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murdockparker · 6 months

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Mr. Bridgerton and the Baker

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Covered in flour. It is how she usually spent her days, working hard at her family's bakery. She just hadn't expected to have met him in such a state.

Word Count: 11.8k

Warnings: pining, angst, fluff, a small assault (reader gets hit, not by Benedict!), mention of pregnancy (like, literally a line or two),

A/N: Did I write an entire fic barely based on that one scene in Camp Rock where Mitchie is covered in flour? Yes. Do I regret it? No.

With the melting of snow and the promise of new starts, the social season was nearly upon the ton, nearly upon all the potential suitors and debutantes—all waiting with bated breath to secure a match this year. Of course, those in waiting were of high status, usually tied to the aristocracy or drowning in wealth beyond compare.

The others? The ones not blessed with endless funds or pure luck of royal lineage had the privilege, nay, honor to serve those who would be so fortunate. For the many, it included servicing the estates—butlers, lady’s maids, governesses, home chefs and the like. For the patrons on Tilbury Street, it included the less sought after roles, polishers, cobblers, modistes and bakeries. One bakery in particular was the prime choice for the aristocracy, a diamond in the rough as some may say.

—

“I just simply don’t understand why we cannot have our chefs prepare the pastries for the ball,” Eloise Bridgerton nearly groaned, her arm hooked onto her mother’s. They had been walking up and down Tilbury Street for the better part of twenty minutes, simply enjoying the fresh spring weather. “I’ve never known them to make horrid dishes.”

“It’s the first Bridgerton Ball of the season, Eloise,” the dowager viscountess murmured politely. “Along with it being the first Kate has had the pleasure of hosting, putting an order in here is a fresh foot forward, one that’ll impress our guests.”

Eloise barked back a laugh. “If it is so important, why is Kate not here to make the order herself?”

“That, dear sister, is an excellent point.” Following close behind the two Bridgerton ladies was a rather tall shadow, equally as dashing and nearly as clever—Benedict—the second eldest son of the Bridgerton brood. “Surely Anthony could spare his wife for one afternoon, I can’t imagine it being so difficult to pry them from their bedroom—”

“Benedict Bridgerton!” Violet snapped, turning hot on her heels to face her son. He could only laugh.

“Oh Mother, you must relax,” he said lovingly, patting both hands on her shoulders. “You know better than I that it could have been a far fouler thought—why, I can easily imagine three other ways I could have expressed my way of thinking.”

“Ah, ever the poet, Benedict,” Eloise smiled wryly, pushing her way to the front of their clump. No one had the heart to mention the glaring fact that it was likely she didn’t know the way in which they were headed.

“This bakery,” Violet continued half-heartedly. “Is a prestigious supplier for the ton—you may recall their exquisite cake that we had ordered for Daphne’s wedding.”

Benedict hummed contently. “It was a good cake,” he practically nodded off at the thought. The decadent sponge nearly brought him to tears—of course, it could have very well been the relief from undue stress of Daphne’s season altogether, having nearly lost his older brother to an unnecessary duel.

“I think it was far too sweet,” Eloise said, scrunching her nose in distaste. “I had to drink nearly three cups of tea to clear out the sugar on my tongue.”

“Ah, but what’s life without a little bit of sweetness?” Benedict nearly sang.

“Perfectly fulfilling,” his younger sister quipped back.

The dowager viscountess could only sigh, her eyes reaching up to the clouds above. While she loved nothing more than being the mother of all eight of her perfect children, their endless bickering and bantering grew vexing. It merely took the Bridgerton siblings another minute of arguing before stopping in front of a quaint storefront—the sickeningly sweet aroma filling the street. “We’re here.”

“I could have told you as much,” Benedict mumbled, rubbing his temple lightly. “The scent is… overpowering.” If he were lucky, the headache that was quickly forming would dull fast.

“But Benedict,” Eloise turned hot on her heels. “What’s life without a bit of sweetness?”

Violet Bridgerton was quick to catch her second eldest's hand before it met the back of Eloise’s head. “If it’s too much for you, dear,” she released her grip. “Please feel free to wait for us out here. It should only take a moment.”

“Like a ‘moment’ at the modiste?” Benedict crossed his arms, his brow nearly touching his hairline. “If I recall, the last time I accompanied you to the dressmaker, I spent over an hour basking in the summer sun.”

“Nothing logical stopped you from coming in,” Eloise drawled. “Of course, if you wanted to managed to stay pleasant with the seamstress, one should have kept it in his trousers—”

“We’ll only be a moment,” Violet hushed Eloise quickly, grasping the top of her arm firmly. “There seems to be little wait. We’ll be on our way shortly.”

He huffed towards the sun—while there had been little heat near the start of the English spring, the sun was warm against his skin. Benedict enjoyed being outdoors more often than not, it was usually the reason he accompanied his mother on their errands nearly every other day of the season. That, of course, and the fact it got his worrying mama off of his back to be wed. With Anthony finally securing a match, it was only fitting for Violet Bridgerton to be working her way down her list of endless children—having only two of eight married off. “It should only be a moment,” Benedict reassured himself, watching various other families and couples walk by.

That is, until he heard a rather loud bang coming from the alley beside him. He should have known better—he was taught better—than to investigate outlandish sounds, especially in town, but Benedict Bridgerton was nothing if not curious. He peeked around the corner, holding his breath, preparing to be met with a wild animal of some kind. His view was shaky at best, hardly could see a thing around the bricks. If he wanted a better look, he’d have to take a few steps towards the unusual noise.

A large white cloud had enveloped the small alley, it was difficult to even see a few meters ahead, let alone what could have caused the loud commotion. Benedict waved his hand through the mysterious fog, trying to clear some air. “Hello?” He heard a soft squeak. An animal, it had to have been, Benedict was sure of it now. “Is anyone there?”

A cough rang through the alley, startling him more than rogue vermin could have. The cloud had begun to dissipate, the white settling on the stone street below. Flour, if he had to guess, given the location.

“I’m alright,” a voice murmured quietly, another soft cough following quickly after. The shape of a person came into view, the air finally clearing enough for him to make sense of the scene he came upon. It was one of a woman now covered head to toe in the white powder—she had no distinguishable features, the flour was caking every bit of her body and dress. Just striking eyes that made Benedict’s heart jump to his throat. “Just… made a mess.”

“So it seems,” Benedict hummed, stepping over a pile of powder to get closer. “Do you require any help?”

“No, no,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to get dirty. I fear I’ve got quite enough of that for the both of us.”

“I don’t mind getting dirty,” Benedict said quickly, his tongue moving faster than his brain. “But… yes, I suppose it’d be for the best if I refrained from getting any flour on me. May I ask how…?”

“Clumsy,” she uttered simply, the shrug of her shoulders speaking nothing but truth. “I must have the slipperiest fingers in town—I wish I could say this was the first time…”

“Manage to cover yourself in flour often?” Benedict’s lips pulled into a jesting smirk.

“Nearly every other day,” the woman sighed. “We’ve grown accustomed to purchasing an extra sack or two just for situations like these."

“I hardly doubt you could be that clumsy,” Benedict laughed, leaning against the stone wall. “But, I am painting quite the image in my head.”

“Oh I do hope I’m decent in that image, Mr. Bridgerton,” she giggled, curtsying in a near-mocking manner.

“How do you know—”

“Everyone knows your family, Mr. Bridgerton, I’d be a fool to admit I don’t know who you are—though you and your brothers all blur together, so I am merely taking a shot in the dark in which of the four you are.”

“Oh?”

She nodded once, a flurry of powder falling from her hair. A muffled shout from the back door startled her, grabbing her attention. “Ah,” the woman waved the air in front of her face, “I suppose I should take my leave—get cleaned up.”

“Of course,” Benedict said simply. “I won’t keep you.” In nearly an instant, the mysterious dusted lady disappeared from view, diving into the back door. He was taken aback by her candidness—having addressed him so forwardly without the pleasantries of a name exchange. “Damn,” he mumbled to himself, kicking residual flour off of his polished shoe, “I never asked for her name.” Would it be too forward to knock on the back door to ask for her? Benedict Bridgerton couldn’t wrap his head around the interaction—she nearly sent him into a tizzy.

“Brother?”

Eloise stood at the end of the alley, clutch in hand, face pinched in confusion.

“Ah, I suppose you’re finished?”

“Hardly,” Eloise scoffed, “Mother insisted on doubling the initial order ‘just to be safe’. She’ll be out in a moment.”

“Perhaps I should go inside to accompany her—”

“And leave your unwed sister unchaperoned in this part of town?” Eloise pressed a hand to her brother’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. His eyes danced quickly to the street in the distance, clearly not paying any attention to his sister. “Benedict?”

“Hm?” He glanced down. “Ah, maybe we should both go back inside—”

“You’re…” she pushed on him harder, nearly sending him backwards. “Acting strange. Not terribly long ago you wanted nothing to do with this place and now, you’re dying to jump into the building that brought you so much strife?” Eloise removed her hand from him, settling it down by her side as she glanced at him up and down. The blues of his outfit were covered slightly in a white power—not enough to really notice, but enough to give the appearance of filth. “And you’re covered in… flour?”

“I don’t wish to share every moment of my day with you, dear Sister,” Benedict said simply, sighing contently. “My business is my business.”

“Business,” Eloise parroted. “Sure.”

Violet Bridgerton had finished the order quickly, mumbling something about the higher prices this time of year—she had gotten a good deal regardless. Benedict was hardly listening, for he was already planning his next trip to this very bakery, hoping to meet the girl in flour once more.

He never did get the chance, to go back to town. His studies took up most of his free time, any other moment he had was spent with his ever-growing family. Just recently, his sister Daphne brought over her newest addition—another daughter named Belinda—who happened to be yet another spitting image of her mother. Benedict had a theory that every new Bridgerton baby will simply just inherit all the Bridgerton features, so far he had been proven correct.

“Damn,” Benedict mumbled, violently dabbing a paint brush into his water cup, the colors swirling from the end.

He had been in his studio for the last few hours, mixing endless pigments and oils together, trying to concoct the color in his mind’s eye. It was impossible, he theorized, to create the exact shades and hues of her eyes. It was the most striking thing he remembered about her appearance—save for the copious amount of white flour caking her form—and Benedict Bridgerton had come to the conclusion that her eyes were simply forged by God Himself, a color not meant for mortal recreation.

“Why can I not…” He sighed, slumping back in his stool, paintbrush nearly hitting his trousers. “This is impossible.”

The grand clock beside the door chimed out. It was nearly time to get ready for Anthony and Kate’s ball—an occasion he was most dreading, save for enjoying the few pastries that came from the quaint bakery down in town. Reluctantly, he began to pry himself from his studio and made his way to the washroom, preparing to soak away any remnants of her.

—

“Mother,” (Y/N) chimed out, tying the serving apron to her waist, “I don’t see the reason for my attendance this evening. Surely the hosts of the event will have their own serving staff?”

“(Y/N),” her mother exasperated, throwing a towel down. “Your brothers are ill and bedridden and have been the last few days. Your father and I are counting on you to help fulfill the order, my back isn’t what it used to be, if you recall.”

The girl sighed, her eyes rolling right up to the cracking ceiling. “How funny, it seems your back flares up nearly in time for deliveries to be made,” the girl mumbled.

“What was that?” Her mother turned quickly towards her only daughter. “I’m sure I misheard you.”

“You must have,” (Y/N) sang. “For I said I’m willing to help with the delivery, mother.”

The older woman narrowed her brow. “Never do I hear such sass from the boys… Perhaps a bit of manual labor will refocus your priorities.”

“I already agreed,” (Y/N) reiterated. “As if I had terribly too much of a choice…”

“No,” her mother clicked, slapping the a rather large ball of dough that resided on the floured surface. “You do not. Now come, help your mother roll this out.”

She had gotten ready for the ball in record time—seeing as how she’s never gotten ready for one. (Y/N) dug through her mother’s wardrobe, finding an old and somewhat outdated green dress to wear, but it did the trick just fine. It was far nicer than the frocks she had owned anyhow, a light embroidery laced the edges and was sure to be run over by her fingertips endlessly throughout the evening.

“The carriage is here!” Her father couldn’t have shouted louder throughout the small flat. Their home resided above the bakery, a quaint little thing with only two bedrooms—(Y/N) had the pleasure of sleeping in a rather over-glorified closet. If she reached her arms out, she’d be able to touch two of the walls easily, but like everything in her life, she made do. Unexpected child? Unexpected room.

“I’ll be right there,” (Y/N) said, tying the now-cleaned apron around her waist, checking herself in the reflection of her water pitcher. “Damned hair,” her fingers moved to tuck a loose ringlet back into position—she had spent the better part of the evening trying to style it.

“We need to load the carriage and make way to Bridgerton House,” her father repeated, smoothing his formalwear out. He hardly had the chance to wear it, seeing as situations like this happen only once in a while. “We must make a good impression, perhaps we’ll find more business this evening.”

“That’ll be a blessing,” her mother agreed, heading down the stairs to the bakery. “We could always use more business and the dowager viscountess is well liked around the ton, surely she’ll have pleasant things to say about our work.”

“I thought we let the pastries ‘speak for themselves’,” (Y/N) chimed in, carefully picking up a parcel. Her parents simply glared at her, allowing their daughter to silently move along with the loading process.

The silence continued throughout the lengthy ride to Bridgerton House—the bakers not uttering a word until disembarking to unload all of the sweets. True to her original thought, the Bridgertons had their staff do the bulk of the unloading, carrying each parcel and box into the grand room that was to be the heart of the ball, all that was left to move was the elegant cake specially ordered by the dowager viscountess.

“Do you need a hand?”

“Oh, that would be—” (Y/N) turned around to the mysterious voice, only to find the same Bridgerton boy from earlier in the week standing behind her. “I—Mr. Bridgerton, I’m sure I can find my father to assist, you really don’t need to—”

“I insist,” Benedict held up his hand, effectively cutting her off. “I shouldn’t allow a lady to carry such a thing on her own, it would be most improper.”

“I’m certainly no lady,” she scoffed, readjusting her apron. “I’m not a part of your ‘season’ or whatever it is you lot do during the spring and summer months.”

Benedict barked out a laugh. “Debuted into the Marriage Mart or not, you’re still a lady and I am ever the gentleman, so please, indulge me.”

A blinding heat flushed across her cheeks—she was sure it was visible from down the street. (Y/N) stepped to the side to allow Benedict to grab ahold of one side of the tray, her hands curling around the other. “Thank you… for your help.”

“It’s no bother,” Benedict said truthfully. “I’ve been practically bored out of my skull all afternoon, this is truly the highlight of my evening.”

“Helping me carry a cake?” She asked, turning a corner carefully.

“Seeing you again,” he hummed unabashedly, noting the way her grip stiffened. “Though I must say, I think I prefer you without the flour.”

“How do you know that girl was me? I was covered head to toe.”

“Your eyes,” Benedict said simply. “They’re the most expressive and exquisite eyes I’ve had the pleasure of viewing.”

Benedict Bridgerton. The man who made her speechless.

“That, and I made a bold assumption when I saw you and the pastries arrive this evening.” He laughed lightly, afraid to drop the masterpiece. “I assumed correctly, no?”

“You,” (Y/N) tried to allow her cheeks to cool before continuing.“Would be correct. Very wise you are, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict.”

“Benedict,” she repeated softly, twisting herself to set the cake down on the table. “My apologies.”

The ballroom was grand—much nicer than any place she’d dream of residing in—delicate decorations hung from the sconces, flowers covered nearly every inch of the free space. It was, in every meaning, elegant. “This is… where you live?”

“Ah,” Benedict rubbed the back of his neck. “My brother has been kind to allow me to stay here since he married, seeing as I only have my own property in the country. But yes, this is one of the homes I grew up in.”

“One of the homes,” she repeated back to him. “And here I thought I was spoiled with my broom closet.”

He turned a vibrant shade of red. “Oh! I didn't mean to—”

Her laughter filled the ballroom, the lightness practically lifting Benedict upwards. “I was merely teasing. I’m well aware of your status and wealth, Mr. Bridgerton—”

“Benedict.”

“Ah! Sorry,” (Y/N) felt the twinge of shame hit her chest, it was small but enough to keep her in line to avoid making the mistake again. “I meant it in jest.”

“Funny girl,” Benedict clicked, waving his finger lightly. “You’ve got quite a sense of humor.”

“Growing up with nothing more than sacks of flour and parcels of sugar allows one to get creative with her jokes,” she explained carefully, treading lightly as to not make it sound completely miserable. “Though, I think they were a better audience anyhow…”

“You wound me,” a hand grabbed his heart, knees buckling towards the ground. “Oh how the lady wounds me.”

“I believe I told you, Benedict, I certainly am no lady.”

“Well, the lady has neglected to give me her name,” he peeked up from the floor—having found quite a cozy position. “So how else should I address such a fair maiden?”

“Fair maiden,” she scoffed playfully, voice barely above a whisper. “Certainly am nothing close to a maiden… but, if you must know,” she paused, “my name is (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N)…” Benedict repeated it, mostly to himself. He rose from the floor, eyes not leaving her own. “What a beautiful name.”

“I—thank you. I suppose you should give my parents such a compliment, though. I am simply the recipient of such a gift.”

“Well, when I ask your parents for permission to court their daughter, I’ll pass the message along.”

She froze.

“Ah, what was that?”

“I hate to be so bold,” Benedict sighed, shoving a hand into his pocket. “But I feel the need to let you know of my intentions—my interest in you.”

“Oh you must be mistaken,” (Y/N) shook her head. “You’d want nothing to do with a girl like me. Surely there are other women in the ton who strike your fancy?”

“Nope,” he said simply. “Not a one. You, on the other hand, with your striking eyes and seemingly endless beauty, piqued my interest. If I may be honest, I haven’t stopped thinking about our encounter in the alley—it’s been on the forefront of my mind for days.”

She blinked, the gears in her head trying to keep up with the words Benedict was speaking. “But I am not from your world, Benedict. Even if I was interested in pursuing a courtship—”

“Are you not?” His eyes struck wide open. “I’m quite the catch, you see. Well-bred, scholarly and, if I might say so myself, I’m quite the talented artist. Easy on the eyes, too.”

“Benedict.” He stopped and looked at the woman. She was practically glowing in the candlelight. “While I’m not saying I’m… not interested, I can’t help but feel like you are infatuated with the idea of me and not… me.”

“How do you mean?”

She laughed humorlessly. “You don’t know me, truly. My likes, dislikes, how I take my tea, what weather I fancy—”

“See,” Benedict grabbed her hand, “I wish to know those things. Is that not the purpose of a courtship?”

“I am not from your world, Benedict. I have priorities, a duty to my family and our business—I can’t spend a moment thinking of the frivolity of a courtship with a man of your status.”

“But if I were, say, the butcher’s son it would be different?”

“Yes,” she removed her hand from his. “Of course it would be. I’m surprised you haven’t thought this through.”

“I have been thinking it through since we’ve met,” Benedict nearly spat, feeling anger bubble up in his chest. “I am not the type of man who wishes to court just anyone, you know.”

“So you wish to court me just because you can? Because how ever could I say no?”

“I—of course not!”

“We’re perfect strangers who shared a moment—albeit an endearing one—out in the middle of an alley. We both cleaned up and went about our lives,” she shook her head. “Nothing cosmic or magical about it.”

“I did not expect you to be so against the idea, unless… there’s another man of your affections?”

She groaned, pinching her nose. “No. No other man. Has a woman ever said no to you before, Mr. Bridgerton?”

He paused, clearly taken aback.

“Well,” she smoothed the tablecloth, the wrinkle in the bottom corner was annoying her, “let me be the first, then. No, I am not interested in a courtship, nor do I think I have any interest in a courtship—with you or anyone—so do not take it terribly too personally.”

“Never? Don’t you plan to have a family of your own?”

“I already have a family,” she said simply. “I have no time for foolish ideas of having an adoring husband, three beautiful babies and a peaceful life out in the country.”

“That seems awfully specific—”

“No matter,” she waved. “Thank you for your interest, Mr. Bridgerton, I am flattered, truly.”

She walked away, hoping to hide in the carriage the rest of the night. Was she a fool? To turn down a courtship from such a sophisticated and notable man of the ton?

Benedict seemed to think so. True to her comment, he couldn’t recall a time in which a woman had rejected his advances—never in the name of a courtship, this would be his first—so to watch her walk away stung deeply, like a thorn to his heart. He was genuinely interested in the girl, he knew it. He just needed to prove it to her.

—

Days had passed since the Bridgerton ball and (Y/N) had successfully faked a stomach ache and ‘rested’ in the carriage until the night was over and done with. She was busy in the kitchen, working hard on a batch of fresh loaves for the storefront. Flour dusted her apron—the humor not lost on her—as she thought more and more about Benedict’s proposal.

The bell to the shop rang out, her brother’s voice gave a muffled greeting, nothing out of the ordinary for a regular day at the bakery. It was calming, to work with the dough, taking virtually nothing and creating something delicious was soothing to her soul. She continued to knead the dough, working it like clay against her palms before the door to the back swung wide open.

“(Y/N), I do believe you have a visitor,” Harry, her second eldest brother smirked. He had finally recovered enough to help around the shop again, much to their mother’s delight. “One of the gentlemen variety, if you must know.”

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Did he give you a name?”

“Only asked for you,” Harry shrugged. “I figured you must’ve been expecting him,” he walked closer to her, taking over the kneading, “brought you flowers and looks rather fancy.”

She wiped her hands off on the already soiled apron, clapping her hands once for good measure. “Don’t over-work those, I’ll shove your face into the oven.”

Harry’s laugh rang out through the kitchen as she braved the door to the store. She knew it was inevitable, to expect him to come and try to woo her again, though she wasn’t expecting it so soon. The door felt rough against her palms, swinging wide open to the storefront. Sure enough, a one Benedict Bridgerton was standing by the counter, eyeing the various loaves on display.

“Ah, Miss. (Y/L/N),” Benedict said, almost bowing. “I’m delighted you could join me.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” (Y/N) smiled sickeningly sweet, forced beyond all measure. “What a… surprise.”

“A wonderful one, I presume?” He jested. Her eyes found the colorful bouquet quickly, she was trying her hardest to not make eye contact. It was ornate—fancy, just like her brother said—decked out in a healthy mix of wild blooms and expensive looking flowers. “Ah! My apologies, these are for you,” Benedict said, lifting the bouquet across the counter.

She reluctantly took them, cradling the bunch as if it were a newborn babe. “Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He swallowed thickly at the formality of his name, but bit his tongue. “I must say, you looked exquisite at the ball, but I think your natural element suits you more favorably, why, you’re practically glowing.” Benedict pointed to her floured apron and messy frock, having been in the kitchen all morning. “Less flour than the first time.”

Her grip tightened around the bouquet. “Is there anything I can help you with? Perhaps another order for your mother?”

The man shook his head, laughing lightly. “No, no order. I just wished to see you.” The bluntness of his answer nearly shocked her, but the effect wore quickly.

“Perhaps I wished the opposite?”

“Oh, my dear,” Benedict practically mewled. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have come out here in the first place, now would you?”

Like a gaping trout, she had no reply. Perhaps he was right. She didn’t have to come out to the front of the store, the gnawing curiosity got the better of her and practically pulled her through that door.

“If you are here to try to get me to change my mind—”

“I wish to spend the afternoon with you.”

She blinked.

“Just one afternoon, allow me to try and prove how serious I am about courting you,” Benedict said earnestly. “After that, if you are still of the same mind, I will never bother you again. You have my word.”

Hesitantly, she lowered the bouquet, her shoulders slumping. She was thinking so hard about his offer, Benedict swore he could see steam rising from her ears. “I… cannot just leave the bakery, it’s my family’s livelihood—”

“I’ll buy the lot,” Benedict said, pressing a handful of coins onto the counter top. “Sell me whatever it is you make in a day—a small price to pay for a moment of your time.”

“You cannot simply throw your money at things and expect it to always work out for you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said sternly, eyeing the sack of coins longingly. She would be kidding herself if the offer didn’t sound appealing. “I am no woman on the corner, you cannot buy my time.”

“Then consider it a tip,” Benedict hummed, pushing the bag closer to her. “For your excellent service at the Bridgerton ball. Nothing nefarious, nothing expected of you. Just a man buying some bread.”

“Loads of bread,” (Y/N) mumbled, quickly calculating how many loaves he truly was willing to walk out with. The amount of money was unclear, but if she had to wager, he practically bought out the whole storefront. Her parents would be thrilled—they could even take a rare day off, just because their daughter spent the afternoon with a practical stranger. “Fine. One afternoon.”

The glee that washed across his body did not go unnoticed, he practically lit up the room with his joy.

“You won’t regret this,” he said seriously. “Trust that my intentions are pure and—”

“—honest and true,” she droned, finishing his thought. “Yes, yes, I understand.”

Benedict nodded. “Right. Well, shall we?”

“Will you allow me a moment to change? I do not think you wish to spend your day with a girl caked in flour.”

“Funny enough, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he grinned. She was unamused. “But, if you insist.”

It didn’t take long for her to clean up, a change in her frock and a readjustment to her hair was all that was needed. She found herself staring in her mirror a bit longer than usual, taking in her features. Could he really be interested in her? He seemed so taken by her looks when she herself considered them… so plain. She shook her head, effectively jumping out of her haze and proceeded to head back downstairs to meet her suitor for the afternoon.

“Perhaps you were right,” Benedict said softly. “This may be your best look to date.”

A heat warmed her cheeks and it wasn’t the summer sun. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Bridgerton—”

“Ah!” Benedict waved a finger. “If we are to spend the afternoon together, I insist you call me by my given name.”

Her lips pressed together in protest. “If you insist—”

“Oh and I do, my darling,” Benedict nearly sang.

“Benedict,” she corrected. “What sorts of plans do you have for this afternoon? Surely you did not produce such a grand gesture only to leave our day up to chance.”

“I am feeling quite parched,” Benedict said, almost ignoring her comment. “Care for a spot of tea?” In their walk down the street, he had managed to stop right in front of a quaint little tea shop. She hardly noticed.

“And if I do not care for tea?”

“I hear they have excellent scones and biscuits,” Benedict countered. “Surely not sweeter than you, but delicious all the same.”

“Sweeter than my scones, you mean?”

Benedict raised a brow, puckering his lips lightly. She heard him correctly the first time. “So. Tea?”

They sat at a small table near the back of the shop, a hot pot of herbal tea sat between them. It looked entirely domestic, a pot of tea shared between lovers, any onlooker could have deduced as much.

“Pass the honey?” (Y/N) pointed to the small jar next to Benedict’s hand. He nodded and pushed it closer to her.

“You take your tea with honey?” He probed.

“Herbal tea, yes,” she confirmed, stirring a spoonful into her cup. “If it is black tea, a healthy amount of milk is entirely welcomed in my drink, no sugar.”

“Interesting,” Benedict said, watching her intently stir the honey until it dissolved into the hot liquid. “I prefer plain black tea myself, though occasionally my brother Colin will bring exquisite teas from his travels across the seas.”

“And Colin is which brother?” The question slipped out quickly, she hardly noticed she had asked.

“One of my two younger brothers,” Benedict smiled gently. “Not much younger than I, but I do have a few years on him, not as many as I have on Gregory, of course. He’s practically the babe of the family—save for sweet Hyacinth.”

“Eight children…” She thought aloud. “Were your parents working towards a record number?”

“I always jest that they wished to complete the entire alphabet,” Benedict mused. “But, alas, twenty six seems a bit much.” He took a sip of his tea, enjoying the lingering aroma. “So, you know there are eight of us?”

“Everyone knows your family,” she said simply. “Do not flatter yourself.”

“Of course,” he hummed into his cup, a smile brewing from his lips. “You have siblings, yes? I believe I met your brother earlier.”

“Two older brothers,” (Y/N) groaned lightly. “Jack and Harry, the latter being the one you met. They are… oh how do I put this? Exceptionally irritating.”

Benedict laughed into his drink. “Sounds quite a lot like my siblings.”

“My parents expect Jack to take over the bakery,” she explained quietly, her voice lowering. “But he has no desire to bake whatsoever. He can hardly make a sponge cake.”

“And a sponge cake is…?”

“One of the most basic cake recipes a baker can learn,” she continued. “I usually end up being the one who pulls the slack Jack creates.”

“And Harry?”

“When he isn’t galavanting across town with the ladies of the night, he is holed up in his room doing Lord knows what. Certainly nothing that helps the family business.”

“You care a lot about your family and the business,” Benedict said, stating what is clearly the obvious. “Surely your parents see it too?”

“Oh no,” she shook her head wildly. “That is the most asinine part of the ordeal! They simply do not see me as an asset to the bakery—something that should rightfully be mine should the time come.” She sighed, throwing her head into her hands. “But, I am expected to keep my head down and decorate cakes like a good girl.”

“You say that as if you are their pet,” Benedict scoffed lightly. “Do they truly expect such obedience from you?”

“I wasn’t wanted,” she said simply. “My parents merely wanted a son to take over the business—Jack, he’s the oldest. Good for nothing, as it turns out. Harry was to have an extra set of hands around the bakery, but now he’s their prodigal child. Me? I was shacked with an over glorified closet for a room because there truly was no space for me.” She sniffled. “At least they got a decorator out of it.”

Benedict tentatively put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You’re more than a decorator. Surely your parents see that too?”

“They’ll see some use of me when I get home,” she said into her cup. “Seeing as you bought out our store just to spend a measly few hours with me. I’m sure that in of itself is worth having an accidental daughter.”

Benedict all but scoffed at this. “You cannot be serious.”

“Not everyone comes from loving families that wish to do nothing more than pop out babies left and right,” (Y/N) deadpanned, placing her cup back on the table. “If it were truly up to my parents, they would’ve stopped after Jack. But, much like the society you come from, an heir and a spare, I suppose.”

“And you?” Benedict almost felt afraid to ask.

“It’s like you said,” she finished her cup of tea. “I am simply a pet.”

Benedict was never one for fights, but he suddenly had the urge to put his fist through a handful of faces in that moment. “That’s awful.” It was all he could say.

“That’s life,” she shrugged, picking up a biscuit and examining it closely. Her nose scrunched. “If you were trying to gain my favor, perhaps you should’ve taken me somewhere with better biscuits. It’s insulting to a baker to see such poorly made ones, especially in a place like this.”

He knew she was trying to change the subject. “I shall do better next time.”

“Yes, I suppose you—” she stopped. “That was a rotten trick and you know it.”

“I am certainly no magician, (Y/N),” Benedict finished his tea, hiding the most devilish of smiles from behind the cup. “But seeing as we’re finished with our pot, perhaps we can take a turn about the park?”

“You’d risk public outcry and a scandal for being seen with a commoner in the park?” (Y/N) asked, pulling herself from her seat. “What would Lady Whistledown say?”

“You know of Lady Whistledown?”

“Everyone knows of Lady Whistledown,” she scoffs. “I may not have the pleasure to afford her column every time she publishes, but occasionally our regulars will leave their pamphlet for me once they’re finished.”

“Only read the good bits, I take it?”

“As much as I don’t understand the world you come from, Benedict, reading Whistledown helps me fill the gaps I am so obviously lacking. Truly, even if I did grow up in your society, I doubt I’d be able to understand much more than I do now anyway.”

“I reckon you’re right,” Benedict said, a laugh escaping through his nose. “I’m not one for society anyway—never cared much for it.”

“Surely news of this would cause a scandal, though?”

“News that I am simply walking in the park with a friend? Oh how the newsboys will have trouble selling that story,” Benedict mused, leaning down towards the lady. “Perhaps if we were seen doing something less proper, I suppose. Do you wish to be doing something less proper, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t dignify his question with a response, though, the rouge on her cheeks was answer enough.

—

It only took a handful of minutes to walk to the park, the tea shop was so close already. How convenient.

The other ladies in the park, the ones of a more genteel breeding, they were dressed finer than anything (Y/N) could have put on. She felt out of place. She usually did, of course, but something about her outdated frock in contrast to how striking Benedict looked and dressed? It felt rather foolish.

Perhaps it was the notoriety of the Bridgerton walking beside her, or the self consciousness of being underdressed enough to catch the eyes of anyone walking past, but it felt like she was a spectacle—something in a museum or on display. She was holding bright light, nearly shouting at everyone that she was not enough, not worthy to be in this park, let alone with this man.

“I am tired of walking,” (Y/N) said suddenly.

“We have only just begun,” he laughed. “But if you require a respite—”

“Let’s sit,” (Y/N) said just as quickly, practically running to the edge of the pond. Perfectly out of sight to everyone.

“How secluded,” Benedict mused. “I daresay, I never thought you’d be so agreeable—”

“Hush,” (Y/N) admonished, holding a finger up. “I am simply in need of a break—away from prying eyes.”

Benedict nodded, not daring to pry further. He watched her slump to the ground, her dress skirt billowing around her like a cloud before settling to the gravity. He continued to stand. “I rather like this park.”

“A park is a park.”

“Have you been before?”

“Here?” She shook her head. “Obviously not.”

“My family, we would come to London during the social season,” Benedict explained. “Our usual residence is out in Kent—anyhow, my father had this spectacular notion to come to the park every week as a family. Looking back, it was probably to save face and show a united Bridgerton front.”

She looked up at Benedict, who was currently plucking a few leaves off of the low hanging branches of the tree. “Sounds wise.”

“He was the wisest,” Benedict agreed. “Keeping the ever-growing number of Bridgerton children entertained became a sport. Anthony, Colin and I were always squabbling, drove my mother rightfully insane, so, my father had a bright idea.”

“Paste your lips together?” She offered.

Benedict knelt down, close to the edge of the water. “No, but I do not doubt that idea crossed their minds,” he laughed, bringing the leaves in his hands to view, “my father suggested racing.”

“Horse racing?”

He shook his head. “We’d each pick a leaf and follow it to the other edge of the pond—kept us entertained for hours, running back and forth to reset our leaves and chase them down.”

“Smart man,” she hummed, genuinely impressed by the late viscount’s cleverness.

“So, pick your contender,” Benedict said softly, displaying the spare leaves like cards in a deck.

“You are serious?”

“Dead serious, I’m afraid,” Benedict clicked, pushing his hand a bit closer to her. “Come on, humor me.”

She looked down at the leaves and back up at Benedict, his blue eyes rivaling the color of the pond. Taking an interest in the middle leaf—it was the longest and skinniest—she plucked it from his fingers. “This one.”

“Excellent choice,” Benedict said cheerily, dropping the other leaves. “I am more inclined to a smaller one—seems they move faster down the shore.”

“Size isn’t everything, Mr. Bridgerton,” (Y/N) crossed her arms, resting them on her knees. She would never dare to admit it out loud, but she was having a bit of fun.

“Ah, perhaps not,” Benedict jested with her, her jab not even shocking him in the slightest. “But, I reckon it will be a close match regardless.”

After insuring that the lovely lady in his company was watching his movements closely, he set the leaves down on the surface of the water. “Finish line is by that tree over there,” he pointed, finally letting go with his other hand.

“May the best leaf win,” she giggled. Giggled? Good Lord. A crooked grin cracked on his face, focused too intently at the company rather than the match at hand. “Are you not going to chase them?”

“And leave you?” He scoffed. “Perish the thought.”

“I just thought,” her gaze was caught on the leaves, still floating down the edge of the pond—slower than she anticipated, “well, I suppose I wanted to get the whole picture of your family tradition.”

“Shall I run along the coast, then?” Benedict asked playfully, rising back to his feet, thumb pushed towards the water.

“Only to humor me,” she shrugged, not even fighting the smile on her face.

“Well, in that case,” Benedict began to remove his jacket, throwing it beside her. With a light jog he caught up to the leaves, they hadn’t gone very far anyway, perhaps if it were a windier day he’d have a faster time to keep up with. “You are in the lead!” He called out.

“Brilliant!” Her hands were clasped around her mouth, a cone to help amplify her shout. His smile was like the sun, warm and inviting—she wished she could spend the day in such a warmth. Benedict practically jumped for joy when the leaves made it to the final stretch, crossing to the rocks on the shore. Nearly falling into the water, he managed to scoop the leaves up and jog back to the woman in the grass. “Well?”

“Well, what?” He asked, nearly out of breath, smile still pulling his lips upward.

“The winner?”

“Ah,” he fell to the ground, sitting comfortably next to the baker’s daughter, pocketing the leaves. “A secret.”

“So you lost?”

“Oh, I assure you, if you won I would be celebrating you until the end of our time together,” Benedict sang. “However…”

“I lost?” She scoffed.

“A gentleman is humble in his successes,” he explained carefully. “We could go again?”

“No,” she said, humor in her voice. “I think that was more than enough excitement for one afternoon.”

“For once, we agree,” he said. “May I…? Could I ask you a question?”

“If you are proposing marriage, I am afraid I’ll have to decline—”

“No, no,” he laughed heartily. “Nothing of that sort.”

“I suppose I could find it in myself to answer a different question, then.”

“You were cold to me this morning,” Benedict noted, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. “But not on the day we met. What changed?”

She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest, gaze locked out on the now setting sun. “I… am not entirely sure.”

“Surely it was not the leaves—”

“The leaves may have helped,” she admitted. “Humanized you, in a way.”

“Was I inhuman before?”

“Naturally,” she retorted. “I mean, is it not obvious?”

“You were protecting your feelings,” Benedict finally realized. “All this time. You did not wish to be hurt—truly afraid I was merely stringing you along as an elaborate prank or ruse? Is that right?”

“How could someone like you ever have an interest in a pauper like me? The baker’s daughter and the son of a viscount?” Tears dotted her eyes, threatening to fall. How she came so close to crying was beyond her. “It seems implausible.”

Benedict dropped the grass, fully looking at the lady beside him. She had made herself nearly as small as she felt. He had hit the nail on the head. A gust of wind blew by, bringing leaves down from the tree above.

“I do not think less of you because of whose daughter you are,” Benedict said softly, removing a stray leaf from her hair. His fingers guided her head towards him, begging for her to look his way. “I care only about you. Getting to know you. Frankly, your father seems like a mostly alright man, but I do not wish to know him the way I wish to know you.”

“You may wish for that,” she sniffled. “But what would the rest of your world think? You, trying to court a woman below your status—”

“The only people who should be caring so deeply about my potential courtship are my intended and me,” Benedict said sharply. “The rest of the ton can frankly kiss my rear end.”

This raised a laugh out of her. It was bubbly and pure, almost like the one of a child. “You truly don’t care what people think about you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I do not.”

“How freeing that must be,” she said.

“Being the second son has its perks,” Benedict looked at her, really looked at her. “No one expects me to be proper all the time. I am given the freedom—financially and otherwise—to do as I please. I do not have to worry about inheriting a title, siring heirs, that is my brother’s responsibility.”

“Why me?”

His head quirked. “I do not understand?”

“You could court any girl of the ton,” she said. “And I am sure more than half of them would never turn down a chance to be courted by a Bridgerton—”

“They wished for the title,” Benedict sighed. “To be Viscountess Bridgerton, to marry my older brother and have the notoriety. That ship has already sailed, I'm afraid. You are kind in thinking that many women would be after me though.”

“You are not ugly,” she listed, “you have a great humor about you, a pleasant demeanor and a kindness in your eyes. The women of the ton must be foolish, then.”

“Perhaps the foolish one is you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You truly think those things about me?” He asked, awaiting a response. Her jaw was slack, clearly not about to give him any sort of confirmation to his question. “I believe your words, I do. But perhaps you should look at yourself with such eyes?”

“I-I don’t understand—”

“Our class differences aside,” Benedict said, as if it was easy to just ignore that, “while I was taken by your beauty at first—your eyes are something the Gods themselves forged in the fires, stars rivaling their shine—it was your continuous personality that kept my attention. Granted, it helped you were once covered head-to-toe in flour, it really brought out your features.”

Her cheeks flared at the recollection of their first meeting. “It was not my finest moment.”

“And you were vulnerable all the same,” he continued. “You cared not for who I was, yet, you showed an interest in me anyway. You may not agree with that statement, but you and I know it to be true in some shape or form. The only thing that holds you back is this notion on our classes—”

“Perhaps I am interested in you,” (Y/N) cut him off. “Perhaps I wish to be courted by you, attend balls and dress in pretty gowns, drinking expensive drinks and whispering sweet nothings. But that is all that it is—a wish. I know my place in this world, it is a right shame you have such a fantasy about yours.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No,” she stood up, brushing the blades of grass and leaves off of her skirt. “I hoped that you would understand, Benedict. I agreed to this afternoon because it felt like I had no choice in the matter—you practically bought my time, after all. What I did not expect,” she hiccuped, “I did not expect that I would enjoy such an afternoon.”

“You enjoyed yourself,” Benedict rose to his feet, desperate to match her gaze head on. “Why can you not allow yourself to have that joy? Allow your heart to follow its call?”

“I do not have such liberties to listen to my heart,” (Y/N) said softly. “I must use my head for every choice I make. An afternoon with you allowed my family to have enough money to make it through the end of the season without going hungry—”

“And an afternoon with me has brought such happiness to fill your soul for much longer—”

“Happiness has little importance,” she scoffed. “I would rather see my family healthy and surviving than even think about a notion like happiness or joy.”

“You have said yourself that your family treats you like a pet,” Benedict took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He needn’t explode in the park. “Why do you care so much about them if they care so little for you?”

“Because it is all that I know!” The candle had finally reached its end, burning out with a sizzle. “All I have ever known is my life in the bakery, rising early to make the dough, peddling samples to those walking by and hoping—praying—that they step in our store and purchase something. Because a sale of a few loaves of bread or cakes meant we could afford to buy vegetables for a soup, something to eat with our days old bread.”

“If you were with me, you wouldn’t ever need to think about things like that again,” Benedict said, his voice wavering on a whisper. “I could support you, support your family.”

“And that is precisely why I do not wish to continue this,” she raised her finger. “I do not need an affluent man to come and save me—”

“But I could help—”

“I do not need your help!”

“You obviously do!”

She took a step back, the tears from before finally reappearing in her eyes. “O-obviously? Because I am of a lower class you believe, in that giant and empty head of yours, that you can simply win my favor by saving me? Offering riches and experiences that I should be grateful and thanking every God that will listen that you are even willing to give me?”

“You know that is not what I meant—”

“You believe that because you are who you are, and I am who I am, that I couldn’t possibly say no to you,” her gaze flicked with anger, a fire looming. “While the ladies of the ton have their choices, I do not, so it makes it easy for you to pine over someone who simply has no choice in the matter.”

“No—(Y/N)—”

“This afternoon has been lovely,” (Y/N) spat, looking to the skyline—the sun had finally set, “but I am afraid that the afternoon is over. I shall be taking my leave.”

“Please reconsider,” Benedict begged, willing to try anything to get her to stay. “I wish to know you.”

“A shame, then,” (Y/N) said, turning around. “Wishing for something so foolish.”

—

“Her head is in the clouds,” Jack whispered.

“No, I reckon her head is in the dough,” Harry mumbled back to his brother.

“I can hear you, you know,” (Y/N) ground out, working hard on a rather unruly clump of dough that simply would not cooperate. “And if I can hear you, you are close enough to be helping.”

“But that is so exhausting," Harry groaned, leaning against the countertop. “Besides, how are you ever going to impress your betrothed if you do not keep such toned arms?”

She threw the dough against the counter—hard. “He is not my betrothed.”

“But you wish for him to be, no?” Jack giggled, playing with a few burnt buns—a mishap of his own creation.

“I say, Sister,” Harry said. “Why do you not pursue that Bridgerton? He clearly is interested in you, or, have you forgotten all of the flowers he has sent?”

The front of the shop was practically a florist’s dream—covering every free inch of counter space with beautiful bouquets. Her mother simply refused to throw out such lovely blooms, even going so far as to fish the first one out of the trash after her daughter made quick work to dispose of it. “How could I possibly forget about the man who continuously flaunts his wealth to get what he wants?”

“He wants you, surely that is not lost on you?”

“Of course not,” she continued to knead, a few hairs falling into her face. “But he is so insistent on getting me to agree to his whims simply because—”

“He has money, (Y/N),” Jack scoffed. “Good money. Christ, you spent half of a day with him a few weeks ago and we were able to finally purchase meat for dinner. Imagine if you married him—”

“So you want your sister to be married off for your own financial gain?”

“What else would you marry for?” Harry laughed. “Love?”

She stopped kneading. “Why do you not go and try to marry a wealthy lady, then? Hm? Surely a woman of genteel breeding would be much taken by the idea of a rugged baker—”

“That Bridgerton is already interested,” Harry shrugged. “At the very least, if you end up with child he would provide enough funds—”

“First you wish to marry me off, now you wish for me to have his bastard?” She couldn’t help but laugh, ignoring her hard work on the counter. “Why can I not make my own choice? I do not wish to be with Mr. Bridgerton, I wish to stay here at the bakery.”

“Fucking stupid,” Jack scoffed. “If I were in your shoes, I would let the gentleman pay for anything my heart desires—forget about this wretched place and move on with my life.”

“And abandon our legacy?”

“You mean my legacy,” Jack corrected. “I am to inherit the bakery, it is my birthright. You? I suppose I will allow you to continue your grunt work here—”

“Who else will do the baking?” Her voice rang throughout the kitchen. “Mother and Father are nearing the end of their career, both becoming too frail to continue with the rigorous task of this place. I am the only one—the only competent member of this family who can keep this shit afloat! And you want me to just… give that up?”

Jack stood a little straighter. “It was never your place.”

“Harry is set to inherit the bakery now, you know it. Yet someone had to fill the shoes of the family fuck-up instead, no?”

It was a sharp pain, suddenly and all at once against her cheek. It took her only half a second later to realize what had happened, her other brother’s face was only a confirmation on the fact.

“Jack, what the hell?!” Harry practically screamed. “You hit her?”

“She insulted me!”

“You deserved it,” Harry said, pushing his older brother back. “She only spoke the truth—”

“So I am allowed to be walked over by my baby sister?” Jack scoffed, pushing Harry back. “A woman? No fucking chance, mate.”

Her hand had covered her cheek, already feeling warm to the touch. Everything was too much, too loud, too bright. She had to get out of there, had to forget all about the dough on the counter, forgetting all about the brother who had just smacked her silly. The back door wasn’t locked—no surprise as Jack was the last one to use it—making it easy for her to push into the alleyway and into the rain.

Rain.

Pelting like bullets, the wet drenched her clothing in a mere instant, making it harder to escape. Where had she planned to run anyway? She had nowhere to go, her entire world was contained to the four walls of the bakery, never daring to explore the rest of it, not when her world was already so encompassing, so inviting.

In theory, anyway, it seemed.

So, she ran. A mix of running and walking, she kept moving forward. By the time she left her part of town, she knew her brothers would not bother coming for her. The rain alone was a deterrent, even Harry, the one who loved her more, wouldn’t dare to brave the elements just to reel his sister’s whims in.

A splotch of purple entered her vision. How long had she been moving? Did she even expect to come here? Did her subconscious send her in this direction for a reason?

She knocked on the bright door before she could find out.

“Good evening, ma’am,” a butter said politely. “What business do you have?”

“I am here to call upon Benedict Bridgerton.”

—

His quill had soaked the parchment below with ink, having left the tip upon it for far too long. He had been lost in thought, contemplative, especially the last few weeks. Benedict knew he had hurt her, had insulted her very being, yet he still tried. Every other day he’d send a fresh bouquet to the bakery, a new poem attached to the stems. Perhaps she read them? He knew it was more likely that she burned them, in the ovens or otherwise.

At the very least, he knew that the blooms were being displayed at the shop. Hope. That is what it had given him.

“Mr. Bridgerton, you have a caller,” a butler knocked, opening his door a crack wider.

“A caller? In this weather?”

“She seemed rather insistent,” the butler shrugged. “She is waiting in the drawing room—I already sent for tea and towels for the lady.”

“A lady is here to see me?” Benedict quirked his brow.

“A Miss. (Y/L/N),” the butler said. “No calling card, soaked to the bone and she seemed a bit… out of sorts.”

Benedict had already risen from his desk, practically pushing past the staff member to reach the stairs. Missing a step or two, he made it to the drawing room and shoved the door open. In the center of the blue room was (Y/N), dripping onto the wooden floor, shaking like a leaf.

“(Y/N)…”

“I-I had nowhere else to go,” she began to explain. “I did not even realize I was here until I knocked on the door. It was foolish—”

“No,” Benedict shook his head, reaching to take her hand in his own. “It is quite alright. You are more than welcome to be here.”

His hands were warm, or perhaps she was just that cold, making them feel like a fire. “I am so sorry, Benedict.”

“For what?” He asked genuinely.

“Everything?” She offered. “I-I am not sure of what, exactly, but I feel that I need to apologize.”

“You needn’t apologize for anything,” he said. “Not with me, not ever.”

She looked up at the ceiling, afraid to make contact with his blue stare. “I needed to get away. My brother he—Jack hit me.”

Benedict froze, his entire body went rigid. “I’ll kill him.”

“I suppose I deserved it,” she shrugged, now looking at the ground. “Talking back to him, assuming things that could never be—”

“A man has assaulted you,” Benedict squeezed her hand tighter. “Brother or not, he put his hands on you. You did nothing of the sort to deserve such a thing.”

“I don’t think I can go back there,” (Y/N) said softly. “Perhaps this was just the moment that gave me clarity. Opened my eyes, so to speak.”

Benedict took a good look at her face, red and splotchy, whether it was from the smack or the tears, he could not tell. “Tea is on the way, I shall request a cold compress for your cheek—”

“I do not wish to impose.”

“You shall wish for nothing here,” Benedict said quietly, firmly. “You will stay until the rain lets up, or, you provide me with a suggestible plan for your next steps.”

“I cannot go back,” she finally looked up at Benedict. “As much as I would like to, I simply cannot.”

“If you do not want to go back, I will support you. If you want to leave town, the country even, I will support you,” he said seriously. “Please allow me to support you.”

“I could never ask you for that—”

“You are not asking, I am offering,” he clarified.

“Benedict…”

The rain seemed to lessen, if the pelting against the window had anything to say about it. The noise had dimmed, not as violent as before. “To know that you are safe, that you are cared for, that is all I care about.”

So, in the center of the blue Bridgerton drawing room, soaked to the bone and dripping all over the floor, she kissed him. It was a sudden thing, pulling him down towards her lips, the contact much quicker than she had expected. He returned the favor in kind, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight, kissing her in a way he had yet to truly experience.

If his hands were like a fire, his lips were an inferno. Fighting for dominance, it was all encompassing. How had she gone so long without a feeling such as this? The burn was coming from inside, not a superficial one atop her skin as she was quite used to, but this burn, this feeling, she could find herself craving this.

“I-I am sorry—” she pulled away.

“Never be sorry,” Benedict shook his head. “Not for that, not ever.”

“I should not have done that…”

“No,” he agreed, a chuckle leaving his lips, “but how exhilarating it felt, regardless.”

His thumb ran lazy circles on her jaw. She leaned into the touch. “I do not know what to do, where to go…”

“But you cannot stay here…?”

She smiled sadly. “You know me scarily well, Benedict.”

He thought for a moment. “So… leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave town, leave the country—”

“I do not have the means to do such a silly thing.”

“I will pay your way.”

She scoffed, trying to pull out of his embrace. He wouldn’t release his grip. “Benedict…”

“I told you, I wish to support you. Emotionally, financially, I want to be there for you,” Benedict said. “Even if we are not—if you do not want to be together romantically, I want to ensure your safety and your health, your well-being. A friend.”

She tried to find the lie in his eyes, in his tone. Coming up empty, she had no excuse to not believe him.

“France,” he said, as if struck by lightning.

“France?”

“I hear only the expert bakers study in France—I have no doubts you could go to learn,” he explained. “I could pay for your travel, housing, you name it. Ask for it, and it is yours.”

“I doubt anyone would want to teach a woman, no matter how lovely a thought it might be.”

“I have a cousin,” Benedict explained. “Her and her husband own a café—I am quite certain that they would love to hire an expert baker to add to their inventory and menu. You could earn your own income, make your own way. A fresh start.”

“A fresh start…” she repeated. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“I shall write to her in the morning,” Benedict said, holding her hands again.

“And you…?”

“I will only come with you if you want me to join,” Benedict said slowly. “I will not trap you. I want your happiness, your freedom.”

She nodded, understanding.

“I think France sounds nice,” she smiled. “Will you write to me?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Even if you are vexed with me?”

“Especially if I am vexed with you.”

She kissed his lips again, sweeter and softer than the first time.

“Sounds perfect.”

—

A year. An entire year had passed and she couldn’t recall a happier time in her life. The only time that something could have rivaled it was a visit to a tea shop followed by a respite by a pond—in handsome company all the while.

They kept correspondence, just like they promised. Every week came a new letter, a new story to be told by the poetic Benedict Bridgerton. She tried to rival his words, explaining every detail about France, about her new life, but something was nagging. She missed him. They had grown close over the correspondence, leaving her heart wanting more. But, she knew when she left for France it was to fulfill her dreams, leaving a foolish notion like love on the back burner.

“(Y/N),” Marie, the Bridgerton cousin, called out behind her. “We are in need of more buns.”

“I just restocked the buns,” (Y/N) giggled, turning to the blonde. “What? Has someone mysteriously bought the lot?”

“Oui,” Marie said with a jest, heading into the storage room, “perhaps you should go bring more out?”

“You are in luck, the last batch just finished resting from the oven,” she said, carrying a tray on her shoulder, “I will bring them out with haste.”

“I am sure he will appreciate it.”

(Y/N) faltered, hand already pressed to the door leading to the front shop. A tingle ran through her spine, her heart picking up to a freeing flutter.

Could it be?

“You know, I would buy your entire stock,” the man hummed, looking thoughtfully into the display case, “but I fear I would be recreating a rather taxing memory for the both of us.”

“Benedict,” she gasped, nearly dropping her tray.

“You look radiant,” he mused, that wicked grin of his breaking on his face. “Much like the first time I saw you—covered in flour.”

“I am in my element,” (Y/N) said sweetly, “just as you would expect.” She had noticed that Marie and her husband were not in the café, the sign flipped to close. “You planned this.”

“Do you insinuate that I bribed my distant cousin to close her café to give you the day off, travel all the way to France, hoping I could spend the day with you?” Benedict scoffed playfully. “You truly do not know me at all.”

“I do not think Marie would take a bribe,” (Y/N) said slyly, knowing how much of a champion the cousin had been for the baker and viscount’s son to get together.

“She refused payment,” he admitted, agreeing with her notion. “But, was ever eager to see you get out of the kitchen and enjoy yourself.”

“You hadn’t written to me in two weeks,” (Y/N) said, walking around the counter. “I was worried.”

“I needed to refrain from our correspondence, I fear I would have let the surprise slip otherwise.”

“Smart man,” she hummed.

“I am known to be smart occasionally,” he shrugged.

“What are you doing here?” She finally asked. “N-not that I am not happy to see you, of course, but as you had said, this is a surprise.”

“I came to study art,” Benedict said, a hand in his coat pocket. “I felt that if I truly wanted to learn the craft, I needed to learn from the masters—many of their works are housed here in France. I even began to rent a little home in town, finding the need to stay a while.”

“That is the only reason?”

Benedict’s gaze softened. “Of course it is not the only reason.”

Her heart fluttered again.

“It is only fair that I try this again, correctly and without the prying eyes of society, this time,” Benedict said, clearing his throat and spinning around.

“Correctly?” She giggled, watching him twirl to face the door.

“Ah, good morning miss!” Benedict said, turning back to face (Y/N). “I must say, you look ever-so-pretty—tell me, do all bakers have a beauty such as your own?”

“I would wager no,” she said, trying to keep serious. “Most of the bakers around here are men.”

“Shame. Might I learn your name? It seems only fair—I fear I might just die if I do not know the sweet sound of it.”

“(Y/N),” she sang. “My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Benedict Bridgerton,” he stretched out his hand, reaching for her own. She allowed him to take it, a soft kiss was placed on the back of her cracked hand—a working hand, one that she was proud to have.

“You are very charming, Mr. Bridgerton,” she hummed, looking deeply into his blue eyes. “Pleased to make your company.”

“I assure you, I am more pleased to be in yours,” Benedict insisted, kissing her hand again. “Tell me, do you have plans this afternoon?”

“It seems my schedule has cleared up,” she looked to the sign on the door and sighed. “Why? Do you have any suggestions on how I should spend it?”

“Might we take a turn around the park? A friend of mine has written to me about just how lovely one nearby is, I reckon I would like to see it for myself.”

She smiled brightly at him, as if he held the world in his hands. Instead, he held two leaves between his fingers—brown and cracked, but clearly treated with such care. They had been the same ones from their time at the park the first go around, she was nearly certain. Why else would he bring dead leaves with him?

"Leaves?"

"You see, my family, we have this tradition of racing with leaves—I would very much like to share it with you. These two in particular seem to be very lucky, thought it would be best to bring them along."

His smile melted her heart, endearing and thoughtful in the same breath. She could get used to a smile like that.

“Well… what are we waiting for, Mr. Bridgerton?”

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #this is a doozy and i am sorry #but only a little bit!!!

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redcherrykook · 17 days

Text

── ‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ brothers best friend - request, club vibes, fluff

────୨ৎ────

content: JK is yn´s older brothers bestie, clubbing, mini sexual banter, teasing, make out, humping, chest play, confessions , childhood friends 2 lovers, biker JK, movie night, pining mutally, hopeless romantic reader, FLUFF

note from cherry: cloud anonie, this is a lot more cutesy than u requested, but i hope that's okay!!! Mwa!!

────୨ৎ────

Fleeting, a look of tension is sent your way, a familiar pair of eyes being the messanger

Jungwon is a good older brother; caring, supportive, kind. Even introduced you to his friends, let his two year younger, kind of loser sister hang out too

Talk for hours about video game interests and never really understanding the jokes until she got old enough, still, always sharing a laugh.

His best friend, Jeon Jungkook, is the complete opposite. Someone you have grown up with and always hated the guts of.

A huge ego, sexual jokes, a player who shamelessly stared at every pair of tits he saw, yours included. A guy who, honestly, didn't fit into the working class, grateful life you and Jungwon live.

Somehow, you found a way to enjoy his company, grown acustom to his banter and flirting, adapting to his sense of humor and finding yourself get a little bit excited whenever he announced he would be coming over

Nonetheless, he had always been around. For every birthday after jungwon turned 7, Jungkook was always there. Every holiday, every special dinner, countless weekends, sleepovers, parties, homework.. you name it.

Through the transformation of childhood to embarrasing teenage phases and crushes, now adulthood, young adulthood

22 isn't that grown up yet, Jungkook is closer with 24, however his mind hasn't aged since age 14, not to your understanding

The point is, he has always been there. In your life, your home, your heart.

You still remember when both of you were teens, sitting alone at your dining table and listening to him explain algebra to you,

You didn't understand a word though, distracted by the big brown doe eyes his face came with.

To be completely honest, Jungkook had been your crush from childhood.

Sure, you hated the way he did absolutely everything but you adored it at the same time. Jealous when he talked about his hook ups and that one serious girlfriend he had,

Hurt when he complimented your looks but would call you annoying afterwards

Your brothers cool, older best friend who came over almost every day.

From finding him pretty as a little girl to humping your pillow thinking about his shirtless body as a teen, the way in which Jungkook showed up in your brain always changed with maturity,

It had been clear however, that your attraction to him is more serious than purely physical, given that it had been years

It took a few exes to take your mind off for sure but at the end of the day, you would always come back to wishing the lips on yours would belong to someone else

The someone that's currently in your kitchen, drinking a glass of water and scanning over the miniskirt on your body

"Where are you going?" he asks, leaning his fully tattoed arm against the large kitchen island,

"You sound like Jungwon" you say, gathering up the coat you would wear to shield yourself of this breezy night.

He cocks his head, "i watched you grow up, i think i have every right to sound like that"

"hmm, sure. Going to a bar" you reply, putting on the black high heels next to the front door

Truth be told, you were going to a bar to attempt at meeting someone to leave with.

After years of pining and useless hope in his flirtatious nothingness, enough is enough

Enough of falling over Jungkook.

"A bar? Alone?" his muscular arms cross over his chest, grey tshirt bulging along his flexed bicep,

Was he working out more?

You nod, replying "yep" with a popping p,

He humms,

"Can i join?" his smile is infuriating, innocent and almost making you question if that was a sincere thing to ask, you giggle,

"Seriously? No?"

"A shame. You look sexy, be careful out there" he nods his chin upwards, disappearing into the depths of your brothers bedroom once again.

"He called you sexy, stop kidding me" she exclaims, rolling her eyes and throwing back yet another shot

Going out alone didn't work when you panic dialed your best friend,

The bar bustling with pretty girls and handsome guys entertaining them,

Searching for a manly snack to take home, you double take with every sleeve tatto having guy,

Looking for a piece of Jungkook in each one of them

"It's nothing nayeon really, he's always like this"

She widens her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest,

No bullshit with nayeon, if someone was gonna feed into your thoughts or pull you straight from delusion, it would be her

"No. No its not, he never called you sexy so casually. He didn't make fun of you this time. He said YOU LOOK SEXY" she empathizes the last sentence by tapping her hand on the table, Scoffing with her words

"Okay yeah, but come on?" doubtful about the possibility that he would return your multiple year long feelings, this conversation is seemingly going no where

"What?" She asks, rasing an eyebrow

You take a sip of your untouched mojito,

"If he liked me back, he would have said something. He's jungkook after all yeonie"

the sigh escaping your lips compliments an array of people leaving the club with little whispers and kisses,

Slow, quiet hushes of passion trailing out with them, leaving behind a yearning wish to feel what they must have felt in this moment

Having found love and lust in one place, taking it home, possibly cherishing it

Turning your head back to your best friend in front of you, her face glimmers in the dim light of the bar,

"I think he's been trying to show you for a long time" she says, pausing for a brief second before her face lights up

"Isn't it Jungwon's birthday next week?"

You hum, then tell her that he's planing to go to the club,

"Do you want to join too? He wouldn't mind" you ask, knowing that Jungwon always likes as many people around as possible

She nods happily, giving you her bright smile once again,

"I'd love to. Maybe you should try to get closer to him. Just try, it's gonna be okay"

Advice is often easier to give than to recieve and follow through with, especially when a good friend is on the line

Saving her from the immediate worry of absolutely embarrassing yourself when you attempt to grow closer to kook, you just smile,

"I guess it won't hurt?"

"Yeah," she replies, "maybe it will feel good"

You leave the bar without a man to fulfill a spot that wasn't molded in his shape to begin with

Slowly, the front door closes with minimal noise, only the tv playing from the living room can be heard,

Illuminating the hallway with bright, colorful flashes ever so often, you walk in without your heels and in your closed coat,

Gazing torward the large grey couch, it's occupied by your brother peacefully sleeping on one end, snoring away like it's the best sleep he's ever had

His best friend sitting a bit further, awake and attentive to the movie playing on the screen,

A rom-com you've seen dozens of times

He glances at you with a small smile, patting the space next to him,

"How was the bar?" he asks once you're planted down next to him, a strand tucked behind your ear while you let your eyes dance on the delicate features of his face

"Good, met up with nayeon" your reply only makes him nod in return, silently mustering your body up and down,

You can't tell what's behind this look,

"Movie night?" your question falls naturally to make up for the tense silence between the two of you, having long forgotten about your sibling a mere two meteres apart

Until he mentions him again

"Yeah, but hyung feel asleep as always"

With a small giggle both of you look at him,

"Typical" you say, rolling your eyes

"Wanna join me? It's pretty lonely down here"

There's a moment where his eyes stay lingering on your lips, bottom one tucked under your teeth

"Sure, i'm gonna go change first" he nods again, granting himself premission to gaze at your legs when you walk up the stairs, the silver ring in the corner of his lip now wet from being toyed with,

When you're back down in a comfortable lounge outfit and without your make up, Jungkooks breath stalls,

"Ah! Scared me" he teases, a playful smirk planted on his plump lips,

"Ha ha jeon" the face you make is enough to make him giggle, nose scrunching up and tongue sticking out

"I'm kidding i'm kidding- ouch!" exclaming dramatically while clutching his chest, he makes a fake sobbing noise before breaking out into the same laugh you're captured in,

"I was really joking, you look beautiful" he says, still focused on your bare face,

Without a second thought just hum mockingly, signaling you took it as a joke as much as you are offended

"Sorry, sorry princess" the tone he uses for your nickname is sultry, low and sounds like something you'd always imagined him to say, maybe even to whisper in your ear and make your spine tingle

Every bone in your body goes limp when you feel a muscular arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into his firm chest,

His head is tuned to the tv, silently, without a word to utter at last you watch the movie,

Getting comfortable with the position, you're breath is still a little ragged from the sudden move, his hands now playing with strands of your hair, gently moving them around

"What's with the heavy breathing?" he says, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and pinching your cheek,

His eyes stay on the tv, knowing he wouldn't contain himself at the sight

You're looking up at him, glancing over the tv's reflection in his big, brown eyes,

"No idea what you're talking about" your reply is close to a whisper, still adimiring the man that's holding you near,

He chuckles, patting your head

"So the staring is probably nothing too right? Come on, you're missing the movie princess" his note comes with a little smirk,

You laugh softly, mumbling out your words

"I've seen this movie a million times"

It wasn't the first time you two cuddled either, while watching a movie he used to pull you closer. However, it had been a while since then,

You must have been 18 the last time it had happened, your reaction then no different to the one now

Rosy cheeks and a racing mind, going places far from the reality of simply laying in his arms

Remembering how you told yourself that this is enough, this is all you would want and need,

It didn't stay that way, desire of things to experince with him only growing with each passing moment of proximity

The two characters of the movie kiss and naturally you smile, entraced with the love they share

Entraced with the desire the guy feels, a spark igniting within your heart to feel this type of kiss,

Lost in thought, you don't seem to notice how Jungkook's head has turned so he could look down to your precious smile,

Contemplating wheather or not to just risk it all and pull your chin up for a kiss, upon seeing the way you melt for the love shown on screen, he wanted nothing more but to make you familair with the feeling

Get you used to what he had been wanting to give you for years

His heartbeat increases, thumping with the thought of feeling your little smile against his lips,

You do notice however, how much quicker his heart is beating, pressing your head closer to his chest,

It must be because of the loving scene, after all, once you did look at him, his head had been turned back to the tv

He decided not to risk it all,

if only he had contemplated a little while longer.

Proud, confidently gesturing to the girl he's engaged in a conversation with

He adjusts his leather jacket, leaning on the counter with his back and casually putting his hand in his pocket,

The pretty girl in front of him smiles, tracing her fingers on his arm

You're left dumbfoundedly looking at nayeon,

"See?" you say, a sad smile dripping from your lips

You can barely make out nayeon's reply though the blaring Club music, people pushing torward the bar left and right

She tells you not to worry and come dance,

You agree, turning your head to look at Jungkook one last time, wishing to see him alone or talking to Jungwon

Instead, he's still busy making another woman laugh

Today was supposed to be your last chance at growing closer to him, your time to laugh and dance with him

You were supposed to go home with him, kissing him wildly at your doorstep and hiding from your disapproving brother

Now, you're swaying your hips with a random guy you haven't seen the face of, searching for your older brother in the crowd

Nayeon is dancing with her boyfriend, giggling, holding his hand that are placed on her hips,

You wanted that to be you tonight,

Jungwon sees you and smiles, assuming you finally let someone near you after being alone for a while,

He does judge the guy, letting you know that he's keeping an eye out for you, before he turns back to conversing with his friends

The music grows louder and so does the feeling of sadness that's being chased away by alcohol and strangers around you

Meanwhile,

"Oh there she is" he smiles, nodding towards you, he could only make out your hair from the back, long and silky as it sways with the music

"Ahh, wow she's pretty" the girl says, giving Jungkook a thumbs up

"Who is?" Another girl chimes in, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend that had been talking to Jungkook the past ten minutes,

An old friend he met coincidentally while she's clubbing with her partner

"His crush, the girl over there" she signals, pointing her finger to your figure, dancing with the guy you haven't met

With his replacement, his never fulfilling replacement

"Oh wow she is but, who's that guy?"

Jungkook's eyes fall, smile turning into a clenching jaw, moving his body up immediately to get a better view

A view he didn't like seeing,

You looked absolutely gorgeous, a short, soft pink dress draping down your body, stopping mid thigh

The curve of your waist perfectly on display, light pink blush on your cheeks only adding to the glow you extent,

But your face doesn't match, he doesn't find the same glow radiating from it as he does from your body

"I gotta go, have fun minnie, you too!" He shouts while looking back, already pushing his way through the mass of people just to get to you,

You spot him too, alone, smiling with a worried expression when you make eye contact,

He snatches you away from the guy while pulling your hands in torward him, sneaking his arms around your waist

"You okay?" he asks, gently swaying the two of you around,

Your heart lights up, already sewing itself together with what you believe to be false hope

Still, your hands press on his shoulders, moving your hips to the music

The alcohol in your system not nearly enough to have gotten you tipsy

"Yeah. Why?" you reply, smiling at the way his eyes seem so focused on your face,

He glows beneath the colorful lights,

"You look sad dancing with that dude" he explains, pulling you in a little closer

A smile hits your face again, you love that he noticed, you love that he watched you

"I was sad you were busy"

The boldness of your claim takes him by surpirse, chuckling at the unusual comment

He didn't know if you were serious, but he wanted to keep playing your game

"I was talking to my friend, waiting for you actually" he winks, spining you around once before you stumble against his chest,

"Oh yeah?" You laugh, focused on his little foot movements, the dance is becoming second nature, much like your back and forth

everyone disappears when he smiles down to you,

"Yeah, she and her girlfriend said you look pretty. We all agreed on that, maybe we do have a lot in common"

Suddenly, the weight of a thousand stones have been lifted from your heart,

A fresh breeze blooms within it, filling you with what you can only call confidence and hope,

Although it feels more secure than hope, almost evidently factual,

Both of you realized it in that very glimpse

"Wanna get out of here?" he whispers into your ear, having wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you flush to his chest

You nod, biting back a grin you have waited to unleash

He returns it, taking your hand and rushing outside the club

From the corner of your eye you see jungwon shaking his head,

"Took them long enough" he tells nayeon

She smiles, sighing

"I know right"

Once the night has quieted down from outside of the busy club, only small street lights and some pedestrians are around

Even the music is almost completely deaf to your ears, a faint melody playing in what you wouldn't need to remember

He takes you by the hips, pulling you closer to his body,

"You know what this means i hope" he says, running his tongue over his lips,

you did, you knew the moment both of you smiled at each other after the relief of the truth,

You had waited your time, it was now finally your turn to collide

"What do you mean ?"

He snarks, tilting your chin up to him with a sincere look

Knowing you just needed him to say it,

"I love you. I've liked you for years, but i think today we were meant to connect"

The soft kiss he places on your longing lips seals his sincerity, moving slowly against you in a rhythm you've dreamed of

He feels like home, he feels like years spent were worth this one kiss

You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer,

"I love you too" you mumble, losing the words to a kiss that had spoken for you before you did,

"I know" he says, resting his forhead on yours with an unsteady breath, you can't help but scoff at his cocky tone

He just laughs in return, capturing your lips in another kiss of the same kind

"Wanna ride home with me?" he asks, clasping his hand in with yours and already walking along the rocky road

"On your bike?" you're snapping to look at him, glimmering with excitment

It has been one of your teenage dreams to ride on his bike with him, wrapping your arms around his waist and just feeling the freedom of the trust you have in him

His heartthrob allure only growing after he had gotten his license at 17

He says yes, stopping in front of the black, sleek looking bike,

"But it's late kook"

Without missing a beat,

"Stay the night. I've slept over a million times. I can sleep on the guest bed if you want me to"

Your cheeks fill with heat, turning your head sideways to hide your excitement

Still, he catches it, cupping your face to turn you back towards his loving eyes,

"So?"

You grin, "hell yes"

"Okay, you need to hold on tight" his head is covered by the large helmet, leather jacket zipped up all the way to the top,

Like a scene from a movie, your hair flows with the wind, hands tightening around his waist when he begins driving, not to slow, not too fast

"Feels so nice!" You shout, closing you eyes to indulge in this new found satisfaction,

He chuckles, shouting back

"Right? I'll drive you anywhere baby!" the sweetness of his voice doesn't feel forgein or like he's jumping ahead

It all falls together perfectly, like it had always been this way

Arrving at his front door a couple minutes later, he takes off the helmet and assists your leave from the bike

Unlocking the door and getting rid of the thick jacket, he stares at your revealing dress, this time, all of his sense fully able to concentrate on you

"Are you cold? You look stunning, by the way, in case you couldn't tell from how i can't stop looking" he takes his hands to run down your sides again, placing a small kiss on your nose,

"Thank you, i know i don't have to tell you, but you look really good too" you say, caressing his face with your hands,

He notes you didn't answer his question but he doesn't push, leading you to his couch to wrap you up comfortably either way

"I do know, but it's different when my girl says it" he mutters against your lips while he places you down on the couch, climbing to hover over you

Your lips move on their very own, focused on chasing after the love in his kisses, softly humming while playing with his hair

He sneaks his tongue into your mouth, wrapping it around yours and causing for a deeper kiss,

You take it, moaning softly into it and then you play with his bottom lip, swiping your tongue across the small metal ring,

"You're my girl, you know that, right princess?"

his hands wander to your arms, caressing them while his lips move to kiss down your neck, leaving traces of wet spots and little bruises on your soft skin

Moaning in pleasure and happiness, this feeling is what you've been longing for,

It's him, he is what you were missing

It's you, it's you he needed all along

"Yours, wanted it for so long" you mumble out, getting lost in the feeling of his warmth all over you,

You can feel him smile against your neck, his head lifts to look you directly into the eyes

He's a little blushed out, lips swollen and glazed and his pretty hair is slightly messed up

One of his hands makes its way to your face, grazing his thumb over your cheek and bottom lip

"Me too, i first realized when i was 17. You were so pretty and just so.. you. It only got worse by the day" he says, although he's slightly breathy in his voice, the statement is firm

Your heart jumps, you are you

And that was enough for him

When he shifts in the couch to be more comfortable, his hips press into yours

The barrier of your thin dress not nearly enough to stop feeling his bulge inside the jeans he's wearing,

You let out a small whimper just as he groans, quickly you hide under your hands

"Oh god i-i-m sorry" you stutter out but he makes it known he didn't mind, prying your hands away immediately

"It's okay pretty, you sound cute. Are you okay with this? If we're moving too fast-"

"Please?" your whine is soft; a plea to feel him more,

He smiles, kissing you with grace and lust,

"Anything for you"

Slowly, the bulge in his pants presses into you again, his hips roll into your heat carefully, the friction immediately eliciting small groans and whimpers from your mouths,

You kiss him again, moving your hands under his shirt to touch his abs while you continue cherishing his closeness, growing wetter by the second

He takes every little moan, starting to groan himself and growing more eager, more rapid with his movements,

"So pretty, can i touch your chest baby?" he whispers against your lips, opening his eyes to watch your tits move with every roll to your core, breath fanning over your lips as ragged as yours

"Mhh, yes, please kook"

His hands occupy themselves immediately, pulling down the straps of your dress and releasing them from the cups of your bra,

He takes a second to stare, listening to your little pleas while your face is glazed with pleasure and your exposed chest moves with you,

"You're a dream" he keeps pressing small kisses to your lips, hands now working against your chest.

Squeezing the flesh, rolling his fingers over your nipples

The moans from your mouth are now rapid, your clit overwhelmingly pleased with friction and the knot in your lower abdomen close to snapping,

"Feels so good kook, gonna cum" you whisper, pulling him into a deeper kiss by the neck,

"Cum for me pretty, doing so good" he says in that airy low voice and it only takes two more pushes to make you release into your soaked panties

He stops his hips slowly, listening to your little whimpers and collecting his breath

"Felt.. so good.." he mutters into your hair, pressing little kisses to your scalp

"Mhm.. you didn't cum did you?" your question seems almost absurd to him

He chuckles, looking at your pretty face under him,

"I did. I came like a teen in my boxers, i mean god look at you"

You laugh sweetly, kissing his cheek, he returns it shortly after

"Reminds me of when i once stole your shirt from jungwons room to masturbate with"

Shamelessly admitting to one of your most down- bad moments, knowing you wouldn't be judged

He gasps, sitting you up with him,

"Oh my god, i stole your panties once!" he laughs, your eyes widen in shock as you begin laughing with him

"The stuff we did as teens man" you say with a sigh, wrapping yourself in one of the blankets around

He furrows his eyebrows,

"Teens? I did that last year"

Another gasp, this time from you

He pinches your nose, shutting your words of disbelief up with a kiss,

"Shhh shh no more. Let's sleep, I'll give you my shirt, no need to steal them anymore"

You nod, yawning and falling into his arms,

He takes your body right up with him, picking you up to his room, where you'd be sleeping in his clothes, in his arms

Just where you belonged all this time.

#redcherrykook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #brothers best friend

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writersblockiskillingme · 2 months

Note

Hook with the daughter of Ariel or something like that. With them being in a secret little relationship but he’s always trying to come up to her and flirt with her. Maybe Uliana finds out and freaks out the rest is up to you

Secret | James Hook

Pairing: James Hook x fem!reader (Ariel's!sister!reader)

Summary: Once Uliana figures out your secret, everything comes crushing down.

Warning/s: angst, but with a happy ending, fluff, keeping secrets, fight, short fic, possible grammar and/or spelling mistakes

Author's note: It's here, hope you enjoy!! Also, I made the reader Ariel's sister because in my head, it fits the timeline.

Honestly, nobody had any idea how it happened. You were Ariel's sister. He was a pirate. How in the world did you manage to end up together?!

Well... truth to be told... it happened so suddenly, just like when the storm in the middle of the sea happens. Nobody really expects it, but it arrives it crashes you with its whole might. Leaving you breathless.

It was a normal, sunny day when you met him. You were walking down the corridor, just trying to get to Merlin's class. Clutching your book in your hands, you found yourself outside as you came face to face with Hook. In the middle of the courtyard. All alone. His back was turned to you, and with that finding, you felt the sigh of relief leave your body pass your lips. It doesn't matter, you thought to yourself. So you decided to keep walking. You did not want to be late to class.

But it seems like the luck wasn't on your side that day. He turned around and walked up to you as he yelled out.

"Ahoy there, mermaid!" He smirked as your eyes met. "Skipping class again, I see. What's your excuse this time? Lost your voice singing to the fishes?"

James Hook, now leaning against a stone pillar, hook on his right hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes as his eyes scanned you.

"Hook, I unline you, am actually trying to now get there in time." You rolled your eyes at his teasing but decided that maybe it was time for you to finally tease him back a bit. "But don't worry, I've got a treasure map to Merlin's class. Care to actually join me?"

You saw a little tint of blush forming on his face, but you must have imagined it. And just as you thought that this would be the end of your conversation, he did something that left you stunned.

"Merlin's class? That's the real curse of Neverland. But I'd follow you anywhere, little mermaid." He gave you a wink, smirking.

You found yourself blushing, but no... it... it can't be. Luckily, you quickly regained your composure and continued your, playful, rivalry banter.

"You know, pirate, I've heard rumors about your hook. Is it true you lost it in a duel with a giant squid?" You leaned over closer to him.

"Aye, but it wasn't just any squid—it was the one that stole my heart." He smirked as he leaned down, closer to your face. "But now, here I am, a one-handed pirate with a penchant for trouble and a weakness for mermaid smiles."

You found yourself laughing at his flirting. You couldn't help it, it was just so... so endearing.

"Well, Captain, I've got a secret too." You said, with a little smirk planted on your face. "I've hidden my voice in a shell. Only the right kiss can unlock it. Interested?"

And so you did that for a while until you two were actually late for Merlin's class. You walked in, and Hook did not. But there was no way that you would admit to anyone, even your friends, why you walked into the class flushed, cheeks pink, with a stupid smile on your face.

You do, of course, realize that this was a bit abnormal. He was a pirate and part of Uliana's crew. You were a mermaid princess, daughter of the Triton himself. It was not normal, but as the days passed and what was a true rivalry, banter turned into just pure flirting, you found yourself not really caring.

As weeks passed and the flirting continued, somehow, you found yourself having a pirate boyfriend. After all of that, Hook and you started dating. Somehow.

And it was better than you ever expected it to be. You sometimes felt like, outside of Uliana's crew, you were the only one that he was nice to. It was... perplexing. But you loved it.

However, you both agreed that you should keep your relationship a secret for a while for both of your sakes. You weren't dumb. You both knew how your friends would react if you told them that you were dating. So that's how it all started. Secret stolen glances when nobody was looking, passing notes in class, stolen kisses when you were all alone, and, of course, flirty teasing banter.

That's how you found yourself, pressed against a tree in the school's courtyard, Hook with his hand by your head, his hook under your chin, trapping you.

"You're a siren in a landlocked school." He spoke, looking into your eyes. "Your voice could raise sunken ships, and your smile—well, that's my undoing."

"Tell me, Hook, do you ever dream of flying?" You asked as you started to trace your finger along his hook. "Not in a ship, but with wings made of stardust?"

He looked at you, captivated.

"Every night, my dear. And in my dreams, you're the compass guiding me through constellations." He leaned down towards you, your lips almost meating until something happened. Something that would change this forever.

"Hook!!" The terrifyingly hight and mighty voice rang out along the school courtyard.

You both turned around and froze as you came face to face with Uliana, Hades, Maleficent and a few more people that joined the courtyard when they heard yelling.

"But reality has a way of clipping my wings." Hook sighed as he moved away from you slowly, your heart speading up and breaking at the same time.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Uliana screamed. "What are you doing with a mermaid?!"

That's when you noticed something. Yes, Hook moved away from you, but his hand with his hook that was under your chin was now placed on your waist, still holding you close to him.

"Calm down, Uliana." Hook spoke up, looking at him.

"Calm down?!" Uliana yelled, absolutely fuming. "Are you seriously telling me to calm down right now?!"

"Yes." Hook said, "Yes, I am."

"Don't play games with me, Hook." She threatened before throwing a glance your way, smirking as she plotted against you. "If you don't stop doing whatever you're doing with this one, you will no longer be a part of my crew."

A moment of science was heard around the courtyard, and you know that it was over. He couldn't give up on his crew, and you most certainly did not want him to, so that means that your relationship has reached its inevitable end. Your heart was breaking as you looked on the ground, slowly moving away from Hook.

"You won't do that." He spoke up, his voice strong, ringing out. "We won't end our relationship." He turned to you and brought you closer to him once again, smiling at you before turning to Uliana with a determined look.

"You know that you need me whether you liked it or not. So, no, you won't throw me away from the rest of the crew. And even if you do, it doesn't matter. I still have her, and that is something that nothing will be able to change." He spoke as her face was formed into pure shock.

"So good day." He sarcastically bowed before he ruined around with you and walked away.

"Don't worry, she'll come around." You looked at him. "Maybe..."

"I honestly don't really care." He shrugged, his eyes ringing with truth. "I have you now, little mermaid, that's all I need and so much more, really."

TAGLIST:

@xoxo-h3arts @i-am-fork @a-homosexual-homosapien @snixx2088 @heartsfromcoco @ariaroseloklover @isafran1125 @gayfrog29 @mystic-mae

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elizaleclerc · 4 months

Text

intertwined, sewn together 🌊

lando norris x reader

summary: fem reader & lando share a sweet day w friends on a yacht <3

song: not a lot, just forever by adrianne lenker

author’s note: love this sm my heart ugh!! fluff & cute summer vibes. kinda grumpy x sunshine ; allusions to a bad childhood <\3

word count: 1.8k

You reclined on the plush deck of the yacht, basking in the warm rays of the sun as they caressed your stomach. The smell of sunscreen and tanning oil lingered in the air, leaving a sticky sheen on your skin. You relished these lazy days on the yacht, surrounded by your friends Lily and Carmen who chatted animatedly next to you.

Lost in the pages of your book, you barely registered their conversation as you lay with one elbow propped on the ground and the other hand holding the book, using it as a shield against the bright sun. However, your peaceful reading was interrupted by the rowdy boys behind you. Alex, George, Charles, and Lando were engaged in a game of cornhole, their shouts and cheers growing louder with each round. Their competitive banter blended with the sound of the cornhole sacks hitting the wooden board, making it difficult for you to concentrate on your book.

With a deep sigh of frustration, you carefully placed the book down and turned to your friend Lily, who was sitting next to you on the deck of the yacht. The sound of raucous laughter and shouting from the boys had grown increasingly louder, making it difficult for anyone else to carry on a conversation.

"Could they be any louder?" Carmen asked, her voice barely audible over the noise.

You nodded in agreement, “I know right, it’s like they are the only ones on the damn yacht.” You turned over, and, now laying on your stomach, you propped yourself up on your elbows and watched the boys play.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to Lando, his intense focus on the game evident in the way his brow furrowed and his arms swung the sandbag with ease. You couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he moved, his muscles flexing with each throw. His fingers ran through his messy summer curls, adding to his charming and carefree appearance. He was perfect in every way, and just knowing he was yours made your heart soar with happiness.

Lily and Carmen resumed their conversation, still reclining on their backs. You found yourself growing quiet, a natural state for you. Your introverted nature preferred observing to actively participating in conversations.

As a child, this led to struggles in making friends. Some labeled you as mean, but the truth was that you simply had little patience for most individuals. Your shyness was often viewed as a weakness and your silence as threatening, but slowly you emerged from your shell. Childhood experiences had left you with deep scars, ones that most people could never imagine. For a long time, you kept these memories buried deep within, trying to forget they were real. But then Lando came into your life, and he helped unravel all the pieces of you that had been hidden away. He didn't run away or judge you; instead, he loved every part of you as if you were made just for him. And because of him, you met others who saw and appreciated the real you as well.

That’s why you loved these people on the yacht. Not just Lando, who you’ve been dating for three years now, but even his friends and their girlfriends. They were lively at times, but they could be calm and relaxing too, having real and deep conversations. When you started dating Lando, they welcomed you with open arms, and the group quickly felt like a newfound family, one that you desperately needed.

Lando was sunshine personified. His deep, rich laugh was infectious, bringing out the same pure happiness in everyone around him, including you. You couldn't help but notice how his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he laughed so hard that tears formed in his eyes. And with his perfectly tanned skin and light brown hair, he looked as if he had been sent down from the Sun itself just for you to love and for him to love you back even more fiercely. His genuine empathy and understanding towards your struggles made it feel like he could see right into your soul, and his persistent effort to get to know you only further solidified your growing feelings for him.

The two of you truly seemed like opposites, but everyone around you saw how much love was between you and Lando. As you watched him play cornhole, a small smile spread on your lips. It was inevitable, Lando seemed to just have that effect on you.

“Lando, looks like you’ve got an admirer,” Charles shouted to him as he must have caught you staring. Your face flushed, even more so with the sun beating down. Lando caught your eye, shooting you a wink.

“Good, I’m on fire! Best game I’ve played yet.” Lando proudly proclaimed, which made you grin even more.

Carmen turned on her stomach now to watch along with you. “George, baby, how are you doing?” She asked him.

Lando was the one to respond though, “Oh, he’s playing like shit. You better take his place.” Everyone bursted out into laughs, everyone except George, who always got slightly offended at jokes made at his expense.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” George sighed with a wave of his hand. “Let’s play another game, I’ll beat you this time.”

“That’s what you said five games ago,” Alex laughed, which caused the guys to break into another fit of chuckles.

You were enjoying watching them play, but as the sun beat down on your skin and sweat began to form on your brow, you knew it was time to take a break. Walking over to the cooler, you grabbed a cold bottle of water and some freshly cut strawberries. The icy liquid provided instant relief as it cascaded down your throat, while the juicy sweetness of the strawberries left a refreshing aftertaste.

Feeling rejuvenated, you made your way to the edge of the yacht and settled into the welcoming shade. As you gazed out at the vast expanse of ocean before you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of tranquility wash over you. The rhythmic lapping of waves against the boat and the gentle breeze caressing your skin were soothing in a way that only being on the ocean could provide.

Lost in your thoughts, you reached for your book and lost yourself in its pages. The sound of laughter and splashing from your friends faded into the background as you immersed yourself in the fictional world within. Time seemed to pass quickly as you turned one page after another, until you noticed the sky beginning to change color. A soft orange glow now painted the horizon, signaling that sunset was near.

You moved from your spot on the yacht and went back out to see what everyone else was doing. Lando was laying out on a large sunbed, clearly exhausted from his hours of playing cornhole. As you looked around, all of the boys were laying out too. You couldn’t find Carmen or Lily, but you assumed they were still trying to soak up the last bit of sun they could for the day.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Lando smiled as you approached him. You stood beside his sunbed as he kissed the top of your hand. “Where did you run off to?”

“I went to read for a bit. It was kinda distracting earlier when you and the guys were playing.” You explained. He motioned for you to cuddle up next to him on the bed. As you tucked yourself by his side, he smirked.

“Distracting because I was so good looking?” He bantered and you rolled your eyes.

“No, because you guys were being so loud.” You joked and he faked a frown. You smiled, “But you’re also very good looking.��

He tilted your chin up so he could kiss you softly, taking in every bit of you and the strawberry taste still on your lips. As you laid your head back on his chest, he ran his fingers through your hair, playing with it lazily. “I love you a lot you know”

You traced your fingers along his torso and grinned to yourself, “Yeah, I know.”

“Good. Just making sure you don’t forget it.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his warm breath mingling with the soft breeze. As the sun began its descent towards the horizon, you both sat on the sunbed, watching the stunning display of colors in the sky. The vibrant oranges and deep blues blended together like a masterpiece, filling you with a sense of awe and wonder. Despite all the pain and suffering in the world, moments like this reminded you of the beauty and magic that still existed. You could feel the warmth of the cooling sun on your skin, leaving a subtle tan as it slowly made its way towards the horizon. The peacefulness of the moment was enough to lull you into a blissful sleep.

Charles propped himself up on his cushioned chair, and saw you asleep on Lando’s chest. “She knocked out, huh?” He smiled at Lando.

“Yeah, guess so. The sun makes her tired sometimes.” Lando replied in a low voice to try and not to wake you up.

“You know, I never heard her say she loved you back earlier.” George remarked from the other side of Lando.

“She doesn’t have to, I know she does.” Lando replied, which confused the guys. He saw their perplexed expressions. “You know it took her a long time to say it in the first place but…I’ve known her long enough to where I know it without her having to say it.”

“I still don’t understand.” Alex piped up next to George.

“I mean, cmon, what’s so hard to understand? You saw the way she watched me earlier. Her eyes said it all. And the other day when she peeled oranges for me without me asking? And yesterday, when we got home, she rambled to me about the book she was reading. You could just see the light and love in her eyes. She never used to be that way, not when I first met her.” Lando knew the other guys still might not get the full picture, but he remembered how you were before you guys started dating. He remembered how you would shut out the world and not let anyone in. He knew that you used to not express how much you liked things or even smile when you ate your favorite foods.

He knew you loved him, he knew it went without saying. You were his everything, and simply being nestled next to him, feeling the gentle rhythm of your breath against his side, was enough to make his heart swell with love. No amount of conversation could match the pure joy of watching you smile or hearing the sweet melody of your voice. The two of you were intertwined, sewn together as the perfect pair.

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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chuluoyi · 11 months

Text

✎ protect

- gojo satoru x reader

the word “protect” now means so much more to him

genre: soft and playful gojo, sugary dump fluff, pregnant!reader

note: anyone craving some soft gojo? :3 based on a suggestion by an anon who needs a soft gojo a while back, thank you!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

When he was 16, Gojo Satoru thought that protecting other people was a pain, and didn't take it seriously.

Later, when he realized that even non-sorcerers deserve to live their lives in peace, he dedicated himself to becoming stronger so that he would be capable to protect them more. However, even then, he didn't perceive their worth as significant.

But when you entered the picture, that measly, glorified word suddenly became so much more.

Usually people would only care about whether he had succeeded his mission or not. His formidable reputation as the epitome of strength means no one is genuinely interested in his wellbeing—no one after Suguru, to be exact—until you did.

After a whirlwind romance of attraction and banters, Satoru reached the conclusion that he wanted you, the only person left who actually made him feel like a human, to stay happy and safe. He would do it with his own hands, even if it meant reshaping this cruel world to be kinder for you with him as your shield.

And the word “protect” gained an entirely new meaning years later, when he rested his head on your swollen belly—the place where his new cherished treasure was growing.

“When will he come out~?” he asked in a whiny tone and a blissful smile, even though he clearly knew the answer.

You shook your head with playful resignation, unable to conceal your smile. "In three weeks. Now help me get comfortable, you dork."

He helped you turn over and fetched a pillow to place under your aching spine. Then, with a mischievous grin, he lightly poked your belly with two fingers, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Don't poke me! You're poking your child!"

To that, Satoru merely threw his head back and snickered like the dumbass he was. He then tenderly rested his hand on the taut skin of your belly, gently massaging it, smiling with ardent happiness.

"Can't really believe it," he sighed, brimming with the purest sense of contentment. "A mini Gojo, huh... You're really doing a honorable work."

A child of his and yours. He had always wondered how he would be after seeing him firsthand—would he laugh just like he had been doing now, or will it be the first instance that move him to the point of shedding tears? One of the reasons he eagerly anticipated his son's birth was just to discover how he would react.

Seeing the weight of his baby growing within you, making you rounder and fuller, stirred a deep well of warm emotions in him with each passing day though.

"I am," you retorted cheekily, rolling your eyes. "In fact, you should be revering and worshipping me for carrying your spawn."

He merely hummed in a childlike manner, feeling his baby move around under his touch. You were about to roast him again with something funny when he leaned down and planted a kiss on your tummy, whispering to it.

"Please come out already~ Papa wants to meet you!"

Your heart swelled with warmth at that moment. Gojo Satoru was many things, but he wasn't typically known for his softness—he was often seen as this all-perfect being, and so witnessing him acting purely on his human emotions brought you a sense of happiness.

“Who do you think he’ll take after?” you mused.

“Hmmm. Me, obviously. He'll be hot just like me!” he quipped proudly, and you playfully smacked him on the arm.

Satoru caught your hand and kissed it tenderly amidst his grin. "But I want him to have your personality. I'd hate to see him be a show-off."

"So you do realize that you're actually a menace."

He laughed out loud, patting the generous swell of your belly again with a smug look on his face.

"I know, but I'm your menace, and that's all that matters."

And when his adorable son was born less than three weeks later and you passed out due to sheer exhaustion, Satoru vowed by everything in the heavens and the earth that he wouldn't spare anything to protect you and his child from this curse-filled world.

Epilogue - on the night of the birth -

“Satoru—” you panted, grimacing, head jerking back as your womb throbbed and pulsed in order to bring forth your child into the world. “I… feel like I’m going to faint…”

Worry etched his face as you leaned on him. “Hey, hey… Calm down sweetheart, relax and catch up on your breath, okay? Don’t worry, he’ll come out soon.”

Somehow his words rubbed you the wrong way.

“Hahh—this… is because of you! This happened because you shoved your stick into me! You horny bas—aahh!”

“Well, hey! Last I remembered, you begged me to put it into you! And I'm not—pfft—”

“Then what are you?!”

“Hmmm, nothing but a man who got you pregnant, sweetheart~”

“If I bleed out and die, it’s going to be your fault, you evil, wretched sorcerer!”

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carpentvrs · 2 months

Text

DREAMY EYES

pairing :: james potter x fem!reader (implied girly!reader)

warnings :: mentions of getting laid (no smut), fluff!! please mind that english isn’t my first language. 1.5k words

james was truly smitten. he couldn’t not ogle at you at any given moment, heart eyes following you around every single room or corridor, sighs of pure admiration leaving his lungs whenever you would talk to him at breakfast or lunch while his head rested on his hand, dreamy eyes trying to catch yours.

but who was to blame him? you were just so pretty, your hair swaying lightly as you rushed to class, your hand accidentally brushing his as you stepped past him.

„why the rush, darling?“ he asked, keeping up with your pace as well as he could, still tired from last night which had lasted longer than it should’ve; peter, remus, sirius and him too busy sneaking around the castle and setting up shenanigans to sleep. at least there wasn’t ever a single day of boredom with them in the castle.

butterflies erupted in your stomach at the nickname, but you tried to suppress it the best you could. he managed to fluster you with his little pet names everytime without exception, and every yet so small sliver of hope you would get from them, you’d kill off. you’d go mad, otherwise.

„i’m hurrying to class james,“ you smiled at him, „and i think you should be too.“, grabbing his arm to pull him with you. you couldn’t see the way he blushed at your action, and he was glad. it was embarrassing how in love with you he was, considering the amount of attention other boys were giving you.

he could understand, obviously. it was already hard to not fall for your looks, but the fact your bubbly and inviting personality was just as perfect? how could anybody not fall for that? he was sure the sole reason remus and sirius saw you as only a friend was because they knew how enamored with you he was.

but you didn’t know. „he’s just a very sweet and nice person“ was what you said to lily when she asked you about it. you liked him, no question. but you saw the way he would flirt with other girls at parties and in hogsmead, occasionally winking at them even though lily and you were walking just next to him. so to you, he was just a friend, even though you would easily smother him in kisses if he ever just bought you flowers or opened doors for only you like the other stupid guys always did, not only as a friendly gesture but as something more.

you realized he wouldn’t, so there was no point in waiting for him. instead, while he was busy chatting with different girls at parties, you were seated in a quiet corner, talking to your girlfriends and having a drink or two yourself, dancing with guys here and there if they asked you nicely and sometimes, if they were being very polite, you’d give them a tiny kiss on the cheek and a little wave before getting another butterbeer and walking back to your friends once again.

that was probably what made you so irresistible, the fact you would never go as far as even giving a little peck on the lips while other girls were ready to go back to the dorm with said guys. you weren’t one to judge, neither the girls nor the boys, they could do whatever they want, it wasn’t your business. and if they wanted to get laid and got the chance, why not do it? just not with you.

however, they thought you were playing hard to get on purpose, and who wouldn’t be up for a challenge when it’s about a girl like you?

but even when every guys’ head turned to look at you whenever you entered the room, you didn’t care. you didn’t even notice, you were just living in the moment, deeply into the meaningful - or sometimes meaningless - banter with your friends, not a single care in the world.

well, for some reason one nerve of yours always got very terribly struck whenever you would lift your head only to see james‘ hand steadied on some other gryffindor‘s back. „whatever“ was what you always thought, head turning back to whoever was talking right now.

and it didn’t take long for james to leave your mind, at least until you were laid down on your bed at three in the morning where james would haunt your mind in ways you wouldn’t dare to say out loud.

„you got a date for the party today yet?“ he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he possibly could. „i prefer to go with my friends, as you already know.“

„well, we are friends, no?“

„class starts in a few, we can talk later.“ you said to him, avoiding his eyes as you made your way over to lily who was already sitting at your usual place in the charm‘s classroom, her hands immediately going to fix the little ribbon in your hair when you sat down to her right. she must’ve seen that you were in a rush just a few seconds ago, and the confused look on your face didn’t go unnoticed either. „what’s up with you, you look-“

„james just asked me on a ‚date‘, i think“ you stated, but it came out rather like a question while you knitted your eyebrows in a puzzled manner.

„well, i told you before he has a thing for you“

„but i don’t believe it“

„why not? it’s basically written on his face that he’s head over heels for you“

you were just about to reply, a look of disapproval already plastered on your face, but got interrupted by the professor. after the lesson the topic was already forgotten, lily and you talking about what you were going to wear tonight rather than the, to you very ridiculous, james situation.

it wasn’t until the party, which you attended hand in hand with lily, that james and you began to talk again. you were just about to get yourself another firewhiskey shot when he appeared right next to you at the small bar counter.

„how come you always reject when you get asked out?“

the question caught you off guard. he wasn’t the first to ask you that question, but you’ve never felt so called out after someone interrogated like that. your eyes widened slightly and you nervously bit your lip. what were you supposed to answer? „i realized i don’t have a chance with you so i gave up on relationships completely“?

„i just don’t want to date someone i don’t like like that, i guess.”

it wasn’t a lie, after all. you could just simply wait until the feelings faded, and then maybe you would be open for something new. until then, you would just have to keep on pretending like your feelings towards him did not exist.

„i suppose you don’t like me, then?“

„what?“

„you rejected me too today, didn’t you?“

you were startled by his questions, and suddenly it felt like it was just you two in this actually very crowded common room, the air around you feeling tighter and more stifling than usual.

„do you like me, james? like, like-like me? because everybody’s been telling me but i feel like i’m going crazy because i like-like you but you keep flirting with other girls and you wink and wave at them and you put your arms around them and i hate that but i don’t want things between us to be weird because i don’t want to lose you as a friend eith-“ you stumbled over your words in hurry, every nerve of yours spinning and pulling and you could feel your own face heat up.

“you like me?”

“i- uh- i asked first!” your heard was racing and you hoped to merlin that he felt the same way and you didn’t just make a fool out of yourself, confessing to a guy who doesn’t even see you like that.

he didn’t exactly answer the question, but he showed you.

his eyes were full of appreciation as he leaned down to you, gently caressing your face as he pressed his lips against yours. and finally, you felt at peace with your own feelings. your lips continued to move in sync until you heard a few claps behind you which broke you apart. when you turned around, you found sirius winking at you and lily eyeing you with a proud look on her face.

it was only when you faced james again that you saw the way he actually looked at you all this time, with his head resting on his hand, dreamy eyes trying to catch yours.

“of course i like-like you, how could i not?”

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lev1hei1chou · 7 months

Text

Why him?

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 485 Synopsis: Gojo's daughter wants to marry uncle Geto Geto version Masterlist

It was a quiet evening at the Gojo residence, and you, Satoru, and your adorable daughter were gathered in the living room. The atmosphere was cozy, with soft lighting and the warmth of family surrounding you. The little one was playing with her toys on the carpet, occasionally glancing up at her parents.

"Mommy, Daddy, guess what!" your daughter exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Both you and Satoru turned your attention to her, curious smiles on your faces. "What is it, sweetheart?" you asked.

She giggled and looked up at Satoru with pure innocence. "I wanna marry Uncle Geto when I grow up!"

Your eyes widened, and you exchanged amused glances with Satoru. He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Uncle Geto, huh?" he teased, glancing at you.

Your daughter nodded vigorously. "Yep! He's so cool, and he tells the best stories! Plus, he always brings me candy."

Satoru couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. However, his playful demeanor quickly shifted when he felt a sudden pang of protectiveness. He scooped your daughter into his arms, narrowing his eyes playfully at her.

"Sweetheart, you can't marry Uncle Geto," he declared, feigning seriousness.

"Why not, Daddy?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her innocent eyes.

"Because," Satoru began, pretending to ponder the question, "Uncle Geto is a great guy, but I need to make sure you marry someone as amazing as me!"

You burst into laughter at his self-assured statement, and your daughter joined in, clearly enjoying the banter between her parents.

"But Daddy," she protested, "Uncle Geto is really nice, too!"

Satoru pouted, his bottom lip jutting out in mock sadness. "Well, I guess I'll have to talk to Uncle Geto about this."

You playfully nudged Satoru. "Oh, don't be jealous, dear. It's just a childhood crush."

He smirked, holding your daughter closer. "I can't help it. I'm a very protective daddy, you know."

Your daughter giggled again, hugging Satoru tightly. "Don't worry, Daddy. I still love you the most!"

Satoru's pout transformed into a proud grin, and he planted a dramatic kiss on your daughter's cheek. "That's my girl!"

As the three of you continued to enjoy the evening, the playful banter filled the room with warmth, love, and the undeniable bond of family.

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euthymiya · 1 month

Text

the anemo archon’s favor — ft. diluc ragnvindr

diluc doesn’t appreciate being swarmed by crystalflies when harvesting grapes. you somehow manage to make him change his mind, though

before you read: fem reader ; established relationship ; grape harvesting at the winery ; banter ; fluff ; mentions of venti ; made up crystalfly lore ; a kiss ;)

notes: @sillykawa wrote this with you in mind because i promised you more diluc content, hope it’s okay to tag you!

The Dawn Winery is a popular spot for crystalflies. Diluc used to be irritated by the fact—they make for a troublesome time when picking grapes as they flutter around his head.

It only takes one afternoon with you, however, to change his mind on them.

“Look at all the crystalflies,” you gasp quietly in awe, patting his shoulder as he tries to cut the branch of a cluster of grapes.

He sighs, looking over his shoulder at you wearily. “Yes,” he grumbles, “I see them. They’re quite troublesome to have all around the winery, in fact.”

“How come? They don’t feed off of the grapes.” Your lips twist into a soft, confused little frown, slightly glistening with the juice of the fruit you should be picking instead of eating.

(You’re meant to be helping him at the moment. You’d insisted that he take you around the grapevines and show you how to harvest, but it seems your way of helping comes in the form of eating his grapes straight off the vines, instead.

Your grapes are very sweet, Master Diluc, you tease with batted lashes.

Oh? I do hope you don’t put me out of business at this rate, he fights back a grin with a small, fond sigh.

The sound of your giggle as you murmur, no promises, still rings in his ear distantly. Your voice must be favored by the Anemo Archon, he thinks, with the way it carries through the vines as the wind blows.)

Diluc gives you a miserable look over his shoulder. You laugh as he huffs when a crystalfly flutters its wings right by his ear as it quickly flies past him.

You think you have your answer as to why he’s not so keen on being surrounded by them.

“They’re troublesome,” he says flatly, making a face as if to say: did you see?

“You know,” you hum thoughtfully, watching a couple of them fly in a circle in the distance with nothing short of pure awe in your pupils, “I’ve heard that crystalflies roam places favored by the Archons. Perhaps the God of Anemo favors you, Diluc.”

“I highly doubt that,” he scoffs.

A part of him wonders how you’d react if he told you he knows the Anemo Archon quite well—a part of him wonders even more how you’d react if he told you that you’ve seen the Archon drunk a number of times yourself.

He decides to withhold the information when he notices the hopefulness on your features, just to preserve those precious dreams of yours a little longer.

“Always such a cynic,” you shake your head affectionately, reaching over to brush his bangs from his forehead. He leans into your touch ever so slightly. “You can’t be sure, you know. Perhaps the Archon is listening right now.”

“Is that so?” He snorts, turning to face you as he looks at you amused, “And what, pray tell, do you think he’s thinking of our conversation?”

“That you’re being quite unkind to these poor crystaflies,” you click your teeth in exaggerated disappointment as you pluck a grape from the cluster in his hands.

He watches as you pop it between your lips and chew, humming at the sweetness that invades your tongue.

“And you’re being quite unkind at lending me a hand,” he murmurs, thumb gently wiping a small drop of juice from your lips.

You grin sweetly, chuckling as you say, “I am helping. I’m assessing the grapes, you know—this vine is particularly sweet, so I suggest using the grapes from this one. The last one was quite sour.”

“Ah,” he nods, laughing softly, “I owe my next round of revenue to you, then, I suppose.”

You beam brightly.

It’s a captivating smile, one that’s wormed its way into his heart slowly, surely, then consuming him all at once. He leans closer, cupping your cheek gently as he hovers his lips over yours.

Just as he’s about to lean closer to fill the gap, you gasp and grab his wrist, clutching tightly.

“Diluc,” you whisper, “Don’t move.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks in thinly masked panic, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing,” you breathe, lips twitching into an excited grin. “Just don’t move.”

And then, slowly, from the corner of his eyes, he watches the flap of two iridescent wings come closer, closer, closer—until the glowing body of a crystalfly rests delicately on your head.

His breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, slowly leaning away and taking in the sight.

You might be right, Diluc thinks suddenly, the Anemo Archon must send crystalflies to places he favors. There’s something about the way you smile as you look up without moving, eyes filled with awe when you notice the slow, gentle flaps of the wings atop your head.

He thinks the sight before him is nothing short of divine.

“See? They’re harmless, you old grump,” you whisper softly, watching as the crystalfly slowly takes flight and leaves its spot on your head, “And very, very beautiful, don’t you think?”

He’s silent for a moment. Unable to speak.

Finally, when your eyes meet his, he’s forced out of his trance before he clears his throat softly and takes a deep breath.

“Yes,” he mumbles, stepping closer and leaning in to hover over your lips once more, breathing the words against your mouth as he confesses, “Quite beautiful.”

(He’ll never admit it to you, but suddenly, he’s not so opposed to crystaflies swarming his winery. Maybe not if he has a chance to witness that sight again.)

A tribute to the Dawn Winery, my favorite god send of a place in Teyvat where I can always count on crystaflies residing for me to farm

#writing tag #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #diluc fluff #diluc ragnvindr fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

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forsworned · 7 months

Text

˗ˏˋcrazy cat lady ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ something about simon and cats is just really pullin at my heart strings tn, for @chamomiletealeaf bc she wanted more :)

꒰warning(s)suggested polyship, fluff꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

"God, not again."

Simon groaned, as he caught her feeding the alley cats. That piqued Johnny's interest as he walked into the living room area where Simon was standing. He peeked over his shoulder and saw her open a can of tuna-salmon wet food and tipped it into the bowls that she "sneakily" set outside. The alley cats all surprisingly patient as they sat with tails tucked around their forms.

"Well 'll be damned, she's got 'em trained." Kyle's voice interjected, making Johnny jump a little but his grin grew as he folded his arms. Simon only shook his head.

"Ahh, how sweet." Price popped his head in and his gaze was tender as he laid his eyes on her. His once furrowed brows relaxed at the sight of her petting one of the cats heads' as it headbutted her palm and let her glide over its spine to the tip of its tail. Another rubbing itself against her thigh and a third prancing around her as it lightly brushed its black, bushy tail around her waist.

"Jus' admit it, L.t., 's cute." Johnny nudged Simon with a good natured grin. Simon leered at him for a moment before returning his attention to witness her gawking up at them doe-eyed and caught redhanded. Her lips curled into a charming, girlish grin that was enough to make any mans heart stop. She raised her hand to wave at them and they all chuckled, peering down at her with endearing expressions, well, minus Simon.

He felt his temple twitch as he attempted to glare at her, but even he wasn't impervious to her invisible shackles that she placed around his wrists years ago. His jaw ticked as he walked away from the window, leaving the guys behind to adore her coquettish behaviorisms, mumbling something about her being a 'crazy cat lady'.

"C'mere, y'lil cunt."

He growled, at the skittish calico kitten that refused to come out from behind the rubbish bin. He was growing more impatient by the moment, cursing himself for not having more of a natural disney princess touch the way [name] did with animals, specifically felines. A sharp exhale leaves his nose as he palmed his face. It had been fifteen freakin' minutes since he had decided to walk out in the chilly February night air with a can of cat food to lure out one of the kitties that he had saw her feeding earlier. Frustrating was simply an understatement.

A girlish giggle was heard behind him and his body went rigid.

Bloody fuckin' hell.

"Feedin' that damn cat again, weren't ya?" She mimicked his deep, gravelly Manchester accent. As atrocious as it was, he couldn't help but chuckle at her impersonation of him.

"Startin' to sound like a cunt, aren't I?" He retorted. It was a pleasant, lighthearted banter. She chuckled as she crouched beside his towering figure, and made a kissing noise while rubbing his fingers together at the calico and the kitty meowed in delight as she* trotted over to her and welcomed her pets.

*calicos are almost always female

"You gotta make yourself less menacing, Si. Crouch." It was a gentle command as she continued to lovingly stroke the cat. He sighed as he mimicked her position and glanced over at her to wait for her next instruction. "Go on."

She urged him to repeat her exact gestures. He surveyed the way the calico rubbed against her in envy. She could feel his green little monster eyes on her and it made her lips twitch into a smug smile. "Don't got all night, Si."

He narrowed his eyes at her before--reluctantly--repeating her kissing noises and rubbing motion with his fingers at the calico and she meows at him and quickly rushes over to his hand. Simon's eyes immediately softened at the contact. Warm, pure and loving. There was nothing like the little gesture of a kitten welcoming little pets on the forehead as they rubbed their fluffy cheeks against his fingers, down their spine to the tip of their tail. A relieved sigh emitted from his lips and [name] giggled.

He peered up at her for a moment before looking back down to see a black kitten had joined their little party around the opposite side of his leg, rubbing its pink nose against his thigh. Although it was remarkably menial, Simon's mask had arched upwards, indicating that he was indeed smiling. Another chuckle escaped from her as she relished in the rare sight. Simon petting alley cats he was always complaining about to the guys that [name] would bring around due to her sweet-natured behavior that wouldn't allow her heart to just let these animals to just be restive pests that ransacked their waste bins? Unheard of.

"They're just like you." She mused, as she continued to pet the calico. She laughed knowing that he was raising a curious brow at her, waiting for her to continue before she spoke up again. "Skittish as hell."

A short silence.

"Thinkin' they were more like you." He spoke up, still petting the black kitten. She turned to him waiting for a irascible remark, but he peered up at her with a tender gaze as he lifted his free hand to gently pinch her cheek. "Cute as hell."

Her eyes reamed at his words and his adoring touch. Her heart soared in her chest and she couldn't help the way her lips simpered and the way her cheeks warmed pleasantly. A syrupy sweet moment that she was already etching into her brain, and Kyle was capturing forever in his phone as Price and Johnny snickered, beholding the saccharine and cushy side of Simon that came out more and more around her.

"Send this to me." Johnny crowed, with a wolfish grin.

"Ditto." Price bit back his low chuckle but it slipped when he saw the way [name] leaned her head against Simon's shoulder and he didn't even take a beat before he carded his fingers though her hair.

"Fuckin' hell." Kyle's shoulder's were shaking as he muffled the pure joy running through his system. It was indeed a sight for sore eyes.

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primaviva · 1 year

Text

HUGS N’ KISSES

PAIRING: miles g. morales x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend, miles, invites you over to his place since his moms not home and he can finally have the door shut. but one teasing comment you made later and suddenly he’s asleep in your arms as you smother him in tender kisses. is he really tho?

WARNINGS/NOTES: pure fluff, one suggestive joke? heavily coded latina reader w implied curly hair, miles being petty, that’s all !!

“translations:” ¿qué onda? = whats up, novio = boyfriend, relájate = relax, chuleto = used to refer to a fashionable/flirty boy or fboy, tonto = idiot, lo siento = i’m sorry, princesa = princess

after an exhausting heatwave, new york had been graced with a week of downpours and cool streets.

you hadn't recently seen your boyfriend. yes, you spoke to him in your classes and in the hallways when you saw him at school, but it had been some time since you had last seen him outside of the school building. he frequently claimed to be busy with whatever the hell it was. but you decided against pushing it. miles is loyal to you and has been through a lot, so you don't push him to tell you when he's busy or doing something else to fill the time. instead, you wait for him to open up.

currently, you found yourself comfortably sprawled on the couch in the living room. the morning's heavy downpour had gradually subsided as the afternoon arrived, leaving behind a gentle drizzle that cascaded down the windowpane. without any particular program capturing your attention, this day seemed to be a slow one you just had to follow the vibe of. as you idly absorbed the atmosphere, your eyes wandered to the television, where a journalist was discussing the prowler's recent involvement in a local drug bust.

exhaling a sigh, you contemplated switching off the tv and surrendering to another nap, when suddenly, a notification chimed on your phone. your gaze shifted to the coffee table, where the glow of your phone illuminated the surroundings.

it was a message from your man, miles.

mi novio : ¿qué onda, mami? i miss you 😩😩

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at your phone as you silently read the text. miles had a penchant for playfully teasing and maintaining a smooth facade, all in an attempt to fluster you.

you : relájate… we texted this morning and it was you who stopped replying

you : but ig i missed you too

you could almost picture the expression on his face at that moment. maybe a subtle smirk adorned his lips in response to your sassy reply or the mention of missing him. or maybe he even did a small pout, feeling defeated that you didn’t completely fold.

mi novio : ik you missed me

mi novio : you tryna come over?

as soon as you finished reading the last line of his message, a loud laugh escaped from your lips. once again, he was acting cocky. your mouth stretched into a soft smirk as you realized you couldn't pretend that you didn't like the way he acted. it didn’t help how bold he was asking for you to come over. now that’s when you knew something was up.

the supple fabric made contact with your skin as you took up your phone and sat back against the cushions, instantly soothing your muscles as you typed up a response.

me : come over and do what lil boy…

with a laugh, you rose from the couch and strolled toward your bedroom, mentally getting ready. it was a familiar routine, the satisfying dance of teasing and banter that defined your dynamic. deep down, you knew you would end up there regardless, but relishing in the opportunity to playfully toy with him was irresistible.

you put your phone down on your bed as you opened your closet and began to put an outfit together. you felt your phone ding as you jumped into your jeans and pressed the buttons together. picking your phone up, you glanced at the text message that flashed across the screen.

mi novio : girl you know not the start with me

mi novio : and don’t act like i’m on some freaking timing when you texted the prowler to stop by your window the other night, ma

a gasp escaped your lips, and your hand instinctively flew to cover your mouth, overwhelmed by the sudden nervousness that surged through your body. your cheeks were so warm from the sudden boldness of his comments you swore you could feel the steam radiation off of them. you were well aware of his nature, but this time, he had truly caught you off guard with his little comeback.

your head quipped at the sudden notification that dinged your phone again.

mi novio : what’s wrong, you stopped typing? don’t get all shy on me now when you started it

mi novio : just come over and we’ll figure it out damn i jus wanna see you

despite your nervous state you couldn't help but smile warmly at what she said. miles isn’t always vulnerable but you loved the little crumbs you got when he spoke his mind. you could tell he really missed by just how much he was double texting, something he only does when he talks to you.

you : i'm comingg you can stop now 🫶

as you coated your hands with the product, carefully working it into a rich lather, a playful image of him rolling his eyes in response to your text crossed your mind. undeterred, you tenderly scrunched and massaged the product into your luscious locs. casting a final approving glance at your reflection in the mirror, you made sure your fit was good. with your headphones and house keys in hand, you slid into a jacket, being mindful of the weather. swiftly, you shot miles a text, letting him know you’d be there soon.

you took a deep breath as you stepped out of your house, the familiar door closing behind you with a soft click. the gray sky’s gentle glow kissed your skin, casting a dark hue upon your face. the sound of your footsteps created a comforting cadence as you strolled through the gloomy neighborhood. with each step you glanced at the dark shadows that had overtaken brooklyn throughout time.

within a short time, you found yourself on his block, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone and let him know you were about to pull up. as you turned the corner, his apartment building came into view, and there he stood, positioned at the entrance, patiently awaiting your arrival. clad in an oversized black puffer jacket, he exuded a sense of warmth, his hands tucked protectively into the pockets for an extra layer of comfort in the outside weather. drawing nearer, his face gradually came into focus, revealing the cool, icy gaze that harmonized with his stoic demeanor. yet, behind the stoicism, a gentle smile graced his lips, radiating a tenderness that could not be concealed around you.

he let out a sigh as a cloudy mist escaped his soft lips. “hey baby,” miles whispered, his voice raspy almost as if he’s a bit tired as he moves closer and wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close.

“hola chuleto,” you replied back, enamored by how gorgeous he looked in pale sunlight. you put your hand on his cheek and felt his supple skin beneath your fingertips. “so, can i get a kiss from my boyfriend now?”

before he responded, you prepared to start leaning up to kiss him but miles had playfully straightened his back and added to the distance between you two. you looked up shooting him an annoyed glare as a smirk painted his featuress.

“ah, mami. y’know i can’t resist you,” miles mumbled against your ear as he leaned back close to you and let out a small laugh.

he leans down and kisses you, both of his hands resting softly on your hips. he let out a satisfied hum as his lips met the warmth of your mouth. the feeling was something of ecstasy. he had missed you so much all he wanted to do was just be near you. his hand moves down to your lower back, pressing you against him. miles pulled back with a hum as he looked down at you with soft eyes as you gazed up at him through your wispy lashes. he pulled you into a hug as you both slowly rocked back and forth in each other's embrace.

as the chilly mist continued to linger in the air, miles gently pulled away from your embrace, his concern evident in his eyes. "hey, we should probably go inside the apartment building before we catch a cold," he suggested, his voice carrying a note of practicality. his words were accompanied by a warm smile, a gesture that conveyed both consideration and a desire to keep you safe.

nodding in agreement, you intertwined your fingers with his as a silent affirmation. miles opened the door to the lobby and guided you to the staircase as you began your descent up to his floor.

your kisses always had a way of melting his demeanor away into something much gentler, if your friends ever saw him this way they would barely recognize him.

as you reached the landing, miles fumbled for his keys, his hand briefly brushing against yours, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. the door swung open, revealing the dimly lit and mostly empty apartment.

“you hungry? cus’ i cooked if you want anything,” he mentioned from behind you as he locked the door.

"cooked too, huh? and here you are always tryna act all hard," you giggled. "no, i’m good but thank you"

it always was amusing to you how miles acted so differently than how he actually felt but at the same time it gave you butterflies that he had made something with you in mind. he really did have a soft spot for you.

miles shot you an annoyed glare at your words. he never liked being called out, did he?

“i’m not hard or whatever,” he mumbled as he reached behind you, his large hands going around your waist to pull you close behind him before removing your jacket and putting it on the coat rack.

miles turned, catching sight of the amused expression on your face. his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, prompting him to take a step closer, deliberately lowering himself to meet your eye level.

“yeah, i cook,” miles stated, licking his lips. “so i don’t know why you’re giggling at me. a man can’t show off his skills once in a while?”

before you could let out another laugh, miles had grabbed you by the hand and dragged you into his room.

“c’mon, let’s relax and watch a movie or somethin,’” he suggested as you both made your way inside and kicked your shoes off.

miles settled onto his bed, reaching for his laptop and powering it on. as the soft, ethereal glow of the screen bathed his face in a light blue hue, he started looking for fall movies.

"and what movie might that be?" you asked, your expression tinged with curiosity and skepticism.

"i wanna watch a scary movie, but you're too scared so i'm letting you choose. just no more romcom nonsense." miles pleads as he pats the space beside him.

"whatchu mean romcom nonsense?" you repeated in a mockingly hurt tone. "i don't wanna hear that from somebody that said jason x was heat…”

"oh? so we gon bring that into this,” miles groans as he lays back onto the couch, pulling you down gently so you're laying on top of him.

you looked up at him with yet another raised brow as a small pout formed onto his playful lips. "jason x was heat, you're jus’ too much of a hater.”

“yeah i am a hater, but because i love you imma refrain from clowning you for that false statement,” you playfully teased, feeling miles grab your shoulder and lean back, creating a comfortable space for you to rest against his chest. he smirked, and you could tell he was enjoying the banter.

miles sighs, "alright alright, i guess jason x wasn't the greatest...”

he shifted slightly, propping himself up to lean over your body, his gaze fixed on you with gentle intent. with a tender touch, he reached for the blanket, enveloping both of you in its warmth as he carefully draped it over your bodies.

“jason x sucked,” you spat out as miles began to tuck the blanket into your sides.

miles reclined once more, his arm finding its place on your shoulder, drawing you even closer to him. the warmth of his touch sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

"you always smell good," he remarked, his voice laced with admiration, as he gave your waist a gentle squeeze. "is that the perfume i got you?"

a smile effortlessly spread across your lips at his question. the fact that he had noticed the fragrance you wore, especially since it was the dior one he had given you some time ago, filled you with a sense of excitement.

"could you really tell?" you asked, feeling a bit bashful.

he could sense the flustered effect his words had on you and responded with a sly smirk. as the remote made a satisfying click noise, miles finally selected a movie, capturing your attention. it was a satirical classic— a scary movie that promised both fright and laughter. "of course, i could tell," he quipped playfully, "the bag it came in made my room smell for weeks."

the sassy retort that was on the tip of your tongue dissolved into laughter, unable to resist the infectious humor he exuded. these were the things that made you appreciate his sarcasm even more, and more importantly, made you realize just how deeply you loved him.

miles smiled down at your laughing form, relishing in the pure joy that radiated from you. his fingers danced through your hair, a soothing gesture he often performed, as he loved these intimate moments you shared. planting a tender kiss on the crown of your head, he tightened his embrace, drawing you even closer as the movie commenced.

giggles escaped your lips as his hands continued to play with your hair, his gentle touch leaving a trail of butterfly kisses along your scalp. as the movie progressed, your positions shifted, with miles essentially becoming your cozy human blanket, his body nestled on top of yours.

with one hand lightly caressing his scalp, you both remained engrossed in the film. however, you couldn't help but notice the subtle heaviness in his eyes. between funny scenes, instead of laughing he would slowly blink, accompanied by silent chuckles that escaped his lips.

"tired?" you ask softly, noticing his drowsiness.

he responds with a gentle "mmhm" and a light snore, his grip on you tightening as he draws you closer. despite his fatigue, it's evident that he finds complete comfort and trust in your presence. as he starts to drift off, his breathing becomes more relaxed, and his hold on you gradually weakens, revealing his vulnerability. in this moment, there's no facade of stoicism or toughness, just the authentic him.

as the movie reaches its conclusion, the blooper reel snaps you back to reality. you reach for your phone in the corner, curious about the time. your heart sinks as the bright text on the screen reveals it's already 9:30.

"my mom is gonna kill me," you whisper under your breath, a hint of worry in your voice.

turning to your boyfriend, who is sound asleep in the crook of your neck, your senses come alive as each gentle breath of his tickles your skin.

"miles?" you call out, trying to rouse him from his nap, but there's no response.

cautiously, you place your hands on miles' shoulders and gently shake him, hoping to wake him up. but of course, he remains deep in his sleep, undisturbed by your sad attempts.

out of desperation you continue to try, shaking him a bit more, but it seems miles is completely lost in dreamland, his snores filling the room. he shifts slightly, but remains peacefully asleep, holding onto your neck and cuddling you tighter.

this turns out to be the worst possible scenario for you. the impending lecture from your mom, the potential attack with a lanky shoe, the grounding— everything seems likely to happen. miles shifts once again, clinging to you, and you can't help but feel both exasperated and affectionate in this bittersweet moment.

"miles, please..." you silently pleaded, but as you looked down at his serene face, a wave of tenderness and adoration washed over you. he looked so peaceful and irresistibly cute, and a part of you hesitated to disrupt his slumber.

a defeated huff escaped your lips as you surrendered to the sight before you. his bottom lip slightly tucked under his top lip, his eyelashes resting gracefully against his cheeks, and the faint smile that graced his face as he dozed off—all of it captivated your attention. it was an irresistible combination, making his features appear kissable and utterly adorable. the soft snores he emitted only added to the charm.

unable to resist any longer, your desires took over. cupping his face gently, you leaned down and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead. miles stirred slightly at the unexpected touch of your lips, but his response only made him look even more endearing as he leaned into your affection.

a smile played on your lips as you let go of any reserve, fluttering his face with multiple kisses. from his hairline to his cheek and jaw, your kisses were light and ethereal, filled with both gentleness and profound love for him. another kiss found its place on his nose, until the vibration of your phone interrupted the moment once again—your mom calling.

"damn, i really have to go," you muttered under your breath. summoning the courage, you slowly maneuvered miles off of you without disturbing his peace. gathering your belongings, you kneeled by his bed and pressed a gentle kiss on his scalp, one last show of affection before you run on home.

as you tried to move away, he unexpectedly grabbed your thigh, his grip leaving a faint imprint. with a laugh, you carefully pried his slender fingers off, savoring the sweet connection before leaving his side.

"goodnight, tonto," you whispered teasingly, ready to make your exit.

just as you were about to close the door, you heard miles mumble something under his breath.

"goodnight, ma."

he had been awake the entire time.

in an instant, it was as if you were hit with a flashback, remembering how you used to mock miles for his tough and stoic demeanor. was this his way of playfully getting back at you, by pretending to be a big baby?

"don't 'goodnight ma' me! you weren't even asleep this whole time?" you exclaimed, feeling a mix of surprise and embarrassment wash over you. the kisses you had showered him with while he was awake suddenly felt awkward.

"oh, come on, don't be embarrassed. i'm sure we both enjoyed it," miles chuckled, sitting up and leaning against the bed frame. "yeah, i was just messing with you a bit. it was funny."

"yeah, i bet it was real funny," you retorted, crossing your arms and standing defiantly in the doorway. "you always play too much."

miles let out a laugh, thoroughly amused by the small pout that formed on your lips. he rose from his comfortable position on the bed and approached you.

"aww, is la princesa mad at me?" miles teased, leaning down to your height, playfully taunting you.

"oh, can't you tell?" you shot back.

as miles sluggishly smiled, he couldn't help but say, "but you're so easy to mess with."

"being easy to mess with doesn't mean you should actually do it! i thought you were asleep for real," you commented, moving closer to him. "lo siento, pero i have to go home before my mom skins me alive or something."

miles mumbled, "didn't deny that you enjoyed it, though," clearly trying to push your buttons.

and it worked.

"miles!" you called out, your irritation evident in your voice.

"you're cute when you get all angry, you know that?" he continued to tease, his words meant to playfully provoke you.

as much as you wanted to maintain your anger, you couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle. you were still annoyed with him and his antics, but there was no denying the underlying affection he had that melted your heart.

he goes in for a hug, sighing softly as he kisses your cheek while embracing you. "alright, mami, go home before her anger starts to grow and she starts getting the chancla," he teases, but there's a hint of wistfulness in his expression as you prepare to leave.

you laugh at his joke. "don't manifest that for me!" you reply, worry in your voice as you slip on your sweater. miles walks you to the door, still holding onto your arm.

"no promises," miles jokes back. when you reach your front door, he keeps his grip on your arm and smiles. "i had a lot of fun today." he glances down briefly, his cheeks turning a shade of red.

"yeah, today was nice," you reply, returning his smile.

he doesn't say anything in response, instead emitting a soft hum. you turn to face him and smirk as you notice miles leaning in.

however, you interrupt his attempted kiss with a finger, playfully reminding him of his prank. "should i tho?"

"aww, come on, i'll make it up to you," he pouts, looking down. "please?" miles appears genuinely sad, and it becomes clear that you won't be able to keep up your annoyed facade for much longer.

frowning, you find yourself unable to resist any longer. you rise up on your tiptoes and cup his cheeks before leaning in for a kiss.

miles' eyes light up in surprise as you kiss him. after a moment, he kisses you back, and the kiss lingers on. eventually, miles breaks the kiss, his cheeks flushed and a smile on his face.

he looks at you, his expression hopeful. "are you not as mad at me now? did i make it up to you?"

"hmm, i'm not as mean as you, so i guess you're forgiven or whatever," you say, rolling your eyes playfully as you step outside, ready to start your journey home.

"so dramatic," miles chuckles, watching you walk away. however, he stops you at the door, a mischievous grin on his face. "hold up, did you see how red your face got?" he pokes your cheek and teases, "i didn't know you got that flustered." miles continues to poke your cheeks while smiling, clearly enjoying teasing you a little too much.

you give miles a deadpan look as he laughs at your reaction, not quite amused by his amusement.

miles kisses your cheek once more as you walk out, and calls out to you, "be safe and remember to text me when you get home!"

you hoped too that you’d be safe.

what awaited you at home, however, was pure hell. your mom sent you straight to your room after a heated argument that you wisely chose not to escalate. the interrogation that followed only added to your annoyance. you were definitely in trouble.

as you changed into your pajamas, you settled near your window and observed the serene scene outside. the orange and green hues of the falling leaves gracefully descended from the slender trees, landing softly into puddles. it was a tranquil moment, and you found solace in witnessing the slow descent of the fall beauty.

suddenly, a notification from your phone interrupts the peaceful atmosphere. it's from miles.

mi novio : i miss you already mami…

with a sense of contentment, you let out a loud giggle and swiftly reached for your phone to respond to miles. despite the trouble you’re now in with your mom, at this moment, it feels like a small price to pay for spending time with your boyfriend.

art from crittlyworm on tiktok

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

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tightjeansjavi · 8 months

Text

warm me up

A/N: the voices won this round! @strang3lov3 & @speckledemerald also, this was my first time writing game!joel 👀 this could also be show!joel if that's what you're into! This fic really got away from me today and I didn't think it would be nearly as long as I planned it to be..but that's just sometimes how things work out 😉 huge thank u to Bug for making me this cute lil mood board and I LOVE the deers!!🤍

~word count: 3.3k~

Summary: while on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.

Pairing I game!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: smut (explicit & implicit) enemies to lovers, implied age gap (non-specific) consent, cock warming, one sleeping bag trope, close proximity, using one's body warmth for survival, denial of feelings, mean!joel, grumpy!joel, reader is a spitfire and gets under Joel's skin easily, joel has a big cock! He is a big big man! teasing, banter, sexual tension, fluff, foul language, pet names: (darlin, sweetheart, and princess) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!

Joel is freezing, shaking like a goddamn leaf. It’s ironic, given his disposition. You should have tried to retrace your steps back to Jackson hours ago, but the winter was unforgiving, and the two of you have found yourselves in a real pickle; a frozen one.

“I told you that we were going to end up getting lost out here, Joel.” You grumble alongside him with your arms crossed over your chest. Your teeth are chattering, and it’s grinding his gears.

“We ain’t fuckin’ lost, sweetheart.” He gruffs back and adjusts his rifle strap along his shoulder. “I know where I’m goin.’”

You scoff at this because if he did know where he was going, you wouldn’t be fucking lost in a fucking blizzard right now!

“Right. I’m sure you do know where you’re going, Joel.” You mutter sarcastically under your breath.

He whips around to face you, cheeks speckled in red from the cold and even in the lowlight, you can see individual snowflakes sticking to his lashes.

“Alright, miss ‘I know everything.’ Which way do you think we should go?” He awaits your answer with a cocked brow and his lips pursed together. They’re severely cracked and on the verge of bleeding from the bitter cold.

“Not the direction we’re currently headed, that’s for damn sure! Let’s just fucking turn around and retrace our steps.” You bite back and watch the way that his jaw ticks from your tone. God, you’re a real thorn in this man’s side.

“Retrace our steps?” He laughs, shaking his head to the side and sucks in a harsh cold breath of air into his lungs. “The snow has covered up our tracks, you idiot.” He’s so fucking condescending, and you’ve just about had enough with his shit attitude for one day. Your blood is positively boiling under your thick layer of clothes, and you’d much rather succumb to Mother Nature and her wrath than spend another minute with this insufferable, annoying, mean, and painfully handsome man.

“Fuck you, Joel. I’m retracing my steps whether you have a say in it or not!” You snap and turn on your heel before you feel a rough, gloved-clad hand grasp your upper arm and yank you back towards a hard and very solid presence at your back.

“Quit your fuckin’ yappin!’” He barks against the shell of your ear. His voice is rasped, crackling like a roaring fire. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere without me, you got that?!” His grip around your arm only tightens when you tried to shove him away, but he’s built like a fucking steel fridge, and you’re no match for him.

“Then stop being a fucking asshole, Joel! I’d rather freeze to death out here than spend another minute with you!”

You mean every word. Well, you think that you do.

He sneers at your attempt to wound him with your words, as if a man with a heart made out of pure concrete can possibly be affected by the means of your figurative little daggers. They ricochet off his body and fall to the snow, disappearing under a sheet of white. “I wouldn’t have to be an asshole if you would just fuckin’ listen for once in your life! God, when we get back, and we will, I’m tellin’ Tommy that I ain’t ever goin’ on patrol with your ass again.”

His steel-like grip loosens when you don’t immediately bite back like he expects you too. He wants you to fight back, to call him names and send his own blood boiling because at least then he feels alive.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” You nearly whisper and bite down on the inside of your cheek, tasting harsh copper on your tongue.

“Fine.” He agrees and finally releases your arm. “We’re gonna wait out this damn storm for the night, and then tomorrow we’ll retrace our steps home. Who knows, sweetheart. Tommy might have already sent out a search party for us.”

“Let’s fucking hope that’s the case. The sooner this storm lets up, the better.” You think you’re going to cry, but you push your tears down as far as you possibly can. You have to conserve your energy, after all. Besides, Joel Miller isn’t worth your precious tears. Not even close.

He begins to survey the surrounding area. The woods offered some reliable cover with the thick evergreens acting as a shield from the treacherous wind. The snow is still falling in large flakes, but he might be able to get a fire going if he’s lucky.

“We should..probably y’know, share a sleepin’ bag for extra heat.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, feeling kinda silly in the moment because what did he have to be nervous for? His reasoning for sharing warmth was logical. It was just his survival instincts kicking in, right?

You, on the other hand, were unfazed by his request. Sure, it made perfect sense to share body heat with this man. Why the hell did he look so distraught over it - weirdo.

“Did Bear Grylls teach you that, Miller?” You look at him with a smirk playing on your lips. “If that’s the case, then we should probably sleep naked.”

That feeling that had laid dormant for so long, was beginning to reawaken and defrost at the thought of your warm, pliant, soft body being tucked up around him in close proximity. You were annoying, sure, and he could hardly tolerate your presence, but he couldn’t deny that you were a thing of beauty, and neither could his cock.

“No. Some reality TV star didn’t teach me the survival skills that I know, sweetheart. I’m jus’ that good.” He sounds cocky, full of himself and perhaps there’s a bit of eagerness detected in his tone? Maybe the dead giveaway is the way his cheeks flush, and this time it isn’t because of the cold.

You shrug and drop your pack and sleeping bag at your boots. “Whatever you say, Joel.”

He clears his throat and drops his hand from where it was resting against the back of his neck. He stares at you for a second longer than he would have liked to, and then announces that he’s going to go find some wood for a fire, and for you to stay put.

You wave him off and unroll your sleeping bag with a huff and begin to mentally question how the hell is this grizzly of a man going to fit inside of your sleeping bag? Oh well! Time to defy all the odds that have been stacked against you.

When Joel returns, he finds you already tucked away under the sleeping bag with your clothes neatly folded on top of your backpack. He managed to find a few fallen tree branches that would make good kindling, and some thicker logs for the base of the fire.

He avoids making direct eye contact with you as he crouches down and constructs a fire that he hopes to god will keep the two of you warm throughout the cold night ahead.

You already have taken notice of his suddenly quiet and almost docile demeanor with just your head visible and peeking out of the sleeping bag

“Are you sure that fire is going to last the night, Joel?”

His shoulders and back immediately tense from your question and you can already picture him clenching his jaw and muttering under his breath.

“Ain’t no tellin’ if it will last the night, sweetheart.” He stokes at the ember glowing logs with the end of a spare stick before looking over his shoulder at you. “Y’comfy in there?” His voice rasps, dipping down an octave and sounding much, much, lower.

“Yep.” You chirp. “Nice and cozy in here, Joel. Did I mention it’s very, very warm?”

He snorts under his breath, tearing his gaze away from you and focuses back on the fire. “Yeah. I bet it is.”

What you really want to say is: and it would be even warmer if you were here with me. But you refrain, and instead bury your face further into the contained warmth emitting from the sleeping bag.

Joel is hesitating, and that part couldn’t be anymore obvious based on his tense stature. Maybe he could just accept losing feeling in his fingers and toes instead of crossing that boundary with you. Or, he could man up and deal with the immediate feelings that would come as soon as his hands would inevitably touch your warm skin.

“Joel?”

Your voice tears him away from his thoughts briefly. “Hm?”

“Aren’t you..cold?”

Freezing. My cock and balls are about to fuckin’ fall off.

“M’fine.” He insists.

“So goddamn stubborn.” He hears you mutter under your breath followed by the sound of the sleeping bag zipper being pulled down. “Get in here before you freeze to death. I’m serious, Joel.”

“Fuck off. I said m’fine.” He grumbles and turns over his shoulder to look at you once more. His eyes catch a sliver of skin, a nipple peeking out from under the fabric as you were sitting up. His head whips around so fast he swears that his brain just got rattled around in his skull.

“Would you just be a fucking man and take your clothes off and get in here?”

So impatient, he thinks.

“You jus’ wanna see me naked.” He quips back.

“For fuck sakes, Joel. I just don’t want you to freeze out here. Is that so hard to believe?”

Yes.

“Jus’..don’t peek. Alright?” He slowly stands up from his place alongside the fire as he starts to shuck his heavy coat off his shoulders.

“Fine. I won’t peek, okay? Scouts honor.” You promise him and bring your hand over your eyes to cover them.

He’s grumbling to himself the whole time as he begins to undress. He bitches about the cold, his cock, and his nearly frozen toes as you listen quietly to the sound of his belt buckle being undone. He does not fold his clothes neatly like you did and instead they are left in a pile near the fire. He dashes for your sleeping bag, yanking the zipper down in a fury and climbs inside.

It’s a tight fit indeed with barely any room for him to squeeze in but he makes it work.

“Fuck!” His yell is muffled as he struggles to make himself comfortable in what little space he has. “Fuckin’ cannot believe I actually listened to you.” He rubs his hands together, blowing hot air between them.

“Oh, shut up, you big baby.” You stifle a laugh which earns you a displeased glare. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you just would have—”

“Do not start with me, sweetheart. Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” His brows furrow and his jaw is clenched so tightly, you’re shocked that it hasn’t shattered.

“You’re all bark and no bite, Joel.” You mutter back and roll over onto your side so your back is facing him. You close your eyes and fully intend to get some much needed and deserved sleep, but the man beside you is squirming and making a big fuss.

“Darlin’ I know you ain’t want anythin’ to do with a man like me, but it was your idea for us to get naked under here..so all I’m askin’ is—”

“Just do whatever it is you need to do, Joel. Can you just be quiet about it? All I want to do right now is sleep, and your fussing about is making that really fucking difficult for me to achieve.” You snap.

“Are you givin’ me permission, sweetheart? Cus’ the last thing I want is for you to bite my damn fingers off if I touch you. So as long as it’s alright with you..” he trails off and you take matters into your own hands by reaching behind you and finding his cold hands and yanking them around your body. You couldn’t help but yelp from the stark difference of temperature from your body heat to his hands.

“You’re fucking freezing, Joel.” You state the obvious and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I didn’t exactly have time to warm them up, sweetheart. My apologies that my hands aren’t at the right temperature for ya.” You think you hear him snicker under his breath, but maybe it’s just his close proximity that makes you hear things.

“Whatever. It’s fine.” You reassure him.

His hands are big, huge, and the skin on his palms and fingers are rough. The feeling overall is quite pleasant, and soon enough his hands don’t feel like an ice block - quite the opposite actually.

He grunts softly as attempts to make himself comfortable without pressing himself into your back. It’s proving to be a challenge as it is, and he has this feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, that this challenge is going to get the best of him.

“What’s wrong now, Joel?” You try to ignore the way his thumbs are gently stroking the space between the curve of your breasts and under your rib cage, and how his touch on your skin is beginning to light a fire in your belly, and between your thighs. His touch is gentle and it’s making your head spin with need and desire.

“I jus’—I don’t wanna make y’feel uncomfortable s’all.” He admits, voice rasping deeply. “I’m fuckin’ freezin’, darlin’ but I don’t wanna—”

“Just shut up and stick your dick in me, Joel. You’ll be warmer then.” You surprise both yourself and him.

His meaty palms squeeze you gently, fingertips kneading the flesh as he inhales a shaky, yet audible breath. The tight confines of your shared sleeping bag suddenly feel ten times tighter, and hotter. It’s suffocating in a delicious sense that you and Joel are stuck here together in this rather..unfortunate situation. You hate him, and he hates you, yet the thought of his thick cock nestling between your thighs sounds like absolute heaven on a plate right now.

Joel thinks he’s on the verge of passing out from your vulgar statement. It’s been god knows how long since he’s felt the warmth of a woman’s body around his cock. It’s been too goddamn long, he thinks.

“..well, if you’re askin.’” He whispers as his hands maneuver your body to press back against him. One strong arm anchors itself around your waist, engaging you in a warm hold when you feel his hard, broad chest pressing against your back. You haven’t even seen his cock, yet you already can tell that he’s big. The word big might not even be able to describe the massive size that is Joel Miller.

“This doesn’t mean anything. Right, Joel?” You ask through the thick growing tension that coils itself around you and the burly man beside you like a snake.

“Doesn’t mean nothin’ at all, sweetheart. Jus’ sharin’ body heat for survival, like you said.” He rasps and blows a hot puff of air against the back of your neck as his strong thighs wrap around your own. Even this man’s feet are fucking huge in every sense.

Y’know what they say about big feet? An even bigger—heart. I was going to say heart.

“Okay.” You squeak out as you relax further into his hold around you.

“Can you jus’ let me know if you’re uncomfortable at any point? Cus’ if that’s the case, I’ll slip right out. No questions asked, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his apparent nervousness. It was sweet, in a Joel-like fashion. Hell must have frozen over right then and there because the Joel you had grown so accustomed to, was anything but sweet.

“Wow. You sure know how to romance a lady up, Miller. Did Tommy teach you how to do that?” You couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back against him. The thought of reaching down between your thighs and touching yourself crossed your mind, but you refrained.

He laughed, and it sent a wave of arousal gushing like a river because his laugh was beautiful. It was music to your fucking ears.

“Shut the fuck up.” His teeth grazed at the spot where your neck meets your jaw. He bit down, drawing blood to the surface of his indentation in your skin. “I taught Tommy everythin’ he needs to know on romancin’ a woman. Don’t get it twisted, sweetheart.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, big boy.” You nearly purred. Your back arched towards him, a suppressed moan desperate to be set free when his teeth marked you.

“I think someone is a bit too eager over this whole arrangement that we have found ourselves in.” He comments in a low rasp and his hand drifts down from your hip and nudges your thighs apart with a practiced ease. His heavy cock pressed firmly against your lower back as he let out another praising grunt from between his lips.

“Stop playing with me, Joel. I don’t want to be played with.” You hiss under your breath when you feel the backside of his knuckles slowly drag through the seam of your cunt.

“Y’sure about that, sweetheart? If you don’t wanna be played with, then what do you want?”

Frankly, he’s taking too long for your liking and you decided then and there to take matters into your own hands; literally. You reach between your bodies before he even has a chance to protest as you blindly search for his cock. Your warm palm barely fits around the girth of him.

“I want you to take your cock and stretch me open, Joel. Think you can handle that? Best not keep a lady waiting. It’s awfully rude.” You tsk under your breath.

He growls as his hips buck upwards into your hand like he’s never felt the touch of a woman’s palm before in his life.

“Fine. I like a woman that knows exactly what she wants, anyway. Won’t keep ya waitin’ any longer, princess.”

Joel Miller is a man of his word and just when you think he’s bluffing, you feel the thick press of the head of his cock sliding through your slick folds and notching at your entrance.

He groans against your ear, jaw clenching, and teeth grinding because you’re tight and hugging him like a fucking fist.

“Jesus fuck. That’s a tight cunt if I’ve ever felt one.” He rasps as you slowly pull him in further at the rate that he pushes his hips. Soon, he’s bottomed out with his hips firmly pressed into your ass. His legs stay tangled through yours as his arms come to wrap you up in his hold once more.

“Fuck.” You breathe, lashes fluttering as he stretches you open. He fits snuggly, almost as if your pussy was making a home for his cock to stay there awhile, all cozy and warm with you. “See? Was that so fucking difficult?”

He shakes his head and you swear you can feel him grinning against your skin. “Nope. It wasn’t difficult at all, sweetheart. In fact, I think I’ll stay here awhile.” Yeah, he’s definitely enjoying this.

You smile at this, burying your face into the solid muscle of his bicep, pressing the lightest kiss there. Maybe you even nibbled on it, and maybe he chuckled and pulled you in even closer.

“Stay as long as you’d please, Joel.” You whisper softly.

Come morning the embers from the fire had long since died out, and the storm had since passed. You and Joel were still a bunch of tangled limbs and connected warmth by the time Tommy and the rest of patrol had found you.

Joel had since grown soft with his cock still buried deep within your warmth and his face was buried in your neck with peaceful snores slipping past his plush lips. His eyes barely peeked open when he heard familiar voices muffled, yet nearby. Tommy had just brushed a bit of snow off the top of the sleeping bag and pulled the zipper down when he was met with a sight that he wasn’t expecting.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He chuckled and shot his big brother a cheeky wink.

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