but you weren't about to form an opinion based on how the media depicted them as monstrous beings.

 Before you know it, your internal monologue has whisked you away from the sounds in the basement, the thought completely vanishing from your mind. You slowly make your way back to the kitchen, dragging your feet with each step. To your surprise, the chicken is already thawed when you inspect it, bringing a smile to your face as you remove it from the now lukewarm water.

While you may not be a master chef, you can still whip up a decent bowl of cereal or a tasty peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The concept of cooking has always been a bit intimidating for you, but the Air Fryer in front of you is a game-changer. 

  You carefully line the inside with foil, place your seasoned chicken inside, add a dollop of butter, and close the lid before hitting start. As the chicken cooks, you decide to skip heating up your broccoli for now. A sudden chill makes you shiver, causing you to furrow your brows as the cool breeze brushes against your exposed legs.

A sudden blast of icy wind makes you shudder and you instinctively turn around in search of its source. Your heart skips a beat as you catch sight of the slightly ajar back door, allowing delicate flakes of snow to sneak their way inside the cozy home. Taking a deep breath, you try to calm your racing thoughts, considering the possibility that your mischievous siblings might be behind this chilling surprise, as they often are. 

   You list off their names, telling them that you’re not in the mood for whatever game they’re playing, and then add that if they want something to eat, then come to the kitchen. However, to your dismay, there is no sign of movement or even a faint giggle, which sends a wave of unease coursing through your veins. The absence of their usual inability to keep quiet when plotting a prank fills you with a sense of foreboding.

As you stand there, your body tenses up, your muscles rigid and your palms sweaty. Reacting swiftly, you reach for a knife from the drawer, gripping it tightly until your knuckles ache. With cautious steps, you make your way towards the basement stairs, carefully descending the first four steps and finally reaching the landing where you promptly shut the door. 

  The frigid cold that once assaulted your skin is now left behind, but before you can proceed any further, an unsettling wetness seeps into your sock – warm and thick.  Instantly, you freeze in place, pressing yourself against the wall for support, and slowly lift your foot to investigate. A wave of revulsion washes over you as you discover a bloodstain on your lilac-colored sock. Overcome with disgust, you swiftly remove the tainted sock and discard it. 

As you descend the basement stairs, your eyes fixate on the blood trail that stretches all the way down, staining the carpeted flooring. A lump forms in your throat, causing you to swallow heavily, as you carefully navigate your way down, avoiding the blood. 

 The basement is not completely devoid of light, thanks to the LED lights left on by one of your siblings, but the crimson hue they emit adds an unsettling aura to the eerie atmosphere. The knife in your hand feels slippery, the perspiration on your palm evident against the black handle. Swiftly switching hands, you finally step onto the carpeted surface. In front of you lies a disheveled basement, with clothes strewn haphazardly and gaming consoles still powered on, emitting warm air.

 No one is there, you can’t see anyone. Your mind drifts away, causing your eyes to lose focus and your senses to become more acute. Suddenly, a sound breaks the silence - the sound of labored breathing and faint, barely audible whimpers. Your attention is immediately drawn to a dark object on the floor, which you had mistaken for a bean bag chair.

Against your better judgment, you begin to cautiously approach the injured person. They’re obviously injured, and badly so. Without even realizing it, you release your tight hold on your weapon. Slowly, you lower yourself onto the carpeted floor and start crawling towards them.

   The person appears disoriented, with their head swaying from side to side and their hand resting loosely on their injury. You carefully set your knife aside and move closer until you can hear their breathing clearly without any difficulty. Your hands automatically reach out towards their face, softly resting on their cheeks.

 As you carefully tilt their head upwards, you find yourself staring at a pair of wispy lashes, set in a devilishly attractive face with pale skin. The sight of fangs delicately touching his full bottom lip doesn't escape your notice. Fear is not your immediate reaction, though there's a hint of it lingering in the background, it doesn't overpower your growing fascination with the scene unfolding before you.

 With your left still hand resting on his cheek, your other hand moves down his body, and you suddenly gasp as you feel the presence of a large stake piercing through his stomach. How could you have missed such a significant detail earlier? Nevertheless, you choose not to dwell on it any further.

After careful consideration, it became evident that his current predicament could be attributed to a group known as the Hunters. These individuals, predominantly middle-aged men, harbored an irrational aversion towards coexisting with Vampires. Their actions were nothing short of despicable, as they embarked on a merciless killing spree, sparing no one, not even innocent children; they were sick bastards.

 Despite your firm pat on his cheek, he stays incoherent, lost in a world of pain, you're sure. Although filled with trepidation, you understand that it's necessary to remove the stake, it isn’t doing him any good to keep it inside. With a surge of determination, you grasp the wooden object and swiftly extract it, allowing it to drop onto the floor, quickly placing your free hand against his wound. Tenderly, you caress his cheek with your thumb, providing solace as he emits a loud groan and breathes heavily. "It's alright, shh."

The sensation of his blood gushing past your fingers sends a chilling shiver down your spine, as it saturates the carpet beneath you without any signs of slowing either. A momentary wave of panic washes over you, prompting you to swiftly retract your hand and grasp the knife nearby. Trembling with fear, you bring the blade up to your neck, carefully making a shallow incision, the slippery blade adding to your unease.

Despite the struggle, you manage to pull his body closer to yours, your right hand, stained with blood, finding the back of his head and guiding it towards the column of your neck. It takes a moment, but eventually, he stirs, his lips parting and his tongue darting out to taste the crimson liquid trickling down your shoulder. 

A shiver runs through your entire being, and you attempt to calm yourself. The warmth of his tongue against your skin is a soothing sensation as it leisurely glides over you, diligently lapping up the spilled blood. Your body tenses as his fangs graze your flesh before finally piercing it, yet surprisingly, there is no pain, only a mild discomfort that quickly dissipates.

You jolt when he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you closer to his body, his face nuzzled against your neck. You find yourself gripping his hair, fingers intertwined in his tresses. Time seems to stretch on endlessly as he continues to drink from you, leaving you feeling lightheaded. When you manage to break free from his hold, he surprisingly allows you to step back, though he keeps a firm grasp on your slumped body.

As you gaze at him you notice your blood adorns his lips like a peculiar shade of lipstick, and the sight of his tongue darting out to taste it causes the bite mark to throb, sending delightful tingles coursing through your entire body. Despite the gentleness with which he holds you, his verdant eyes are filled with unadulterated horror and fear. 

  You steal a quick glance at his wound, only to find that the bleeding has ceased completely, suggesting that the injury is already healing itself. Swiftly, he rises from the floor, effortlessly lifting you in his arms and laying you on the basement couch. 

Your body quivers and becomes drenched in sweat, gradually sinking into the softness of the couch. What kind of bizarre scenario is unfolding here? You want to reassure this stranger that you're okay, even though he almost drank you dry. Perhaps it's the genuine concern and remorse in his eyes, but as soon as you hear his voice, you find yourself forgiving him effortlessly. His voice is gentle, and sweet. As the LED lights gradually fade from your vision, so does the presence of the vampire intruder.

You awaken to find yourself disoriented, unsure of how much time has passed. As you regain some form of consciousness, you notice the vampire boy beside you, his green eyes bright and attentive. His cheeks and eyes are red from crying and rubbing the tears away, you notice. His lashes are wet as well, his lips pouty and his knees tucked underneath himself. The red glow of the LEDs cast an eerie light on the scene, illuminating his features as you turn to face him, watching as he perks up. 

   “ You’re awake! ” 

You remain silent, feeling the stiffness in your neck and the overwhelming urge to return to sleep. However, he prevents that from happening by placing his hand on your thigh, gently prodding you to wake up. Reluctantly, you open your eyes, questioning why you are so composed in such a strange scenario. As you reach up to touch your neck, you recoil at the two, very deep holes left in your skin. 

Blushing furiously, the vampire boy fidgeted with his fingers, his eyes avoiding direct contact with yours. "M'sorry, didn't mean to-- really." he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. After a brief pause, he mustered the courage to meet your steady, stoic, and sleepy stare, his ears now tinged with a rosy hue. "I-I can make it go away if you want? My saliva has healing properties, b-but it's also, um--." The boy's voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words, too flustered to realize that you had tuned out his words completely.

Upon returning his attention to you, he offers yet another apology, his voice cute and soft. Feeling too weary to reply and not particularly inclined to elaborate on the injury to your loved ones, you emit a grunt of agreement towards his proposition. Although this turn of events was somewhat underwhelming compared to your initial expectations, you chose not to voice any grievances.

"My name is Elias, by the way," he reveals abruptly, his bottom lip finding refuge in his mouth as a sign of his nervousness. With wide green eyes, he hastily scans your face, his heart skipping a beat as your gaze meets his, seemingly uninterested. This lack of enthusiasm from you triggers a swarm of butterflies in his stomach, creating a whirlwind of emotions within him. You emit a soft hum and tilt your head slightly. He looks worried for a moment, but then, he leans in, resting his head in the curve of your neck, his warm tongue gliding smoothly across your skin like silk.

The sensation of your skin repairing itself is undeniably peculiar, and it's not something you'd willingly want to go through again. He pulls away slowly, swallowing nervously. "H-how do you feel?" Your eyes meet his, and a faint smile graces your lips, though it appears drowsy and unsteady, it still manages to make his cheeks blush. "I feel fine." The sound of your voice causes his breath to catch, it's both gentle and resolute, igniting a warmth that spreads through his chest.

A searing heat rises from underneath your skin, causing a scorching sensation to travel from your calves to your thighs, you can't help but furrow your eyebrows in response. The calmness that enveloped your heart mere moments ago is now replaced by a thunderous pounding, almost reaching a level of pain, within your ribcage.

Elias gazes anxiously as your skin becomes shiny with sweat, your lips parting to release warm, shallow breaths. Your face is flushed with warmth and a twitch starts in your eyebrows. The blonde sniffles and dabs at your forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, frowning softly. "M'sorry, I-I told you that this would happen." His tone carries a hint of accusation, but your sharp, unfocused stare prompts him to apologize softly. "Didn't want this to happen, sorry." You brush his hand from your face and let out a shuddering breath, your breast tender and achy. "Shh, you're so loud. What the hell is happening?"

The vampire with blonde hair appears momentarily perplexed, but then his attractive green eyes gradually widen, displaying a look of regret. "My saliva can heal people, but it also acts as a... s-stimulant," Elias swallows thickly as you sit up slowly, your shirt becoming sheer from the copious amount of sweat you're drenched in. ".. an aphrodisiac." 

"Why didn't you say anything?" You rasp, allowing your head to rest heavily on the couch cushions. Elias pouts, tears stinging his eyes. "I did! It's your fault for not listening!" Tilting your head, your face contorts with anger, causing Elias to tightly squeeze his thighs together. "Huh? My fault?" Your words taper off slowly before you let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

 Leaning in, you grasp his cheeks firmly, pulling him closer until your breaths intermingle, feeling a shiver run through you as he places his hands on your thighs for support, his cheeks flushed with color. "Regardless, you'll help me, won't you?"

Before he can question what you mean, he lets out a yelp when you pounce on him, lips pressing against his in haste. He lets out a soft whimper, gripping onto your shirt tightly, surrendering to your dominance. Elias savors the flavor of your kiss, finding it both sweet and familiar. You are completely in charge of this encounter, dominating him with your mouth effortlessly. Your tongue sliding against his own in a violent dance, your saliva is as sweet as your blood and pools down his cheeks. You are absolutely captivating.

With a gentle pull, you withdraw, your eyes hooded and your lips swollen, causing a flush to spread across his face. He lies there, surrendering to your touch, as your hands caress his body. A breathy, hiccuping moan escapes his lips when you firmly grasp him through his pants, while your mouth explores his neck, kissing and sucking on his pale skin. It seems effortless for you to mark him as your own.

"W-wait, you're not thinki-" In a moment of hesitation, he halts his words, captivated by the sight of you retreating, gracefully slipping the oversized shirt over your head— breast spilling out from the cotton. The vampire lies there, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his face adorned with a cute expression. Unable to resist, you lean down and kiss him silly again. You love the way he eagerly searches for your lips, moaning into your mouth and clenching his eyes shut. 

 Lost in the fog of your drugged state, you clumsily distance yourself from him, regaining your balance and enticingly sliding your shorts down your legs, with your panties obediently following suit. The vampire stares at you with pure awe in his eyes, begging for you to do something to him. 

By now, he’s slightly sat up, looking up at you with expecting eyes. You nonchalantly approach him, barely able to contain your laughter as he attempts to guide you onto his lap. You proceed until you reach his craned neck. You confidently straddle his face, sensually lowering your dripping cunt onto his parted lips. 

You run your fingers through his tousled blonde locks, gazing deeply into his eyes. With a condescending tilt of your head, you tighten your hold. "You'll behave for me, won't you? You can manage that, especially after what you did to me." Elias whimpers against your pussy at your accusation and nods eagerly with wide, teary eyes and flushed ears. Your pleased smile makes his cock throb within his pants and he instinctively squeezes his thighs together once more.

 The vampire eagerly laps at your pussy, moaning at how good you taste on his tongue, his free hand gliding up your legs to settle on your hips softly. He adores the way your fingers entwine in his hair, gripping tightly, as your hips sway and gyrate against his mouth. You’re using him like he’s a toy, seemingly unconcerned about the possibility of causing him pain ( which you aren’t. ) 

 The intoxicating sound of your moans fills the air, a tantalizing melody that captivates him completely. They aren't high-pitched or forced, but a velvety resonance, deep and alluring. The occasional hitch in your breath and the graceful tilt of your head let him know that he’s doing good. 

As he takes your puffy clit into his mouth, a fang gently scrapes over your, the potent aphrodisiac intensifying the already heightened sensitivity. Elias whines as you cum, his mouth and chin drenched in your release. With quivering thighs you press against his tongue, grinding against it with increasing urgency, while a soft mewl escapes your lips, your pussy fluttering against his eager mouth. 

   With shaky legs you wiggle off of him, straddling his waist and claiming his lips in a sloppy kiss, groaning at the sweet, musky taste of your arousal on his tongue. Elias' cock throbs. It's thick and hard in his pants, and he needily rubs his bulge against your pulsating  cunt, with desperate whimpers.

He’s moaning at the sound of your voice, it's mocking and patronizing. He looks up at you through bleary, pussy drunk eyes, drooling over himself. You giggle at this and wipe it away with your thumb, smearing it across his lips. His tongue eagerly darts out to kitten lick your finger. “Such a good boy, d'you like eating my pussy?” The vampire is nodding fervently, cock twitching in his pants when you snicker, brushing your lips against his teasingly.  “I want to hear you say it, say you liked eating my pussy.”

He doesn't hold back, eager to please you. “I loved eating your pussy s'much. You taste s'good.” His cheeks flush at his explicit words, but the dark pleasure that resides in your eyes makes up for it. “Good job, was that so hard puppy?” Elias' cock jumps at the sound of your praise and he shakes his head, biting his lip, "Mhm mhn." He jolts, startled as you undo his jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly.

Your eyes stay glued to his as you drool onto your hand, hand slipping down his boxers. He's stiff, pulsating in your warm, slick grasp. He's long and thick but you think nothing of it. Your hand moves deliberately, rolling down his shaft in a slow, fisting motion, his green eyes blurry and locked on yours. Your thumb caresses his sensitive tip, gathering the glistening droplets of precum and using it as lube. Elias whines and bucks his hips, eyebrows furrowing and chest heaving.

You grin at his fucked out face and speed up, focusing your hand on his sensitive, leaky tip. "Does it feel good?" He’s nodding quickly, leaning forward to kiss you sweetly, sucking shyly on your tongue. He almost cums in your hand when you pull away, tongue lolling out. 

With fervent kisses and fervid praises, you leave a trail of marks upon his body. His cock throbs with a delicious ache, his orgasm building slowly as you unknowingly edge him, tears prick his eyes as you swipe across his overly sensitive tip again. His moans are like symphonies, whining and begging for you to make him cum. 

 “ N-no more, I can’t, please, let me c-cum, please. I’ll do anything, just p-please.” His words stumble out, his hips jerking involuntarily. You pause for a second, then give in, planting a tender kiss on his lips. You press him down against the velvety carpet, positioning your sloppy pussy over his cock, and swaying your hips, sliding him through your swollen folds, his mushroom tip catching on your clenching hole. 

Smiling at his tortured face, you slowly sink onto his cock, your thighs shaking as he stretches you out in the most delicious way. Elias buries his face into the carpet, a deep groan leaving his lips. Your gummy, slick walls squeeze him in a vice grip, reluctantly yielding to his thickness. "Mmph--!! You're too tight, wait, s'too much." 

    Ignoring his prattling you bring your hands up to rest against his stomach, lifting from his cock before dropping back down to take the rest of him inside of you. An overwhelming tingling causes your pussy to flutter around him, your cheeks flushing and a whine escaping your lips. "You're so big...you feel s'good." You halfheartedly snicker when he twitches inside of you at the praise.

Without waiting, you start a bruising pace, bouncing on his cock and grinding your engorged clit into his pelvis. His cock bullies your cervix, his hot and slick precum coating your womb. He whimpers, hands gripping the fat of your hips, you look absolutely stunning. Your breasts sway temptingly in front of his face and he can't help but draw a stiffened nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling, careful of his fangs against your skin.

Your hips are moving quicker now, your moans getting louder as you shower him with sweet words and adorable nicknames, pushing him closer to the edge. When you stop right on his sensitive tip and grind, he’s seeing stars. He’s cumming hard and long, thick, copious amounts of cum flooding your womb in hot spurts. He unlatches from your nipple, his head gently thumping against the carpet softly and back arching, his hips bucking and griding deftly into your spongey nerves, your pussy creaming around him. "M-mhmn! Cumming, m'cumming!" He whimpers, grip tightening on your waist. 

Elias whines softly as you continue to bounce on his overly sensitive cock, his thick cum dripping onto his thighs. He tosses his head back and cries out, your cunt squeezing his member affectionately. “Such a good boy, you did so well.” The praise makes him flush and your lips slant over his in a kiss, your back bowing as your thighs shake, convulsing around him as you cum. You pull away, chest heaving. 

"Are y-." He pauses as your eyes flutter closed and you collapse against him. Catching his breath, he let himself lay there, holding you close, the aphrodisiac must’ve worn off. His eyes start to slip shut after a few minutes but he tenses when he hears footsteps from upstairs. 

"Honey! We're back!"

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter two

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: backyard barbecues, the local market, and an unexpected discovery that has you wondering what exactly you may have just gotten yourself into. (5k)

warnings: angst (this early on, i know i'm sorry but it's for the plot i promise <3), lando and max f bickering like an old married couple

a/n: she's here!!!! sorry it took a little longer than expected but i hope you all enjoy this chapter :) pls feel free to come chat in my asks if you want to, i'd love to hear what everyone think about it so far!

previous chapter | masterlist

“Are these guys rich or something?”

Camille voices exactly the thought running through your mind as you roll to a stop to the address Lando had texted you yesterday, gawking out at the sprawling acreage in front of you. 

You peer at the impressive villa through the windshield, taking in everything with baited breath. She’s absolutely right. 

This house has to be two, if not three times the size of the one you’re all staying at, and that’s just what you can see so far. Vines bursting with colorful flowers crawl up white stone walls, curling around trellises of even more foliage, shutters on huge windows. There’s even a massive fountain in the middle of the courtyard, pristine marble, spewing crystal clear water in streams. 

It’s a classic old money countryside villa—worth millions, you assume, not even taking in the gathering of vintage and expensive sports cars parked along the cobblestone driveway. You suddenly feel so, so small compared to the extravagance of just the exterior of the place. 

Who are these people? 

A guy with brown curls similar to Lando’s pulls open the door when you ring the bell, in the middle of yelling something at someone further inside the house, before turning his gaze on you all. His face lights up in recognition at the sight of you. “Oh, hey, you’re the girl Lando won’t shut up about! I’m Max, but I’m sure he’s told you all about me, hasn’t he?” 

So this is Max. Lando’s told you a little about him, but mainly just funny stories. You wonder if Max knows his best friend is going around telling girls he’s just met about the time Max walked into a glass sliding door. 

“A little bit, not much. It’s nice to put a face to the name though!” You say politely. 

Max sighs dramatically, shaking his head in faux disappointment. He and Lando must be close. “I’m the best part of his life, and he doesn’t think to share it! What a knob. Anyways, welcome, come on in, make yourselves at home!” 

He ushers you all inside, leading you through the house and out huge double French doors leading to the backyard. The rest of their group sits on couches gathered around a stone fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting amongst themselves until they see you all coming. Max does the introductions between your two groups, but there’s one person missing. The one person you were looking forward to seeing again is nowhere to be found. 

Max must notice how your eyes search for Lando, because he grins knowingly. “He’ll be out in a bit. Work called.” 

“Oh, what does he do?” Samira chimes in. You fight the urge to throw a stone at her, because you know what she’s doing. She’s getting information on Lando because you haven’t got the guts to do it yourself yet. 

“Has he not told you yet?” Max raises a brow, taking a sip of his drink. When you shake your head, he presses his lips together, like he’s debating whether or not to tell you himself. “Yeah, sorry, I think I’m gonna stay out of this one. He gets pissy when I meddle with his budding relationships.” 

Budding relationship. Your face flames hot at the insinuation, but Samira takes it in stride, raising a skeptical brow. 

“What, is he in the mafia or something?” 

“‘Course not, that’s ridiculous. Pretty boy like him, he’d never make it in the mafia,” Max snorts. “No, he’s…look, it’s not really my place to say. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready.” 

Lando materializes from inside at that very moment, brows furrowed. There’s a tic going off in his jaw and he looks a little pissed off about something, but as soon as he looks up and sees that there’s company, he composes himself in a split second. 

“Hey, guys!” He chirps, hand raising in a wave. He makes his way over to where you all are, plopping down in the empty spot beside you without hesitation. “Glad you could make it.” 

“Thanks for the invite,” Maren replies, ever the polite one. “And the coffee yesterday.” 

Max makes an offended noise from the back of his throat at his friend. “You bought them coffee yesterday? Where was mine? You never buy me coffee.” 

“Mate, you don’t even drink coffee!” 

“Maybe I would if you bought it for me!” 

The two boys continue to bicker with each other in the same way all evening, which leads you to believe this is just how they are with one another. It gives Lando another dimension in your mind, and you like it.

There are a handful of common interests amongst your friends and Lando’s, ones that spark conversation immediately. As the night goes on, it feels like you’ve all been friends for a while, and you’re glad. Part of you was worried things would be awkward between everyone, but thankfully that isn’t the case.

It passes the time quicker than you expect. Soon enough it’s nearing midnight and you’re close to nodding off onto Lando’s shoulder, fighting to stay awake and looped into the ongoing conversation despite the sleep threatening to overtake you.

It certainly doesn’t help that he exudes warmth from where you’ve wound up pressed against each other on the small couch. You turn your head to look at him, to take in the little details of him. The angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose. The smattering of moles across his face and neck.

One wayward curl hangs over his forehead, and you want to reach out, brush it away. You don’t think you’re quite at that stage of comfort with each other yet, but then he tears his attention away from the rest of the group and meets your gaze with what you can only describe as pure fondness dripping from his lazy grin. 

“You alright?” He says softly, shifting his body to face you a little more. 

You nod, because you’re more than alright. For the first time in a while, everything feels just the way it should be. “Are you?” 

“Hm?” Lando replies noncommittally, sipping his drink. “Fine, why?” 

“Earlier, after your phone call, you seemed…upset. I don’t mean to pry, I just wanted to see if everything was alright.” 

“Oh, that? Nah, that was nothing, just my boss. Wanted to talk work stuff, but I wasn’t feeling it, y’know?” He shrugs. It feels like there’s more to what he’s saying, but you don’t want to push too hard. You’re still familiarizing yourself with him. “You’re sweet to check on me, though.” 

“Okay. But if you, um, if you need to talk or anything, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

Lando traces a finger briefly over the thin strap of your dress, just over your shoulder, before dropping his chin into his palm. You already know he’s about to change the subject. Involuntarily, you shiver at his touch, and he definitely notices, because he suddenly looks a little smug.

“Pretty dress,” He hums, tilting his head. 

You weren't trying to make a good impression on Lando, but you weren't exactly not trying, if that makes sense. It doesn't really make sense to you, but you’d gone for cute but comfy with a dress you’d borrowed, hoping it says you’d made an effort, but not too much of one. 

Suddenly you can’t remember what you were just thinking about not being at a certain stage of comfort with one another. Is it weird that you're secretly pleased he liked it enough to mention it?

“It’s not mine,” You say softly. Lando lets out a noise of question. “I borrowed it from Maren.” 

“Ah. Well, you should definitely get one for yourself then. It’s a nice color on you.” 

You want to say thank you, or really just say anything at all, but the moment your gaze flicks back up to his, you’re lost in his eyes again. Everything around you blurs into the background until it feels like it’s just the two of you. You’re teetering on the edge of something, and fuck, it would be so easy to just go over. To let yourself fall and fall and fall into his waiting arms at the bottom. 

Suddenly you hear your own voice in your head.

Don’t get attached. 

Clearing your throat, you pull back from Lando as smooth as you can manage with him muddling up your brain like this. “It’s late. We should get going,” You say, a tad louder than necessary. 

“She’s right,” Camille chimes in, taking note of the slight urgency in your tone. “We’ve got a guided hike in the morning—sunrise, can you believe it?” 

Lando’s mouth dips into a tiny frown for a moment, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared. He nods understandingly. “Sure. I’ll walk you out.” 

You all say your goodbyes and thank you’s, to which the boys wholeheartedly agree you should all do this again sometime before you part ways. 

Lando trails behind a bit like he’s unsure, but catches up to you quickly on the way out, shoulder bumping against yours lightly as you fall into step with each other. His hand brushes yours and lingers a little, pinkies almost intertwining. 

“Tonight was nice,” He says casually. 

“Yeah, it was,” You agree, bobbing your head. 

“Would you—I dunno, maybe want to hang out again?”

“With you guys? ‘Course we would, I’m sure the girls would love to.” You smile, casting a glance at your friends. They’ve all coincidentally already gotten into the car, but if you squint hard enough you can see them gawking at Lando and yourself through the windshield.

How very not subtle of them. 

Lando rocks on the balls of his feet almost nervously, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “No, I meant, like…just the two of us.” 

“You mean, like, alone?” 

“A date. I’m trying to ask you out on a date,” He blurts, nose scrunching. “And failing miserably apparently.” 

“Oh!” You feel your face burn hot, yet you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face even if you tried. You’re about to take him up on the offer, but before you can say a word, another voice pops into the conversation. 

“Yes! She says yes! Whatever you’re asking, her answer is yes!” Samira yells through the window enthusiastically, muffled through the glass but still very audible.

Neither you nor Lando can stop the laughs that escape your mouths, especially when you turn around and all three girls are shooting you excited thumbs ups. 

“Guess that’s settled then,” You giggle, turning back to face him. 

“It’s a date.” He pushes forward, catching you by surprise when he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. As cliche as it sounds, the touch of his lips against your skin, although fleeting, sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. “I’ll text you later to plan, yeah? Get home safe.” 

He waits for you to pull around the circular driveway, and as his waving form gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, a glimmer of hope worms its way through you. 

In the back of your mind, you know you should keep it in check. This could be totally casual. A short summer fling that won’t hurt anyone no matter how it ends. But maybe, just maybe, it could turn into something more. 

-------

Your schedules don't end up giving you a free afternoon together until a few days later, though you come to realize it only makes you look forward to seeing Lando again even more. 

You're supposed to be meeting him at the local market in the center of town at half past one, but you find yourself there early, wanting to get a lay of the land before he gets there.

Evidently Lando had the same idea, because you spot him within the first few steps into the open air marketplace, squatting next to a stand with crates and buckets of bright flowers. He’s already got a bouquet clutched in his hands, but still he browses through the different bunches. 

“Flowers for Max?” You joke. 

Lando shoots to his feet so fast he nearly hits his head on the lightbulb hanging above, only managing to miss it by mere inches as he startles at the sudden voice. When he realizes it’s just you, he snorts with laughter. “He wishes! They’re for you, actually.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, you,” He says teasingly. You don’t even know what to say. Flowers on the first date might be normal, yet nobody’s ever done it for you before. You’re touched, but he must take your silence as something else, because his smile drops the tiniest bit. “Unless you see something you like better? I can still put these back.” 

You study the flowers he’s picked out already. A little on the smaller side, it boasts a beautiful mix of both soft and brighter colors while still being simple—it’s exactly the sort of thing you would’ve chosen if you were buying flowers for yourself. “They’re perfect.” 

He pays for the flowers and passes them over to you with the biggest smile on his face, one that grows even bigger when you tuck them carefully into the crook of your arm after giving the delicate blossoms a sniff. 

You notice the camera hanging around his neck at that moment, despite knowing close to nothing about golf, you do know a thing or two about photography. “Golfer and photographer? Impressive.” 

“Amateur at best.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you're just being modest.” 

“Not even a little bit. I just enjoy taking pictures of things I like.” 

He swings around to face you fully, bringing the camera up to his eye and pausing only a second to make sure you're in focus before snapping a photo of you. The shutter clicks twice before you have the sense to hold up a hand out in front of you, a surprised laugh spilling from your mouth. Even then he grins, takes another one before lowering the camera. "What, you don't like having your photo taken?" 

“I’m just not very photogenic!” 

Lando scoffs immediately, shooting you a pointed look. “That is such a lie.” 

“I probably just broke your fancy expensive camera,” You joke. 

“We’ll just have to wait til I get it developed and see. I think it’ll turn out wonderful.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” 

“I’ll buy you dinner. If I’m right, then…you let me buy you dinner.” 

You let out a noise of surprise. “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair, does it? You’d have to buy me dinner either way.” 

“I can think of worse things than taking a pretty girl out for a nice meal.” His words take you by surprise, but judging by the smug grin on his face, Lando takes pride in eliciting a reaction from you. “Shall we?” And just like that, he’s sauntering off down the path like he didn’t just leave you at a loss for words, pep in his step even as he turns around to shoot you a roguish smile. “You coming or what?” 

You push aside the fluttering in your chest, giving your head an amused shake before catching up with him. It’s cute that he thinks he’s funny. Even cuter that he seems rather eager to take you out on a second date before the first one has even started. 

The two of you wander through the market aimlessly, stopping here and there at various stalls to have a look around. If you had the means, you’d buy everything you see. You wind up picking up some gorgeous looking fruit and a bottle of locally pressed wine, a few small souvenirs for your family back home, but the most important thing you buy isn’t even for you. 

Lando had lingered at a stall selling handmade jewelry early on, seemingly interested in a woven bracelet of blues and whites, but didn't pick it up. Part of you wonders why, but it sparks an idea in your head. 

You tug at Lando’s arm lightly, smiling guiltily when he turns to look at you. “I think I left my phone at that fruit stand a few stalls back.” 

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your body, you muppet,” He chides, shaking his head fondly. “C’mon, let’s find it.” 

“No, I can get it. Why don’t you find us something good for lunch? I’m starving.” 

“Are you sure?” Lando cocks his head, shoulder bumping against yours. “I don’t mind.” 

“I’ll be right back,” You promise. To sweeten the deal, you make the bold move of pressing a kiss to his cheek. He freezes under your touch, but you pass it off as him not expecting it and being taken by surprise. “Two minutes, okay? Maybe less.” 

As soon as you confirm he isn’t paying any attention to you, you slip back through the crowd, finding the same stall and buying the bracelet he’d been looking at. You tuck it safely into your pocket, quickly making your way back to Lando before he realizes you’ve been gone long and comes looking for you. 

“All good?” He asks upon noticing you reappear by his side. 

You wiggle your phone in the air. “Never better. What's for lunch?” 

Lando grins happily, reciting the spiel that the very friendly older man at the food stand gave to him when he’d decided on the delicious looking food. Sure, maybe he stumbles over his pronunciation a little bit, but you find his giggled embarrassment sweet. 

You find a semi-secluded bench a little jaunt away to enjoy your food, and you do enjoy it. You think it might be one of the best things you’ve ever had, and when you tell Lando, he looks pleasantly surprised. As you continue to savor every bite, Lando’s eyes light up with amusement, so much so that you wonder what’s suddenly got him all smiling big like this. 

“What?” You say incredulously. 

He gestures to the lower part of his face. “You’ve got a little…” 

Mortified, you mirror his actions on your own face, searching for the food you’ve somehow gotten smudged on your chin. After a few tries that have him shaking his head, you whine, “Help me, please?”, to which he obliges with a soft chuckle. He reaches out, thumb rubbing at the corner of your mouth briefly. 

This moment almost seems too intimate, but then again, so have a lot of moments between the two of you. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’ve still got something on your face, but then his gaze flicks down to your lips again almost imperceptibly, and you have an inkling of what’s about to happen. 

“Did you get it?” You ask softly. You’re not sure why you break the silence, but it's definitely not because you don’t want him to kiss you. If you think about it, you’ve wanted Lando to kiss you this whole time. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I got it," He replies. His hand lingers, long fingers splaying flat under the curve of your jaw now. You surprise yourself by shifting forward slightly, as if encouraging Lando to close the gap. He leans in closer and closer still, and your eyes fall shut on their own accord, heartbeat hammering against your rib cage. 

You nearly melt the moment his lips touch yours, held up only by the firm grasp of his hand cupping your face. It’s a little awkward with the food in between the two of you blocking you from pushing closer to him, but you make it work, reaching over it to wrap your fingers around Lando’s forearm. You feel like you need it to ground yourself, because holy shit, you’re kissing him. 

Well, more like he’s kissing you, because you’re definitely not the one leading the way. Lando kisses like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and judging by how you feel weak in the knees when you’re not even standing, he does know exactly what he’s doing. 

You’re falling, falling, falling, getting lost in him, until— 

“Wait, hang on,” He breathes, pulling away. Your eyes flutter open in an almost dazed sort of way, focusing on him in hopes of finding him in the same state, but all you’re met with is…guilt? Sadness? Shame? Maybe a mixture of everything, you’re not sure. All you know is that it has your heart plummeting in your chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Everything hits you at once, and suddenly you’re crashing back down to reality. Lando thinks kissing you was a mistake. You were so sure he liked you back, sure enough to go on a date with him, and now here you are with egg on your face, feeling unbelievably stupid. Hurt. 

“I’m gonna—I have to go,” You mumble, scrambling to your feet. You don’t even have an excuse prepared, you just need to get out of here, get away from Lando before you spontaneously combust from the sheer embarrassment. 

His hand encircles your wrist before you can make it even a step away. 

“No, no, don’t! Please, just let me…let me explain. I promise things will all make sense in a second, if you’ll just hear me out,” He says pleadingly. Despite your better judgment, you sit back down, expression guarded. Lando blows out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. “Look, I like you. I really like you, and I wish things were as simple as that, but there’s things I’ve not told you. Things that, if you knew, you might not want to be with me.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, burying your burning face into your hands with a muffled groan. “Oh my god, you are in the mafia, aren’t you?” 

“The—what?” Lando blurts, sounding wildly confused. “No, I’m not, I’m not in the mafia. Are you mad? I’m a Formula 1 driver!” 

You crack one eye open, then the other. “Formula 1.” You repeat, disbelieving. “Like, the racing thing?”  

He nods enthusiastically, tells you everything—how his childhood dream turned into a career, how he gets to travel all around the world doing what he loves. The fame, the lifestyle, the opportunities he’s worked so hard for, all while sounding entirely humble and grateful for everything and everyone who’ve gotten him to where he is today. 

It’s impressive, to say the least. The fact that he’s still fairly young and has already accomplished more than what some people have in a whole lifetime. Then he gets to how the chaos that doing what he does at the level he does it at wreaks havoc on other parts of his life, and you feel a wave of sympathy roll over you. 

The tradeoff for all that success is not getting to have a normal life in almost every aspect, and given the downward set of his brow as he tells you about it, this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation with someone. 

“It makes being in a relationship…difficult, is the best way I can describe it. I’m never in one place more than a week most times, and the whole time zones thing makes it harder too. And after these two weeks are up, I’m already off to somewhere else, jumping right back into the second half of the season and hitting the ground running.” 

Realization hits you like a truck at this point, and you have to fight the urge to laugh out loud. Of course Lando is who he is. Of course you had to form a connection with someone with a life as complicated and as far away from your own as possible, someone who couldn’t be in a normal relationship even if he wanted to. 

“I wish it were different, but I just—I wanted you to know what you might be getting into if we…” He trails off, but you know what he means. If we want to get involved with each other. If we want to be together. 

“So like, long distance, but infinitely harder.” You’re doing your best to put a light spin on the massive amount of new information you’ve just acquired, but you’re barely managing to process it all, let alone even think about what it would be like to date someone as well known as Lando. 

“Yeah, something like that,” He says softly, shoulders creeping up towards his ears. “It’s—well, it’s a lot of baggage for anyone to have to deal with. Lots of eyes and ears, pretty public. Not really your cup of tea, I’ve noticed.” 

He’s right. You’ve never been one to enjoy being the center of attention, preferring to fly under the radar. Blend into the background. And you hate to say it, but knowing all of what he’s just told you changes things. You don’t think you can handle being thrust into the public eye, and it makes you feel like the most selfish person in the world to walk away from him just because of who he happens to be. 

Your life would be forever altered, your sense of privacy and security gone, and that isn’t something you want to compromise. You’re comfortable being nobody significant. With Lando, that would change, no matter how many measures you take to make sure it doesn’t. 

As much as you’ve come to like him—and you really like him—it’s just not something you can see yourself being fully okay with. 

“I’m so sorry, Lando,” You say quietly. He just smiles sadly, like he already knew it was coming, and you can't help but think about how many relationships—platonic or romantic—that he's lost out on because of his status. The thought alone makes you feel even worse. “I like you too, but I can’t—I don’t think I can be what you want me to be. It’s not me, it’s not the way I can live my life.” 

“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t got a reason to be,” He murmurs, thumb rubbing across your knuckles comfortingly. “Knew it was too good to be true, didn’t I?” 

“I’m sorry,” You say again, hoping that Lando knows you truly mean it. “I wish it were different, but—”

Lando shakes his head, interrupting before you can grasp for any other ways to apologize. He squeezes your hand reassuringly again. “Hey. It’s alright, I promise. I’d never ask anyone to do something they aren’t comfortable with. Especially not you.” 

Even when he’s sad, he’s still so thoughtful. It would take a different kind of awful monster not to want to be with him. Apparently that monster is you. 

You wish you were someone else, someone who could take huge changes in stride and never miss a step, but you’re not. Someone who knows what they want and goes for it—who knows who they want and doesn’t let anything get in their way. 

Unfortunately, you’re not that kind of person. 

“What do we do now?” 

Lando drops your hand to run his fingers through his curls, down to the back of his neck sheepishly. “Dunno about you, but I’ve—d’you think there’s any chance we can still be friends? I really do enjoy spending time with you lot, we all do.” 

“Friends would be nice,” You say softly. It feels strange to agree with him so wholeheartedly. 

Maybe it’ll be awkward between the two of you, maybe you won’t even be able to sit next to each other with what’s happened today, but you can’t bring yourself to care all that much. The only thought running through your mind is that you don’t want to lose Lando, even as just a friend. 

You’ve gotten attached. 

The bracelet you’d bought Lando burns a hole through your pocket. It would be weird to give it to him now, after you’d just turned him down, but you can’t exactly just return it either. You don’t really want to. 

Maybe it won’t go to him, but you’re sure you’ll find something to do with it someday.

The girls are waiting in the living room when you finally make your way home, gathered on the sofa with identical innocent smiles like you hadn’t seen them with their heads poked through the curtains. Samira bounces off the cushions with what you can only describe as a gleeful cackle to grab your flowers, showing them off to the other two like a game show host before grabbing your hand and dragging you into the center of their blanket pile. 

You know they're expecting good news and you wish you could give it to them, but you can’t. 

“So??? How’d it go?” 

“He got her flowers, obviously it went well!” 

“Okay, spill, now,” Camille presses, easing the bouquet out of Samira’s hands and setting it on the coffee table. “What’s he like, what’d you do—” 

“When’s your second date?” chimes in Maren excitedly. The other two nod their vigorous agreement. 

“Lando’s amazing,” You sigh, letting yourself fall back against the plush pillows. “He’s super sweet and really funny, we walked around and looked at all the vendors, and then we had lunch and talked for ages, and…there won’t be a second date.”

“What? That’s impossible, you guys were like, made for each other!” 

You sigh, rub at a flower petal that’s fallen away from the bouquet. “It’s complicated. I don’t—I’m not ready to get into all of it again this soon, but long story short, our lives are just too different. Being with him would mean compromising things I’m just not ready to lose right now.” 

If any of them wants to push for a better explanation, and you know they do, they refrain from doing so. They know you’ll tell them when you’re ready. 

But even Samira can tell you’re not quite as okay as you insist you are, and she’s been rooting for you extra hard. She leans her head onto your shoulder, squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You did what was best for you, and that’s all that matters.” 

“We agreed to still be friends, so we can still hang out with the guys and stuff like that, but—I mean, yeah, it just didn’t work out.” You don’t think you sound very convincing at all, but it’s the bed you've made, you’ve got to lay in it. “I just don’t really want to talk about it right now, but it's fine. I'm fine.” 

It has to be. You have to be. You’ve made sure of it.

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[steddieas-shegoes]

🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🪱

Steve who is forced into golf lessons at a young age because his dad expects him to play to impress business partners when he joins him at the firm.

Steve who is a naturally boisterous child, energetic, cheers when the ball goes in the hole even though you’re supposed to maintain composure and have minimal celebration.

His coach is endeared, but the moment his father sees it, he gets reprimanded and told to act “like an adult.”

Steve who is very good at golf, but hates it because he can’t enjoy it the way he wants to.

Steve who gets a scholarship to a university for golf, but ends up losing it because his grades aren’t the best.

Steve who gets disowned before he has a chance to redeem himself.

Steve who turns to being a caddy for money and ends up working a lot of special events, like fundraisers.

Which is when he meets Eddie Munson, the lead guitarist for the band that’s hired to do any special event at the club. He always wears the required uniform of black pants and a white button down, but he rolls the sleeves and shows off his tattoos, his hair is unruly, and he wears a smirk that Steve knows would irritate him on anyone else.

Eddie’s hot.

Steve’s a little bit of a slut.

They find a bathroom when everyone’s cleaning up.

It may be three in the afternoon, but there’s no proper time for a bathroom hookup.

It continues for months.

Neither of them ever talk about meeting up outside of this stolen time together in an empty bathroom at a country club filled with the worst types of people they could possibly have to be around.

Until Eddie makes the mistake of offering to drive Steve home. And Steve has to explain he’s currently living with his best friend and he doesn’t wanna risk her parents waking up from his loud van pulling in the driveway.

And then he makes the mistake of offering for Steve to stay the night with him in his new apartment.

“We can break in my bed,” he offers.

Steve’s mistake is that he agrees.

But is it a mistake if Steve starts to leave his clothes at Eddie’s? And starts staying every night with him, even when they aren’t planning on hooking up? And sometimes Eddie comes home from his regular day job as a mechanic to Steve cooking dinner for them? And Steve sometimes has nightmares that Eddie holds him through.

And sometimes they say they love each other.

Maybe more than sometimes.

[poetsblvd]

LOVER BOY ꪆৎ MV1

He grunts pushing open the door to the holiday home he’s rented for both of you, arms laden with heavy bags from his shopping spree for you.

Hermès, Cartier, Chanel, Van Cleef, APM Monaco, you name it he’s got it.

He drops the purchases on the couch and sighs, fuck he’s definitely going to have to make another trip down for the rest of the bags.

Many wouldn’t think of him to be the type to spoil his girlfriend, and while he takes great offence to that statement he somewhat understands where they come from.

He hasn’t quite had long or serious enough relationships for him to grow attached to and dote on his girl, but it’s very different with you.

He’s the first guy you’ve ever been with, at ripe age of twenty-two now and having only dated him for a year, he thinks it incredibly important to spoil you.

You’re everything to him, and he wants you to know exactly how a beautiful, kind and loving woman like you should be treated.

Because god forbid anything ever happen to peel you away from him, he wants you to know that you deserve only the best, because you are the best there is.

And it’s not only materialistic spoiling, oh no no no, you have to be treated well from absolutely all angles.

Including very bare minimum actions that make you feel special, holding the door open for you, never letting you walk on the dangerous side of the road, getting you flowers every week, always listening and giving you his full attention and input during conversations, etc etc.

He doesn’t get to do this nearly as often with both of you living in different countries and having extremely busy work schedules.

So the chances that he does get to spoil you with all he has, he snatches the opportunity greedily like a toddler with candy.

Today was supposed very normal day of vacation, the first week of summer break that you and Max were very lucky to spend together in St Tropez.

Waking up in the morning however and kissing your face silly, he deemed you too beautiful to not have a day for yourself, a very general excuse to simply spoil you and make you happy.

So with a few texts here and there, he dropped you off at the spa to rejuvenate, relax and pamper up for a cute little date night.

Without letting it drop that he was going to buy you a gift, or a hundred.

Bringing him to where he is now.

He arranges the bags neatly in the living room, running back to the driveway and pulling out the final gifts, a stunning Versace gown and your favourite Manolo Blahnik heels for the dinner he has planned.

He runs back in just in time for your cab to roll through, as you smile and wave to the driver.

He struggles for a moment, wondering how to position himself casually, should he lie down? No that’s weird.

Lean on the door? Far too Troy Bolton for him.

Position himself sexily on the presents? Absolutely not you’d laugh too hard and never let him live it down.

“Maaaaax! I’m hoome!” Your greeting has him smiling and he finds himself making long strides to pull you into his arms.

“Hello my love.” He breathes in the flowery scent of your perfume and the softness of your skin. “You look stunning, how do you feel?”

He finds himself momentarily in awe of your smile and nods, impressed when you shove your hands in front of his face showing him the nails you’d decided upon.

“They’re very pretty baby, I really like the blue flowers on them!” He winks at you, pulling your nails closer to his face.

“Really? I’m so glad! The lady over there kept telling me that I should do ombré, and I didn’t know how to tell her that I really hated designs like that, so we finally agreed on— Max!” You gasp, stopping in between your story telling.

“What?” He shrugs innocently.

You gape at the living room filled with shopping bags of varying sizes and colours, shock marring your face. “Oh Max, again?”

His brows furrow. “What do you mean again?”

“I mean, you practically bought me the entirety of Hermès a few months ago? Why on earth would you spend so much money on me again?”

“Five months ago darling!” He leads you to the sofa, kissing your knuckles, and handing you a tiffany blue box.

“I’ve been slacking! And what do you mean on you? What else would I ever spend my money on? it’s yours anyways, everything of mine is yours, especially me.” He settles down cross legged by your feet and keeps pulling boxes and bags towards you.

Placing a hand on his cheek you smile “You really don’t have to do this, I’ve told you so many times I just want you.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want too.” He grips your hand on his cheek and kisses your fingertips.

“I love you.”

“I know, I love you more.” He smiles, squeezing your knee and nodding at you to open your presents.

“Now come on! Gimme a fashion show, I planned this with just enough time before our dinner. I got you these new shoes, oh! And a dress for tonight, but you’re gonna have to choose between this tennis necklace or this Juste un Clou necklace, I liked both so I got you both.”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

love note , ugh this made me feel very single and think of very unreal expectations from men!! thank you for requesting and i hope you liked this <3

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: none

Summary: You’re plagued by the kid who lives in your neighborhood, the kid you know has a crush on you. You left town, you lived your life without him, and now you’re staring at him face to face after years. Something about him has changed and now you can’t help but want him back.

Square Filled: art student au for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

As soon as the last bell at school rings, you race off campus to start the walk home. It’s not a far walk but you enjoy the silence you get from it. Your house is filled with little brothers and sisters and it’s hard to get a moment of peace. Your parents do the best they can but you know it’s hard for them. You’re the oldest so you’re expected to help out which is why you also enjoy your time alone.

You walk around the corner and notice the sixth house down from yours with the garage open. You’re not sure how you feel but something washes over you knowing what’s going to come next. Maybe it’s annoyance or irritation or indifference but the same thing happens every single time you walk home from school.

The only kid that lives there, Spencer Reid, loves to come out and walk with you the rest of the way to your house. He’s a nice kid but that’s all he is--a kid. He’s two years older than you are but you’re much taller than he is. If he is going to get a growth spurt, he’s getting it late in life or maybe his family are just short people. He’s not enrolled in your school because he’s mega smart and needs higher education to stimulate his brain.

You slip past his house in hopes you can enjoy the rest of your walk in silence but you hear the garage door slam shut and footsteps padding down the driveway.

“Hey, Y/N! Almost missed you.”

“Hi, Spencer,” you shake your head.

“How was your day?”

“It was fine. It’s just school.”

“Today was my first day of college and it was exhilarating. I have to admit, I wish you were there. Or I wish I was enrolled in your high school like all the other normal kids. At least we’d be together.”

You knew he had a crush on you after the first conversation you ever had with him. He called you pretty and vowed he’d walk with you to protect you against predators. It was cute at first but not you’re interested in someone like him. Like you said, he’s nice and has the potential of being a good boyfriend but he’s short and you don’t go for short boys.

“Sure, Spencer.”

“Listen, my mom gave me some money and I wanted to see this new French film that’s playing across town. Do you think you’d want to maybe go with me?”

Never has he ever had the balls to ask you out. Now that he has, you need to put a stop to this. He’ll get over the crush and you won’t be humiliated every time you go out in public. Does that make you selfish? Maybe. Does that make you a douche? Definitely. You stop outside of your house and look down at Spencer who has a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Spencer, listen, you’re a nice kid but it’s never going to happen between us.” Spencer’s face falls but he doesn’t say anything. “Grow over six feet and then we’ll talk, okay?”

You meant that as a joke but you don’t stick around to see if he laughs. That’s the last time you ever saw Spencer Reid.

Now

Today is the day. You’re given the opportunity to feature your art in one of the most successful art galleries in the country. You studied at Princeton and got a degree in fine arts before interning for known artist Benjamin Hale. He’s so successful that he has hundreds of galleries across America with dozens more across the world. He was impressed with your portfolio and offered to let you study underneath him while creating your artwork in private.

He offered you a chance to showcase your work in one of his new galleries. According to him, he needs new blood in this gallery and you’re the perfect fit for it. Your speciality is portraits, realism, and photorealism. Your favorite things to draw are people but there is something about being in nature and drawing what God put on this Earth. You have an eye for making your paintings look real and raw, and you’re able to capture people’s emotions henceforth the realism part of your art.

You only have about a dozen works put up in your small corner of the gallery but you’re proud of it all. You might not sell anything tonight and that’s okay. When you got the word out that the gallery was going to open, people agreed to come once they saw free food and wine was going to be handed out. Still, you appreciate everyone coming.

The place is packed mostly for Benjamin’s work but you see some people enjoying your work. You’re in the back room getting more wine for the servers when one of them joins you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey, Lori. I’ve just gotten the box of wine for you guys.”

“I just came back here to tell you that someone just bought all of your things.” You’re so shocked that you spring up but hit your head on the corner of a shelf. You yelp in pain and rub the sore area before backing out of the dusty corner. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What did you just say?”

“Someone bought all of your work.”

You don’t wait to hear what else she has to say. You’re already out the door and rushing into the main room. You look to your section but don’t see anyone lingering around. You’re not paying attention to where you’re walking when you almost run into someone. The man grabs your shoulders to prevent you from falling and lets out a chuckle.

“Are you okay?”

Wait you know that voice. You look up at the man towering over six feet tall. Damn, he grew up.

“Spencer?”

“So, you do remember me.”

He lets go of your shoulders and allows you to take a step back from him. Damn, not only did he grow but he grew more handsome since the last time you saw him. Well, he was fifteen the last time you saw him but still.

“How could I forget the little boy who followed me for two years?”

“Yeah, I kind of had a crush on you,” he chuckles.

Oh, he even has a beautiful smile. Damn, I really was a dick to him back then. You try to ignore the pang of sadness at his use of “had” and not “have”.

“I know you did. I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

“Looking for someone?” he asks before you have a chance to leave his side.

“Yeah, someone bought everything I have out.”

“It was me.”

You pause and turn to look at him. He has a slight smirk on his face, and something in your head clicks into place. You look at him up and down and notice how he’s trying hard not to be overly confident in his decision.

“So, what, you got older and taller and now you think you’re hot shit?”

Spencer shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the one looking up, not me.” Your jaw drops several inches at his remark. “So, can we talk now?”

“Excuse me?”

“You told me to grow over six feet and we’ll talk. Well, I’m over six feet now. Will you let me take you out?”

You have no clue what to say to that because your mind is reeling from the last thing he said. Someone calls his name and you both see a black man, two blondes, and a brunette waving him over. They point to their watches which means he is either late or they have to go. He digs in his pocket and produces a business card. Only it’s not a business card. He’s in the fucking FBI.

“How about this?” He hands the card to you. “Call me when I can pick this stuff up and maybe we’ll talk then.”

He leaves your side and joins his friend group without another look at you. Is it shallow to want him now? Maybe. Are you going to try like hell to make up for lost time? Definitely.

x

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[fangirl-dot-com]

Charles Leclerc - Arthur, you are not French...yeah Charles, drag his ass!

I’ve been excited to write this chapter! I know that reader is a Red Bull driver, but I am a Tifosi through and through. Charles holds such a special place in my heart (but so does Max). I feel like one of those “breaking my silence – how I got into F1,” low and behold, I got into the sport from that one Ferrari thirst trap where Charles is lying on the couch. Yeah, you know, that one. 

Anywho, I write these little things before I even get to writing the story and sometimes I don’t even know where I’m going with it. I know it's not Christmas yet, but the people spoke - SO HERE WE GO!

Sadly, the tag list is closed to do us reaching the 50 people mark! I never thought that I’d get there though with my story! So thank you to every one of you for making that happen! 

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all &lt;;3 

Your beanie had started to itch. You had needed it outside due to the cold weather, but now that you were in the car with the heat cranked, it was starting to get a little too warm. As you pulled up to the red light, your hand quickly yanked the hat off. Not to your surprise, your hair was sticking in all directions. That’s ok, you could fix it before you walked into the house. The light turned green, and you had to remind yourself that this was a regular car, on a regular street. Not a hybrid-engine-ran rocket ship that exceeded 300 kilometers per hour on sweet Grand Prix asphalt. 

This year, you had finally accepted Arthur’s invitation for Christmas. Earlier, you had done Christmas morning and afternoon with Max, Kelly, and Penelope. It was everything you could have wished for. And now you were going to spend the rest of the evening with your best friend and his family. You were a tab bit nervous. Sure, you had met them on a handful of occasions, but you tried not to get too close. They were always at grand prixes for Arthur, not you. 

You glanced at the presents that were stacked on the passenger side. The most important one, however, was placed in a bag on the floor. You were not about to let that fall over and possibly break. You knew it was made to be sturdy, but you couldn’t be sure. Arthur had given you the gate key. You pulled up to the little black box and pressed the numbers. You rolled your eyes as you realized that it was just Charles’s and Arthur’s racing numbers squished together. 

Arthur had also reminded you that Lorenzo was not going to be joining due to him being at his wife’s family’s for the holiday. That was one less person to impress you had told yourself. 

You pulled into their driveway and parked your car. It was not as impressive at Charles’s custom 488 Ferrari Pista Spider. It wasn’t as if you were almost drooling at the sight of it. Knowing yourself, you’d probably be too scared to drive it to actually enjoy it. Max also had a Ferrari, maybe he’d let you drive it. 

In a parking lot and not exceeding 5 kph. You snorted. Yep, that was Max. 

You did however, have your eye on two special cars. But you wanted to wait a bit before purchasing. You Pinterest board was full of different ideas, but you had to be careful. Maybe Christian could help you out with purchasing. You technically hadn’t bought this car, it was a gift from Lorenzo. You wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it might be nice to have more than one car. Besides, multiple drivers had multiple cars. You’d just join their ranks. 

Juggling the presents, you walked to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Your face was hardly visible over the tops of the boxes. The door opened and a familiar voice sounded. 

“Mon Dieu, let me help you.” Presents were being taken from the big stack. 

“Thank you Charles.” You prided yourself on being one of the few people who could recognize the difference between Arthur’s and Charles’s voices. He didn’t reply as he took the presents farther into the house. You followed him through the door and toed off your shoes. Your eyes caught all the lights and decorations in the house. Growing up, you didn’t have such things. Your family always said that being in karting was always going to be your present. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no cookies for Santa and no tree to decorate. 

As you walked more into the warm house, the decorations just kept getting better. Where Max’s house was decorated by Kelly who like a clean Christmas aesthetic, the Leclerc household leaned towards the warmer decorations. The lights didn’t necessarily match and flickered colorful light. The stockings weren’t the same color: they showed personality that matched their owner. Even the ornaments weren’t all from the same container. You found Charles staring down at the presents that he had taken from you. 

“Who are these for?” he turned his head to look at you. 

You snorted, “They’re for your family.” His eyes widened as he rubbed his chin. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

You only shrugged as you began to take off your coat, “I felt like I did. You all have been so kind to invite me here on a holiday that I couldn’t come empty handed.” Charles gestured for your jacket and you gave it to him. 

“You can look around some more if you’d like to. Arthur and maman will be back from the store soon.”  Your cheeks heated at the thought of him catching you ogling at his home. You shook the thought away and looked at everything a little bit closer. 

Like all homes seemed to have, there was a wall filled with picture frames. Some were of each child; some had the full family. It was nice to see all 5 of them together in the center one. You cocked you head at one of them though. You all but tiptoed to get a closer look. It was one of Charles and Arthur, and then an unfamiliar but familiar man stood between them. 

“That’s Jules. If you were wondering.” 

You jumped in place, not noticed that he had snuck up behind you. You looked over and saw that a sad smile had graced his face. Arthur had told you little about him. Charles and Lorenzo would always have been much closer to him. 

“I met him once. During karting,” you trailed off. Charles raised his eyebrows. 

“Really?” It seemed as though the breath had been knocked out of him. 

You gave him a comforting smile, “Yeah. My race was right after yours. I think it was back in 2010,” you looked back at the picture, “and you won that day. I watched him cheer for you like he was the proudest person there that day. He was in a racing suit and had a helmet. I thought that he had come straight from a race or something. But, I only remember wishing that I had someone there for me like you had.” 

Charles now had a guess as to what day that was. He vaguely remembered finally beating Max and feeling so happy. But, he didn’t remember Jules having a helmet. He took the picture down so that the two of you could look closer. It was definitely not taken the day that you were talking about, but the way you talked about him intrigued Charles. He gave you a head nod, silently saying to continue. 

“That day, I also won my race. It hadn’t been the easiest, but the boys were too busy pushing each other off that they didn’t even notice me. I was able to overtake and win. The boys though, weren’t the only ones who didn’t notice. My parents weren’t around when I looked for them. I must have turned around so many times, just trying to find them, but I never did. I had taken my kart back to my station when someone tapped me on the shoulder. He scared the ever-loving crap out of me, but he held my shoulder and told me that I did a great job.” 

Your eyes were slightly watering at the confession. Charles just continued to look at you. 

“I knew who he was. He was the man who always cheered for the Justin Bieber look-a-like who liked to push a certain Dutchman off the track, into a puddle, and claim it was just an inchident.” Charles snorted. 

“I did not look like Justin Bieber.” 

“Whatever floats your boat.” He gave you a look. “American expression. Anyway, after he said that he gave me a hug before my dad came stomping over, complaining about something, I don’t even remember. But all I know is that he made my entire day. My godfather wasn’t able to visit that much or come see me race. So, it was nice to have someone in my corner, even if they weren’t truly there for me.” 

Charles hung the picture back on the wall. The two of you stood there for a quiet moment before Charles spoke up. “How’s your godfather?” 

You inhaled sharply. “He died in 2020. Caught some illness in 2018 and wasn’t able to recover.” 

It broke Charles’s heart to hear you talk about it so nonchalantly. 

“Does Arthur know?” 

You nodded your head. “He caught me crying the first year of his anniversary. Made me spill the beans about what happened. He thought he needed to go beat someone up.” You let out a wet chuckle. When did you even start crying? Looking at Charles, you saw that he was crying too. You continued, “Lorenzo, he, uh, died the day before I debuted in F2.” 

Memories hit Charles like an 18-wheeler. That was you? He remembered that most of the F1 drivers had been invited since the F1 and F2 races were so close together. Hell, even Max was given the opportunity to give the winner the trophy. He remembers watching you dominate that race. He watched you offer that trophy to the sky. He saw a hunger that he hadn’t seen in a long time. 

He finally spoke up, “You were incredible.” 

“Thank you,” you paused before adding, “he’d be proud of you. Jules, I mean.” You looked back at the picture and how it seemed right at home amongst the others. 

“Lorenzo would be proud of you as well.” You flashed him a grateful smile, full of teeth. He mirrored, dimples prominent. 

You threw your head back and laughed. Charles cocked his head. 

“What’s the matter?” he barely got out as he began to laugh as well. 

You poked his cheeks, “You and Thur have the same dimples.” Charles rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair. You pouted. “Rude.” 

He was about to reciprocate but the sound of the door opening caught the two of yours attention. Charles quickly pushed you into a dark room. You gave him a confused look before he put a finger to his lips. You smirked back and stayed silent. 

Pascale walked in first followed by Arthur. Charles greeted his mother and then brother. 

“I saw Y/n’s car in the driveway. Where is she?” Arthur looked around the house. 

“She went to the bathroom, but hasn’t come back. I think I scared her off,” Charles faked a sad look.  

Arthur flashed a comforting smile to his brother. “I’ll go find her. Hopefully she didn’t fall in or something.” That almost made you laugh. 

Arthur flipped on the lights to the hallway. This was your chance. He barely got past the doorframe before you jumped out onto him. 

His squeal echoed through the room, laughter following it. In your grand scheme, you had accidentally fallen on top of him. Your giggles continued as Arthur tried to push you off. He finally gave up after a few moments. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, but honestly you didn’t care. You swear you heard a click of a camera, but you disregarded it. 

“Are you done?” Arthur sarcastically asked. 

“No, I’m actually quite comfortable. Thank you for asking though,” you smirked. After a few more moments later, Arthur quickly rolled you off and got up. You let out a huff before making grabby hands at him. He rolled his eyes and pulled you up. 

You were finally able to greet Pascale. She brought you into a hug and did the two kisses. You reciprocated. It came naturally after being teammates with Arthur for so long. You smiled at the memory of him doing it to you for the first time. He was so embarrassed after until you calmed him down enough to say that you didn’t mind. You knew it was a part of his culture and that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed to do so. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” You shot her a shy smile. She rubbed your back before exiting the hug. 

“There is no need for thanks. Arthur has been begging for years.” A noise of protest rang through the air. 

“I have not.” 

“Non, it’s true. He has.” Charles looked at his brother. Arthur had a look of betrayal that sent you spiraling into another laughing fit. 

By the time you were finished, Arthur gave you a look. 

“Where’s you Christmas sweater?” You looked down at the one you were wearing. You thought it looked just fine. It was a nice dark green and Kelly had complimented you many times. 

“I thought this looked nice?” You were beginning to doubt. Maybe you couldn’t do this Christmas thing. 

Arthur shook his head before disappearing down a hallway. 

You glanced at Charles and whispered, “I ruined it didn’t I?” You looked down at your feet. 

“Non gosse, you didn’t ruin anything. Just look.” You looked back up and saw that Arthur now had another sweater in his hands. (translation : no kid)  

“I can’t believe I forgot to give you this. Sorry Y/n, we normally wear ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters to celebrate. The one you have on is fine, but this is the Leclerc celebration now.” He all but shoved you towards a bathroom so that you could change. You slipped the other dark green sweater on after you took off your first one. 

The front made you laugh. It wasn’t ugly per say, Arthur must have toned it down for you. On the front was the Grinch. It was actually kind of cute if you thought about it. You folded your first sweater and walked out. Now you noticed that Charles’s had a bright orange sweater with a gamer Santa on it; Arthur’s actually lit up; and Pascale had a cute one with a reindeer on it. 

When he noticed your return, Arthur’s arms shot up. “Now you look festive!” 

“How long did it take you to find that one TurTur?” You motioned your finger up and down, pointed at his sweater. 

His arms crossed protectively around it as he let his jaw hang. “I’ll have you know that this is imported.” 

You gave him a bombastic side eye. “Sure.” 

Pascale clapped her hands, “Picture time by the tree!” 

You kind of awkwardly stood there as she took pictures of the two boys. You warmly smiled as she gushed over the two of them. You made your way to the kitchen and picked up two bottles. Were these alcoholic? You squinted at the label. 

“Y/n!” You froze and looked at the family of three. Arthur was snickering. 

“You know you’re not allowed to drink yet.” You rolled your eyes. 

Charles shot you a mischievous smile. “Gosse, come, we’ll send a picture to old Maxy. Maybe give him a heart attack.” 

You smirked back as you walked with the two bottles. You posed in front of the tree with the glasses on either side of you. The four of you laughed as you set them down. You wanted to make a run for it, as to not ruin the pictures, but Pascale insisted that she wanted one of the three of you. 

Your heart swelled as she took a picture of you in the middle of Arthur and Charles. She also insisted to get one of just you and Arthur. Your cheeks heated as you caught her muttering about a picture to show your kids one day. You only hoped that Arthur hadn’t heard. 

He did and his heart soared at the thought. 

Once the pictures were done, everyone was able to have a few snacks and drinks, yours of course being non-alcoholic. 

Then it was time for the presents. The thing you were worried about the most. You soon found yourself seated on the floor in a half circle. Pascale was the only one in a chair, but you didn’t blame her. The boys were the ones to pass out the presents. To your surprise, you had received three presents. Your eyes wanted to water, but you blinked the tears away. 

They all opened the ones from you first. 

Arthur lit up like a Christmas tree (pun intended) when he saw what you had gotten him. The two of you had been shopping earlier in the year, when you had come across a watch shop. Arthur had wanted to buy a specific one, but was heartbroken when they said that they were sold out. But, while Arthur was having a crisis about it, you secretly asked to be put on the waitlist. They had said that they couldn’t be 100 percent that you’d get one, but there was no harm in asking. 

Surprisingly, when you got back for a small break, there was a package from the store waiting for you. You had also taken it to another watch store to have something added. 

“Turn it over,” you whispered, scared of his next reaction. He inhaled sharply at what the engraving read. 

January 25, 2020 – Best Friends for the Rest of Our Live, Keep at it TurTur! 

Arthur quickly clamored over to you and wrapped you in a deep hug. Again, you heard the sound of a camera, but dismissed it. 

Next Charles opened his. It wasn’t as sentimental as Arthur’s but you tried your best. Before hand, you had asked what type of jewelry Charles likes. You knew he was a ring and bracelet guy, but had rarely seen him with a necklace. So, you got him a simple one that he could wear with any outfit. 

He thanked you with a warm smile. 

Pascale was very happy with hers. Knowing that she had a hair salon, you googled many gift ideas for her. But every sing one of them to come up was always a pair of scissors. Wanting to do better, you did some more digging. Finally, you decided on one of those fancy circle vacuums that moves by itself. You knew how your back hurt after sweeping up a floor. You couldn’t imagine how her’s might feel. She also gave you a hug. 

Now it was your turn. 

The first present was from Arthur and it had you in tears. There in a rectangular box was a new pair of Lightning McQueen crocs. 

“You know this is like my third pair right?” 

He only nodded, “Yes, but are those pairs signed by Lightning McQueen himself?” Your eyes bulged as you turned them over. 

You were expecting Owen Wilson’s signature, but when you read it, you laughed even harder. There on the bottom, in fancy script, was Charles’s signature. You looked over at Charles as you wiped your eyes. 

“I’m honored sir.” 

Charles rolled his eyes, and touched his heart, as to accept the thanks. His present wasn’t as funny, but it was appreciated. You guessed that Arthur had told him what your favorite restaurant was because his gift was a hefty gift card. Your eyes widened when you saw the total. 

Pascale’s was very sentimental though. In her present were multiple pictures in frames. Some you noticed that she must have gotten from the internet or had Arthur reach out to Vito. The one that made you tear up was one of the last pictures taken of you and Lorenzo. Your smile was so bright as you held you trophy. You were looking into the camera, but Lorenzo was looking and smiling down at you. Your fingers traced his face. 

You placed the pictures down and brought her into a giant hug. After you were done, you wiped your eyes, overcome with emotion. Arthur clapped his hands to bring everyone’s attention to him. You almost jumped out of your skin. 

“All right, party time!” He raised his arms and started to walk toward the kitchen. 

Your eyes widened as you remembered something. “Wait!” 

The three of them stared at you. You inhaled. 

“I have one more thing. For all three of you.” They looked at you with a puzzled look. You walked over to the counter where you had placed the black bag that you came with. You gestured for them to come over. 

Arthur cocked his head, “Y/n, why’d you bring a helmet bag? We swapped helmets already.” His accent got thicker as he got more confused. 

You shook your head slightly as you let out a shaky exhale. You carefully started to unzip the bag. It was true, what Arthur said. The contents were a helmet. 

“Gosse, is this your new helmet for next year? It’s very outdated and I don’t think this is safe, ” Charles questioned, confused as to why you’d bring a helmet to Christmas. 

However, Pascale let out a gasp as her eyes danced over the helmet, now in your hands. She put her hands to her mouth. She had recognized it immediately. 

“Is this?” The rest of the question went unsaid, but you knew what she was going to say. You nodded you head and handed it to her. She turned it around, expecting all the angles. She let out a wet laugh as she carefully and slowly handed it over to Charles. Arthur stood close, looking at it as well.

“Arthur, before you got here, I was telling Charles of how I was able to meet your godfather,” you started. “And I wanted to tell you how thankful I was for his encouragement. I knew that he had come straight from a race, because he was still wearing his suit and he carried a helmet.” 

Charles made a confused face, “But he didn’t have a helmet. His hands were both empty, because he caught Arthur when he ran over to him after he showed up.” You could tell that his mind was trying to connect the dots.

“Well. He wouldn’t have had the helmet,” you trailed off. Arthur’s head shot up. 

“Because he gave it to you,” Arthur finished. Charles inhaled sharply as he looked over the protective gear in his hands. 

Pascale had come close to you, a hand around your shoulder that rubbed up and down, trying to give some comfort. 

The two boys looked as if they were going to cry. Charles let Arthur hold it. 

“How? Why?” Charles questioned, tears threatening to fall. 

“Well, I thought it had gotten destroyed or thrown away. I left it at my parent’s house, and when I told them I was moving out for reasons, they didn’t react well.” You didn’t want to give too much away. “I was sure that they were going to burn all of my things. But, I went back to see just in case. I was mostly correct; except they didn’t touch my closet. It was hiding in the back behind some clothes.” You remembered crying when you found it, holding it close for comfort. It had been one of the few things that you took from the house back to your apartment in Nice. 

“I also wanted to bring it back, where it belongs.” 

Charles glanced at you and then the helmet between Arthur’s fingers. “But, he gave it to you. You need to keep it.” 

You shook your head. “Jules told me to keep it safe and to hold onto it for safe keeping. I always thought that I’d be able to give it back to him one day. I guess this is the closest thing I can do.” 

Arthur gave the helmet back to his brother and walked over to you. You looked into his big blue eyes, filled with tears. Unable to hold back, he tucked his face into your neck, holding you tight. You squeezed your eyes closed, tears falling down your cheeks. 

You knew that Arthur always felt bad about not being as close to his godfather, like Charles and Lorenzo had been. He had been 15 when Jules died, and you always wished that the family had had more time with him. Pressure was added on your other side. Looking over slightly, your eyes caught sight of Charles’s brown hair. You managed to put your other arm around him. You held the two brothers close, your heart melting. 

Is this what a family is supposed to feel like? 

Max’s family was a different dynamic. Yes, they enjoyed hugs and being close, but it wasn’t like this where you could hold each other for hours. Well, maybe Max would let you, he was so overdue for a giant group hug.

Arthur couldn’t get over the fact that you were so close. He hoped that you didn’t hear his heart racing. He’s waited this long; he can wait a little longer. His tears had dried up, but he never wanted to let you go. Your heart was too big and too fragile for anyone else to have it. But here you were, opening it up to his family. He couldn’t have asked for someone better to hold your place in his heart. He could only dream that you held him close to your heart, as he did with you to his. 

You would never tell him, but you did. 

Charles on the other hand could not stop the tears. He wondered how long you had waited. Shy, quiet you. Before this, he had seen you a couple of times before with Max at the beginning of the break. He’d often run into the two of you shopping or getting groceries. You’d always find a way to give a small wave, before turning to do something else while Max talked to him. He wondered what was so special about you. Max, in all his life, had never looked at something as he looked at you. It was different than the way he looked at Kelly. Heck, he even looked a Penelope differently. Charles had rolled his eyes a few more times than he’d like to admit whenever Arthur would bring you up in conversation. But now, as you tried to comfort him and his brother, he finally understood. You were the family that they were missing. 

Pascale watched as the three of you broke your little hug. Smiles adorned your faces as you held the other close. She wished Lorenzo would have been here to meet you. She had a feeling that he and Charlotte would like you, as her other two sons did. 

Their little celebration started moments after, the helmet at the center. Your smile never left your face for the rest of the night. You were sad that they didn’t let you sneak in one sip of the bottled drink. 

“It’s probably not even good,” you told them as you took a sip of your drink. 

“Y/n it is good. We French know what good alcohol is,” he took a sip. You raised an eyebrow and smirked as you saw Charles gawk at him. 

“Arthur, you are not French,” you watched as Charles put an arm around Arthur’s neck. You were quick to grab his drink so it wouldn’t stain the carpet. “Yeah Charles, drag his ass!” 

Arthur held out a hand, dramatically going down. “My best friend betraying me for my brother. Could this day get any worse?” 

“Charles, you should have heard all the times he said that he was French when we would do videos.” You smirked evilly at the two. 

“Y/n! You weren’t supposed to tell him!” 

“Arthur, how many times to I have to tell you? WE ARE NOT FRENCH, WE ARE MONAGUESQE!! 

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog

ATTENTION: TAG LIST IS CLOSED

[dumbbitchgalore]

Part 4: Old man!Price wants his birdie to fly away 🕊

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

John sighs softly as he walks out of the door with the final box filled with his belongings.

Parking your car in the driveway, you walk out of it and approach the front door as you spot John. You cross your arms and sigh softly.

"Done moving out, Captain?" You ask, void of any emotion.

John groans as he hears the formality in your voice, "Birdie-"

You put you hand up to cut him off, "Don't. Don't you dare call me that. It's fucking poison coming out of your mouth."

He frowns at your harsh scowl and releasing reasoning with you is no longer an option as you walk past him and open the door to your once shared home.

This is what he wished as the desired outcome of his actions. For you to kick his arse and finally be free of the bastard that he is. A broke, old man like him didn't need to clip a birdie's wings just for his sake.

But somewhere within his conscious, John was beginning to feel a sense of loneliness, guilt and longing. His actions where for his birdie's freedom. But was there truly no other motive towards his selfish actions?

John was beginning to slowly become an after thought to you as you were getting ready for a night out.

You stand in front of the mirror situated on the bedroom wall as you admire yourself. However, in the corner of your eye John's non-existant silhouette lingered behind you. Closing your eyes, you feel his arms wrap around you as you lean into his ghost. His scent begins to waft around you, engulfing you an a hazy trance.

John, John, John

Shaking your head left and right, you shoo his spirit away from your presence. You brush the wrinkles out of your outfit before walking out of the front door.

Unlocking the car, you sit in the driver's seat turning the ignition on. Headlight on, you drive out. Breathing in and out, playing ever single possible scenario as to how this night will unhold.

Regaining the lost confidence attributed to John's heinous actions, you sike yourself up through the whole car ride.

Coming to a halt in front of the pub, you spot him waiting for you near the front door. Smiling softly at the scene, you notice him shivering as the winter breeze bumps against him, prickling his skin. You find humour in the lack of a jacket, possibly to impress you with a visual of his body as he always tried to back during your engagement with Price which you actively ingored.

But now you decide to take in the sight, drinking in his physique along with his tattoo and his stupid mohawk that you used to depised, but now it's style began to grow on you.

Looking at yourself in the sun visor mirrow, you fix any imperfections you find in yourself before stepping out of the car and walking to him.

Giving him a soft smile, you hug him before stepping back and chuckling nervously.

"Sorry, haven't done this in a while" You say sheepishly, rubbing your upper him.

He smirks at your shyness, kissing your cheek. "Let me take the reins then, Bonnie?"

You nod at the scotsman's comment, leaning into his touch as he ushers you inside of the pub.

On the other side of the street, there he was. A witness to the scene which took place in front of him. John stands there idly, trying his best to let his birdie fly away and start the creation of a new nest.

[notjustjavierpena]

King

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: A happy return my dark sugardaddy!joel. It’s truly been too long. I hope you enjoy his dark and looming presence.

Summary: You do what it takes to get that car you’ve wanted for a while.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, sugardaddy/sugarbaby dynamics, abusive relationship, dom/sub dynamics, hint at virginity kink, power dynamics, reader calls joel ‘king’. daddy kink, light bondage, verbal humiliation, demeaning talk about sex work, praise kink, slapping, manhandling, dacryphilia, choking, rough piv sex, cream pie, no aftercare

Word count: 3.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56477767

King

You run your fingers down over the front of your little black dress. It’s not your favorite but it doesn’t matter as it is not the centerpiece of your outfit, mischievously hiding an emerald green set of lingerie underneath it that peeks out from under the hem in the form of a garter belt. 

The silk underwear is new, bought only last week when Joel took you shopping for something new to tear to pieces. He’d chosen this color very carefully but you suspect that it had really been the heart-shaped gap between your legs that had made it sell itself. You knew instantly then, from the way his eyes had darkened and his suit pants had tightened, that it would become a useful weapon in getting what you wanted. Not that you would ever say it out loud (and you suspect that he knows) but Joel is sometimes easy to read, easy to wrap around your finger if you let him do as he pleases. He cares about your happiness and wants but he just doesn’t like to say it out loud, likes to play games so it looks like it is his idea. You’re happy to indulge him in this fantasy if you end up benefiting from it anyway. 

The black dress has no uneven ruffles but you still smooth it out underneath your palms. Then you head to his king-sized bed, toeing off your shoes, and decide to take a nap on your front until he gets home. He doesn’t even know you have a mission. 

Joel arrives home a few hours later. You wake up from the sound of his car crunching the gravel of his driveway, announcing his arrival like an impending hurricane that has consciousness to be merciful but only if it likes. You imagine the scene in your head; the sight of the car coming to a jarring halt, the door being opened and a single foot hitting the solid ground. 

You get out of bed immediately with your heart pounding at the thought of seeing him in just a moment. You leave your shoes behind as you exit the bedroom, tiptoeing out into the hall to peer down at the front door from the top of the enormous staircase. 

You can hear the jingle of his keys and then he is framed in the doorway, a dark shadow in contrast to the pining sunlight outside. He looks around for you for a moment, surveying his large home with a presence that fills the space completely. 

You try to steady your breathing so as to not reveal yourself to be spying on him, taking note of how he carries himself and what mood radiates from him. Sometimes it’s not the right time to ask for things. Sometimes it’s better to just spread your legs or open your mouth. 

However, Joel simply closes the door and lets out a tired, relieved breath, hand coming up to run across his forehead and using two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. His shoulders slump at this moment that he thinks he is alone, and you release a breath that you didn’t know you have been holding in as you find no clenched fists or angry muttering to himself. 

You make your way back to his bedroom and decide that sitting obediently on the edge of the bed, posing as someone who has been waiting to make his life easier, is the best way forward. 

It takes a little while before you hear his footsteps approaching outside the room. He opens the door slowly, entering the room with his still impressive demeanor. You give him a little smile and push yourself to stand, making your way towards him and pecking his lips when you stand in front of him. 

“Hey,” he says, only a hint of warmth in his tired voice. He reaches out to place a hand on your waist, his grip on your body feeling more like a claim than a comfort.

“You look tired,” you note and cup his cheek with your dominant hand. He closes his eyes briefly as if drawing something from your touch, draining something out of you. When he opens them again, they go down to take in your appearance. His grip on your waist tightens. 

“And you look…” he begins but is unsure how to compliment the effort you’ve put into your outfit that’s only for him. It seems like he genuinely wants to say something nice until his eyes narrow in suspicion, “What’s this for?” 

“I want a new car,” you let him tower over you as you decide to be bold in his fatigued state. Your fingers come up to peel the straps of your dress off, letting them droop down over your delicate skin for just a second before pulling the rest of the dress down to pool around your feet. You step out of it, don’t dare smile in case he might see it as smugness.

Joel looks unimpressed, disappointed even. He narrows his eyes further, a flicker of irritation across his face. He lets go of your body as if you are suddenly not interesting anymore, reaches to undo the knot on his tie, “Take one of my old ones. I have plenty… and with the way ya drive I shouldn’t be spendin’ so much goddamn money on somethin’ new and shiny because you’re bored of your other toys.”

“Joel,” you pout, entwining your fingers in front of you to make your arms squeeze your breasts together tightly while you push out your bottom lip. 

“That ain’t my name,” he replies and briefly looks down at your cleavage, “And what? The little princess didn’t like her pony? You’re so fuckin’ spoiled. A dumb cliché.” 

“Daddy,” you correct yourself and he nods once. You walk backward towards the bed, crawling onto it and making sure he watches you with every step you take, teasing the bottomless panties while doing it. You sit on your knees, his favorite submissive position, and smile with the hope of making his dick hard. It’ll make this so much easier, “Please. I can earn it. I can be a good girl.”

“Show me whatcha got,” he tells you, his tone letting you know that his attention is fleeting so you better make use of it now that you have it. 

You lay down on your front, propping yourself up on your elbows by resting your chin in your hands. You give him a sweet, doe-eyed smile, “Honey, you’ve had such a long day.”

“Nope,” he rejects the fantasy with a bored expression but still takes one step closer to the bed, “Try again.”

You try not to let him see the frustration on your face that your first fantasy fell through, recovering quickly by getting up on your slightly-spread knees. You grab the end of the bed, leaning forward to make your position even more provocative. 

“It’s my first time, Daddy,” you say with a pout, blinking your long lashes at him, “I’m a little nervous. I’m so wet between my legs. Can you tell me what’s happening to me?” 

Even as Joel swallows thickly, he shakes his head while he walks to the side of the bed. He stares at you from a few feet away from the edge, “No. Again.” 

You notice that he is getting hard but you know him well enough to tell that it is from the game that you are playing with each other right now and not from how you look or act. He gets off on the power he has over you, and you feel yourself getting excited from it too. 

Power. That’s the one. 

You crawl forward and lay down on your back on the vulgarly huge bed, staring up at him as you swing your legs out over the edge of it. You spread them slowly to make his gaze burn, revealing the heart-shaped hole in your panties and your soaked pussy that he can slide into if he wants. All he has to do is take a few steps forward and lift your thighs over his hips. 

Joel is too easy sometimes but mostly when he’s in one of his good moods. He stands beside the bed not a second later, looking down at you with awaiting eyes. You know exactly which words to make him fuck you until you cry, even feel a little silly that it hadn’t occurred to you the second you saw him enter the house. 

You give him a hazy look, holding your thighs open for him. His gaze bores into yours and you swear that he can read your mind. Even so, you don’t blink or cower under the look of God. 

“You’re my king, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s better,” he praises to make your skin prickle and your chest feel ablaze.

Something in Joel’s eyes darkens with the idea of being superior in every way and the spark of fire that you have ignited only seems to grow when you don’t try to act like this isn’t the case but instead give in and let him know just how beneath him you are. Figuratively and literally. 

He reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with rough hands as he plans your demise in his head, all kindness seeping out of his face as if the way he praised you seconds ago simply didn’t happen. There’s something about those Shinigami eyes, teasing the border between fear and arousal. The urgency of his movements tells you that it’ll hurt for days but the pretty things that you’ll receive in return are worth not being able to stand upright for a while. You calm your beating heart by listing cars in your mind, choosing colors, models, and leather seats. 

You return to reality when you hear Joel’s fingers snap in front of your face. He sneers, kneeling on the bed with one knee and pulling off his tie completely, “Don’tcha fuckin’ think you get to decide what car you’re gettin’, honey. If you want one, I decide. We clear?”

You watch with pleading eyes, knowing you should say something but faltering because all you want to do is complain about his decision. There goes that dream of an expensive Aston Martin, the one that has kept you scrolling through your phone.

“You dare make your King wait?” He spits harshly when you don’t answer quickly enough, his eyes going practically black with rage. There’s no emotion in them anymore, not even when you whimper at his tone. He reaches out for your arms, violently yanking them towards himself so he can wrap the tie around your wrists, and the panic that you feel suddenly starts to make you cry. He ties a painful knot, securing your arms tightly until he pushes them over your head, “You don’t behave then you don’t getta touch.” 

You whine with tears at the corners of your eyes, looking away in shame in the way that he likes. However, it is actually a punishment because you do really like touching him - or at least just hold onto him, which you still can but you don’t dare move your arms back down - when he fucks you. The avoidance of his powerful eyes earns you a slap to your right breast, and you yelp in surprise. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you babble, barely able to croak out a coherent reply whilst you twist on the sheets from the unprepared sting to your chest. As you turn your body to the side, subconsciously trying to protect yourself from more painful strikes, you curl in on yourself and thus pull your legs shut, “You know best, I-I know. I understand.”

“Lie still, ya bimbo. I saw that hole between ya legs drippin’ wet, so you’re gonna lemme use it or you won’t get as much as a damn penny for your stupid new obsession,” he curls his calloused hands around your thighs until they dent the skin and maneuvers you onto back once more. He holds your legs open, knees pressing into the mattress until you feel as though your hips might dislocate. He stares down between your legs, smiling to himself at the heart shape in your panties. The stitching of it is coated in your slick, obscene in how creamy and white it is compared to the emerald color of the fabric. Joel makes a primal sound, “Daddy fuckin’ likes. God, I am gonna ruin ya, baby, ruin this well-behaved pussy.”

“Just for you, Daddy. It’s all just for you, I promise, money or not,” you cry quietly with your bottom lip sticking out, wiggling your hips as much as you can under his powerful weight to show how desperate you are for him. You want to tell him that he already has ruined you. Oh, how thoroughly he has ruined you and ruined everyone else for you. However, no one should make the mistake of thinking you have not let him, no, you have waited for him to find you in a sea of unimportant and tedious nobodies, and fuck, you love him for it. Even if he makes you cry. 

“That’s right, just f’me,” he smiles down at you almost tenderly whilst removing one hand from your thigh to undo his pants. You smile with wet cheeks, eyes glazed over as he hurries to get his cock out, the head red and angry from not having enough attention. You put on a show of looking like your life depends entirely upon whether he gets inside of you soon. 

“You want Daddy to fuck ya? Fuck ya so I’ll give in like I always fuckin’ do?” He aligns himself with you, gliding the thick head of his length through your soaked folds. 

“Please,” you choke out feebly when he starts to spear you on his dick, feeding you inch by inch with his girth until your whole lower body buzzes with greed. Your tied-up hands grip the sheets above your head, your breath shaky as he drapes your thighs over his hips when he has bottomed out inside you. 

Your voice wavers as he starts moving inside of you, setting a painful pace that has your eyes rolling back into your skull, your body thrashing, and your moans climbing in pitch like you are possessed. He knows what you like and you can feel he might be generous about it today. After all, you’ve put in so much effort to look nice and what would a King be if he couldn’t exceed in everything? That means even your pleasure.

He leans over you when you tighten your legs around his waist, rough hands settling on your hip bones so he can grind harshly into you. You beg for him, pleading his name as if in prayer again and again. His pelvis nudges at your swollen yet untouched clit. It causes you to scream and grab harder at the sheets as your orgasm builds up fast. You sob on the shaking bed as he puts more effort into each thrust. The head of his cock molds you to fit him each time, reaching something inside of you that has you sizzling with ecstasy in a way that no man has ever made possible before. You didn’t even know you could come like this, so intensely, before you met him but despite his talent, he is cruel even in his generosity. 

“You’re gettin’ fucked for a dumb car, you know that?” He growls above you, staring down at your wide eyes and open mouth. He moans with a smirk, “You know what that makes ya?” 

He keeps you on the edge with his thrusts, teasing an orgasm that he doesn’t allow to come yet. In the most frustrating of ways, you find that even if he exceeds in making you come, it’s not a given that he’ll just hand it over to you. Nothing is ever out of the goodness of his heart. You nod frantically as if it’ll make him think you are anything other than pathetic, “Yes! Oh God, yes, please.”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he demands, splaying a hand on your chest and letting it travel up to rest on your neck. However, he doesn’t squeeze to watch your face heat up in panic or push his merciless thumb into your windpipe. Instead, he waits for you to follow orders. 

“A whore, Daddy,” you reply with a whimper, driven crazy by the unreleased tension in your lower belly. You scrunch your eyebrows, “Please— ah, l-let me come.”

“That’s right, a filthy, little, gold-diggin’ whore,” he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a laugh and a moan. Those words make your cunt clench around his cock, walls squeezing enough to make him switch up his pace. His thrusts become sharp and erratic, sending you hurtling towards your high so quickly that you throw your head back and involuntarily twist your arms as much as you can. 

You come with Joel’s violent grip on your throat, with your tits bouncing in the skimpy outfit and your pussy gushing on his dick when your clit happily gets its way. He follows behind you, panting in exhaustion as he finally gets pushed over the edge by how you pulse around him with each beat of your fluttering heart. He is warm inside you, making a mess of your panties with how much already spills out of you around his girth. 

It’s intense even in its aftermath. None of you move for a moment and the body heat radiating from you to him and vice versa has you sticking to each other. Joel has a palm on the bed while the other grabs at one of your thighs that are still slung around his body. He strokes up and down to soothe you but only to slip loose of the hot choke of your pussy. 

You look up at him with a soft whimper when you’re left empty, knowing not to say any actual words yet. Silently, he unties your wrist and you gaze longingly at him as he leans over you to do so. He is so commanding even when he has not uttered a word. Above you, he looks so beautifully disheveled - some of his curls have fallen into his forehead, one sticks to the sweat there - and when he is done, he quietly starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

Once naked on his chest, he stares and thinks about something for less than a second. He is quick in his evaluation of the situation, finally stepping out of his bottoms. He takes his time to dig into the pocket of his discarded pants, retrieving his wallet and you wait as patiently as you can muster as the anticipation grows.

“I think that dirty fuck deserves an Aston Martin at the very least, don’tcha think?” He smiles knowingly but it doesn’t reach his eyes and places his sleek black card on the bed. You hear him mutter the word pathetic as you reach for the card but when you peek up at him, you can see the way he takes pleasure in rewarding you when you so successfully display the thrill you feel in earning it. 

Your body aches but you prop yourself up on your elbows, grinning with tear-streaked cheeks, “Thank you, Daddy.” 

Joel leans down over you once more, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss and tangling his hand in your hair to make you unable to pull back. He knows how to show you who is in charge but he sets it in stone when he only draws back an inch after breaking the kiss again. 

“Remember, baby,” he murmurs, voice raspy with sex, “You only get what you deserve and you’ve been very deservin’ today.”

“Can I shower with you?” You smile sweetly. It seems like the right time to ask for a bit of intimacy. 

Joel huffs a laugh and shakes his head, “No. Lie in it.”

He disappears after that. Your smile does too.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[girlokwhatever]

based on a request where reader meets kate’s family!

⊹ ࣪ ˖✩°｡🦦*ੈ✩‧₊˚-‘๑ meet the martins,,

kate martin x fem!reader

you were beyond nervous. today was the fateful day where you were meeting kate’s parents for the first time. you knew they’d be welcoming considering how amazing their daughter was, but you didn’t know if you’d be able to impress them enough.

kate asked you to be her girlfriend six months ago. the almost unbearable time before that where you two would flirt until your heads spun was about three months long. you considered yourself the luckiest person in the world to have kate, and vice-versa.

you and kate were about to leave university to spend the weekend in her hometown, lugging your bags into the back of her car. as soon as everything was ready she started the car and drove off, deciding now would be a good time to drop a bomb on you.

“so.. babe,”

“kate..”

“i jus’ wanna let you know my siblings are gonna be there too..”

“okay.. okay. that’s nice. it’s good actually. just knock it all out at once..”

kate smiled over in your direction but you didn’t see it, facing the window as you let out a deep breath. she knows you’re unbelievably nervous because the only person you’ll know there is her, but she knows everyone will love you.

you spend the rest of the car ride trying to relax. you try meditation, deep breathing exercises, and even sleep. your girlfriend says nothing, trying to let you cope with your nerves.

when kate pulls into her childhood home’s driveway you’re sleeping, head and hair pressed gently against the side of the seat. she gently grasps your shoulder and leans in to press a kiss behind your ear, whispering that you’ve both arrived. you wake with a startled expression, disbelief written across your face.

“what?! kate! why didn’t you wake me up earlier, i’m probably a mess right now!”

you’re not mad, just panicking. you try to press your hair back down into place and smooth out your sundress but your frantic attempt doesn’t help you much.

“baby you look amazing, i swear.”

you look at her, slightly pouting at the situation. she seizes the moment, taking the opportunity to press and kiss to your lips. some of your worry slips away with her silent reassurance, feeling more confident and accepting that whatever happens, happens.

suddenly you remember the flowers you bought for her mom, pulling away from your girlfriend to grab them from the backseat. kate said these were her favorites so of course you had to buy some.

“are you ready?”

you nod, feeling some of your anxiety resurfacing. you’re not sure why it was so nerve wracking for you. there have been times in the past when you met your partner’s parents and it never made you feel this way. maybe because kate is the best thing is the best thing that ever happened to you and you never want to lose her.

as soon as kate knocks the door swings open, revealing both of her parents. her mom is smiling wide at you and her dad is too, beer in hand. you don’t miss the loud thudding of steps from her siblings either, both of them greeting you with similar smiles.

“okay guys, you don’t have to stand and stare like robots.” she’s joking, pulling her mom and dad in for a hug all at once. her sister kennedy pulls you inside as she introduces herself but you’ve heard so much about her from kate you feel like you’ve known her all your life.

“everyone, this is my wonderful girlfriend, please don’t suffocate her while i go get our stuff from the car.”

“oh kate, i can help you-”

her mother touches your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks in your pursuit to follow kate. “trevor can help kate, you stay here. you’re our guest!”

kate rubs her hand on your back before she departs. she’s giving you this ‘just relax’ look, so you really try. it’s not difficult to think that this is where kate grew up, baby pictures and her warm vanilla scent lingers everywhere.

once you snap back to reality, kate’s mom is looking at you so genuinely and with so much certainty you feel as though this is already your family. you feel bad watching trevor leave but he doesn’t seem to mind at all, helping ease your conscious. this house feels so familiar to you, almost as if kate embodies this space she grew up in. loving, accepting, cherishing, and sweet.

“oh! i bought these for you. kate said they were your favorite.”

you hold the flowers in her direction, watching her face light up as if she hadn’t noticed them until now. you all drift to the kitchen as she thanks you, getting out a vase to set them in. she’s bubbly, smile wide and cheeks a perfect shade of pink you recognize from kate.

they’re all so welcoming to you, patting you on the back and squeezing your shoulders every so often. their aura exudes love and positivity, spreading into your bones and helping you sink into the moment. all your worry is left behind, pure excitement taking over at the prospect of the rest of your weekend here.

a few hours later you’re all sitting outside on the back patio. you’re in kate’s arms laying on the couch, her parents sitting across you both, and trevor and kennedy in two lounge chairs.

kate places her chin on the top of your head, wanting to engulf your entire being. the sight of you laughing and making jokes with her closest family melts her heart. she admires every single second you spend just laughing at something someone said, feeling as though you were meant to be here in this moment.

you’re all mid laugh after kennedy recalls a high school basketball fail memory when her eyes widen, gasping loud and holding back a laugh.

“did kate tell you- oh my goodness. did kate tell you she used to have the most aggressive side part ever?!”

kate’s eyes widen at the exposure, face turning red when she tries covering your ears even though she already knows you’ve heard it already. your jaw goes slack because you had no idea, and think it’s absolutely hilarious.

“what?! no! i had no idea! she never said anything.”

“really kate? you’ve never shown her a high school photo?” her mom speaks through laughs, kate’s face and the reveal stuck in her mind.

“oh my god- was this a whole high school career thing?”

“yes! at least five years, i’m surprised it didn’t get stuck that way.”

everyone’s in on the conversation now and the inside joke begins to form. even with her embarrassment, kate doesn’t mind much because it’s you, joking with her family. she’d go through a million moments like this if it meant bringing you closer with the people she loves most.

through the hysteria, kate meets her mom’s eyes. the approving smile is present, a silent ‘you got a good one’ look that tells kate all she needs to know. of course she was certain her family would love you, but she didn’t know it’d be so easy, all the pieces falling into place. kate smiles back, trying to burn this memory into her mind forever.

after dark everyone’s drifting back inside and bidding trevor and kennedy goodbye. you hug them both, telling them how amazing you think they are and you’re really happy to have met them. they tell you the same, especially kennedy who sneaks in a joke about how you’re her ‘future sister.’ your heart stutters at that, the idea of being kate’s wife giving you butterflies in your stomach.

it’s when kate places her hand in yours and guides you to her bedroom that her mom really knows. with absolute confidence she knows how deeply in love her daughter is with you. she knows kate has found her soulmate from the way she’s always watching over you, making sure you’re alright. it’s mother’s intuition, she just knows.

kate hands you your towel, kissing your forehead as you exit the shower and she takes your place. you’re brushing your hair when she asks you how you feel about her family.

“i really love them kate. they’re all so sweet and funny. they really were so welcoming.”

“yeah, i can tell everyone really likes you.”

it makes you feel good to hear to say that, like it’s an official welcome into her family. and it means everything to you, knowing how much family means to kate. knowing she brought you here to see where she grew up and who she grew up with.

“i’ll be right back kate, i left my socks in your room.”

“okay! i love you!” her voice fades as you walk out, shouting out a quick ‘i love you’ back. because you really do love her, more than anything.

you’re searching through your bag when you hear a gentle knock on the open door, turning to see kate’s mom jill.

“hey! is everything okay?”

“oh yeah, everything great. i just wanted to tell you it was really amazing to meet you. you’re a wonderful girl, and i can tell kate really loves you,” her voices lowers a bit as she speaks again, “y’know, kate’s never really had a serious girlfriend, you’re the first girl she’s ever brought home. i know she’s happy with you, so thank you for being so good to her. and you’re welcomed here anytime.”

you’re at a loss for words, thankful for the praise and slightly shocked by the news that kate hasn’t ever brought a girl home. you and kate never discussed dating history in detail and it didn’t matter to you. it still doesn’t. your heart pounds and warms your body, flustered because of how well jill thinks of you.

“well, thank you for having me. i really appreciate how welcoming everyone was today, it means a lot. i really feel happy here and hopefully we’ll get to come back soon.”

her mom smiles and nods, kissing your cheek as she says goodnight to you. the whole interaction is almost surreal. your love for kate grows impossibly larger knowing that the love you two share is so easy to notice.

your girlfriend walks into her room and spots you, picking you up bridal-style before laying down in bed. you straddle her, eyes gleaming at her big silly grin. she reaches for you hands and kisses them repeatedly, closing her eyes and melting into the touch.

“i love you so much, never wanna be without you.”

“i never want to be without you either,” you’re leaning down, kissing her skin wherever you feel it. she’s warm and soft from the shower, skin smooth and perfect for leaning into.

“i want to marry you.”

“kate, don’t say those things.”

your heart pounds for what feels like the millionth time that day, not sure if she’s saying it just because of the heat of the moment. either way, you know with absolute certainty that you would want to marry her too and if she asked you’d say yes.

“why not? i mean it. i want to marry you.” and she’s not lying, she really does mean it. with the deepest parts of her soul she means it and knows it’s true. she thinks she’ll buy you and ring the second she gets back to iowa, feeling a sudden urgency to bond your love.

“i want to marry you too.”

you both stare at each other wordlessly, the only thing existing between you is the love you share. she kisses you again and again, feeling that if she doesn’t you’ll just disappear because you’re too good to be true. she holds you tighter because she fears you might vanish or realize you don’t actually want this.

but you do. you both do. you’ll always love kate even in death, wherever that may take you. you know that for certain, just as certain as kate is about her love and adoration for you.

“mrs. martin. i like that.”

“for you or me?”

“for us. i want to be with you forever, future mrs. martin.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

GUYS I REALLY LIKE THIS. i want to turn it into a little series of reader and kate’s future (wedding, kids, etc.)

WHAT DO YOU THINK

[forever-rogue]

It's a Lifestyle

AN | Hello, its me! Back from the dead for my favorite time of the year. It's just a sweet little scene with Eddie and his angel and their love of Halloween! 🥰

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.1k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie looked forward to coming home every day. So much. Like so much. 

Because he always knew that you'd be there, excited to see him, even if it hadn't been that long since you'd last seen each other.

He parked his truck in the driveway of the small house that now belonged to the two of you.

A very own home for you both.

He noted your car in the driveway as well, but when he came inside the house, you weren't there to greet him. He took off his boots and set them by the door, reaching down to pet Pickles as she wound herself around his legs. The small black cat purred loudly before giving him one final rub and heading over to the window to sit on the ledge and stare outside. People and animal watching had become a favorite pastime of hers.

"Angel?” he called out, wondering where you had managed to disappear too. He poked around downstairs but found nothing but the delicious smell of fresh brownies. It was like you'd known that he had been craving them. You definitely made the best brownies…not that he was biased or anything.

When you didn't answer him, he climbed up the stairs, assuming you were in the bedroom or office or…somewhere. Hopefully.

As he got to the top of the stairs, the floor squeaked slightly. That alone was enough to alert you to his presence, “Eddie?”

He followed the sound of your voice down the hall and around the corner, finding the stairs to the attic pulled down, “its just me. What're you doing up there?”

“Hi my love,” your pretty face appeared and made him smile, “I'm just going through some boxes to find the Halloween Decorations! I know I have some from the years past-”

“It's not even September yet,” Eddie raised an eyebrow, amusement written all over his face. He was trying not to laugh, but it was all in good fun.

“Halloween is a year round tradition, Edward!” You beckoned for him to come up the stairs, “its not my fault that my year round decor just happens to be Halloween appropriate. Halloween is a lifestyle.”

“I thought it was a holiday?” He started to make the short climb, quickly standing up next to you. He gently took your face in his hands, beaming at you.

“It's a lifestyle,” you repeated, putting your hands on his forearms, smiling back at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he leaned and kissed you softly, pulling away much sooner than you would have liked, but you knew you'd get plenty more later, “Halloween being a lifestyle choice makes sense considering your skull collection.”

“It is an impressive skull collection,” you mused before kissing him again. When he had first met you he was surprised to find that you collected all sorts of different replica skulls. You didn't give off the vibe immediately but he found that they did suit you, “wanna help me decorate, handsome?”

“For you? Anything,” he agreed, heart swelling at the pure joy on your face, “you want to decorate now? We'll decorate now.”

“And maybe go shopping for some new decorations?”

“Sure baby,” he promised, “you never decorated our old apartment much.”

“It was small,” you shrugged softly, “and that only felt like a home because of you. But this is our home now, one we worked hard for. And there's no one else I'd rather be here with. Now we have the freedom and ability to make it our own, however we want.”

“Yeah,” fondness colored his voice as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I love you, you know?”

“I love you,” you threw your arms around him and gave him a cuddly, tender embrace, “now, my love, will you help me bring the boxes downstairs?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed dramatically before immediately getting ready to bring everything down the ladder. You could have asked him for the moon and stars and would have gotten them for you, “I hope you know I'm only being nice because you made brownies.”

“I knew I made them for a reason,” you grinned at him, “you're not a hard sell, Eddie Munson.”

“You're lucky I love you!”

“I love you lots and lots,” you promised, moving the first box towards him so he could bring it down, “and then some!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I'm not sure about this,” Eddie frowned at the coffee currently nestled in your hand, eyebrows almost disappearing into his dark curls, “why do you want a drink that tastes like pumpkin?”

He was, meanwhile and as usual, holding a cup of hot, black coffee. You grinned and shrugged your shoulders before talking a long sip, “because it's delicious and the right amount of sweet and spicy. Besides, it doesn't taste like pumpkin, it's the spices. Try it.”

“What if I die?” He scoffed dramatically before taking the cup of your hand taking a tentative sip. You watched his face go through several emotions before he finally swallowed.

“It's good, huh?” You knew him well enough by now to know when he liked something. He mumbled something under his breath before handing the coffee back to you, “and you didn't die.”

“It's…acceptable,” he tried to play it off but you could see him struggle to hold his laugh back. He quickly grabbed it again and took another sip, “I wouldn't try it again.”

“Whatever,” you kissed his cheek before taking your coffee back and looping your arm through his, walking him in the direction of the home goods store you'd dragged him to. Not that he was really complaining - he loved Halloween too after all, “you don't have to admit I'm right.”

“You wish,” he rolled his eyes dramatically, eyes widening when he noticed all the Halloween items in the shop’s window display, “wow. That's so much Halloween…and it's still so early in the season.”

“That's how it is nowadays,” you shrugged, “but it's to my advantage!”

“What exactly is that you're looking for?”

You moved to step in front of him, looking ridiculously cute in your sweater and scarf and boots, all bundled up to stay warm, “we are looking for whatever speaks to us. You gotta feel it in your gut.”

He couldn't help but laugh as you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his, “whatever you say, angel.”

“We don't have to do this,” you whispered softly, “if you don't want to, I don't want to make you do this, or to make you feel obligated-”

“I want to do this,” he promised, “I love spending time with you, whatever we do.”

“Me too,” you relaxed, smiling shyly at your boyfriend. You reached over and tucked a rogue curl that had escaped from his bun behind his ear, “c'mon on then! Oh - you get to pick what we do next. Wanna go to Guitar Center maybe?”

His eyes lit up as he nodded. He knew that you weren't a music nerd like him, but you always listened intently when he spoke about it, often getting very passionate. You always supported him and his music and he couldn't ask for more.

 “Hell yeah.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That afternoon you spent several hours walking around and looking for the perfect Halloween and fall decor for the house. It was, admittedly, a lot more fun than Eddie could have imagined.

Plus, the two of you had gone to Guitar Center afterwards. Which hadn't hurt. You always felt like you were lost when Eddie got really into talking about music, but you loved how passionate he was about music…everything really.

The only thing that was left to do was to get pumpkins for the front porch and maybe some pie. But that you wanted to do closer to actual Halloween so the pumpkins wouldn't rot. Although Eddie had insisted that would look metal as fuck. 

The two of you had decided to make it a date day and by the time the two of you were heading home it was later into the evening.  Eddie was driving your car, one hand on the wheel and the other one was holding yours.

Music was playing quietly as the two of you talked about anything and everything that crossed your mind. After a while, a content silence fell over the two of you as you stared out the window at the passing scenery.

“What're you thinking about, angel?” He quickly turned his head to look at you, his face illuminated by the passing street lights.

“Nothing,” you felt your cheeks warm up, and keep your eyes turned from his. he squeezed your hand and you knew better than to think he would leave it alone. That wasn't his style at all. You turned your head to face him, squinting your eyes before sighing, “Alright, its something. But it's silly and you're going to laugh.”

“I wouldn't laugh,” he insisted as you raised an eyebrow at him, “fine, I won't laugh unless it's very laugh worthy.”

“You're such an ass,” but you were laughing now, the sound full of adoration and affection, “I was just thinking about how much I love this.”

“This?”

“Us,” you watched a smile tug up the corners of his mouth, “I love being with you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he turned the street to your house, effortlessly pulling into the driveway and parking the car. You unbuckled your seat belt and turned to him, looking at him sweetly, “what? You're looking at me all funny.”

“I'm not looking at you funny,” you leaned over the center console and traced your fingers gently along his jaw, “I just really love you.”

“And…? I know there's something else you're not saying,” he took your chin in his hand and tilted your face up towards him, “out with it angel.”

“It's just that,” you bit your lip, sucking in a slow breath, “I can't wait to marry you one day. I mean. I know this is all real, that what we have is real. But I also can't wait to call you my husband one day. It's like an added little bonus.”

“Oh,” his pale cheeks turned bright pink as he tried to control his excitement. At first you were worried that he wasn't going to share the same sentiment but any worry that popped up quickly disappeared, “I can't wait for that either. I can't wait to call you my wife one day.”

“And you'll be my husband,” you whispered as he nodded eagerly, “you want to marry me too?”

“Of course I do,” he admitted shyly, “and I'm going to propose. You'll just have to wait and see when that is. It'll happen but you'll never know when.”

“Until it happens…”

“Until it happens,” he agreed. Eddie held out his hands and motioned for you to shuffle over the center console, “c'mere.”

“We're in the car!”

“Don't care,” he insisted, helping you over and onto his lap, “just wanna be close to you.”

“Even better,” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to your lips so you could kiss him. He sighed softly against your lips, his warm and sweet smell overwhelming you in the best ways possible, “I love you so much, Eddie. Thank you for always dealing with me and my shenanigans.”

“I've never dealing with you,” he nudged his nose against yours, “I love every bit of you. Plus I also enjoy all of your so called shenanigans. We just have…adventures. Silly ones, but good ones. and I happen to love Halloween as much as you. It's a win-win for me.”

“For both of us,” you pressed your forehead against his, “do you wanna go inside and put up some of the stuff we got?”

“Yes,” he agreed eagerly, “but I want to enjoy some more of you first.”

“What…oh,” you grinned, “I would very much like that.”

“Let's go then,” he opened the door and gently helped you out of the car, “no time to waste, m'lady.”

“You're such a dork!”

“So are you,” he countered, “but I love you regardless.”

“And I love you, Eddie."

[darlingdaisyfarm]

best date ever (Stan pines x fem!reader)

A date with Stan, what could go wrong?

You never really knew what to expect from Stanley Pines. After all, this was the same guy who could sell you a so-called "ancient artifact" that turned out to be an old cereal box toy and still convince you it was worth every penny. So when he asked you out, you weren’t exactly sure how it would go. He wasn’t the flowers-and-chocolates type; instead, Stan was. . . well, Stan.

That’s probably what got you here, standing in front of the window, watching the unmistakable silhouette of the Stanmobile pull into your driveway. The thing was pretty loud. You heard the muffler rattle as Stan turned off the engine, and then the door creaked open with a metallic sound that made your eye twitch. A date with Stanley Pines. . . What could possibly go wrong?

Too nervous, you opened the door first before he even could knock and there he was, standing on your porch like some kind of hero from a forgotten old movie. Wearing a white shirt with the first buttons unbuttoned, dark brown trousers and. . . was he wearing an eyepatch?

As soon as he opened his mouth to greet you, you started a dialogue first. Oh damn, yes, that was awkward, but you kept going.

"Lookin' sharp," you teased, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, well, it’s not every day a guy like me gets to take a gal like you out,” he flashed you that wide, confident grin that didn’t quite match his eyes though. He shifted a little, like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands. “You ready for the best date of your life or what?”

You tried, really tried, not to laugh at how absurd the eyepatch looked on him. You leaned on the doorframe. “Okay, I gotta ask. . . what’s with the eyepatch? Did you lose a fight with a tourist or something?”

His grin faltered for a second and you swear you saw him hesitate. He scratched the back of his head, looking away, as if he was caught off guard for some ridiculous act. Yeah, right now he really wanted to wash away the shame. “Oh, uh, this?” he gestured to the eyepatch, trying to look casual. “Just, uh. . . battle wound. You know, dangerous life and all that.”

You tilted your head, amused, waiting for the real answer. “Stan. . .”

He gave himself a mental slap in the face, yanking the patch off with a quick flick of his wrist. "You saw nothing." he muttered with deadly seriousness before stuffing it into his pocket.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. For all his boldness, the fact that he tried to impress you, however clumsily, was so cute. “You don’t need to try that hard, you know. I. . . kind of like you just the way you are.”

His cheeks reddened, but just slightly, and he cleared his throat, shuffling awkwardly. “Yeah, well. . . don’t let it get to your head, alright?”

The passenger door of the Stanmobile creaked as you opened it and slid into the worn, cracked seat. The car smelled faintly of old leather and stale coffee, and the dashboard was littered with random trinkets, coins, and a few crumpled wrappers. Stan slammed his door shut, giving the steering wheel a hard pat before starting the engine.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, glancing over at him.

The plan was simple — or at least, it was supposed to be. A nice dinner in town, maybe a little romantic walk after, and if things went well, who knew? But with Stan, nothing ever went according to plan.

As the Stanmobile sputtered its way down the road, you couldn’t help but glance over at Stan again. He was focused on the road, hands gripping the wheel just a little too tightly. There was a kind of quiet tension about him tonight that wasn’t there on the usual days when you stopped by the Shack. Maybe it was just the date thing, maybe he really was nervous? The thought surprised you, but you liked it. It made him more. . . real, in a way. You liked that side of him. 

Yeah, diner turned out to be everything Stan had promised and more. It was like stepping into a time machine that had malfunctioned halfway through. Neon signs flickered above the entrance, and the interior was a strange mix of retro and. . . You couldn’t find the right word to describe. The red vinyl stands were cracked and peeling, tarnished with age. It smelled of old oil and nostalgia, like a place that had long outlived its heyday, but still maintained it with stubborn pride. 

It looked like it hadn’t changed since the '50s, but it was full to the brim. Of course, he hadn’t thought to make a reservation.

“Should’ve figured,” Stan grumbled, glaring at the crow. “You’d think folks around here would have better taste than to crowd this dump.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Says the man who scams them daily.”

He gave you a wide smile. “Hey, I provide a valuable service. It’s called entertainment, toots.”

The jukebox in the corner of the room crackled to life, spitting out an old Elvis song that skipped every few beats. Stan’s brow furrowed in irritation, but there was something undeniably charming about the whole mess. It felt like a place he’d drag you to — not because it was fancy or impressive, but because it was something that always made happy and he wanted to share these feelings with you. Show them to you.

You were halfway through your milkshake (which, to be fair, wasn’t that bad, though Stan grumbled about the price) when the music changed. A slow, syrupy doo-wop tune hummed through the air, and Stan’s expression softened. His fingers tapped against the edge of the table, and he glanced up at you, his eyes shifting with something like uncertainty.

“So. . . you wanna dance?”

Your heart skipped a beat at that question, and for a second you wondered if you had heard him right. You blinked, then smiled. “With you? Absolutely.”

Stan stood, offering you his hand with a cocky grin. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, baby. I’m pretty much the king of the dance floor.”

You laughed, took his hand, and let him lead you into the tiny space between the booths. The floor was sticky and the lighting was terrible, but none of that mattered. You moved together, swaying awkwardly at first, but gradually finding a rhythm, Stan's warm hand slid down your back to your waist. In the world around you, it's just the two of you in your own little bubble of retro music and flickering neon light.

The date continued in typical Stan fashion - messy, loud, but weirdly charming. He ordered way too much food, insisting that “you only live once” and somehow managing to spill half a plate of fries onto the floor when his hand gestures got a little too wild. He told stories, some of them most obvious lies, but you could tell that a few were real, even though he never said so. Tales of his past, of scams gone wrong and of the time he got banned from New Jersey. You couldn't help but laugh together with him, because the sheer absurdity of it all made the evening much more enjoyable than you expected.

But just when you thought the night was going smoothly, the universe, and Stan’s luck, had other plans.

You were just halfway through your burger when the sound of sirens cut through the air, flashing red and blue lights flashed in the windows. Stan froze, his eyes widening just a little too much for someone who claimed to have nothing to hide.

“Uh, Stan, what’s with the cops?” you asked, already having a bad feeling.

Stan shrugged, a little too casually. “Probably just grabbing a bite to eat. Y’know, doughnuts and all that.”

Before you could answer, two policemen entered the diner and went straight to the table where you were sitting.

Stan's face changed instantly as he looked at you. “Uh. . . hey, why don’t we, uh, take our food to go?"

“Stanford Pines?” the cop asked, pulling out a notepad.

“Uh, it’s Sta-“ Stan came to his senses in time, suddenly sweating. He leaned forward, trying to give the guy his best innocent smile. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, officer. I’m just here enjoying a nice, peaceful evening with my girl.”

The cop didn’t look convinced. “We’re going to need you to come with us.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between Stan and the cop, your heart sinking. “Stan, what’s going on?”

Stan bit his lip, rubbing his neck. “Eh, nothing to worry about, babe. Just. . . might have some, uh, unpaid parking tickets. No big deal.”

“Sta”- you wanted to repeat, but Stan interrupted you, clearly not letting you speak.

He avoided your gaze, focusing on the cop instead. “Look, officer, I’ll take care of the fines. Can’t we, uh, settle this quietly? I’ve got money.” he reached into his pocket, probably for his wallet, trying to salvage what was left of his dignity. Was he gonna pay with Stan bucks?

The cop didn’t budge, looking more annoyed by the second. But before you could process what was happening, the waiter reappeared next to your table, holding up the check. “Sir, your total is-“

But before he could finish the sentence, Stan grabbed your hand with a sudden burst of adrenaline. “C'mon! Time to make a quick exit,” he muttered, pulling you towards the door.

You barely had a chance to grab your things as he rushed to the exit, taking you with him, the cop’s voice rising behind you. “Sir! Sir, you can’t just-“

Too late. Stan was already moving at a speed you wouldn’t have thought possible for a man his age, practically dragging you across the diner floor. The bell above the door gave a loud ring as you burst outside, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap.

“What- Stan! What are you doing?” you shouted, trying to keep up as he raced toward the parking lot.

“Trust me, doll, I know what I’m doing!” he shouted back, fumbling with his car keys as you both headed straight for his battered old Stanmobile.

Stan yanked the door open, practically shoving you into the passenger seat. “Sorry, sweetheart, but we’re not getting arrested on our first date!” he said, giving you a grin that was way too proud for a man who’s running from the cops.

You barely had time to buckle your seatbelt before he slammed the driver’s door shut and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered, wheezed, and then roared to life with a sound like an angry chainsaw. “Atta girl, that’s it,” Stan muttered under his breath, patting the dashboard like it was a horse in an old western.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a policeman running out of the diner, shouting something into a walkie-talkie. “S-Stan!”

“I see ’em!” Stan yelled, throwing the car into reverse and peeling out of the parking lot with a screech of tires. “Hold on tight!”

The car spun around, almost crashing into a lamp post. You were pretty sure you heard the cop yell something about backup, but all you could focus on was the blurred outlines of trees and neon lights flashing by as Stan raced down the street

“Okay, okay- this is fine,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the door handle hard. “We’re totally fine. Just a casual date. Running from the cops. No big deal.”

Stan burst into a loud laugher, clearly enjoying himself way more than he should have been. “Y’know, I’ve been in worse situations! Once outran a bunch of angry tax collectors in a boat! You’d be surprised what you can get away with if you’ve got the right distractions!”

“Stan!” you screamed in fear, and your heart jumped into your throat as the car swerved, almost hitting a raccoon running across the road.

“Relax, kid! I got this!” Stan assured you, his voice somehow both panicked and excited at the same time. He slammed on the gas, sending the car hurtling down a back road, away from the diner. The flashing lights of the police car in the rearview mirror were getting smaller, but you weren't sure how long it would last.

Just as you were about to ask if he had a plan (or if the plan was just "drive like hell"), Stan suddenly pulled off the road, skidding into a small dirt clearing hidden behind a bunch of trees. He cut the engine, motioning for you to stay quiet.

You sat there, breathless, scared, the sound of your racing heart filling the silence when a police car sped past, its siren fading in the distance.

There was a long, tense pause where you two just looked at each other. Then Stan leaned back in his seat, exhaling deeply. “Whew. Close call. That was cool, huh?” he turned to you, grinning like a kid who’d just gotten away with sneaking into a movie.

You couldn't help but stare at him, feeling something between disbelief and. . . oddly enough, admiration. Only Stanley Pines could turn a first date into getaway.

“Stan,” you finally said, breaking the silence, “we just fled a crime scene.”

“Eh, ‘crime’ is such a strong word,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively. “More like a. . . misunderstanding.”

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips despite everything. Only with Stan.

But as the adrenaline slowly faded, you could see something else creeping into his expression, something much less cocky and way more. . . defeated, sad even. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and his shoulders slumped.

“I really messed up tonight, huh?” his voice was quieter now, a lot more vulnerable than you’d ever heard him. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, just staring out the windshield. “I wanted to show you a good time. Prove I wasn’t just. . . y’know, some washed-up old guy who can’t get anything right. And look where we are. Hiding out in the woods, running from cops.” he laughed bitterly. “You probably think I’m an idiot.”

The silence that followed was heavy, you looked at him again. There was something heartbreaking about seeing Stan like this, behind all this bragging and show-off there was a man who truly cared what you thought of him. And right now, he looked like he had failed.

But then, through the trees, you noticed a glimpse of the sky. The full moon hung low, flooding the clearing with a soft silver light. It was strangely peaceful here now, away from the chaos what just happened, and you found yourself smiling no matter what.

You reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “hey, Stan, look up.”

He frowned, confused, but did as you asked, his eyes following yours to the sky.

“It’s beautiful, right?” you said softly. “The full moon, the stars. . . this moment.”

Stan blinked, like he hadn’t expected that. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“And you didn’t mess up,” you added, turning to him with a soft smile. “Tonight was. . . well, sure, it was an adventure, but that's what makes you the man I love. You're not a loser, Stan. Not for me.

He stared at you, like he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. “You- you really mean that?”

“Yeah,” you answered him, your voice filled with sincerity. “I’d take a wild night with you over a boring, perfect one any day.”

There was a long pause while your words seemed to reach him. And then, slowly, Stan’s face broke into a real, genuine smile. Not his usual cocky smirk or sarcastic grin, just a simple, warm smile.

“Y’know, you’re somethin’ special,” he said softly, his hand tightening around yours. “I don’t deserve ya, but... I’m real glad you’re here.”

You leaned in a little closer, your heart fluttering as the distance between you got shorter. “I’m glad too, Stan.”

The moonlight bathed the two of you in its soft glow, and in that moment, despite the chaos of the night, everything felt. . . right.

[hearts4golbach]

more johnnie guilbert x reader enemies to lovers smut but more time where they hate each other before anything happens between them PLEASEEEE i adore your writing

It's Harder Breathing Next to You.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

Tara's sister au 👅!!

proofread

warnings:

fanfiction logic, 18+ smut, biting, reverse cowgirl, hairpulling, pet names (slut, whore, ma, mama), teasing, spanking, no protection (wrap it before you tap it)

word count:

4.5k

You hated going to see Jake. You didn't hate him. You hated his best friend. Johnnie had to have been the biggest dick you had ever met. You glared at Tara, giving her the deadliest look possible. "Do we really have to go over? Or, do I have to go over?" You clicked in the seat belt, sinking down into the passenger seat.

"Well, I don't want you rotting in your room all damn day." She sighed, pulling out of the driveway. "Just ignore Johnnie."

"It's hard to ignore him when he doesn't know how to shut his fucking mouth." Your profanity seemed more aggressive than usual, it always was when it came to Johnnie. You pushed away the thought of how soft his lips always looked.

"I don't know what to tell you." She shrugged, furrowing her eyebrows. "You can wait in the hot car if you want."

You let out a loud sigh, "No, I haven't seen Jake in a while."

"Okay, well, if you just gave Johnnie a shot, maybe you wouldn't find him as annoying." She glanced over before returning her eyes to the road. "He's a really great person, Y/n."

You crossed your arms, looking out of the window. "Whatever."

Johnnie plagued your mind for the rest of the ride there. It was a short ride, thankfully. You deeply considered what Tara said. Maybe he wasn't as annoying as you thought he was, but he really struck a nerve within you. You weren't completely sure if it was annoyance, but you didn't know what else to call it. Just the thought of him looking at you sent shivers down your spine. You hated those bright blue eyes. They reminded you of the ocean, and you dispised the ocean. But, god, were they beautiful.

You climbed out of the car, following Tara up to the front door. She opened it with her spare key and walked inside. It was cozy, per usual. The smell of musk and vanilla filled your nose. 'How could there be three guys in one house, and it smelled this nice?' You asked yourself. You wondered what Johnnies room smelled like.

Jake stood in the kitchen, basically hitting a Dress to Impress pose as he stood at the counter. He had a large coffee in his hand and his phone in the other. He looked up and smiled at the two of you. "My two favorite girls!" He smiled. You walked over and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "You need to come around more often. Get some sunlight." He teased.

You squinted up at him. Jake always kept all of the windows wide open, making the sun peer through nearly every crevice in the house. "Yeah, well, you guys stink, so.." You teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, your favorite person in the world is upstairs taking a shower, so you won't have to see him for a minute." Jake emphasized 'favorite person.'

As if it were a competition, you rolled your eyes in return. "Okay," you couldn't come up with a better response before you pulled away.

"We were thinking about Olive Garden for dinner. Does that work with you guys?" Jake looked down at his phone. "I can call and make reservations now."

You simply nodded as Tara responded with a yes. You pulled up a chair to the counter and sat across from Jake. Tara leaned next to you. You zoned out when Tara started ranting to Jake about her busy schedule for the next month. You wondered what Johnnie was thinking about. Did he even know you'd be at dinner with the four of them. Did anyone even want to tell him? A small part of you hoped his mood would change, and maybe you'd have a peaceful interaction with him. You hated wishful thinking. You hated a lot of things, and you felt like the root was Johnnie. That wasn't fair to him. You knew that. But, it seemed as if your downfall was after you met Johnnie. You never seemed to stop thinking about him no matter how hard you tried. You greatly disliked that fact. It was one you'd take to the grave if you had to.

Tara tapped your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts. "What?" You cleared your throat, caught off guard.

"I said that you don't need to worry about paying anything. Me and Jake are splitting the bill." She repeated herself, a clear annoyance in her voice. "You okay?" 

"Yeah, fine." You flashed her an unsure smile. You rested your head in your hands.

You heard thudding coming from the stairs. Your head whipped around, knowing who it would be. Johnnie stood at the bottom of the stairs, in his usual skinny jeans and a 'The Cure' shirt littered with holes. You instinctively scrunched up your nose before looking the opposite direction.

He greeted Tara with a smile, not bothering to acknowledge you or Jake. "Did we pick a place to go eat?" He asked, sparing you a glance before returning his attention back to Jake.

His messy, wet hair made your heart skip a beat. "Uh, yeah." Jake spoke, briefly looking towards you. His eyebrows turned to at your expression before returning his attention towards Johnnie. "Olive Garden, like we said earlier."

You stood up, walking toward the cupboard. You reached up to grab a glass before you felt a gentle hand on your hip. You looked behind you to see Johnnie squeezing past you. His groin brushed your ass, making your eye twitch and butterflies erupt in your stomach. This wasn't the first time this type of interaction would happen, and you knew it definitely wouldn't be the last. Johnnie seemed to get a kick out of teasing you, and you found it unbearable. You didn't know he knew, but he did.

"Sorry," he muttered, quiet enough so that only you could hear.

You didn't respond, furrowing your eyebrows together as you filled up the glass with water. You took a long sip, hoping the cold drink would calm you down, to no avail. You shot Tara a look, seeing as her eyebrows were raised nearly to her hairline. She shot you a wink, which made you groan internally.

You were so flustered, you could barely think straight. You needed to talk to Carrington. That wasn't a weird thought for you, seeing as he was your best friend. "Where's Carrington?" you asked suddenly.

"He's in his room." Jake responded, gulping down the rest of his coffee. "He might be asleep. When he's awake, he's usually streaming."

You laughed, "I know." You walked towards the stairs, feeling a pair of eyeliner decorated eyes burn holed in the back of your head. you shuddered at the feeling, continuing your journey up the stairs.

You knocked a few times on Carringtons door before walking inside. He was cuddled up under the covers, also scrolling on his phone. "Hey," you sighed, taking a seat on his bed.

He stretched, letting out an exaggerated groan. He ended it with a high-pitched moan before greeting you. "Hey, you okay?"

"The usual," you implied. You had ranted to Carrington many times about Johnnie. Sometimes, you even woke him up in the middle of the night to whine to him about Johnnie.

Carrington knew what you never wanted to admit. After knowing him for so long, even before he was even associated with Jake and Johnnie, he knew you like the back of his hand. "Y/n," he said in a scolding tone. "Please, for the love of fuck just accept it. You like Johnnie and saying you hate him won't change that."

"Oh my god, I don't!" A twinge of pain shot through your heart. "Even if I did, which I don't, he hates me just as much."

He rolled his eyes, "So, what you're telling me is that the glances he sneaks and the small "casual" touches are hate? Get a grip, Y/n."

"You're actually the worst, you know that?" You let out a weak laugh, meeting Carringtons eyes. "Fuck you."

"I'm the best, and you need to accept it. It's gonna ruin you."

You didn't have the energy to argue, letting out a small 'I know' in response. You couldn't keep lying to yourself. You had always known you didn't hate Johnnie. You hated how much you craved him.

"Whatever, get ready to go to dinner. I'm starving." You attempted to end the conversation on a lighter note.

He groaned, pulling himself out of bed. "I'm serious, Y/n."

"Okay, okay. I get it." You huffed. "Get your ass dressed."

"Okay, fatso." He cackled at his own words.

You peeled yourself from your sitting position and made your way back downstairs. Whenever you made it down, Tara and Jake were still talking in the kitchen. Johnnie was nowhere to be seen.

Carrington met you downstairs a couple minutes later. He sat next to you on the couch, smacking your phone out of your hands so you'd pay attention to his words. "By the way, no one talks about someone they "hate" as much as you do." he added air quotes.

You huffed at his response. "Okay, and-" You stopped mid sentence as Johnnie walked into the living room.

"Don't let me interrupt, what were you saying?" Johnnie asked rhetorically. His hair was now teased and straightened as it always was. You couldn't help but stare before forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from him.

"Shut up." You looked down at your feet, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

"Oh god." Carrington muttered before getting up off of the couch and walking back into the kitchen.

"Make me." He smirked, laying on the couch and resting his calfs on your knees.

You shoved his legs off of you, "I bet you'd like that."

"We're leaving!" Jake called into the living room, jingling his keys before walking out of the front door.

You practically ran out of the room, trying to get away from Johnnies gaze as fast as possible.

You climbed into the back seat of Jake's car, ending up sitting between Johnnie and Carringon. Tara took the front seat, as well as control of the music.

You looked the opposite way of Johnnie and stared out of Carringtons window instead. Johnnies hand brushed against your thigh, making your heart skip a beat.

The car ride seemed to last a century before you finally made it to Olive Garden. Whenever you stepped out of the car, you felt like you could finally take a deep breath. It was harder breathing next to Johnnie.

The whole group walked ahead while you stayed in the back, coincidentally walking next to Johnnie. "Your outfit is really fucking cute."

You whipped your head to look at him. "What?" You raised your voice a little louder than his.

"I said your outfit looks like shit." He grumbled, amused by your response.

You huffed and walked faster. You caught up with Tara and joined the conversation she was having with the other two guys in the group.

Johnnie caught up to you and walked behind you. You felt his eyes rake over your body, making your face flush. Shivers ran down your spine before you finally got seated at the table.

Johnnie sat across from you, while Tara and Carrington were on either side.

You looked up at Johnnie, who was already looking at you. His pupils were dilated as he stole glances at your lips. You grabbed a napkin and grabbed a certain pen that always seemed to be in your pocket. You scribbled 'do you have a staring problem?' on the napkin before sliding it over the table to Johnnie.

He smirked at the note before crumbling it up and putting it in his pocket. His foot rested against yours, hidden from the rest of the group. Your face heated up for what felt like the millionth time that night.

You realized Johnnie was always like this, always showing the smallest bit of interest affection in the smallest ways. You thought back to the time everyone had gone home except you and Tara. Jake was upstairs asleep while Tara was crashed out on the couch. Johnnie sat with you in the kitchen, keeping you silent company. He watched as you worked on an article for your job, only checking his phone once the whole time. His knee was rested against yours, and when you mentioned it, he made a sour rebuttle before going silent again. He had never moved his knee until you got up to go lay with Tara. Afterward, he made the trek back to his room without a word.

This thought made you glare up at him again, but he was looking at Jake as he spoke. You hated his stupid, sexy fucking face. His noticeable jawline and smudged eyeshadow made you weak in the knees.

The rest of the night went by in a blur of Johnnies lips, his gaze meeting your lips, his watercolor eyes burning into your own.

The whole group walked out of the restaurant, stomachs full and giggling at a joke Carrington had just cracked. From the outside looking in, it was a picture-perfect moment.

Johnnie was walking dangerously close to you. You could smell the mix of cologne and cigarette smoke on him. You weren't sure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him. You truthfully wanted to do both.

You sat in the same spot, stuck between a never-ending giggling guy and the silent emo. His clothed thigh was rested against yours gently, keeping the physical contact he almost always had with you-- when he had the chance.

You walked into the house, respectively, exhausted from the long day you had.

"Are you gonna sleep on the couch with me?" Tara yawned as the curled up on the couch.

You sighed. "I guess so."

Everyone said their goodnight and went to their rooms. Tara fell asleep almost immediately while you stayed up and scrolled on your phone.

You were giggling at a Reddit story and didn't even realize Johnnie was leaning on the couch behind you. "What the fuck are you watching?"

You jumped at the sudden noise. "Oh, fuck you. Don't sneak up on me like that."

His hands slithered over the cushion and gripped your shoulders gently. "Come on."

"What? Why?" You looked back at him. "I'm perfectly fine right here."

"'m gonna give you a better place to sleep. I hate seeing you cramped up on this small ass couch." He gave your shoulders a squeeze.

"That's hilarious coming from you. Stop messing with me and go to bed for the love of everything holy." You roll your eyes and return your gaze back to Instagram.

"Don't make me change my mind." He replied in a stern tone. "I'm serious, come on."

You let out an exaggerated sigh. "Uhm, okay?" You peeled yourself off of the couch and followed Johnnie back to his room. "Someone's feeling a little too lonely."

"I'm being considerate. Use your brain." He spat as he began to walk back up the stairs.

You hummed in response, not far behind him. When you were in his room, he shut and locked the door.

"Why'd you lock it?" You asked with raised eyebrows. You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly extremely nervous as his gaze fell onto you.

"I always lock my door. Get a grip," he mumbled.

"Just makes me think you're trying to-"

"Shut up," he cut you off, clearly not interested in hearing the end of that sentence. He sat on the edge of his bed, looking up at you as you took your stance in front of him.

"Make me," you smirked. You really needed to come up with a better response to 'shut up.'

"Don't fucking test me." His voice was barely above a whisper.

You hummed once more, not knowing what to say as you looked down at him.

"Stop looking at me like that." Johnnie mumbled. His eyes raked over your body, which was barely visible in the dimly lit room.

"Like what?" Before you could think, you spoke your thoughts aloud. "Like I wanna do you?"

"Are you trying to turn me on right now?" You raised your eyebrows at Johnnies words. "Because it's working."

You scoffed, "Yeah, I'm sure." you figured his was joking. He had always made small, dirty comments in a 'joking' manner.

"Kiss me." he said, looking up at you with those tempting eyes that you could never get enough of.

You laughed, looking away as you felt your face heat up tenfold. "What?"

"Kiss me." he emphasized. He gripped your hips and pulled you closer.

His hand wrapped around your neck, not adding much pressure as he pulled you down to meet his lips. The kiss was desperate and messy. His hand moved from your neck to your waist. His fingers dug into the soft flesh as he pulled you down into his lap. You tangled your fingers in his raven colored hair as the kiss became needier by the second. You gave a slight tug on his hair, making him let out a soft grunt against your lips. His tongue swiped your lower lip, begging for entrance. You slightly parted your lips, allowing his tongue to lick inside of your mouth. He tasted like mint and nicotine-- a heavenly combination.

Johnnies hard, clothed member was pressed into you. Feeling him against you turned you on even further.

His hands slid up your shirt, snaking behind your back, and unclipped your bra. You grinded down against him, making you let out a small whimper against his soft, puffy lips.

"You're such a fucking slut, already so damn needy for my cock." He muttered against your lips, making quick work of your T-shirt.

His hand moved up to cup one of your breasts while the other toyed with your nipple. You let out a soft moan in agreement as your only thoughts were about Johnnie finally getting inside of your pants.

He removed his hands from your chest and began to unbutton your jeans. Your hands met the hem of his shirt, "Lemme take this off." You pleaded, your voice coming out as a whine.

"I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, ma?" He teased, trailing his fingers along the inside of your waist band.

"Fuck, Johnnie." You muttered.

"You don't know what you do to me," his eyebrows were knitted together as he looked at you. His eyes were blown black as he looked at you like he was starving.

You helped him slip his shirt off before helping you out of your ungodly tight jeans. You were back in his lap in nothing but your lacy pair of wine red panties. He could've drooled at the sight of you in his lap. His lips attacked your neck, peppering it in hickeys.

"Everyone's gonna see how much of a little whore you are for me," he smirked against your neck. His hand slowly slipped inside of your panties and began to circle your clit. You bucked against his hand at the sudden contact. "Shit, you're so wet.."

"Bite me," you rebuttled sarcastically. He let out a low chuckle before gently digging his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder. You didn't expect him to take you seriously, but there was a lot happening that you never really saw coming.

He continued his pattern, biting and sucking at your collar bone as his fingers ran through your folds. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, letting out moans as he collected your slick on his fingers.

"You trying to let the whole house know how good I'm making you feel, baby?" Johnnie dipped his middle finger inside of you, making you yelp.

"N-no." You choked out, keeping your voice barely above a whisper.

"That's what I thought. Be a good little slut and stay quiet for me." He mumbled, placing a kiss on the side of your head. He lifted you up off of his lap and flipped you around so your back was against his chest.

His hand slipped back inside of your panties before he curled his long, slender finger inside of you. You bit down into your lip, moaning quietly in his ear as he pleased you. You tossed your head back onto his shoulder as his finger slowly thrusted inside of you.

Johnnie slipped another finger inside of you. You let out a louder moan before his hand slapped over your mouth. "I can't fucking stand you-- you think I can fuck some sense into you?" He mocked in a sultry tone. His question was more rhetorical than literal.

His fingers held a quick pace as the sounds of your pussy squelching filled the room. He curled his fingers to perfectly hit your g-spot, making your legs shake. You attempted to say something in response, which proved to be pointless. His hand was covering your mouth, after all.

As your walls spasmed around his fingers, he could tell you were close. "You close, mama?" He pressed a kiss into your temple. You nodded eagerly, causing him to remove his hand from inside of you. You whimpered at the loss of contact. "Take your panties off."

You acted quickly at the command. You stood in front of him and pulled off your panties at a teasingly slow pace. You heard his belt jingling and his pants hit the floor before you even got them off. He did the job for you, eagerly pulling your panties down around your ankles.

"Someone's eager," you comment. Johnnie laid a hard slap on your ass in response.

You jumped, letting out a soft yelp as a mix of pain and pleasure coarse through your veins. "Shut up," he barked, "you're the one who'd drop to your knees for me, isn't that right?"

Before you could argue back, he gripped your hips and pulled you back down onto his lap. He gently moved your hips, his hard cock grinding through your wet folds. He let out a soft groan at the proximity.

"You gonna be good and shut your fucking mouth?" his hands moved up your waist and cupped your tits. "Only good sluts get what they want, baby."

You let out a quiet moan as he pinched your pebbled nipples. "Yeah-- yes. I-I'll be good. For the love of God, please.."

"Please what, ma?" He whispered in your ear, biting your earlobe gently.

"oh my god, fuck me already." You accentuated, grinning down onto him harder.

Johnnie hummed in response, positioning you to where he wanted you. His dick slipped inside of you without warning, making you let out a loud moan. "Do you even know how to listen? Open." He instructed as he guided his fingers to your mouth.

You took his fingers into your mouth as you sank down onto his cock. You sucked harshly, gulping back the noises that threatened to fall from your lips.

"Good," Johnnie purred, "now move."

He interspersed kisses along your shoulder as you began to bounce on his cock. You bit down on his fingers gently as you stayed quiet, following Johnnies wishes. Your fingers dug into his bare thighs, desperate to hold onto something for stability.

"You look so good like this," he muttered against your skin. "Y'so fucking tight."

He bucked his hips up to meet yours, greedy as all he wanted to do was fill you up. "You're such a bitch," you mentioned, muffled by his fingers.

You felt him chuckle at your teasing. "But you're sucking my fingers while riding me, funny."

"Fuck you," you spat.

"Mama, I don't know if you noticed, but you already are." He snickered against your neck, sucking a dark hickey.

Both hands moved to your hips as he quickened your pace. Sounds of skin slapping together and quiet moans filled the room.

Your walls clenched around him, making him let out a low whimper into your ear. "You're so fucking good, fuck." You choked out between moans.

One of his hands moved down to cirle your clit, making your legs quake with pleasure.

"I'm s'fucking close." You breathed, your ass meeting his hips as you bounced against him assiduously.

"Come on, baby. Cum on my dick." He smirked into your shoulder.

The knot in your stomach snapped at his remark, releasing your juices all over his cock. Your body went limp as he kept fucking into you with the same passion. Your overstimulated moans became louder as he worked towards his own orgasm. "Doin' so good. Almost there, ma."

You crashed back into his chest, letting out a whimper as he filled you with his seed.

After you both came down from your highs, he gently helped you lay on the bed next to him. He peppered kisses all over your face before going to get a wet wipe to clean you up.  He cleaned you with care, making sure to be gentle around your sore cunt. He placed miscellaneous kisses on your inner thighs as he did so, treating you as if you were the only woman in the world.

He helped you into a clean pair of underwear and the same T-shirt he had worn that day.

He cleaned himself up as you whispered sweet nothings to him. Johnnie slipped on a clean pair of boxers before climbing into bed next to you. You cuddled into his chest with a content smile on your face as his fingers brushed through your messy hair.

"Don't act like I didn't know about your little crush on me," Johnnie flashed you a toothy smile, one you thought you'd never see directed towards you.

"Oh, shut up," you said in a joking manner. This also shocked Johnnie, seeing as you always meant it.

"Then kiss me."

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him before resting your head back on his chest.

-

You woke up the next morning with no Johnnie in sight. You pulled yourself out of his bed and stole a pair of his pajama pants off of the floor. You slipped them on.

You trudged down the stairs to find Carrington and Jake standing in the kitchen. "Mornin'." You greeted.

"Good morning, sunshine." Carrington greeted. You also earned a good morning from Jake. Carrington looked you up and down. "I see that all of that tension was resolved." He couldn't help but laugh, and Jake joined him.

"Heard, too." Jake added.

"Suck me." You rolled your eyes.

[nightdivinity]

Drink Responsibly: Chapter 1

ABO!Vampire!Batfam x reader

Minors! Do! Not! Engage! +18 only!

Platonic!Alfred, Bruce x reader, Possessive! Batboys x reader

Warnings: Bad life choices, possessive behavior, a/b/o, they're vampires, loooong age gaps, no proofreading, reverse harem.

Writer's Note: I am so tired. I exist only because of caffeine and spite. So here you go, Chapter 2 is done as well. It will come out Friday hopefully.

Grey eyes stare into yours as you try your hardest to not squirm under the intensity. How did you get to be where you are? You have no clue. Honestly, there shouldn’t have been a callback. You should not have landed this opportunity for the second interview. The initial screening process should have weened you out in the first place.

From what you had gathered from the chatty chauffeur in the town car, (the town car! They knew you had no car to get to Wayne Manor, let alone to your job. Yet they still sent you someone to go pick you up from your ratty apartment.) This was all ordained by someone much higher than Mr. Pennyworth in front of you. The talk with the chauffeur had almost put you at ease until you looked out the window and saw the heavy iron gate open to Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. There’s no doubt in your mind. You shouldn’t be here. In more ways than one.

It made your bandages itch the more you thought about it. You couldn't scratch them like the feral animal you were deep down inside. At least, not when you're being as heavily scrutinized as you are now.

“I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into my dear.”, the butler says.

“I want this job.”

He sighs then and reaches for the cup of tea sitting on the table next to him. When you got to the Manor, Mr. Pennyworth had met you at the front step. He still ushered you through a side entrance and a winding set of narrow hallways until you reached the sitting room you were now in. Not that you were complaining about being treated like a servant when you were trying to like hell to land the job.

If ever there was an excellent place to kill someone, this was it. You find yourself thinking as you look away from him and study the art on the walls. The manor itself was far removed from society and the small windowless study with the ornate crackling fireplace was oppressive as much as it was impressive. No one would ever hear you scream.

“The issue is not a matter of want. The issue is a matter of need.”, he says.

You watch him take a sip as a bead of sweat collects at the back of your neck. It was getting too hot in here, and the bandage around your wrist was itching.

“I need it. No one wants to hire me”, You reply.

You’re not sure what you expect after you say that. Half of you were expecting him to start grilling you like he did during your interview two days ago. That one had taken place in daylight, in an ostentatious conference room at Wayne Enterprise's.

You were still waiting for him to pick you to the bone and say, “Why is that?”. The other half feels like the admittance makes you guilty. Guilty of going out that night. Guilty of getting caught in a crowd surge while blackout drunk. Guilty of the infected thralls that were unleashed by the Scarecrow goons. Guilty of killing the infected that had started ripping you to pieces. Not that you remember any of it, frustratingly enough. No one, not even the news, gave enough information on that night. Why was I there?

“How are you doing dear?” Pennyworth asks.

You blink. No one has asked that yet. Not by anyone that you feel genuinely wants to know the answer.

“Good. Sore, and I believe honesty is the best policy. I can’t dance like I used to.”, you joke.

It falls flat in the cramped space as you give him a tight grin. His grey eyes dart momentarily to the crutch that was resting next to the chair, and to the cast going slightly above your knee.

“Yes, honesty is such an important quality nowadays. Might I say, it is fortunate that you survived.”

“No one else thinks that. I’m just thankful that Duke was there. I was told he was the one that got me to the hospital. Now he’s gone and got me this interview.”

It’s funny. Time from that night seems disjointed. While you were black-out drunk, you do feel as though you were only in the club for five minutes. The attack happened at 12:45 am. You remember waking up in the hospital and finding your chart on your way to the bathroom. It said you were admitted at 2 am. The next time you managed to grab it, it had said 12:59 am. Not to mention your wounds were healing at a faster rate than most Omegas. Something was picking deep inside your skull.  

 “Luckily this job is not strenuous if you are up to the task.”

You nod at him. You need this.

“Well, there are rather strict rules. Breaking them is a breach of contract that will be handled severely. This isn’t like a regular job out there. Any problems that arise will not result in a simple firing.”, he pauses before continuing, “For example, personal electronic devices are prohibited in the Manor. Your bags will be thoroughly checked by me upon arrival. You will be allowed devices that are monitored by security.”

“I can’t just be cut off from my family”, you protest.

“We don’t want you to. You may make phone calls during your allotted time off. They will happen here, or in Master Bruce’s office with either him or me in the room. Your predecessor was fond of skirting her duties and we have found the need for such restrictions.”

“While excursions are discouraged, they are not prohibited. We will go over those security measures at a later time. You are to be readily available when called upon at any time they require something. While day workers are employed here, at no point are you allowed to interact with them.”

You can’t help the way your brows furrow. This was going to be a long year if you were to take this opportunity. With each rule, you wondered if this was why the position was empty for so long.

“I tend to the bedrooms, and at no point should you enter them unless invited by the occupant. You will be given a room as well, and I would appreciate cleanliness. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all served at the same time, tardiness is prohibited.”

“Will I be helping in the kitchen?”, you ask.

“No. Not unless you want to, if you are going to cook, please notify me accordingly.”

“So, wait. I’m confused. Just what is my job here?”

Alfred sighs and for the first time since you’ve met the prim and proper gentleman, he seems a bit haggard. Which did not make you feel good.

“It gets awful lonely here in the manor. As I’m sure you are aware, Alphas live for a long time. Particularly ones infected such as those in Wayne Manor. Now and then it is refreshing to have something that brings more life into such a place. The children have taken an interest in you, and that is enough for Master Bruce.”

“I’m not a toy.”

“No. You’re fortunately not. What you are being offered is room and board, all you have to do is adhere to the rules. In exchange, you have to be a friend. Surely you know how to do that”?

If he had asked your friend, he’d have been met with a resounding no. After that night you had found yourself crippled in the hospital with no friends to speak of. Your friend had been peeved, rightfully so, that you had just packed their wasted butt into a car with a stranger. You had been miffed because hello?? They weren’t the ones chomped on by a deranged rabid Beta. They had made it home in one piece, even getting past the front door and into their bed. Both of you had been wasted, so why act like it was all your fault? You were getting tired of the world treating you like you were the root cause of life’s issues.

“I won’t be doing any of that”, you ask.

Now he just looked downright uncomfortable. You were almost embarrassed, but the question needed to be asked. Being hired to be a friend to Alphas that were at least a century old likely resulted in you waking up in a bed that’s not yours.

“Only if you consent to it. You won’t be reprimanded for not doing it, or if you do find yourself in that position.”, he clears his throat, “Healthcare and dental is provided. Due to your circumstances as an Omega, blockers will be provided along with your daily vitamins. Your health and safety is paramount to us.”

You had nothing more to say. Silently you sat there, running through any alternative options, and yet you kept hitting a wall. There was no denying it, this was the best option you could be given. All you had to do was smile and nod and make it a year. By then you should be able to get your feet back underneath you and be able to reassess your situation. Who knows? You might just like it.

“I’m going to say, you have a deal”, you smile at him.

“Then please, call me Alfred.”

He gets up then and holds a hand out to you to help you out of your chair. His smile back is warm, creases folding up from his eyes, a drastic change from the cold persona that you had started becoming accustomed to.

“Shall I call for the town car Ms. (L/N)?”

This was the start of a beautiful friendship, you decided. You nod your head as he pulls you up and gives you a brisk but friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Duke, you don’t have to do this”, you protest.

It was the thirteen-hundredth time you’ve said it. When Alfred closed the interview, he had taken the time to walk you to the front door, pointing out so many rooms that it all went over your head. You almost made it to the front. Then Duke saw you and took over from there.

“No, no, and for the last time, stop. I want to do it”, Duke grins up at you.

He was on the floor, taping up the last of your boxes. You hate to admit it, but you’re not sorry in the slightest as he does all the heavy lifting. The best part about it was getting to see all the muscles in his back when he turned around. Yum. Hey, you were a red-blooded Omega. There were just some things you couldn’t fight.

“Be careful not to break that”, you warn.

“Right, because what will the world do without these little tchotchkes?”, Duke laughs.

Somehow, not surprisingly, he dodges the stray crutch that you toss half-heartedly in his direction. At this point, he was used to you trying to weaponize your “mobility aide”.

It all started when he helped you get back to your apartment, in a wheelchair that he bought. Then he abandoned said wheelchair and carried you bridal style up several flights of stairs. Citing that the elevator was too dangerous because it hadn’t been inspected in the past decade. Even ignoring you when you told him that it would be far more likely for both of you to fall to your death in the stairwell. This was all two weeks ago, and he still refuses to use the elevator.

He was on the floor now, humming and throwing your shit in boxes. You weren’t sure how he did it. When you agreed to the move, you had been internally wincing and panicking. Thinking it was just going to be you, hopping pitifully around the room. Probably taking breaks and reminiscing over the stray artifacts of your life. You would’ve needed at least three days max to get packed. Duke cut it down to two hours.

“Sooooooooo”, you draw out, “Tell me about the others.”

 “There’s not much to say, not a lot that I can either way. What do you want to know?”

Your eyes narrow as he turns weirdly evasive. He always got a little cagey when you brought up his adoptive family. Never quite answering the question.

“What are they like? Are they nice?”, you ask.

He pauses and stands, turning his back to you so he can put a box on the trolley. We’re going to take the elevator. You thought with a smug sort of glee at the realization. That means you’ll be in your wheelchair. See, you’re slowly reclaiming your independence. Sort of.

“Um. Cass is really nice, but you won’t see her often. Same with Steph. They both kind of do their own thing and no one lives at home besides Alfred, Bruce, and me. Though that might change.”

He pauses again. You stick your tongue out at his back only for him to whirl around to face you. Quickly you snap it back in and try to appear innocent as you stare up. Ew. Popcorn ceiling. You wonder for a second if you could have asbestos in your lungs from that.

“Dick, I mean Grayson, he oversees the training of the Alpha taskforce in Bludhaven. Jason avoids Bruce like the plague while doing the most to get his attention, and I can't really get into what he does for a living. You don't want to know. Tim lives and breathes at Wayne Enterprise’s various global sectors, some of the time, he’s the hardest to track. Damian has been somewhere in Pakistan. Where? I don’t know. I would avoid him and Jason if at all possible. Not that you'll likely see them."

You had to smother your cry of relief. This was going to be a lot easier than you thought. There were only going to be three people that you had to worry about. Maybe you were going to finally complete a New Year’s resolution now that you had time. The world was looking up for you.

“I think that’s it, are you ready?”

His question breaks off your train of thought. You can’t help but groan when he gets near you, arms outstretched, ready for a hug and humiliating you. To make matters worse, he says the worst thing possible.

“Up you go!”, Duke crows.

“No! To the chair! Put me down you overgrown bat!”, you say.

Thankfully he does, gently plopping you down in the cushy seat and stooping to ruffle your hair. You were hissing mad. Not that he cared. Just to goad you further, he reached over to the handles behind your back and rang the obnoxious little bike bell he attached to it.

“Run”, you warn him.

He laughs while sprinting with the dolly all the way to the elevator as you try like hell to mow him down. Both of you completely missed the way his phone kept blowing up with notifications, the small dings being mistaken for a bike bell.

[redroomreflections]

Not Easily Broken Part 7

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

7/10

Note: Old friends I bet you never saw this day coming.

W/c:3.95

Rating: M (Minors DNI; angst, fluff, smut, heartbreak, heart fix? the best ending for them coming soon)Keep reading

As you pull into the driveway of your home, you give two quick honks before shifting the car into park. Anticipation bubbles inside you as you look forward to taking Ryan to his baseball practice. Undoing your seat belt, you glance at your watch to check the time, only to realize you're running late. A sigh escapes your lips, accompanied by a roll of your eyes at your oversight. Just as you're about to step out of the car, the front door swings open, drawing your attention away from your tardiness.

Ryan bounds down the steps, his red and white Raptors uniform proudly displaying his school's name. His baseball bag hangs heavily from his back as he rushes towards you. With a burst of energy, he throws himself into your arms, squeezing your midsection tightly and burying his head against your belly.

"Hi Mommy, I'm so excited you're here," he mumbles into you, his voice muffled by your shirt.

"Hi, baby, I'm thrilled to be here too," You reply, wrapping your arms around him and ruffling the curls on his head. "You need a haircut," you tease gently as you glance down at his tousled hair.

"Never," he declares with a shake of his head, a playful glint in his eyes.

“There’s no convincing him, I’ve tried,” Natasha says as she steps onto the front porch, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. You look up to acknowledge her, only to do a double take. Natasha looks incredible. She's sporting a fitted white tee that accentuates her toned figure, paired with denim shorts that hug her curves perfectly. Sunglasses perch on top of her head, and a pair of Converse shoes complete the effortlessly chic ensemble. It's not just about the outfit itself, but how she wears it with confidence.

“Is that what you wear to Little League?” you ask, tilting your head as you take in her casual yet stylish attire.

Natasha chuckles softly, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. “Well, I figured I’d give the other parents something to talk about,” she replies with a smirk. 

“Interesting,” You smile back. 

“Mommy, do you like my outfit?” Emma asks proudly as she stands beside Natasha. She's wearing a tart orange top paired with biker shorts, and her feet are adorned with the sparkliest shoes you've ever seen.

You glance over at Emma, a smile spreading across your face at her vibrant ensemble. "Wow, Emma, you look amazing!" you exclaim, genuinely impressed by her bold fashion choice. "Those shoes are dazzling."

Natasha beams with pride at Emma's excitement. "You look fantastic, sweetheart," she adds, reaching out to tousle Emma's hair affectionately.

Emma happily bounces down the steps one by one, her infectious giggles filling the air. Natasha's heart skips a beat as she watches her, a mini heart attack looming with each skipped step, especially when Emma forgoes holding onto the railing altogether.

You, still holding onto Ryan, quickly adjust, freeing one of your arms to reach out and steady Emma as she descends. With a reassuring smile, you wrap your arm around her, providing the support she needs to navigate the steps safely. Natasha breathes a sigh of relief as she sees you taking care of Emma, her worry dissipating as she watches the scene unfold.

“Okay, let’s all make it to the practice in one piece,” You remind Emma as she smiles up at you. “Do you have everything?” You ask Ryan and he nods. 

“Yep, all set,” He pats his backpack. 

“Mommy, are we going to get pizza after this game?” Emma questions eagerly. “My tummy has been rumbling for like an hour now. I think we have to get food.” 

You chuckle at Emma's enthusiasm, nodding in agreement. "Pizza sounds like a great idea, sweetheart," you reply, glancing over at Natasha for confirmation.

Natasha smiles warmly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Pizza it is," she confirms. "But first, let's cheer on Ryan at his practice and game, okay?"

Emma nods eagerly, her excitement evident as she bounces on the balls of her feet. "Okay, Mommy! Go, Ryan!" she cheers, already looking forward to the post-game pizza feast.

“Race to the car?” Ryan suggests, and Emma takes off before she even agrees to it.

You watch the two of them run towards your car, their laughter filling the air as they argue over who gets the front seat before you let out a soft sigh.

“Does the bickering ever stop?” you mumble more to yourself than anyone else.

“I don’t think it does,” Natasha laughs, joining you by your side. She wraps her arms around your body, pulling you close. Despite the recent tension with Yelena, you had hoped things wouldn’t change between the two of you."Hey you," She greets, her voice filled with warmth and affection as she looks into your eyes.

You turn to face Natasha, a small smile playing on your lips as you meet her gaze. Despite the lingering worries, being in her embrace brings a sense of comfort and reassurance.

"Hey back," you reply softly, leaning into her touch. "I'm glad you're here." You lean in for a quick kiss, savoring the taste of cherry lip gloss on her lips. “Ready to go?”

“I am,” Natasha nods. “Though earlier Ryan told me that he wished it was just the two of you going.”

“He did?” You glance over to the kids who are now both seated in the backseat.

“Mhmm,” Natasha hums. “It might be for the better.”

You ponder her words for a moment, considering Ryan's perspective. "Maybe he just wants some one-on-one time," you muse, glancing back at the kids with a thoughtful expression. "We can make that happen sometime soon." The idea of spending quality time with Ryan fills you with warmth, knowing that nurturing your bond with him is just as important as maintaining your relationship with Natasha.

"Come on, Mommy, I'm going to be late!" Ryan calls out, rolling down his window to get your attention.

You smile at his urgency, realizing that you've been caught up in the moment. "I'm coming, Ryan!" you call back, giving Natasha a quick squeeze before making your way to the driver's seat. As you start the car, you can't help but feel grateful for these little moments with your family, cherishing the bonds that hold you all together. You’re so glad you get to experience this again. 

*****************

You stand along the fence, the sweltering heat causing you to fan yourself off as you watch the game unfold in front of you. Somewhere behind you, Natasha sits with Emma, sharing popcorn and a few cold water bottles between them. Despite the discomfort of the heat, your eyes remain fixed on the field, eagerly awaiting Ryan's turn to bat. Each pitch and play holds your attention, anticipation building with each moment as you wait for the perfect opportunity to cheer on your son.

“Did we miss anything?” Kerry Cook asks as she settles into her spot next to Natasha. Her husband, Doug, follows behind, carrying their eight-month-old in a carrier on his body.

“No, not yet. It’s been slow,” Natasha replies, briefly tearing her gaze away from the field to acknowledge Kerry and Doug. Despite the conversation, her attention remains fixed on the game, her anticipation growing as she realizes Ryan will be up to bat soon.

“Good, Miles had a case of anxiety that we had to get together,” Kerry informs her, settling into her seat beside Natasha. “Is that y/n?” Kerry spots you only a few feet away.

“In the flesh,” Natasha nods, her attention still partly focused on the game.

“Wow, it’s been a while,” Kerry continues, observing you. “She looks toned.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Natasha replies nonchalantly, though her tone suggests otherwise.

“I’m sure,” Kerry responds, not sounding entirely convinced by Natasha's casual response. “It’s nice seeing her here. Well, even seeing you two in the same place is a miracle.” 

Natasha offers a small smile, sensing Kerry's curiosity lingering beneath the surface. "Yeah, we've been trying some things out," she says casually, subtly hinting at the efforts she and you have been making to reconcile and mend your relationship. Despite her attempt to keep it low-key, there's a hint of pride in her voice, a quiet acknowledgment of the progress you two have been making together.

"Congratulations," Kerry almost beams with pride, her genuine happiness for you shining through. If there was one person on your team rooting for you, it was her. 

Natasha enjoys Kerry and Doug’s company as they continue to watch the game. Occasionally, Emma will reach into the popcorn container to pop a few kernels into her mouth, and Natasha leans over for easier access. She could see you out of the corner of her eye, so engrossed in Ryan and his plays on the field. She'd missed this more than she could convey.

But as Ryan makes a good play that has them all cheering, Natasha's attention snaps back to the game. Ryan steps up to the plate, his determination is evident in the set of his shoulders, the pitcher winds up and delivers the ball with all his might. Ryan swings, the crack of the bat echoing across the field as the ball sails through the air.

It's not a perfect hit, but it's a solid one. The ball bounces just beyond the infield, rolling towards the outfield as Ryan takes off running. The fielders scramble to retrieve it, but Ryan's speed is impressive for his age. He rounds first base with determination, his eyes fixed on second as he picks up speed.

The outfielder scoops up the ball and throws it toward second base, but Ryan is already there, sliding into the base with a burst of energy. The umpire's call is clear: safe!

Cheers erupt from the sidelines as Ryan jumps to his feet, a triumphant grin on his face. His eyes scan the bleachers to find you standing directly in front of him. You offer a thumbs up to which he reciprocates. Gosh, you love that kid. 

“Which one is yours?” A soft voice interrupts your focus on the game, drawing your attention to the woman beside you. She exudes a soccer mom vibe, with a warm smile and an air of familiarity that instantly puts you at ease. Her features resemble those of Gina Davis—sharp cheekbones framing a heart-shaped face, with expressive hazel eyes that seem to shimmer with genuine interest. Her hair is styled in a casual yet chic bob, framing her face in loose waves that bounce with every movement.

Despite her friendly demeanor, there's something about her proximity to you that sets off a faint alarm in your mind. She stands a little too close for comfort, her body language subtly leaning towards you in a way that feels almost intrusive. It's enough to make Natasha, who's been watching discreetly from a distance, take notice.

You gesture towards Ryan. “The kid with the reddish curly hair who's currently goofing off with Miles”

"Oh, yeah, Ryan, he's pretty good," the woman compliments, her gaze shifting towards him with a nod of approval. “He’s cute. Clearly takes after you.”

“I don’t know about that,” You blush slightly. When she turns her attention back to you, you inquire about her own child. "You?"

"Oh, my son is Teddy over there with the buzz cut," she replies, pointing towards a boy on the field.

“He’s solid,” You nod. 

"I'd like to think so," she shrugs casually. "I'm Vera. What's your name?"

"Y/n," you reply, shaking her hand.

"Oh, you're the ex," Vera whistles, her tone carrying a hint of surprise.

“That would be me,” You tip your hat and offer a smile. “Has there been a lot of talk?”

Vera chuckles lightly, a knowing glint in her eye. "Oh, you know how it is," she replies vaguely, her tone suggesting that she's privy to some of the gossip but doesn't feel the need to delve into details.

"Unfortunately I do," you say with a rueful smile, acknowledging the sometimes intrusive nature of parents nearby. 

Vera, ever the conversationalist, leans in a bit closer, a curious glint in her eyes. "So, how have you been holding up?" she asks, her tone filled with genuine interest as she tries to strike up a conversation. “Divorce can’t be easy. Trust me I’d know.”

You offer a small, appreciative nod, grateful for Vera's attempt to connect. "It's been... challenging," you admit, your voice softening with a hint of vulnerability. "But I'm taking it one day at a time." Despite the difficulties, you find solace in the genuine concern of those around you, including Vera's compassionate gesture.

“Well, if you ever need a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen,” Vera offers, extending a comforting gesture.

“She won’t,” Natasha interrupts, her voice firm and protective, asserting her presence in the conversation.

Vera's expression falters momentarily at Natasha's interruption, her offer of support met with an unexpected rebuttal. She glances between you and Natasha, sensing an underlying tension in the exchange.

Undeterred, Vera quickly recovers with a gentle smile. "Of course," she replies diplomatically. “Well, nice meeting you.” Vera excuses herself to go sit on the other side of the bleachers. 

“You sure scared her,” You chuckled, breaking the tension with a light-hearted comment.

“Wasn’t my intention,” Natasha smirks, her expression softening as she meets your gaze. “He’s so happy you’re here,” she adds, tilting her chin towards Ryan, who keeps glancing over to you, almost as if to check that you’re still here. There's a fondness in Natasha's voice as she observes Ryan's behavior, a silent acknowledgment of the bond between mother and child.

“I’m happy to be here,” You wrap your arm around her waist to pull her closer to you. “We can throw some balls before bed and talk. How’s he been doing? With his anger and everything?” 

Natasha leans into your embrace, appreciating the comfort of your touch. "He's been better," she admits. "We've been working on it, but it's been a struggle. He's still adjusting, I think." 

There's a hint of vulnerability in her tone as she opens up about the challenges of parenting. Ryan especially in the past months has regressed and resorted to anger in the form of violence, mostly toward Natasha. She had reluctantly admitted this after you caught the tail end of her scolding when he’d thrown a video game remote at her head. You offer her a reassuring squeeze, silently conveying your support.

“I feel guilty,” You admit. “I know this isn’t the place for us to get into it but… I do.” You take a deep breath. “I’ve left you all in the dark about everything. It hasn’t been fair to them.” 

Natasha listens quietly, her expression softening as she hears your admission. She reaches out to gently cup your cheek, offering a reassuring touch. "I understand," she says softly, her voice laced with empathy. "It's been tough for all of us." She doesn't excuse your actions, but she also doesn't want to make you feel guiltier.

It’s Ryan’s turn again. Time to pay attention. 

*******************

Chuck E Cheese’s was a great place to go after a baseball game, especially for kids like Ryan and Emma who were bursting with energy after spending hours on the field. As you walked through the doors, the lively sounds of arcade games and children's laughter filled the air, causing you to instantly become overstimulated. 

Ryan's eyes widened with excitement as he caught sight of the colorful carousel and the flashing lights of the arcade games. Emma's face lit up as she spotted the towering play structure, complete with slides, tunnels, and ball pits.

You led the way to a table, the scent of freshly baked pizza wafting through the air and making your stomach growl in anticipation. The kids eagerly clamored around the table, their chatter filling the space as they debated which games to play first and which prizes to aim for.

As the kids dashed off to explore the arcade, you and Natasha settled into a booth, enjoying a moment of relative calm amidst the bustling atmosphere of Chuck E Cheese’s. You'd paid for 100 coins each, not much all things considered, but worth it for a fun time on a school night.

Sitting across from Natasha, you appreciated the chance to have a conversation without interruptions, even if it was just for a little while. The occasional shriek or burst of laughter from the arcade area served as background noise, a reminder of the chaos surrounding you.

“So, have you given any thought to the couple’s assignment thing?” You asked, breaking the brief lull in conversation. “Something for us to do together that doesn’t involve a bedroom.”

Natasha leaned back against the booth, her gaze thoughtful as she considered your question. "I have," she replied, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I was thinking maybe we could try cooking together. We used to enjoy trying out new recipes, remember?"

The memory brought warmth to your heart, a reminder of simpler times when it was just the two of you, experimenting in the kitchen and sharing meals. "That sounds perfect," you agree, returning her smile. "It'll be nice to spend some quality time together."

It was a date. 

"I remember those times in the kitchen," You began, your voice soft with emotion. "They were some of the best moments we shared." 

“That kitchen has seen a lot,” Natasha nods, grabbing a slice of pizza to bite into. 

“It has certainly seen better days,” You agree. “I’m really glad you didn’t sell the house.” 

Natasha's expression softens at your words. "Me too," she murmurs, setting down her slice of pizza to give you her full attention. "It wouldn't have felt right, you know? Selling the house felt like giving up on everything we built together."

You nod in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Despite all the challenges we've faced, this place still feels like home."

"It always will," Natasha replies, her voice filled with conviction. “There’s something else on the assignment list that would be cool. Do you want to discuss it now?”

“Here?” You look around. 

“Sure, why not,” Natasha shrugs. “It’s a simple question. What is something you’re glad you’ll never have to do again?” 

“Hmm, probably childbirth,” You answer honestly. You wipe your mouth with the corner of a napkin before setting it aside. 

Natasha's brows furrow slightly in confusion at your response. "Childbirth? Really?" she asks, her tone laced with curiosity. "I mean, I know it's not a walk in the park, but I thought you handled it like a champ. You never really talked about it being that bad."

You hesitate for a moment, your gaze drifting away from Natasha's as you search for the right words. "Yeah, well, I guess I just... tried to focus on the positive aspects," you reply vaguely, a faint hint of discomfort creeping into your voice. "But, um, the aftermath wasn't exactly a walk in the park either."

Natasha's expression softens with concern as she picks up on your hesitation. "What do you mean?" she prompts gently, reaching across the table to place her hand over yours. "Is everything okay?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you prepare to share something you've kept buried for far too long. "I... I think I had postpartum depression," you admit your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... something I never really talked about."

Natasha's eyes widen slightly in surprise, her hand squeezing yours reassuringly. "I had no idea," she murmurs, her voice filled with empathy. 

“Yeah, I hid it well I guess,” You frown. “You were away on a mission when it got really bad. I had to take Ryan to the compound. I left him there for a few days. He just wouldn’t stop crying and I just needed time and…”

Natasha's expression softens further as she listens, her heart breaking at the thought of you struggling alone with Ryan. "I'm so sorry," she says, her voice filled with genuine remorse. "I wish I had been there for you."

You shake your head, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "It's not your fault," you reply, your voice tinged with sadness. "I didn't want to burden you with it, especially when you were away on a mission. I thought I could handle it on my own."

"You never have to handle things alone, y/n," she says softly, her eyes locked on yours. 

“Somehow I keep forgetting that,” You shrug. 

Natasha doesn’t want to ask the next question. She’s almost afraid of the answer you’re going to give. “So what were the positives for you? In therapy, you mentioned that things got rougher when we had kids. I understand PPD can exacerbate that.”

You pause, contemplating Natasha's question for a moment before answering. "Honestly," you begin, your voice low and hesitant, "for a long time, I couldn't see any positives. It felt like everything was just... too much. The sleepless nights, the constant crying, the feeling of being overwhelmed... I couldn't see past it."

Natasha's hand finds yours across the table, offering silent support as you continue. "But... therapy helped," you admit, a flicker of hope in your eyes. "Talking about it, understanding it... It helped me realize that there were moments of joy.  Like... the first time Ryan smiled, or when Emma said her first word. Little things that reminded me why I wanted to be a parent in the first place."

You glance up at Natasha, searching her eyes for understanding. "It's still hard," you confess, your voice raw with emotion. "But I'm learning to find the positives, even on the toughest days."

“Thank you for telling me this,” Natasha says. 

“I would have preferred us to talk about it over dinner but I guess Chuck E. Cheese’s was as good as any,” You try to lighten the mood. “Honestly, I didn’t think you would take this information so lightly. I know you have this view of pregnancy and everything and back then I didn’t want to change that for you.”

Natasha listens intently, her expression softening as you speak. "I'm sorry," she says sincerely."I never realized you were going through all of that alone. I wish you had felt comfortable talking to me about it."

You give her a small smile, appreciating her understanding. "It's okay," you reassure her. "I didn't even fully understand it myself at the time. But I'm glad we're talking about it now."

Natasha nods, her eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and gratitude. "Me too," she agrees softly. 

“But you never answered the question yourself,” You pointed out. Natasha raises a brow. “What’s something you’re glad you never have to do again?”

Natasha's expression turns thoughtful as she considers your question. After a moment of contemplation, she speaks, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "I think," she begins slowly, "I'm glad we never have to go back to feeling distant from each other. Those times when we were both struggling individually and couldn't find our way back to each other... I'm glad that's behind us now. I never want to feel that kind of disconnection again."

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of relief at her honesty. "Me neither," you admit. "I think we've both learned a lot from those moments, and we're stronger because of it."

Natasha smiles softly, her eyes meeting yours with warmth. "Absolutely," she agrees. 

This time you truly believed it. 

---> next part