#she asks if he wants to stay for dinner just to be nice but she doesn't really want him to but he does anyway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neonovember · 2 days ago

Note

This is an idea that’s been on my mind lately because Carmy would be so protective and would 100% treat his gf like a princess, so I thought I’d send it in ifs it’s okay!!🤧

Can I please request Carmy x fem!reader where it’s based off the song “Treat You Better”, where she’s one of his chefs, and Carmy has a biiiig soft spot for her, like soft smiles, hand on the small of her back. Y/n is veryyyy soft spoken and quiet, a very stark contrast to the rest of The Beef/The Bear staff. The staff absolutely love her and are super protective of her: She’s best friends with Sydney (also she’s around the same age as Syd, early 20s), Tina sees her as a daughter, Marcus is always trying to make her laugh and asks her to try his pastries, Richie is more gentle with her than he is with everyone else, Ebra has a calmness around Y/n, Sugar (when she stops by) loves treating Y/n like the little sister she never had, and Carmy… Carmy is head over heels for Y/n. He’s so soft and gentle with her, never raising his voice at her in the kitchen, and he always has the cutest nicknames for her🤧. However… Y/n has a boyfriend, they all know it, and they all share an extreme dislike for him. He’s not very nice, and it all goes to a boiling point when they spot bruises, Y/n letting her hair fall over her face.🥺 Tina and Sydney probably noticing right as she walks in one morning, then the rest of the staff noticing too, the whole kitchen getting eerily quiet, Carmy pulling her aside to his office to talk to her, holding Y/n in his arms while she cries🥺 Carmy 100% taking his bat and beating the crap out of her bf… Now ex, and he offers for Y/n to stay with him because she has nowhere to go? Their relationship growing after that? Y/n kissing him one day, shook at herself, but he kisses her back?

July in November

carmen berzatto x fem! reader

warnings: heavy domestic abuse, controlling fiance, swearing, violence, carmen goes gives absolute no regard for felonies, (assumed) unrequited love, self deprecation, victim blaming

a/n: this entire fic is just time skips l swear, I've written something similar here as well if you liked this which i hope you did! dv is a heavy subject, and not something to trivialise. if you or someone you know is going through dv, please reach out x

banner from @firefly-graphics

The streaks of concealer do little to hide the bloom of dark purples and blues.

They stretch out, clawing up your side and past your ribs, shades of overlapping blotched bruises that were not yet healed.

You were a chef trained in Oslo for god sake, you had friends and family who loved you- and you let out a laugh when the words come out pathetic and dull.

You were right where he left you.

You suppose from the continuous uphill of your career, the exhaustion had made it easier to just sit still, let it happen. He had proposed and you had said yes unblinking. It was what he told the countless people at dinner parties he dragged you to in attendance,

“I had finally beat her down enough to finally fall in love with me” He smiled, his eyes shining and his grip on your waist bruising as the people smiled and laughed and you swallowed back his irony.

The cycles of abuse had started before you could truly remember, bouts of angry yelling before the hot dull beat of pain. And he was so kind after, so thoughtful and apologetic, his eyebrows furrowed and his touch gentle as he leaned over you.

Were you still a victim, if you wanted to stay just for the after?

You shake your head, slowly blinking at the reflection of your bloated torso. Peeling away your shirt gently before buttoning up one of your work shirts instead.

Your heart settled when you thought of the Bear. It was your haven, Richie’s rambled drivel, Sugar hovering every so near, Carmen with his eyes and his inked hands and his sweet mouth. It wrapped around you more tightly than those bruises ever could.

You look over to watch your fiancé, fast asleep content with a full stomach and tired fists. He was so vulnerable like that, and the feeling of anger unfurls in your gut. For once, just one time you wanted him to feel it, that gut wrenching frightened feeling.

You look over to the stone doorstep near his desk, the stupid thing that he had revered at one of his art conventions that was left keeping the door open. You wonder, just for a second, what it would feel like to lean over him with it between your hands, waiting for the slight blink of his eyes that clear away the sleep.

Watch the fear melt into them, and smashing his fucking face with it.

You breathe deeply, arranging your hair so it is out of your face, flattening out the creases in your shit and avoiding your stomach as you stood up and grabbed your bag.

“Where are you going”

You blink, hands gripping your work bag as his voice bellows “Work”

“Huh. We need to sort that out soon”

You stopped, closing your eyes as you fiddled with the loose threads from the shoulder strap. You knew this conversation, where he would bring up another thing in your life he wanted to talk about, as if your relationship was built on a solid base of understanding and conversation. You would wait until his voice would ripen with jealousy and rage, where thinly veiled inquisition would fall away and reveal what he truly wanted.

You had given him enough of your life, let him change and control it. But you would soon let yourself be buried then let him take this too from you. No fucking way.

“Sure”

You pass by the door, pushing the stone to the side. It wasn’t heavy at all.

It’s when you enter the back door of the Bear do you realise you’ve spent your whole commute over holding your breath.

The smells of sauces and expensive meats lulls your anxiety into a mummering tremble, and you sigh softly to yourself as you sling your bag into your locker.

You can already hear Richie arguing, and the tired voice of Carmen biting back and you want to slap yourself for all the times you had grown annoyed at them. What you would give to hear them always, to feel this level of safety and comfort without the overhanging timer of when you would eventually have to leave.

You nod towards Sydney, carrying a large tray of roasted pecans over to Sam, her braids intricately wrapped around her head.

The walkway is framed with pictures of the family, from Mickey to the recent Polaroids of Sugar's newborn. You notice a framed picture of the team from years ago, when you had first started working at the Bear. You’re squished between Carmen and Fak, the backdrop of a renovating Bear behind you all.

The timidiness of being new had not left then, and despite the family enveloping you as their own you had wondered why Carmen had chosen you out of all the decorated chefs that had surely applied. You had asked him this once, after an exhausting dinner rush and he had simply looked up at you from his plate of stolen steak and eggs.

“You’ve got something, Kid. Maybe it’s because you hadn’t yet gotten the light beaten out from the culinary world but I need that. Need someone who pushes against the boundaries you know?”

You had stayed quiet as he talked

“And you’re a local. Boston isn’t for the faint of heart, you know your diners better than they know themselves. Call it prejudice, I call it a safety cushion.“

You wondered what she would think of you now, her wide eyed dream so close you could see her tight grip on her chef coat in the grainy photograph.

You follow the noise of the crew into the kitchen, when Carmen is hunched over a chopping board and Richie is pointing out problems in the seating arrangement for tonight.

He exhales, ready to start another contingent when he spots your figure walking through the entryway.

“Finally. Someone fucking competent in this place”

“Hey Richie” You smile, tightening your apron before biting back a wince. The darkness of your life outside of the Bear had a way of seeping in at times, you had grown too comfortable.

“Hey baby, you good? yeah?” Richie replies

“Richie-“ Carmen interrupts, turning his head to face you for the first time in an hour (which you did not realise but Riche surely did)

“Fuck off. Fuck you. You sure baby? Need me to get you somethin? I got a pack of Marlboros if you need a break”

“Leave her alone, dammit Richie, and a cigarette this early?”

“Oh! Oh! The addict wants to act holier than thou all of a sudden. Just because you slapped on a couple Nic patches-“

“It’s gum and it’s fucking working asshole”

“The L hold you up?” Richie says, throwing the finger at Carmen

“No, no, um, just got in a little fight with David” You reply, cutting your eyes away from him.

Richie rolls his eyes with a groan, a sour expression filters over his face in flash at the mention of your fiance’s name.

“That fuckin’ guy, I swear that boyfriend of yours” Richie groans

“It was my fault really.”

You notice Carmen’s movements stop abruptly, the chopping growing silent with his back turned to you.

“I highly doubt that” Carmen grumbles, before Tina and Sydney come through the door

“Hey, why were you late you missed out on that guy who tried fighting Fak-”

“Her stupid fucking boyfriend”

“Easy” Carmen replies, turning to face you again

“Hey, c’mon Carmen you of all people know that man does not deserve her one fucking bit”

“Darling you need to get rid of that man I’m telling you, he ain't treating you the way you deserve. There's no good keeping an angry man” Tina chides, eyebrows raised as she wipes her fingers on the cloth draped over her shoulder.

“Yeah, he's a dick. And he’s always just…hovering when he comes.” Sydney replies

“And always talk in this condescending tone, adding random words to sound smarter than he is” Marcus’s voice interjects, peeking from around the pastry corner

“Like pseudo-intellectual goddamn-” Tina grumbles, in lightning speed

“Yuppie” Fak continues, and Tina nods

“All I’m saying doll, is that if you end up dumpin’ him we’d be right behind ya’. Might throw a little party here, a small one…how much does it cost to hire some fireworks?”

“Ease up guys, her love life ain’t got nothing to do with us alright. Let the girl be” Carmen voice bellows “And we got work to do”

He turns to the rest of them, shaking his head feigning annoyance at the team gathering together to gossip. And yet, his hands grip his towel tight enough to leave them white, and his teeth grind against his molars when he thinks of your boyfriend.

You don’t know how they'd react when they find out he proposed, you can’t exactly hide a ring.

“Hey” You smile towards Carmen, who’s twisted features blink into resolve when he hears you

“Hey” He nods, wincing as he pressed his fingers to his temple gingerly.

“Still got that headache?”

“I’ll be fine, just wish it would save the eye stabbing until after dinner service”

“Here”

“I’m alright-“

“Take it” you repeat, pressing some pain killers in his hand.

Carmen nods gratefully, hands clasped around yours for a second longer. Before they part.

He eyes the pills, and for a second you see this puzzled look gleam across his eyes.

He pops them in his mouth, you let out a breath from your chest quietly.

You kept your work and home life separate, Carmen didn’t need nor should carry the burden of this ugly secret that paints you from the inside out.

You had a lid on it. You were sure.

You let yourself get lost in the ingrained memory of moving around the kitchen, letting the slice of your knife against the flesh of meat and fruit melt away everything you had been shouldering the past year.

It gets busy, really busy, Richie and Carmen fail to cohabitate in the hours of the dinner service, multiple plates are dropped, you almost can’t keep up with the never ending orders coming in but its also fucking amazing. The rush of delivering every component of a plate in time, making sure the meat is cooked until just right, making sure the sauce isn't runny, it feels like dancing.

Your legs and arms ache, you have a headache and your apron is stained and you can’t tell the difference between the end of the dinner service and hitting the last step of a choreographed dance.

The high that buzzes through your body is mirrored by everyone around you, and you take a second to sink in that feeling of euphoria as the last tables are cleared.

“That was..” You start, un-hunching your shoulders as the rest of the team look up in a daze, surrounding the kitchen

“Fuckin’ amazing, might be our best night yet” Richie grins, bobbing his chin as it rests on his hands

“That was good..we could've been a bit better at turning the tables-” Carmen murmurs

“Oh c’mon Carmy, we can talk about the finalities later but even you can admit that was pretty good” Sydney calls out, leaning her head against the door frame, as exhausted pulls at her every feature

“Yeah…yeah it was good”

“No one go anywhere, I’ve got left over schnitzel and potatoes and I know none of you have taken a break”

“How long has it been since we’ve sat down for family?” Tina mumbles, wiping her stained apron tiredly

“Too long, I don’t mind fixin’ it up” You stretch out your arms, unbuttoning your chef's coat and folding it neatly, despite Sugar throwing them into the sink to soak for the night later.

“I’ll help” Carmen nods to you, doing the same with his apron. His dark crew neck that sticks to him reveals with every button, outlining the indentations of his chest and biceps.

Family usually consists of throwing whatever leftovers from the night's dinner service onto a large plate and proceeding to throw some forks near it. There had been a long trail of food combinations that either delighted the crew or had you throwing your towel in and going to the taco truck nearby.

Today however, the night had gone so well and had distracted you even better. You could at least make up some plates, make ‘em look pretty or whatever else your hands had been trained to do.

The rest of the team move the tables to form one large spanning diner in the middle of the Bear, the scrape of wood against flooring is all that fills the air as you and Carmen work silently. You’re good together, that sort of chemistry that only comes with understanding a person so well you can anticipate their next move. And the night feels like a dance again, moving left and right, handing him pieces of chicken and spoonfuls of sauce, wiping plates clean and centering them right.

It’s only when Richie comes tumbling through the double doors does it cause Carmen to jump, spilling the ladle of hot gravy across your shirt. You wince, Carmen lets out a garbled grunt and Richie cringes.

Carmen is quick, reaching for a nearby cloth as he begins to lift up your shirt gingerly. The sauce isn't boiling, but there is a slight stinging heat that radiates across your midsection and you're too distracted and uncomfortable that you forget yourself, and let Carmen reveal you.

It takes Carmen a second, he's pulling your shirt up just below your underbra, and his fingers pause against the fabric.

You’re confused just for a moment, but it stretches out, and you let yourself sit in the fantasy of unknowing, you let yourself imagine a life where what was sprawled across your skin was just the remnants of a soggy shirt and irritated skin.

The truth of it hits you when you watch Carmen's face change in front of you.

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t-”

“What?” Richie calls, coming closer before throwing his head back

“Jesus fuckin' christ kid”

“I-I we got into a fight-“

“A fight? He beat you!”

“You don’t understand-”

“Maybe I don’t but this-“ Carmen gestures to the welts and colours that paint your stomach “Is one of the worst things I’ve seen in a long time”

Carmen’s hands are still gripping your shirt, the rag dropped to the floor between you now as you lower your head and let your hair cover your eyes.

“I’m sorry-“ You croak out, tongue heavy and eyes blurring with tears.

“Sorry-?” Carmen circuses down to meet your eyes incredulously “You’re sorry? Why are you fucking sorry, look what he fucking did to you!- what has he done to you?”

“Hey hey, honey you need to tell us what happened. This isn’t right, no fight can justify this” Richie whispers, crouching near you as he watches Carmen carefully.

“It was an accident”

“Do you truly believe that?” Richie murmurs softly, and you look up with a furrow of your brow.

You turn to Carmen whose face is twisted in anger, his eyes on your midsection, his hands around your sides and around you.

“I don’t know anymore..I’m just so tired” You whimper, your throat growing tight as Carmen’s brows furrow, blinking and grinding his jaw

“I’m going to fucking kill him-“

“Hey, Carmen wait just- wait” Richie is quick to reach Carmen as he rears back

“Look at her- he can’t-FUCK”

“I know, and we will. I want to break his goddamn legs but we got to think of her. We need to get her out of this, we need to think about her first”

Carmen closes his eyes as you watch their interaction, and he turns to you as you blink the tears that drop down your cheek. He frowns and waits for your approval and you nod, and Richie lets go of him and he gathers you in his arms and lets you cry the last of your resolve on his shoulder.

You don’t tell him anything, and he doesn’t ask. He lets you wet his shoulder as the silence that sits in the kitchen is consumed by your muffled cries instead.

The commotion causes the rest of the team to flood in, putting the pieces together when they see your shoulders shaking with grief and your unbuttoned top. The bear hung with the sick reality of a beat woman, and the once hungry crew now felt the nauseous image in front of them fill their stomach.

Sydney is the one that eases you out of Carmen’s arms, and pulls your hair back as she whispers apologies into your ear. She takes you to the emergency room to make sure nothing is broken. When the nurses greet you by name she waits until you're in the examination room before sobbing into Tina’s arms.

“How did I not notice, I see her every goddamn day, how did I not notice he was hurting her?”

“Don’t do that, don’t blame yourself. There is only one person to blame”

The rest of the team follows, and they all sprawl across the waiting room, heads between their hands.

After one of the junior doctors gives you the all clear, and Carmen and Richie follow up on the police report you make your way down the linoleum hallway in the crumbled stained shirt that had started this all.

You blink as you watch the faces of everyone you love look up in worry, exhaustion is written into their bones and still they sit in the too small waiting chairs for you. You had never felt a love like that before, so profound and overwhelming clear and you breathe it in deeply like it's the last thing you’ll taste.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t you fuckin dare-”

“I know, I know, just please hear me.”

They relent, and you wait until they all nod towards you before continuing

“You guys have taken me as your own, made me feel a part of something greater than myself. I don’t want you to think I was unloved” Your voice heightens with the wet tears that fill your throat

“Every single time I came through those doors I felt it okay? I never understood the power of it, of love, but I feel it now and I felt it then. It just got muddled in the middle of all of this, of all the things I keep hidden. And that is my fault, but you guys, the Bear? You guys kept me alive” You whisper the last part, your voice caught in your throat as you try to still the shake your hands.

“You did nothing wrong baby, nothing. It’s hard to leave isn’t it? It’s hard to even say it” Ebra is the first one to whisper, holding your hands gently and carefully. You look at him, as his eyes gleam with the heaviness of his past and you don’t quite understand how, but you believe he knows that well.

“We’re your family, whatever it is that you're dealing with we shoulder it to, we carry that burden. That is what we're here for, and you can take all the time that you need. Let us help you, but you know what happens now, yes?” Richie murmurs

“I need to get out”

“Damn fucking right you do. And fast, I know it's going to be hard but you need to act like everything is normal. Get in, pack a bag and get out.”

You breathe in deeply, remembering all the half packed duffle bags that had been left near the door. This time you wouldn't be able to back out, this time Carmen would make sure of it.

“Where’s Carmen?” You suddenly say, and Richie shifts his gaze to the exit sign.

“Maybe give him a few moments Kid” Richie murmurs, but you ignore him, moving quickly towards and out of the doors into the smoking area in the alleyway.

You spot him hunched over, back against the stone wall, trails of grey smoke filters from his mouth as you tsk loudly when you near him.

He raises his head up, widening his eyes before looking down at the cigarette.

“You were doing so good” You smile softly

“Yeah? Felt like pulling teeth, not grabbing for one every couple hours.”

“But those chewing gums”

Carmen shakes his head “Don’t tell Rich, but they were fucking disgusting”

You let out a hearty laugh, leaning back on the wall beside him.

Carmen takes one last deep drag, before pressing the butt of the stick into the wall that isn't near you.

It’s silent, and you feel him watching you for a long time before his voice replies in a croaky tear filled tone you had never heard come out of his mouth before.

“Goddamn it kid”

“I know” You reply instantly, the tears that you thought had left you were big fat liars.

“I want to blame myself, I will for a long time but this isn’t about me is it”

You shake your head furiously, it was so far apart from him.

“What can I do? What can I do to make it better?” Carmen whispers, turning to face you fully now, eyes red and blonde curls messy across his brows.

“It’s not something you can fix Carm, you just got to let me do it. Let me walk away completely”

Carmen grits his teeth, “I should’ve made more attention-”

“How? Between renovating the Bear, organising the menu, fucking opening and maintaining the dinner service every night?”

Carmen shakes his head and you tug at his arm gently

“I didn’t let you notice Carm, I hid it well sometimes I even forgot about it. The bear, you? You let me forget, you let me feel so safe I forgot what he was doing to me”

Carmen reaches for your hand, holding onto it gently

You shake your head, shaking the tears along with it. You hadn’t so much as let yourself hear the truth of what had been happening, but it flowed out of your mouth like a river into Carmen.

“He got drunk one night” You whisper, biting your cheek as you bristle at the memory of it

“He got drunk one night, and started accusing me of these horrible things. Things I would never do. And when I tried talking to him he just turned to me with this look in his eyes, and it was so unlike him Carm. It was like someone else had come and taken his body, and his voice and his mouth”

“And when I reached for him he reached back. And then I suppose I got used to being afraid of him”

“I don’t know what changed that night, but it did. Or maybe he had always been that way and I had been to blind by the feeling of being wanted that I ignored it. But it got worse, he hit me, but he started controlling what I was doing. Always flinging my phone in my face so that he could look for something that wasn’t there, eyes always scrutinising me when I came home fucking exhausted from the Bear.”

“That was how it started, and I guess it never quite ended” You murmur, and when Carmen drags his thumb across your cheek, you understand the rage that he had kept covered for you.

“I’m going to hurt him. And that's more for me than it is for you, I know it and I don’t care. He doesn't get to walk away.” Carmen replies after a beat, and his voice is even. You can see his anger from before slipping into the darkness of his pupils, but his voice is clear and devoid.

“I know” You murmur

“And you’re going to stay with me till we get you a place. Tina and Syd offered and well the whole team, but I can’t-”

“I know, you can’t put them in danger”

“No. I can’t let it happen, you being alone, him somehow getting to you. You being hurt again-” Carmen shakes his head, grinding his jaw as he cuts his eyes away.

“Okay” You mumble, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your secret that had weighed you down every day fall away.

The month after had passed quicker than any other time in your life. And for that you were grateful. You had packed a bag and moved into Carmen's apartment that night, and he and Richie had made good on their promise. They watched, as well as the rest of the Bear with a sneer as your fiance was carried into the police station, and you watched the mirror of your injuries multiplied across his face.

The police had been slow in taking action, even you know this, so you suppose their tight lipped expressions at the beaten man they found in your trashed apartment made up for that.

Carmen slept near the door for the first two weeks, a bat in his hand and his notebook of recipes filled with scribbled annotations. Tossing and turning enough times, made you wrap your blanket around yourself and join him by the door. You would wake up some nights, in a sweat from the terror of your nightmare imagining him somehow finding you, and you would join him those times as well.

The truth of all that had happened still had not yet been told, and you doubt that it ever will. But you were okay with that, and Carmen was too. And so when your fiance had been tried and sentenced, and the promise of broken bones hung over him even years after, Carmen had made no mention of finding you a place.

And so you stayed, and made a home for yourself. Let your shoes get muddled and clutter the hallway, have your toothbrush besides his own. Move in the last pieces of yourself that had been left in that prison to a place that could maybe change them.

You spent Thursdays with Richie, he’d wait at the foyer for you and he'd take you out for lunch like clockwork. Divulging in your week as he did his, he let you steal some of his cigarettes and you let him ramble to you. Richie had surprised you, when all was said and done. He had known what to do, knew how to talk to you, and you think you credit him to a lot of where you were now. You suppose he blames himself a little as well, so you don’t mind that Thursdays were his way of checking up on you.

You let the team act the same way, Tina bringing you plates of food and tupper wares of lasagna till Carmen's fridge was hard to open, Sydney calling every day, Ebra and Marcus making sure you had someone who could walk you home if Carmen had to stay back. And when you had finally had enough, they nodded and backed away and let you out of their grip.

You're crouched in the fire escape of Carmen's building, passing a bottle of wine that you had snuck from service.

“I visited him today”

“What?” Carmen replies, knowing immediately who you were talking about.

You shrug your shoulders, “I was too much of a mess to confront him, and the court proceedings left me too numb to even face him. But I went today, and I told him. What he had done, how he had changed.”

“But then he laughed and I punched him in his goddamn mouth”

“Atta girl” Carmen grins, his smile filling up the entire bottom of his face.

“So I can’t ever come back to the Boston Corrections facility, and boy am I glad. You know what this means though right?”

“Hm?” Carmen mumbles with a mouthful of street tacos

“You can’t ever get yourself thrown in prison” You chide, and you smile when he throws his head back in laughter

“Seriously Carm?” You bemoan, resting against the living room entryway

“Yes, the bed is strictly meant for you. What do you take me for? Letting a woman sleep on the couch” Carmen gruffs, carefully placing the duvet over the couch cushions.

“It’s been nearly a year since I’ve moved in, Carmen. I don’t think it's ridiculous to assume we can share a bed together”

Carmen grinds his jaw, swallowing back grunt at the thought of sharing a bed with you. As if it was no big thing, as if Carmen would be able to sleep with you next to him.

“It’s called being a host”

“I signed the lease 2 months ago, we’re technically de-facto” You raise your eyebrows, folding your hands across your chest

“The only time I’ll let the government decide what we are is when-if I put a ring on that finger” Carmen replies, the little slip causing him to cut his eyes from you and back to the duvet that was already folded.

You shake your head with a laugh “This you’re way of proposing Carm? Take a girl out for dinner first”

Carmen mumbles under his breath, flattening the duvet with his inked hands before his phone buzzes

“Goddamnit, that’s Richie.

“Leave that sofa and let's go down to meet our friends and have a nice time. God knows we’ve earned more than a few drinks at Nick’s” You reply, swiping Carmen’s phone

“Hey!”

“You weren’t even going to answer him” You roll your eyes.

You send Richie a text that was all apologetic and none grammatically correct as you shuffle out of your work pants into some jeans.

The team was already at the bear, halfway through the first round of drinks and you’d be damned if you let Carmen make the both of you late.

Carmen is in jeans as well, and the white shirt he always dons fits around his chest tightly. You can lie to yourself most days, but in times like this, where you both live in this domestic bubble your mind wanders.

You don’t let it too much.

But when you're visiting family, and you pass by the Louisiana welcome sign planted in the roadway, and the weather gets warm and the nights stretch out you let yourself think of him. You let yourself imagine a life where he was entwined, in you, your life, your days while you drink on the porch of your family home.

The thought of being in anything new scares you to no end, your past finds you in moments you least expect and dredges you down to the same feeling you felt when you were with him.

But Carmen was your past too wasn’t he? He was muddled and interlinked with all the memories that make your chest ache and your hands shake. Carmen didn’t feel new..you had already been living with each other for a year now, and you suppose the way you both flow into each other's lives was no different.

You’d be together, in the way you had always been but different also. You’d get to grow familiar of the taste of him, you’d get to feel him under your skin, beneath your fingers, and he’d sleep in that fucking bed for the first time in a year.

Then the sun would dip below the horizon, the sounds of the insects and birds would come back to you, and the creeping shadow of guilt and insecurity would remind you of who you were again.

You’d taste the bitter embarrassment of forcing Carmen to be that way with you, throwing your head back as you gulp down the beer in your hand as you try to stave away the taste. The dream disappears each time from you, like the oranges and reds that paint the Louisiana sky every evening.

“Hey, we going or what?” Carmen says, his eyes narrowing at, you noticing the way your eyes glaze over.

“Yeah, yes” You nod, swallowing the thoughts of him quickly as you finish tying your boots and let Carmen lock the door behind you.

The bar is surprisingly crowded on a Tuesday night, and you have to squeeze past crowds of leather wearing bikers before finally seeing the team seated in a long booth at the back.

“Finally!” Richie yells, hands in the air and his beer swishing out of the neck.

“We were about to send a search party” Tina smiles, looking toward you with a glint in her eyes when she notices Carmen’s arm at your back.

“Aren’t you guys like, a 2 minute walk from this place? Fak got here before you” Marcus replied, his old fashioned nursed in your arms.

“I had no involvement in our tardiness, he was too busy fixing his makeshift couch bed”

“Oh don’t tell me your still sleeping on that” Richie’s eyes widen

“You know that ain’t even a good couch right? We found it on the side of the road-“

“It’s not good for your back Carmen, all those cushions” Ebra shakes his head disapprovingly.

“It’s perfectly fine Ebra, and who would I be if I let a woman sleep on the couch?” Carmen grumbles, as both slide into the booth next to Sydney.

“I mean, there is an easy straightforward solution” Sydney murmurs, and everyone turns to her quickly.

“You could both just sleep in the same bed together” She replies, after looking at everyone dumbfounded.

“Only married people share a bed, that’s Sicilian tradition”

“Yeah, mixing work and personal life isn’t-“

“Mixing? They already live together!” Sydney replies, defensively.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already” Four murmured, before snapping his mouth closed when Carmen narrows his eyes to him.

“It’s not about fucking tradition, or whatever. I’m not gonna put her-you in that situation and make you uncomfortable”

“Why would you make me uncomfortable?” You murmur without thinking, and the booth goes quiet.

Carmen shakes his head, blinking as you remain quiet.

You wince at the silence, maneuvering your body quickly out of the booth as you almost fall out.

“Uh-I’m going to get a drink” You reply quickly

Carmen's body isn’t fast enough for his legs and he stands up from his position on the booth quickly, almost tumbling over.

“I’ll come with you”

You shake your head, forcing a tight smile as you wave him off.

“It’s okay, I know your order” You reply quickly, turning around without seeing the look on Carmen’s face.

You slide into one of the vacant barstools, signalling to the bartender as they make the rounds across the counter.

The rows of silver bracelets that hang around the bartender's wrists cling as they mix and shake drinks, and you let yourself get lost in the glittering light show of them reflecting off the bar lights. They distract you enough to not notice the man that now leers over you.

You flinch when you feel his hand touch your shoulder, and when you turn expecting one of the guys from the Bear you're taken back when you're met with a five o clock shadow and a stink of vodka.

“What's a girl like you doin’ all alone?”

“I’m good” You grit out from between your teeth

“Oh c’mon, you girls love to play hard but what you really need-”

“I said leave me alone asswhole” You spit, roughly moving his latched fingers from your shoulder.

The man sneers, his voice growing louder and sloppy as he begins to swear at you. His hands find their way to your waist, and the shiver of disgust turns into a familiar sharp pain as you shout out.

“You fucking bitch” The man starts, before you see the flash of dirty blonde curls cover your vision and the feeling of his fingers around you is wrenched off.

Carmen’s hands are around his neck, and he slams him into the wooden floors of the Bar with ease. He holds him there before turning to look up at you, his eyes blown out and his eyebrows furrowed behind his curls. Your chest heaves as you meet his gaze, and you watch as his eyes trail down your body, almost surveying the extent of your injuries and filing it into his mind so that it is all he thinks about when he breaks the skin across his knuckles.

You watch Carmen work, watch the way his shoulders and back contorts under every movement that lands a punch into the man's face. The buzzing chatter of the bar increases, as people begin to take notice of the shouts of frazzled swears and slobby slurs that leave the man's mouth. Someone screams there is a fight, and the bartender mutters obscenities as they try to push through the crowd.

Carmen lands punch after punch into his face, with no real sense of stopping as his movements grow more and more crazed with every crack of skin and dribble of blood that paints his hands. Carmen's eyes look determined, like he had a goal to all of this, and when Richie and the rest of the team pushes past the crowd and shouts out to him to stop, he looks up at you do you know.

You didn’t get to see what he had done to your husband, or how. But now, he takes his time with the man under him who kicks and fails, blubbering out blood and drool. He continues to stare at you, and the rest of the patrons look on in horror as the man under Carmen becomes disguised by the brutality of Carmens fists across his body. You hear the crack of bone, and when the man screams out a loose and garbled apology from the swollen tongue of his mouth, does Carmen flick his eyes down to him.

“You’re sorry? Yeah?” Carmen murmurs, softly

The man nods eagerly, his mouth filling with blood and his eyes swollen

“I’m not sure I believe that” Carmen replies, sending his foot into the mans stomach as he keels over

“Okay, Carmen that's enough” Richie calls out

“All I did was ask her a question!” The man screams out, his words jagged and unclear

“Hey, you shut the fuck up” Richie replies, before clocking his head to try and meet Carmens gaze who is back on you

“Look man, I get it. That one time wasn’t enough, but you can’t keep doing this”

Carmen grinds his teeth, as you look on in awe as his knuckles bleed violently, throwing his arm up and swinging down onto the man.

You got what you needed from this, and so when you step closer to Carmen and turn your head to the side you can only think of one thing

“I’m banned for at least 12 months”

You watch his fingers loosen around the man's bloody shirt, and Carmen wipes his hands across the man's chest before slowly straightening up from his crouched position.

“Get the fuck out, the both of you before the cops get here” The bartender grits out, shaking his head.

Carmen nods, “I’m not fucking sorry”

“Yeah yeah I know” The bartender rolls his eyes, before you grab Carmen's arm and push through the gawking faces of onlookers

You find a door leading out to a side alleyway, and you both fall out from the door into a combined heap.

“I had to do it okay? The way he was looking at you and that fucking hand around your side I couldn’t just let him-“ Carmen starts, chest heaving up and down and the splatter of spit and blood across his jaw

You don’t let him finish the rushed words that fall out of his mouth before you cover it with your own. Gripping onto the loose collar of his shirt, you drink down the anger and violence that had been festering on the both of you.

Carmen tastes sweet, like the cranberry jus he had been preparing, and rough too, like his worn workmen jacket and the pepper taste of his nicotine gum.

You realise then that you would never taste something as great as that, and that you would be chasing the feeling of how Carmen’s lips against your own vibrates through you from head to foot.

You pull away with quickness, chest heaving and eyes wide as you feel Carmen’s mouth warm your chest.

Carmen doesn’t blink, he stares at you, the brittle Chicago winter blowing his hair across his forehead and the distant sound of sirens and he stares at you.

“I’m not sorry” You whisper, pressing your lips together

“Good” Carmen replies before you’ve even uttered the last word.

And when you blink the cold smoke of his breath is over you again, his inked fingers cradle your head and he takes your mouth again.

You don’t stop the crash of your open mouths and dipping tongues until the warmth of Carmen covers you entirely, until November in Chicago feels like July.

taglist !

@kpopgirlbtssvt @hansfics @nolita-fairytale @parmforcarm @rooster-bradshaw

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biblical-chronicles · 2 days ago

Text

Out of the blue

____________________________________________

where Liam tries his best to propose, but his nerves get the best of him each time, until a simple, tender gesture from you leads the confession to slip out in the most unexpected place

____________________________________________

Liam had it all planned out. A nice dinner at a swanky restaurant—not too over the top, because that wasn’t his style, but posh enough to feel special. He’d booked the table weeks in advance, thinking this would be the perfect place to finally pop the question. It was quiet, dimly lit, with candles flickering in polished glass holders. The kind of place where big moments were made, where people whispered about love and promises over expensive wine.

The ring was burning a hole in his pocket. It had been for weeks. Liam kept it tucked in the inside pocket of his leather jacket he didn't wear so often, convinced you’d spot it otherwise. Tonight, though, it was out of the jacket and into his jeans, closer to hand for when the moment arrived.

As the two of you sat across from each other, sipping wine and laughing about something ridiculous that had happened earlier in the day, Liam couldn’t help but think how right it all felt. You looked beautiful, your face glowing in the soft light, completely at ease. He loved seeing you like this, happy and relaxed, with him.

But then his stomach twisted. What if he messed this up? What if the words came out wrong, or you hesitated? What if you weren’t ready? The thought gnawed at him, and he took a longer sip of his wine, trying to steady his nerves.

“Everything alright?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you noticed his quietness. “You’ve gone all serious on me.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, flashing a smile. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous,” you teased, nudging his foot under the table.

He chuckled, but his mind was already spinning again. He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing the box. You’ve got this, Gallagher. Just say it. It’s not that hard. She loves you, doesn’t she?

He thought about how you’d turned his life upside down in the best way. How he’d sworn to himself after his divorce with Patsy that he’d never go through it again, never let himself care about someone enough to risk that kind of pain. But then you had come into the picture, and it was like someone had flipped a switch.

He hadn’t expected to fall for you, not like this. But here he was, sitting across from you, thinking about how badly he wanted that ring on your finger. How he wanted the whole world to know you were his, and he was yours.

“Liam?” you said again, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled. “Got a bit lost there.”

“Everything alright?”

“Perfect,” he said, the word almost choking him.

The waiter brought out your meals, and Liam decided he’d do it after. He’d wait for the plates to be cleared, then he’d take your hand and say it. Simple. Easy.

But as the meal went on, his resolve started to crumble. The closer he got to the moment, the more the nerves took over. His palms were clammy, and he was sure his face had gone red at least twice when you’d caught him staring at you.

Finally, as the plates were cleared and the waiter offered dessert menus, Liam knew it was now or never. He reached for the box in his pocket, gripping it tightly as he looked across at you.

But then you smiled at him—soft, sweet, completely unguarded—and he froze. His throat tightened, his chest ached, and suddenly the words felt too big, too heavy. He wasn’t sure he could get them out without making a fool of himself.

“Liam?” you asked, tilting your head. “You’ve been quiet tonight. What’s going on?”

He let out a shaky laugh, slipping his hand out of his pocket and reaching for his glass instead. “Nothing, love. Just... thinking about how bloody gorgeous you are.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling, and Liam felt a pang of guilt. He’d bottled it. Again.

The ring stayed in his pocket as the night went on, the weight of it heavier than ever. He promised himself he’d find the right moment. Next time, he thought. Next time for sure.

But even as you both left the restaurant, his arm around your shoulders, Liam couldn’t shake the feeling that he was letting something slip through his fingers.

After the disaster at the restaurant, Liam had spent most of the night wrestling with his thoughts. He’d been so sure that the setting was perfect—dim lighting, soft music, posh food that he could hardly pronounce. But instead of helping, it had magnified his nerves tenfold. The pressure to say everything just right had overwhelmed him, and the words had never made it past the lump in his throat.

He could still see your face from the night before, your teasing grin as you’d joked about him being too quiet. You hadn’t pressed him, but he’d caught the flicker of curiosity in your eyes. He hated himself for bottling it, for sitting there with his heart screaming and his mouth refusing to cooperate.

When morning came, he resolved to try again. A new plan—something more relaxed, more him. The park came to mind. It was familiar, easy, and didn’t come with the suffocating pressure of an audience. Just you and him, strolling hand in hand. Surely, without all the added pomp, he could muster the courage.

All day, the idea rooted itself deeper in his mind. As you chatted about weekend plans over coffee, Liam found himself watching you intently, his chest tightening every time you laughed or gave him that knowing smile.

By the time you laced up your trainers for the walk, he’d convinced himself this was it. This is the moment, mate. No fancy settings, no waiters hovering. Just you and her. You can do this.

He slipped the ring box into his jacket pocket, his hand brushing over the velvet for reassurance.

The late afternoon sun cast the park in a golden glow as you strolled together, your arm linked with his. The air was crisp, the kind that kissed your cheeks pink, and the smell of damp leaves lingered from a recent rain. You were talking animatedly about plans for the next week—something about work, or maybe a dinner with friends—but Liam only half-heard.

He was too busy rehearsing in his head. Just say it, Gallagher. Four words. ‘Will you marry me?’ How hard can it be?

But the thought of it—of putting himself out there, exposing just how deeply he felt—made his stomach churn. His fingers brushed over the box again, the weight of it pressing like a lead weight against his ribs.

“You’re quiet again,” you said, glancing up at him with a playful nudge. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, too quickly.

You raised a brow. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“I’m not lying,” he shot back, forcing a laugh. “Just... takin’ it all in, that’s all. Nice night for a walk, innit?”

You eyed him for a moment, then softened. “Yeah, it is. And it’s nice having you here instead of glued to the telly."

He smirked at that, though the knot in his chest tightened.

The path ahead curved toward a quieter part of the park, away from the playground and picnic benches. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Liam slowed his steps, his heart hammering against his ribs. This was it. Now or never.

“Liam?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve stopped walking.”

He blinked, realizing his feet had indeed betrayed him. He turned to face you, his free hand slipping into his jacket pocket. The box was there, waiting, as if mocking him for his hesitation.

“You sure you're alright?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah,” he said, though his throat felt tight. He cleared it, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I just... y’know, wanted to say...”

The words caught. His chest felt too tight, his palms clammy. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out the quiet sounds of the park around him.

“Wanted to say what?” you prompted gently, tilting your head.

He looked at you, at the way the golden light caught the curve of your cheek, and his resolve wavered. You were everything he’d promised himself he wouldn’t let happen again. Everything he thought he didn’t deserve. And yet, there you were—patient, kind, and completely unaware of the storm raging inside him.

“Just... that I’m glad you’re here,” he mumbled, withdrawing his hand from his pocket and instead brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

Your brows knit together, but a soft smile curved your lips. “Well, that’s sweet of you. You’re sure you’re alright, though?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, leaning down to kiss you. It was a stalling tactic, but the moment your lips met his, he felt his nerves ease—if only slightly.

You kissed him back softly at first, your hand slipping to rest on his chest. When you pulled away, your smile was warmer, your gaze searching his. “Whatever’s going on in that head of yours, you know you can tell me, right?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I know.”

But as you started walking again, he let out a silent curse. Another moment lost. The box in his pocket felt heavier than ever, and the knot in his chest only grew tighter.

The walk back from the park had taken an unexpected detour down a ginnel—a narrow, slightly sketchy shortcut Liam insisted would get you home quicker. The two of you had stopped for chips on the way, the paper wrapping still crumpled in your hand as you finished the last of them.

“See?” Liam said, his tone light, though his mind was far from the present. “Told you this was faster.”

“It’s dodgy as hell, though,” you replied, squinting at the uneven path ahead. The dim light barely illuminated the mud-slick ground, a recent bit of rain having left it more treacherous than usual.

“Dodgy’s where the fun is, love,” he said, his hands in his pockets, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

He was still trapped in his own head, wrestling with the weight of the ring in his pocket. He barely heard you reply, his thoughts drowning out everything but the relentless thrum of, Just ask her already. Stop bottling it.

It happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to warn him. One step too far into the mud, and Liam’s foot slid out from under him. His arms flailed as he let out a startled yelp, landing unceremoniously on the ground with a loud, wet squelch.

“Liam!” you shouted, rushing to his side. “What the hell? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he grumbled, sitting up and brushing at his now-mud-covered parka. “Bloody mud, innit? Should’ve watched where I was goin’.”

“Stay still,” you instructed, dropping to your knees beside him. “You’ve got it all over your face—don’t move, or you’ll make it worse.”

He groaned, looking thoroughly unamused. “It’s nothin’, love. Leave it—”

“No chance,” you interrupted, already rummaging through your bag for tissues. “Honestly, you’re hopeless sometimes.”

He huffed a laugh, though his heart wasn’t in it. His thoughts were still spinning as you leaned in, carefully dabbing at the mud smeared across his cheek. Your touch was gentle, focused, and something about the way you fussed over him sent a pang straight through his chest.

You weren’t laughing at him, weren’t annoyed or disgusted. You were just...you. Lovely and kind and doting in a way that made his heart ache. It was too much. The tightness in his chest swelled to a breaking point, and before he could stop himself, the words he’d been trying to say for weeks finally burst out.

“Marry me.”

The phrase hung in the air, his voice barely above a whisper, but it landed like a firework between you.

Your hand froze mid-wipe, and your wide eyes snapped up to meet his, searching his face as if you weren’t sure you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

The second the reality of what he’d just done hit him, Liam’s heart nearly stopped. His stomach plummeted, and a panicked flush crept up his neck. “Shit. Shit. I—I didn’t mean—I mean, I did mean it, but not like this. Not here. Fuck.”

He raked a shaky hand through his hair, smearing mud into his fringe without even realizing it. “Oh god, I didn’t plan it like this, love. I was gonna do it proper, y’know? Dinner, candles, speeches—the whole fuckin’ nine yards. Not while I’m sittin’ on me arse in a ginnel lookin’ like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”

His words tumbled out in a frantic rush, his Manc accent thickening as his nerves skyrocketed. Then he saw it. The tears gathering in your eyes, threatening to spill over, and his panic hit a fever pitch.

“Ah, no—don’t cry,” he stammered, his voice cracking as he reached for you, but his hands hovered, unsure. “Please, love, don’t cry. I’m such a knobhead—I shouldn’t’ve said it like that. Oh I've fucked it up, haven’t I? Completely cocked it.”

You were still silent, your lips parted as you stared at him, your cheeks glistening now as the tears broke free. Liam’s breathing was ragged, his pulse pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.

“Listen,” he begged, the words rushing out, desperate to fix it. “Forget I said it, alright? I’ll do it over, yeah? The ring’s in me pocket—I’ve got it—I’ll do it proper. I’ll get on one knee and say somethin’ dead romantic, swear on me life. Just don’t—don’t cry. Please, love.”

He was rambling now, the fear that he’d ruined everything tearing him apart from the inside. “Christ, I’m such an idiot. You must think I’m a right muppet.”

And then, to his utter confusion, you launched yourself at him. Your arms wrapped around his neck so tightly he nearly lost his balance, and your face pressed into his shoulder as you let out a muffled, trembling laugh.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you held onto him like he might disappear. “Yes, Liam, yes.”

For a moment, Liam didn’t move. He sat there, stunned, his brain struggling to catch up.

“You—you’re serious?” he asked, his voice hoarse as his arms hesitantly circled your waist. “You mean it? You’ll—?”

“Yes,” you said again, pulling back just enough to look at him, your tear-streaked face glowing with joy. “Of course I mean it. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The relief that washed over Liam was so overwhelming it left him momentarily speechless. He laughed, but it came out shaky, and his hands framed your face as if he needed to be sure you were real.

“Bloody hell, love,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I’d properly bollocksed it. You’re sure? You’re not just sayin’ it to shut me up?”

“Liam,” you said, your tone affectionate but firm as you leaned in closer. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His laugh was softer this time, incredulous and laced with awe. “Christ, you’re unbelievable.”

You smiled, brushing a bit of mud from his cheek. “Can’t wait to be Mrs. Gallagher,” you said, your tone light but your gaze steady.

Liam’s breath caught, and his brow furrowed as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. “Wait—you’d take me name?”

“Obviously,” you replied, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Why wouldn’t I? I want to give all of myself to you, Liam. Completely.”

The words hit him hard, his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a quiet, shaky, “Fuckin’ hell.”

You chuckled, leaning in to kiss him, and this time, he met you halfway. The kiss was messy and emotional, but neither of you cared. His hands tangled in your hair, and yours gripped the lapels of his mud-smeared parka. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, grinning like idiots.

“Look at us,” you said, gesturing to your ruined clothes. “We’re a right state.”

“Best state I’ve ever been in,” Liam replied, his grin wide and boyish.

The two of you stumbled to your feet, covered in mud but laughing like teenagers. As you walked hand-in-hand out of the ginnel, Liam couldn’t stop glancing at you, his heart full to bursting.

It wasn’t the proposal he’d planned—not even close. But looking at you, radiant and laughing beside him, he knew it was perfect.

____________________________________________

oh when I tell you I dead loved writin' this one, hope all you loves enjoy it as well xx (because who would say no to a smitten mud covered Liam?)

#oasis x reader #oasis one shots #oasis band #britpop x f!reader #britpop x reader #britpop fanfiction #liam gallagher x reader #liam gallagher x you #liam gallagher one shots #liam gallagher fanfiction #liam gallagher #britpop

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syoddeye · 2 days ago

Text

like i'm winning it - 02 wellspring

ghost x f!reader | 3k words | series page | ao3 cw: alcohol, threats of violence, power imbalance, sexual harassment (quid pro quo offer), reader is in over her head, male ocs You've never made it this far. Not on your own.

Win comes around a lot more after your date.

He buys booths, bottles. Slips tips to any of your work friends who so happen to breeze by and drops bills on the host stand. In one month, more money passes through your hands than the last three combined.

You pay off the rent you'd been dodging. Renew the subscriptions to your motorized blinds and water filter. Get your nails done. A balance of necessities and luxuries. Indulgence to feel alive, practicality to stay afloat.

In return, every night you're not working, you accompany him on dates—restaurants, galleries, and shows. Stuff previously out of reach for you. He asks you to read, dead scripts that'll never see the screen, but good practice. You show him your self-tapes. A list of the classes and workshops you want to take. And it's like that first dinner. No jokes, no teasing. Win takes you seriously. Says you got a gift, that you're a little diamond in the rough. Raw potential that only needs polishing.

But as nice as Win is, you're not naïve. His attention is a well that could dry up like Tahoe. You're determined to enjoy it while it lasts, though.

Mal stops you one night, just as you're shrugging your coat off, mid-sentence with Irina. She tilts her head and says there's a 'big guy' waiting for you out front. Your shift's covered, and your pay won't be docked. It doesn't click until she tacks on as an afterthought, "Does he always wear a mask?"

You stop, coat half-off, a cold rush prickling the back of your neck. So. Ghost is here. No big deal—it's probably something for Win. However, when you check your messages, there's nothing recent. Must be a surprise, you think, smiling as Irina jabs her elbow into your ribs, purring out, "Have fun, my little Star."

You pull your coat back on, zipping it to your chin as you bolt out of the dressing room. The club isn't quite to capacity, but you weave through the crowd until you reach the doors. You say goodnight to security as the doors swing open and see him dead ahead.

Ghost pops the door to a sleek red car, but the back seat's empty.

"Where's Win?" You ask as you climb in.

"You see 'im?" The door shuts in your face.

Rude. You don't recognize the car, but Win mentioned owning several. Even curiouser, there's no uniformed driver. Ghost slides into the driver's seat.

You give up on questions. All Ghost does is grunt and answer monosyllabically.

You temporarily lose your ability to speak at all, anyway, when the sidewalks outside get cleaner and the stores trend nicer. You don't want to believe it when he takes a particular turn, heart swelling in your chest, but then yes—he turns again, and the street narrows, feeding into a set of chrome gates reading CynoSure Studios.

You've never made it this far. Not on your own.

The car slows but doesn't stop as the red light of the gate's security sensors wash through the interior, then flick blue. The gates open automatically, and you're on the move again, passing warehouse after warehouse. All locked up and closed. Ghost takes you to the last one tucked in the corner. The car door opens for you, inviting in the breeze, carrying the faint scent of cigarette smoke with it.

"Get out, go in, and give 'im your name."

"Win?"

"No."

"Who, then?"

The look Ghost gives you in the mirror tells you ought to try your luck with the stranger. Not him.

You step out and straighten your skirt, and risk one more question. "Can you at least tell me how long this will take?"

"As long as it needs to."

Helpful bastard.

Your heels click against the pavement, the sound ricocheting down the boulevard of silent studios, the street stretching out, empty but for the murmur of jazz seeping through the warehouse walls. The door gives when you pull the handle, and warm air brushes over you as you step into the dimly lit, cavernous space.

In the center is a small set. Parts of an old school, traditional family home. A kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom. A set of speakers on the cement floor. A man leans on the counter, staring at a spread of papers on the table.

"Hello?"

He looks up, a smile slowly forming on his face. "Can I help you?"

You give him your name, eyes darting around, finding no others. "I think my–I think Win Goforth set this up?"

"Senior or Junior?"

"Junior?"

His golden oculars flicker, the faint glow brightening as something shifts behind his pupils—an interface scanning through a list, maybe a calendar. "Right. Come on in, then. You're the last girl of the day."

You laugh a little incredulously, confused, and glance back at the entrance. Ghost would hear if you screamed, right? He'd also…respond. Right?

"I'm the last girl for…?"

"The Lumina Vitae shoot? The skincare line?"

Your steps falter. When you didn't hear back after you'd sent off a dozen self-portraits—your hands lit as best as you could manage with a desk lamp and a timed lens—you prepared yourself for rejection. You knew it was a longshot. No professional help, no proper gear, just hoping beyond hope they were good enough. Yet here you were, apparently in the running.

"Oh, right. That shoot. Of course, thank you. Hard to keep up these days."

He chuckles. "Sure is. I'm Max, by the way. If you'd just…"

Max helps you onto the raised set, immediately positioning you under one of the dangling set lights. He retrieves a small control from amongst the papers, which you realize are printed stills of various hands carefully posed and photographed.

"No paperwork to sign?"

He ignores the question and turns up the music. "Hands out." You do, arms slightly bent, palms facing down—basic stuff, he mentions. No papers necessary since he knows the Goforths. With a tap to his temple, a small photographic drone floats onto set from somewhere unseen. Its lenses adjust automatically.

"Remain still."

Then, it's all too fast, snapping photos at a dizzying speed, its movements fluid. He must take a hundred pictures, peppering you with generic, scripted questions. How long you've known Win, your day job, if you're a local, and your family. That sort of thing.

Suddenly, he stops, humming, dark shapes moving over his irises as he reviews shots.

"I'm afraid this lighting is too severe. Mind if we…?" He walks toward the bedroom. "There's a better lamp in here."

"Of course."

You scurry after, the drone following, and sit on the bed, close to the nightstand where he turns on a gentler lamp. The light's warmer, softer. He instructs you to lay one hand over the other, slightly offset, and you're suddenly thankful for the manicure and the little luxuries Win's generosity affords you.

If this goes well, I could get more than a manicure.

You buzz at the thought, at the domino effect this opportunity might have. You're so caught up in your daydreams that you barely notice Max moving closer, pupils dilating manually. He reaches out, his fingertip pressing gently against your chin, tilting your face toward his.

"Is Win your only agent?"

The question catches you off guard. You're about to correct him, explain that Win isn't your agent, that you wouldn't even call him your boyfriend, but remember your lie. "Yes."

The drone hums past, its tiny turbines leaving a heated wake. It hovers above Max's shoulder, an impersonal observer. "You're not affiliated with any other studio? You've never worked for Echelon? Parallax? You're not, ah, fucking some other big wig?"

You pull back, lips pressing together, but keep your hands in place. After years of trying to wedge a single finger in the door, scrabbling for every chance, you're not about to fold to a sleaze like him. He's not the first, not the last. Still pisses you off, though. "No."

His irises shift from the soft gold to a harsh, ophidian yellow. "No? Good. Then, maybe we can help each other. I'm, ah, inclined to give you this job. Your hands aren't bad. Small, but nothing a shop job couldn't fix. And no mods. No synthetic patchwork. I like that. Makes me curious how much of you is natural."

You wrinkle your nose.

"Problem is, Win's signed to take half of your earnings," He shakes his head. "That doesn't seem right, does it? You're the one putting in the work."

You don't answer.

"Why don't we cut the middle man out?"

Dread and disgust churns your stomach. What he's insinuating, what he's suggesting—you think of calling for Ghost just to see Max wet himself. He must not know the lug's here. "And I'm sure you're offering this out of the goodness of your heart."

He snorts. "Of course not. This lot isn't booked until tomorrow morning, and there's a perfectly good bed here…" His voice trails. "I'm sure you can put two and two together, sweetheart."

Bile, sharp and bitter, rises to the back of your throat. You have half a mind to spit it onto his shoes, but instead, you swallow it down, determined to keep it together.

"Thanks for your time, Max," Hundreds of nights coddling drunk assholes at the club have prepared you for this. "I'll be going."

Max doesn't budge when you stand, forcing you into the narrow gap between him and the nightstand. "You sure about that?" He ducks his head closer, the drone bobbing beside his face. "I'll tell Win you're being difficult, and you know, we actually go way back. Might be difficult to find work on a blacklist."

Your lip curls, Ghost's name tucked behind your teeth as a last resort. "You can tell Win whatever lie you want, I'm not doing this. Not for you, not for anyone. Win's been nothing but kind to me. I don't care who he is, I'm not going to–" You glance at the cheap stock bed, "I'm not going to betray his trust like that."

You don't know where you stand with Win—how serious he is about you, or if anything is even there—but you do know that he's been kind, generous, and this…Fucking some slimeball? Cutting him out for a stupid fancy lotion commercial? You couldn't.

Turning on your heel, you make for the door, fuming, and nearly fall off set.

There, leaning against the far wall beside the door, is Ghost. Arms crossed, relaxed, and looking bored as ever. Has he been inside the whole time?

Behind you, laughter. Max follows, clapping and squeezing an over-familiarly hand on your shoulder. "Oh, Win's got a live one, Ghost. Don't you think?"

What the fuck?

You jerk away from him and trip over your words. "What–I don't–Aren't you with Lumina Vitae?"

Max shakes his head. "Oh, I'm no, not at all. I just work for Mr. Goforth. This," He gestures at the hovering drone. "Is his toy. Feel free to wave. Win will watch this later." He taps his temple twice, and the tiny bot emits a melodic chime before lowering obediently into his hand. "Good job by the way, you passed."

"I…passed?"

Max steps around you. "Win's a high-value individual. The Goforths have enemies. Rivals. He likes to vet his, ah, company before he gets in too deep." He gathers the stills and shrugs. "Next time you see him, he'll probably have you sign an NDA. That's the usual timeline."

Heat floods your skin, blooming over your face and neck. The entire situation is outlandish, bordering on absurd, but that's the point, isn't it? It's a test. Win is the heir-apparent to one of the biggest names in film, his family worth billions. You knew that, of course, but you've spent weeks skating around it, choosing instead to lean into the fantasy, pretending it wasn't reality until now.

Max watches you stumble off the set unassisted. "Congrats again. See you around sometime."

Ghost stares past you as you hurry across the warehouse, desperate to put distance between yourself and the stooge. Your arms fold over your chest, hugging yourself tightly, the pressure a weak attempt to steady the choppiness of your breath. He peels off the wall, following close enough that you half-expect him to grab you, stuff you into the trunk, and kick off another leg of this hazing ritual.

But he doesn't. He doesn't say a word when you leave the CynoSure lot, or when you kick off your heels and curl against the door. You press your forehead to the cool glass, mind buzzing with static. Again, you're the one who breaks the silence.

"Does Win…Does he test everyone?"

"Yeah."

Your eyes snap to the back of his head. "Does everyone pass?"

"No."

"What happens to–"

"Don't ask."

"Can I ask one more?" You lick your lip and ask before he can refuse. "Would you have helped me, if he…if he tried something?"

The car jerks suddenly, swerving as it barely misses a motorbike you blast past. Ghost swears, hands choking the steering wheel. After a moment, his shoulders sag, and he cracks his neck with a grunt. "'Course. Don't want to be out of a job."

Ghost doesn't take you home. He takes you to Win. No message or call is needed. He's expecting you. You try to think of something coherent to say to him, but you keep circling back to fuck you. You can't say that, though, glancing at the man behind the wheel.

You follow Ghost from the car into the building, squeezing past him into the lift, and settle into a rear corner. One arm wraps across your torso, the other bent at the elbow, fingertips hovering near your mouth, the impulse to chew your nails loud. The doors close, and the lift starts, numbers climbing in a muted LED glow. You stare into the middle, at and through your reflection.

The jolt is sudden. The lift grinds to a halt, and you instinctively reach for the bars on either side to keep yourself from falling. White light shifts abruptly to red. Your gaze whips to Ghost, mouth opening at the sight of his hand eclipsing the screen, a thumb pressed firmly to the emergency stop.

"What are you–" The question shrivels when he takes one step and closes the distance. The space between you almost nonexistent, and erased further as he leans closer. His head tilts down, all angles and shadows under the crimson light. His eyes are a dimmer red than usual, earthy, like rust. His hands slip over yours, his weight shifting to apply pressure. You try to ignore their smothering warmth.

"You and I are gonna have an understanding."

Your tongue twists. You nod.

"You passed Junior's stupid test. Good for you." Each word drips with disdain, clipped with irritation, like he can't believe you made it this far. "Doesn't mean your pretty arse belongs in this building, on 'is arm, or anywhere near 'is family. Don't care 'ow much 'e likes you or that cunt of yours. One step out of line, an' you'll be landfill. We clear?"

Landfill. "We're clear."

Ghost grunts and lingers a moment longer, his eyes dropping, and for a second, you think—no, you're sure—he's sneaking a look at your tits. But then one hand lifts, and he plants it against your neck. His thumb settles in the notch above your collarbone, pressing lightly. A scan passes over you, invisible but invasive, crackling in your ears. Then he pulls away with a huff, apparently unimpressed by what he found.

The lift moves before you do. When the doors open, it takes every ounce of willpower to unstick yourself from the corner, legs unsteady beneath you.

The condo is quiet. Ghost disappears ahead without you, before you can toe off one heel in the foyer. Your feet throb, but it's nothing compared to the cement block of stress resting on your shoulders. You should've stayed at the club. Between the 'test' and Ghost's brief, terrifying warning, you think you're close to collapse. You walk as quietly as you can, slow, still at a loss for what to say to Win.

You turn the corner into the living space and flinch at a loud pop, followed by a familiar burst of sparks. A champagne bottle sparkler flares, held aloft by a grinning, dressed-down Win. "There's my beautiful star, my Stella," he calls out, jerking his head. "Get your cute ass over here, and let's celebrate, baby."

This night keeps getting better.

"I look cute, huh?" Win teases as you reluctantly tiptoe closer. "Like I'm you. All I need is a skirt."

You don't know how much longer you can keep playing along. "Win, we need to talk–"

He pours the champagne over two glasses, spilling a bit as he looks between you and the bottle. "I agree. We've got to talk contracts." A wide and knowing grin spreads across his face. "Just got the call—you're in, babe. You're gonna be a Goforth Girl. You got the gig."

You blink. "I what?"

Win chuckles. "Don't look so shocked. I've got a buddy over at Lumina. This one was a gimme. Not all of them will come this easy, but hey, it's your first big one, right?"

You sit before you keel over, swallowing hard as your stomach turns in slow waves. Disbelief, confusion, and the remnants of your indignation tangle together in a knot. Your first gig. A real one. Not some odd job handing out flyers in costume or paid-in-exposure promo modeling. A real commercial for a real company with real reach. Still. You need to say something.

"Yeah, but Win, we need to talk about your friend. Max? The creep at CynoSure? He, um, he told me–"

"We'll cover that, too." He brushes it off with a casual wave as he hands you the flute of champagne. "Got a form or two for you to sign in addition to some business about exclusive representation." He looms over you, ringed fingers twisting the stem of his glass.

You gape up at him, your head a mess from being pulled in so many directions in one night. It would be crazy, right? To say no now. Max's voice echoes in your head, steady and certain: Win's a high-value individual. The Goforths have enemies. You can't blame him for wanting to protect himself, to protect his family. If roles were reversed, wouldn't you? And if you're going to continue your…entanglement, isn't signing papers in your best interest, to protect yourself?

Win extends his drink. "You'll be a star. We'll make it happen."

We'll make it happen. What else can you say to that? To his complete confidence in you?

Your smile is a brittle thing warped into a crescent, and you watch it in the reflection of your glass as you lift it. "Well, to us, then."

The glasses clink, and you swallow a bitter sip. Win draws you back onto your sore feet for a prolonged kiss.

The slap of bare feet against the floor breaks the moment, eyes popping open as you make a noise into Win's mouth. Across the room, in the kitchen, Ghost reappears. Shirtless. He looks even bigger now, his back a hulking mass of muscle, ridiculous in its sheer width. Scars line his skin, some mods, some implants, but the rest speak to his chosen career. Black ink coils up his arm in a cluttered tattoo, and his skin's slick, the dampness of his blond hair suggesting he came from the shower.

Win pulls away, his mouth smudged with your lipstick.

"Ghost! Join us, we're celebrating! Grab a glass."

The behemoth pauses at the refrigerator, glaring. Despite his state of dress, he's taken the time to hook a cloth mask over his ears, one of which looks puffy. His brow furrows and his gaze shifts between you.

"No." He grinds out, voice low, and a shudder runs down your spine. He lumbers off, water in hand, and Win tuts in playful exasperation.

"Such a buzzkill. Now," His mouth skims your cheek, moving to your ear to whisper. "Where were we, baby?"

#like i'm winning it #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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sugdenlovesdingle · 19 hours ago

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Happy Christmas @strandnreyes !! Here is your very late gift from your secret santa!

I had a plan, it was going well, and then I wrote myself into a corner and couldn't figure out how to fix it... and went with plan B at around 6PM yesterday. But I'm pretty happy with the result and I hope you are too!

written for @tarlos-santa for the prompt: roommate’s best friend AU

---

Strickland holiday special (AO3)

“December 24th, 7pm, dinner at my place. Bring yourself and your holiday spirit.” Paul announced when he sat down at Carlos’ table in the bar they’d agreed to meet for a catch up after work.

Carlos was thrown off guard for a second but then shook his head.

“Can’t. Nochebuena with the family. My mom will kill me if I miss that.”

“And you don’t want to spend the holidays with your best friend?” Paul asked, fake hurt, and took a sip from the beer Carlos had ordered for him.

“You’ve met my mother... and she likes you now… but if you keep me from coming to mass with her and the rest of the family, she’s going to put you on her naughty list for next year.” Carlos replied, only half joking. He wasn’t especially excited to spend the holidays with his entire extended family, but it usually was nice to catch up with cousins he only ever saw at birthdays and family gatherings.

Only this year he also had to avoid his sister and her interest in his love life ever since she set him up with a friend of a friend a few months ago.

“Ah but if I promise to feed her boy, even Andrea Reyes will forgive me.” Paul told him and Carlos had to admit to himself he was probably right. “Come on man, it’s just dinner with some friends. Some people from work, and you’ll get to meet Asha for real.”

“I’ve already met her!”

“Outside McDonald’s in the middle of Saturday afternoon shoppers doesn’t count.” Paul argued. “Come on, you know you want to say yes. I’ll make my famous chilli.”

“Well in that case I’m definitely not coming, you chilli heathen.” Carlos joked and Paul good naturedly rolled his eyes.

“If I allow you to assist me in the kitchen, will you come? I’ll even let you disgrace my chilli with your nachos.”

Carlos laughed.

“Ok, fine, you can be my sous chef. Maybe I’ll even let you stir something.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Reyes.” Paul replied and clinked his beer bottle against Carlos’. “Oh and my roommate can help us out too.”

“Roommate? Since when do you have a roommate?”

Paul shrugged.

“A few weeks. The new guy at work I told you about.”

Carlos frowned, trying to remember any new guy Paul had mentioned.

“Tyler. From New York. He’s not going home for the holidays and he doesn’t really know anyone in Austin yet.” Paul clarified.

“Right. And you take in strays now?”

“He was living in some shitty backpackers hostel! I couldn’t let him stay there. The place is a health hazard. And I have a spare room anyway.” He shrugged. “It’s just until he’s found a place of his own. He’s a nice guy. Cleans up after himself. A lot of wrong opinions about pizza though. Come to think about it, you two would probably get on great. You can be wrong about food together!”

“Are you trying to set me up with your new roomie?”

“No, but you might like the guy. You both could do with some new friends.”

“I have friends!” Carlos protested and pointed his bottle at Paul. “I have you.”

“And if you and Tyler hit it off you could have two friends!”

Carlos shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Oh no. No, I know what ‘I’ll think about it’ means in Carlos Reyes speak. It means ‘no but I don’t want to say it to your face.’”

“No, it means I’ll think about it. I might have plans… with Marco.”

“Oh the boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Carlos insisted. “We’ve only been out a few times… I barely know him. Luisa set me up with him.”

Paul nodded.

“I remember. And you like him?”

Carlos pulled a face like the thought of admitting anything of the sort to Paul was causing him physical pain.

“I don’t know… He’s alright… He keeps asking about my job.”

“That’s what people do when they’re getting to know each other don’t they?”

“Well… yeah… but it’s all he talks about. I don’t even know what he does for a living.”

“So ask him.” Paul said simply and Carlos gave a huff in reply.

They spent the rest of the night talking about Paul’s party plans, and carefully avoiding the topic of Carlos’ love life. Which he was more than grateful for.

By the time the 24th came around, Carlos had struck a deal with his mother. He’d promised her he’d go to midnight mass with her and the rest of the family, and then spend the entire Christmas at the ranch with them, so he’d be able to go to Paul’s dinner party and help him cook in the afternoon.

They’d decided on a menu together, agreeing to stay away from any controversial dishes and just focusing on putting a nice meal together for their friends.

Carlos had managed to wrangle the guest list out of Paul, and he knew most people that would attend. All but one. The mysterious Tyler.

Paul had mentioned he’d be helping them prep and Carlos was curious about the guy. Apparently he’d moved to Texas after a break up, but Paul either didn’t know the details or didn’t feel like it was his place to share and hadn’t told him anything more.

Not even a last name, which meant Carlos couldn’t even casually run him through the system.

He parked his car outside of Paul’s building and grabbed the supplies he’d picked up from the backseat before making his way to the front door. He tried to shift the bags in his arms so he could ring the doorbell without dropping anything when someone jogged up to him.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let me get that for you.” The person said and reached around him to open the door with a key.

“Thanks…” Carlos mumbled and walked into the building, up to the elevator. The person followed him and pushed the button for him.

“What floor are you headed?” the guy asked when they stepped into the elevator.

“Uh four.”

“Me too. Do you need a hand with those bags? I can carry one for you.” The person offered. “I promise I won’t run off with them.”

Carlos chuckled and shifted one of the bags so the person could take it from him. He hadn’t been able to get a good look at them yet, just a flash of a silver grey jacket and brown hair, but when he moved the bag out of the way, he came face to face with easily the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

“Thanks.” Carlos managed to say and the beautiful man smiled at him, making him even more beautiful.

“No problem. Do you live in this building too? I only moved in a couple of weeks ago, I don’t really know the neighbours yet.”

“Oh uh no… I’m just… visiting my friend.” Carlos stammered, mentally kicking himself for not being able to keep his cool around a cute guy. “He lives at number 425.”

“No way.”

“Uh…”

“You’re Carlos!” It was a statement, not a question.

“Uh…”

“I’m TK.” The beautiful man said as the elevator doors opened and they walked onto Paul’s floor. “Paul mentioned you would be coming over to help prepare for tonight.”

“I… oh… you… you work with Paul…” Carlos stammered.

“Yeah, and he lets me crash in his spare room until I’ve found my own place. You don’t happen to know of any apartments for rent that don’t cost a small fortune, do you?”

“No… sorry.”

“That’s too bad.” The beautiful man stopped outside of Paul’s door and put his key in the lock. “Hey, look who I ran into downstairs.” He called out to Paul when he walked into the apartment.

“Oh, great, you’ve already met. Saves me the introductions. Now let’s get to work, this meal won’t cook itself.” Paul said, clapping his hands to spur his friends on.

Carlos was put on chopping duties and did his best to focus on the task at hand. The three of them chatted a little while they worked, with mainly Paul and TK swapping work stories.

“Chicago FD could take NYFD.” Paul insisted and Carlos had no clue what they were talking about. “Hell they could take NYFD and AFD.”

TK laughed.

“Sure, sure.” He popped an olive into his mouth and Carlos was absolutely mesmerised by him. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the smile that never seemed to leave his face, the curve of his lips… the way they would feel against his own… the –

“Ow! Shit, shit, shit, damn it!” Carlos swore and sucked his finger into his mouth. “The knife slipped.”

TK wiped his hands on a dish towel and carefully pulled Carlos’ hand away from his mouth.

“I’m a paramedic.” He told him. “Let me see.”

“I’ll go get the first aid kit from the bathroom.” Paul announced but neither man even so much as acknowledged him.

“It’s nothing.” Carlos insisted.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” TK told him and guided him over to the sink to run his hand under the tap. “I don’t think it’s very deep.” He said after taking a closer look at the cut.” “I think a simple bandage will do.”

“Right… ok.”

“One first aid kit!” Paul said a little too loudly, dropping the box onto the kitchen table. “It cost me a small fortune so it better have everything you need.”

TK nodded and grabbed a paper towel, pressing it to the cut in Carlos’ hand.

“Keep pressure on that while I get some gauze to wrap it up.”

“You really don’t have to go through all this trouble for me… it’s just a small cut. It’ll be fine.”

“Reyes will you just let the medic treat that damn hand instead of bleeding all over my kitchen?” Paul sighed. “Your boyfriend won’t be happy if we let you bleed out on the onions.”

Carlos winced and he saw TK freeze up for a few seconds.

Damn it.

“You have a boyfriend?” TK asked, trying to sound casual, not looking at him but digging through the med kit instead.

“No!” Carlos said, a little louder than strictly necessary.

“Oh no, we’re not allowed to use the B word.” Paul said, exasperated. “They’ve just been going on dates for like three months. That’s not boyfriend behaviour at all.”

“We broke up.” Carlos blurted out, almost desperate to see TK’s reaction.

“Oh, I’m sorry man.” Paul replied, giving him a sympathetic look.

“It’s fine. He… I… we uhm… it just wasn’t working. We wanted different things.” Carlos told them. He didn’t want to go into detail, but at the same time needed TK to know he did not have a boyfriend.

“Well at least you found out now and not during a romantic dinner with an engagement ring in your pocket.” TK said, removing the paper towel from Carlos’ hand and carefully putting a gauze pad on it.

“Y-yeah.” Carlos agreed, sensing there was a story behind TK’s comment but not wanting to pry.

TK wrapped up Carlos’ hand with the care and precision of someone treating an arterial bleed, when they both knew a simple band aid would have done the trick.

“How’s that?” he asked when he put the last piece of tape on the bandage. “Not too tight?”

“It’s perfect.”

They managed to get through the rest of the afternoon without any more injuries, and Carlos had managed to compose himself and function more or less like a normal person by the time the other guests started to arrive.

He knew most of them through work and in Nancy’s case from high school math and science. He enjoyed catching up with them but still his eyes were constantly drawn to TK.

And maybe he was imagining things, but it looked like TK was looking at him too.

“Hellooo, earth to Carlos.” Nancy waved a hand in front of his face. “I asked you a question.”

“What? Sorry… I kind of zoned out for a minute there.”

“Uhuh, I noticed. I was talking about the red vs blue baseball game.”

“What about it?”

“Are you playing? Who is on the APD team? I’m trying to scope out the competition.”

“I don’t know. It’s months away.”

“She’s got a whole file with stats on everyone on the FD team on her computer.” Marjan cut in. “And she’s trying to find out who’s playing for PD so she can put together the same kind of file for them.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared! I just want to win next time.” Nancy argued. “TK, do you play baseball?”

“I was in little league. I was pretty good.” TK replied. “Well according to my mom and my step dad anyway.” He laughed a little and took a sip of his drink.

“Good enough for me. We’ll have to get you to the batting cages in the new year so I can see you play.” Nancy decided.

“Who died and made you coach of the FD team?” Paul asked and the two of them got into an argument that snowballed into a debate where somehow Paul’s girlfriend Asha ended up as some kind of referee.

Carlos however could only focus on TK. He was sitting on the other side of the table, leaning back in his chair, drink in hand and an amused look on his face. He’d gotten changed before dinner and he was wearing a dark sweater with stripes across the chest and a diamond stud in his ear.

Carlos’ mouth had gone dry at the sight of him and he’d felt severely under dressed in his simple button down shirt and jeans.

“Who wants dessert?” Asha asked the group, trying to steer the conversations to a safer topic.

“I’ll get it.” Carlos said quickly, happy to be able to escape the madness for a few minutes and get his head together.

“I’ll help.” TK said, getting up from the table too and following him to the kitchen. “How’s your hand?” he asked as Carlos started pulling bowls from the kitchen cupboard.

“Oh, it’s fine.” He flexed a few times. “I barely feel it.” He smiled. “You’re a great doctor.”

“Paramedic.” TK corrected him. “It’s not the same. But thank you.”

Carlos desperately wanted to keep talking to him but didn’t know what to say. He tried to scoop some ice cream into one of the bowls but barely managed to get anything out of the container and only ended up bending the spoon.

“I guess we should have remembered to take it out of the freezer earlier.”

“Yeah… I guess so.” TK agreed. “If you run the hot water and hold the spoon under it, it’ll be easier to scoop with.” He suggested. “Or… we could just wait.”

He stepped closer to Carlos in the tiny kitchen and his eyes flicked between the other man’s eyes and lips.

There was laughter coming from the living room and someone, probably Paul, had put on some music.

“Yeah, we could… do that. I don’t think they’re really desperate for that ice cream.”

TK smiled.

“I don’t think so either…”

The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like hours until they suddenly moved at the same time.

TK grabbed a fistful of Carlos’ shirt, while Carlos’ hands were on TK’s neck, pulling him into a desperate kiss.

He felt TK’s tongue running along his lips and Carlos happily opened his mouth for him.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed and neither of them wanted to stop.

Carlos’ hands were firmly in TK’s hair, and TK had managed to undo some of the buttons on Carlos’ shirt. They were both breathless by the time they had to come up for air.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day.” TK admitted. “I was gutted when Paul said you had a boyfriend.”

“Don’t have one of those.” Carlos insisted. “I’m very single.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“How would you like to change that?”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes

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yall-batman-fanfic · 22 hours ago

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Wayne Family Holiday Traditions | Bruce Wayne/Batman x Reader!Magician

Synopsis: After years of struggling to find the perfect gift, Bruce and Vivian finally perfected gift-giving to one another, and it's something that became a tradition in the Wayne family.

What to give a man who has everything?

That was the question that Vivian Pryor pondered about as she roamed the stores in Gotham’s shopping district for the fifth time that week. She had done all of her Christmas shopping last weekend. Have secured the gifts for her colleagues, for her family in Liverpool, Alfred, (she got him a really expensive bottle of good scotch), and Dick (she got him the video game that Alfred refuses to let the boy have until he completes a whole month of attendance at school). But Bruce…

She had no idea what to give someone who actually has everything, who can buy anything he wanted. He is a billionaire, so getting him something from the mall feels wrong for Vivian. Since she finished her shopping, Bruce’s name – which was at the very top of her shopping list – was the only one that wasn’t crossed out. At first she thought she could just get his gift somewhere in the week, just so she could have a good long think about it, but then that long thinking led to a rut that she can’t get out of.

One of her friends laughed at her saying: “How do you not know what to get your boyfriend?”

Her reply, “How about you get a gift for a billionaire.”

Her friend’s reply? “I’d wrap myself in a ribbon and wait for him at home.”

Vivian already had that idea but she didn’t want to look like someone shallow and narcissistic to think she was a gift already. Besides, holiday sex is different from holiday gifts. Yes, they come separately – well, to her they are.

Now, here she was, roaming around the town looking for something to give him.

Augh! She knew she should have held onto that Grey Ghost toy instead of buying it for him on the spot! But how was she supposed to know that they’ll still be dating until now? She got him that gift during the first few months into their relationship. And she really wanted to get him something that was from his childhood that brought him joy.

Oh, the smile he had that day when he saw the Grey Ghost figurine, and how his eyes lit up when he told her times he would ask his father if he could stay up just to watch the show. She can’t not get him that toy.

Food was the safest option, and she already gave him homemade brownies that he could bring for patrol (at that time, Bruce didn’t know she knew he was Batman and just packed the brownies in a way he can easily put in his utility belt). She can’t give him the same thing again. Right?

Well, after they got back together, she most certainly can’t. It’s gotta be something special.

But what?

What can she give him?

A vacation? Yeah, right—a workaholic like him won’t use that.

Dinner out? They always have dinner out.

The sound of her phone ringing pulled Vivian from her reverie and stopped her from staring at the shop selling Batman merchandise.

It was Bruce.

Great.

“Hello?” Vivian answered.

“Is everything okay, Viv?” Bruce asked, quite concerned with the lack of her usual jolly greeting.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Just doing some last minute Holiday shopping.”

“You already left campus?”

“Yeah, sorry about not mentioning it. But I’m at the shopping district now, maybe we could meet there and have dinner here?”

“That’d be nice. Just send me a place for us to meet and I’ll meet you there.”

“Sure. See ya, Wayne.”

“See you, Pryor,” she was sure he was smiling then.

Maybe she should just take a raincheck on that gift now and try again tomorrow.

Bruce arrived a couple of minutes later and they met at the restaurant that Vivian told him about. Unfortunately, the tables inside were already taken, so they opted for the ones outside, even if it meant being in the cold winter.

“Are you sure you’re not freezing?” Bruce asked her as she held her hot coffee – not warm, hot – and drank it without burning her tongue. And the fact she had her bonnet, and her beige coat.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Vivian asked.

“Where’s your scarf?”

“I… accidentally left it at home, and I was running late so I didn’t bother to go back for it,” she winced as she admitted the childish thing.

Without a word, Bruce got up and moved his seat to be beside her, then placed his own scarf over her neck.

“Bruce, no – you’ll be freezing,” Vivian tried to give it back.

“Trust me, I’m used to this. Besides, I got all the warmth I need,” he wrapped an arm around her.

Vivian hid her blush by drinking her coffee. “You know, I should be used to this kind of weather, but for some reason I never really got used to the cold.”

Bruce smirked and whispered to her ear, “Maybe I could help you warm up a little when we get to the manor?”

Vivian blushed even more and she tried to hide it. “And what about patrol?”

“That could wait. I can’t let you freeze to death,” Bruce placed a kiss on her cheek. She was cold. Really cold. “Why don’t you use your magic?”

Vivian groaned and wanted to hit herself. She’s been so preoccupied with finding him a gift that she forgot about magic! Back then she can use her magic easily and doesn’t need to shut if off to warm her in the winter or cool her in the summer. But with her stopping using magic, it was hard to get those habits back again. Especially when she got the pleasures of air conditioning and a working heater to do the job.

Has she become lazy? Yes, she won’t lie about that. She is a lazy witch, but she’s trying to get back on her feet.

Seeing her reaction, he laughed and said: “That’s why we practice.”

“Oh shut it,” Vivian used a spell and spread warmth around her and Bruce. She was about to hand back his scarf but he told her: “No, keep it. I like seeing you wear my things.”

“Is that so?”

“If only we could have the manor to ourselves, I'd prefer if you walk around wearing my clothes.”

“Just your clothes?”

“Just like that morning where you greeted me good morning,” Bruce leaned down to kiss her. That morning he was mentioning it was one of the days she spent the night at Wayne Manor. Vivian had woken up earlier than Bruce on a weekend and decided to stay in the room and relax a bit. She opted to wear one of his shirts instead of her own, as she asked Alfred if she could have them washed along with the others he was throwing in the washing machine. When Bruce woke up he was greeted by the sight of her looking through his personal book collection in the room, only wearing his shirt and nothing underneath. He knew she had nothing because whenever she would get on her toes to reach up for something at the top shelf, he'd see her bare bottom as the shirt would hike up. They spent the entire day trapped his room that day and when they got out for a late lunch, Dick was bored out of his mind.

“Maybe,” Vivian said back between their kisses. When she felt his hand on her thigh, Vivian placed a hand on his chest and told him that they were in a public place.

“We've done far risky things,” he kept kissing her.

But not out there.

He was only teasing her, she knew, but the anticipation on the what could possibly happen made her heart beat faster.

“Where's the bill? Why is it taking so long?” Vivian muttered when she pulled away but ke kept kissing her on the side of her lips, her cheek, her jawline.

“Impatient?”

“You're making it hard for me to be patient, Wayne,” she laughed.

“Bruce?” A voice of a woman had Bruce stop in his kisses and turn his attention to the woman standing there. She was tall, slender, wore a fur coat, and very beautiful.

“Hi, um…” Bruce began.

“Stacy,” she supplied.

“Right, Stacy. How are things?”

“Same thing, getting modeling gigs for bigger brands – what about you? I haven't heard from you in a while.”

Oh. Stacy is one of billionaire-playboy Bruce Wayne's former flings, Vivian realized.

“Yes, because I'm now with someone — Stacy, this Professor Vivian Pryor. She works at Gotham University. Viv, this is Stacy, she's a model,” Bruce introduced.

Vivian got up and held out her hand to the woman. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The woman looked at her for a moment, taking her in from head to toe, and then took her hand to shake. Did she just judge her right there? Vivian thought.

“I guess you are in a serious relationship,” Stacy said to Bruce. “You’re not really the type of girls he would bring around every night.”

Did she just say she's ugly without saying she's ugly? Vivian raised a brow.

“Right,” Vivian muttered.

“Stacy –” Bruce began.

“Where is that bill? I'll just go pay for our meal,” Vivian got her purse, and when Bruce tried to stop her, she said to him, “I'll be right back. Just catch up with Stacy while I'm pay.”

“Viv –”

Vivian left and went inside where she met halfway with the waiter about to bring their bill and said she'll do the transaction at the counter itself. He didn't mind but it did give off the wrong impression to other customers. After getting their takeaways for Dick and Alfred, Vivian went back out and found Bruce waiting for her by the door.

“Where'd your friend go?” She asked.

“She's not my friend, Viv,” Bruce took the takeaway bag. “Listen, whatever she implied — she's just being mean about –”

“Bruce, I'm fine. Do you really think I'd cry about something like that? I'm an adult woman, I've dealt with people worse than Stacy. So, that won't make feel bad. What I did there was just me getting out of an awkward situation. Okay?”

Bruce wasn't convinced, she could see it in his eyes. He wrapped his arm around her and placed a long and loving kiss on her lips.

“I love you, Viv,” he whispered to her.

A smile crept on her face. It was only a couple of days ago when they finally said their first ‘I love you’ to one another. And it was Bruce who said it first, and since then he would always say it to her with sincerity.

“I love you too, Bruce,” she kissed him again. “Let's go home.”

~*~

As promised, Bruce spent the night with her before going to patrol. He only dropped off the food for Dick and Alfred to the butler before pulling her along up the stairs and to his room, and calling out to Dick that they'll go out for patrol in a few hours so he should eat his dinner now. Vivian wasn't someone who was that into a praise kink, but she did appreciate the way Bruce kissed her body and how he literally got on his knees and kiss her thighs and then ate her out.

God, that man knew how to use his tongue.

After what felt like an hour of love-making and cuddling in bed, Vivian was left lying in bed as Bruce got out of the shower and equipped himself with his Batman suit.

“You're not getting dressed?” Bruce asked.

“No. Why does it bother you?” Vivian sat up, teasingly dropping the blanket, showing him her nude chest.

Bruce walked up to her and leaned down to kiss her lips. “I need to focus, Viv.”

“Think of this as something to look forward to when you get back.”

“Then I better make sure this patrol goes smoothly.”

“Take care out there, Batman. And look out for Boy Wonder.”

Bruce kissed her again said, “Yes, Ma'am.”

The knock on the door had them fix themselves, with Bruce pulling up his cowl, and Vivian the blanket to hide her body from Dick who opened the door.

“Thought so,” he muttered when he saw Vivian waving at him then turned to Bruce. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

“I'm coming,” Bruce said, making Vivian laugh.

“You two are gross,” said Dick.

“Let's go, chum,” Bruce ushered him out.

“Good luck! And stay safe out there!” Vivian called out.

“We will! Night, Viv!” Dick replied before Bruce closed the door.

Alone in the bedroom, Vivian got dressed in her underwear but wore one of Bruce's shirts and her trousers so she could roam around the manor. Might as well get familiar with the place. In one of her ventures in the manor, she came across a wall where a sword was supposed to be, she'd know because that wall mount was made for holding swords, and the mantle below it looked like it used to hold something too.

“There once was a crossbow displayed there,” Alfred's voice startled Vivian.

“Alfred, you scared me,” Vivian took a breath.

“Apologies, Professor Pryor,” Alfred approached her. “I presume all is well? Are you in need of a Plan B, Ma'am? After the last time Master Bruce went out to get one, I have decided to have one on hand in case of unplanned occasions.”

Vivian blushed in embarrassment. She's known Alfred for two years now and she's not sure if she's that close with him to talk about those things. AKA, her sex-life with the man he raised as a son.

“No, I — uh — I… we were — Bruce was wearing a… condom,” she whispered the last part. “But thank you for mentioning it – hold on, is that why the last time I slept over there were Plan B pills on the bedside, with a glass of water?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Alfred, we do not deserve you,” Vivian laughed.

“No, you don't,” he joked. But their laughter ceased when they turned to the empty holders on the mantle and the wall. “Up there, there used to be a sword too. Young Master Bruce would call it Zorro's Sword because of how similar it looked to the prop in the film.”

Zorro, Vivian remembered. The night his parents were shot in that alley, they were coming out of the cinema after watching Zorro.

“I see,” Vivian said. “And the crossbow?”

Alfred sighed and gestured for her to follow. “When he was a boy, there is a myth that parents in Gotham would tell their children about a secret organization dating hundreds of years back in Gotham City, it was said that they were built by Gotham's elite and they are the ones that rule Gotham in the shadows.”

“The Court of Owls,” Vivian said.

“Yes.”

“I read about them when I took a course in Gotham history, and I wrote about them in a section of my book as part of Gotham's history too. They say they wear owl masks too, hence the name… others claim it's nothing but a cover for a sex cult.”

“People's imaginations are much wilder now.”

“How does that connect to the crossbow?”

“Well, after the death of his parents, Master Bruce believed the Court of Owls were behind it and began his investigation. He would escape his room and his home in the middle of the night to investigate, bringing with him the crossbow. The first time he used it was to shoot an owl in the attic, after that I took the thing away and hid it. The young man knew where to find it and stole it and went off with his investigation.

“One day his investigation got him trapped in an old building at Gotham. He was missing for three days. When we found him, he was unconscious, dehydrated and starving. He was in a comatose for three days and when he woke, he finally gave up in his search and said that the Court of Owls,” he sighed. “Do not exist…”

Vivian frowned as she imagined a young Bruce Wayne going through that. He was just a boy and…

They arrived at the study where Alfred opened one of the secret cabinets and showed the crossbow.

“The only place I knew he wouldn't find it, and is under lock and key,” said Alfred. “I never put it back because I thought it would just bring back bad memories.”

“Just like the sword,” Vivian sighed. “I also noticed something missing from there. A photograph?”

“A small portrait of his great-grandfather, Alan Wayne. There were suspicions that he too was a member of the Court but no evidence showed that he was. Master Bruce had it removed… I'm afraid that section of the manor is simply filled with bad memories that Master Bruce would prefer to not see again.”

“I can’ only imagine why,” Vivian frowned. “When I first came here I felt how heavy the manor was. The long history it holds and the tragedy that happened to Thomas and Martha Wayne and how it affected Bruce.” Her eyes went to the portrait in the study, it was of the Wayne family – Thomas, Martha, and a young Bruce. “I could only imagine how lively this place was when Mrs. Wayne was alive and running the show.”

“It was. In fact, there were many of us staff here. But paranoia got to Master Bruce that he had everyone dismissed but me. His guardian, and the only one he trusted. It took him a long time before he opened the manor again to people, and not just for parties, but for someone to freely walk its halls again,” Alfred's gaze was on her, she could feel it. “May I speak freely, Professor Pryor?”

Vivian's brows furrowed. “Of course, what is it?”

“I do hope you do not take this badly but, ever since Master Bruce brought you to the Manor, and the days you spend here, this old girl started to feel like how it was when Martha Wayne was around. When both of them were here, and when young Master Bruce used to run around causing trouble, bringing laughter in its halls. And though I know that the young Master Bruce will never return after that night, you have brought back a ray of hope and happiness in him, and it makes this old man glad to see him smile again.”

Vivian looked away in embarrassment.

Seeing her reaction, Alfred thought he have overstepped his ground and made her feel awkward with that weight of information and tried to apologize, “I meant, your presence brings light in the manor as well – and Master Dick around, he too livens up the place. I'm not saying that it's just because of you — Master Bruce very much cares for you, Professor Pryor. He cares deeply.”

“I understand what you meant,” Vivian said. “I can imagine how the place would look like in the holidays. I bet the manor used to be its own Christmas village with everyone here.”

“You can say so. Thomas and Martha Wayne would always invite the families of the staff to join us for the Christmas dinners — if they wish the spend the holidays here — and Master Bruce would play with the other children. He was loved by all, Master Bruce, that in the morning of Christmas, the staff would leave trails of little presents for him to look around in the manor. His own little treasure hunt.”

Vivian laughed but an idea came to mind.

“You know, Alfred, you just saved me another trip aimlessly walking around Gotham's shopping district.”

~*~

On the day of Christmas, Bruce woke up later than the others. Nothing new. Oddly enough, neither Alfred, Dick, nor Vivian were in the sitting room, the dining area, nor the kitchen. But there was a note that stuck on the fridge written in Vivian's penmanship that they were having a late lunch at the solar in the East Wing of the manor. Then in Alfred's penmanship saying: I brought the coffee here, Sir. No need to work in the kitchen. Right, he was banned from using the kitchen.

Walking the familiar path to the solar, Bruce looked around his surroundings, to see if there was anything different in the manor. He noticed the new curtains that Alfred had installed for the holidays. It was in the shades of emerald and maroon; then there were the Christmas decorations. He wondered how many trees there were in the manor. There was one in the sitting room, but then there was another in this area but smaller. Have they always had that many in the place during the holidays?

He made a mental note to tell Alfred to stop with the extra trees. They rarely go to the other parts of the manor anyway.

Then he saw it. The mantle where the crossbow and the sword used to be, but then something was off. There were other things that took the place of the sword and crossbow. On the wall-mounted holder, instead of the old sword he used to play with as a kid (despite his parents telling him not to) were candy canes that form an ‘x’, the on the wall where he have removed Alan Wayne's photo, in its place was a photo that he was sure he never saw before.

It was a enlarged photo booth photo of Vivian, Dick, and Alfred, all wearing Santa hats and were holding a card that says: “Happy Holidays! Congratulations on finding the first clue! We're not in the Solar, but you can find us by solving that clue.”

Bruce looked down on the mantle and saw the Christmas card with a cheesy holiday photo, and inside was a note written with Vivian's penmanship. It was a riddle, a poorly made one and he answered easily, and then at the very bottom she made a post-script: sorry for the shitty riddle, but hurry up!

Laughing, Bruce brought the card with him and went to the next destination. It was to the West Wing gallery. He used to go there and look at the paintings his mother purchased. Now it was empty but for one frame pinned to the wall with a photo of Alfred wearing a Santa Claus getup and a note telling him to wear the the jumper and to answer the riddle.

What jumper? He thought. Then he saw the present on the console and opened the box.

No.

It was an ugly Christmas jumper.

He hated those, even when he was a kid.

Inside the box there was another note, this time it was Vivian's handwriting: it's a holiday thing, wear it. Then in Alfred's handwriting, it had cypher. No sweat, he solved it easily and went to the next destination, on the way he was changing into the jumper — it was emerald with Christmas balls going a cross this torso. The next place was at the Great Hall where he would host parties. When he was a boy his parents would host galas there, and he would watch from the top of the stairs.

This time it was Dick's photo he saw with a present. Dick was wearing an elf's hat and ears and was holding the note with the riddle of the next place. The sitting room, he answered, and inside the box was a Santa Hat for him to wear.

Venturing back to the sitting room, he expected them to be there but the place was empty and the same as he left it earlier but for the present that was placed on the table. Opening the box he was met by an old Grey Ghost merchandise and inside was the photo of Vivian holding the last note — he hoped it was.

Say: wohs sevlesrouy.

“Wohs sevlesrouy,” Bruce did what he was told to. Was that a spell? He thought, then one moment the sitting room was empty with just the tree and the small decorations, now there were food on the table, the tree filled with presents, and a fire lit to keep them warm. Looking behind him, he saw Alfred, Dick, and Vivian standing there, all wearing Christmas jumpers and Santa hats.

“Happy Holidays!” They greeted him.

Bruce smiled and let out a laugh. “You did all that so you can set this up?”

“Actually, we were already here when you first came,” Dick said.

“What do you…”

“I did a little spell to get you to do this little treasure hunt that I set up with Alfred and Dick's help,” Vivian answered. “I used a spell to hide us and only when you say the words in this card,” she showed the card he held. “Will the glamor be removed and appear ourselves to you. Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Is this your Christmas gift to me? A little treasure hunt?” Bruce wrapped his arms around her.

“Yes, and that Grey Ghost toy. Did you enjoy it?” Vivian asked.

Bruce leaned down and kissed her lips. “I did. Very much, especially the photos. I think I'll keep them up somewhere so we get to see them… but the jumper.”

“Every family has an ugly Christmas jumper, and since we are a family we should to. So, you cannot take that off, Wayne.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” he kissed her again and again and again –

“Ahem!” Dick called for their attention. “We're right here, and I am starving!”

“Alright, alright, kiddo,” Vivian laughed and released Bruce but took his hand to lead him to the couch to sit as she and Alfred handed over the plates for food and hot cocoa for everyone. “Also, there is another thing for the holidays,” Vivian conjured something from midair. It was an old-looking book. “When I was a girl my dad would always read to me and my Mom, and later my siblings A Christmas Carol, maybe we can read this together later?”

Bruce smiled and took her hand. “We can read it by the fire before heading to bed.”

As they had their holiday meal as a family, Bruce's smile never fell as he watched his family enjoy the holidays, and as new traditions take place.

~ Many Years Later ~

Mastering the art of gift-giving was a skill that Vivian had to learn gradually, especially when it comes to Bruce. Her first successful and real gift became their family tradition of a holiday treasure-hunt for the children around the manor, ugly holiday jumpers, and from reading classic Christmas stories to watching Christmas movies all bundled together by the fire. As the years progressed, her gifts to Bruce had one focal point: family.

While he looks like a man who has everything with his riches, Bruce Wayne is one of the loneliest person in the world and Vivian realized that the best gift she could give him was something he will remember. Not material things but memories that he will cherish and that would always make him laugh.

And those holiday memories were frozen in time by photos they would take by the tree every year and were placed on the mantle where everyone’s stockings are. Before it was just the photo of Bruce, Vivian, Alfred, and Dick, with their respective stockings – which Alfred made – hanging by the fire; then came Jason and they got another photo the family with him and his own stocking, then Tim, the Cassandra, Stephanie and Damian, Duke, Kate would join occasionally, and the latest one was with Valerie in her holiday onesie and still a baby sleeping in her mother’s arms.

This year, they plan to have another family photo with Valerie, now two-years-old and can stay awake with them for a bit longer to get a photo. Also because she requested they take it again with Greg this time. How can they say no to that?

But holiday traditions don’t always go as planned.

One of the new traditions of the Wayne family was to do volunteer work around Gotham a day before Christmas. With Vivian bringing with her Valerie, who she carried in a carrier on her back (the girl enjoys using that) they were with Dick and Damian at the petting zoo where they helped animals and the children visiting. Valerie enjoyed her time with the animals and the other kids who welcomed her in their circle. At first they were a little intimidated, she was a Wayne after all, but then Valerie fell on the snow and dirtied her clothes and they all realized that she was just like them. A kid who gets their clothes dirty too.

It was a fun sight to see her daughter play with the other children of Gotham, especially those from the orphanage that Martha Wayne put up.

“The kid’s a natural in making friends,” Dick said while holding Haley in his arms.

“She is,” Vivian laughed as she saw one of the children holding Valerie and bringing her back.

“Mrs. Wayne, I think she’s freezing now,” the children said.

One cue, Valerie sneezed and snot came out.

“Ew,” the children laughed.

“Okay, time to warm up,” Vivian took Valerie and hugged her tight in her jacket to give her warmth. Dick helped in wiping her nose clean and putting his bonnet on Valerie to keep her warm. “Did you have fun?”

Valerie nodded and pointed to the direction of the children watching her. “Play?”

“Sorry, Val, you gotta get warm or you’ll be sick on Christmas,” the children said.

Valerie pouted.

“Here, we made this for you,” one of the children held out a carved toy out of wood. It was one of the activities in the place for the children to enjoy. Simple wood carving where they can make toys of their own. “It was Peter who made it and he’s really good at carving wood.”

The toy was a nutcracker and Valerie happily accepted it and said thank you.

“She won’t let go of that tonight,” Vivian said. “Thank you. I hope everyone had fun.”

“We did. Thanks, Mrs. Wayne. If Val needs friends she can visit any time – we’ll be right there at the orphanage.”

Vivian smiled sadly and reached out to mess with their hair. “I hope everything is okay there. Is it warm in the orphanage?”

“Yeah! We got the new heaters and the blankets too! Mrs. Hall said we were going to have Christmas dinner too!”

At that moment, Jason and the others who knew how to cook were helping out in preparing the children’s Christmas dinner. An early start but nothing beats a good meal after a day of playing in the snow.

“Why don’t we head inside and have some hot chocolate. I got someone do a run so we can all get warm in there, besides I’m sure the animals are cold now too,” Vivian got up and ushered everyone inside the petting zoo. Inside they were greeted by the sight of Bruce waiting with the table of hot cocoa and snacks for everyone to enjoy, and presents that sat in a huge red sack in the corner.

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne!” The children said as they lined up to get their cocoa and snack.

After greeting the children and handing each of them presents, Bruce went to his family who sat at one of the tables with their own drink and snack.

“Did Val get sick?” Bruce asked when he noticed his daughter’s red nose.

“Nothing I can’t fix,” Vivian winked at him. “She was having so much fun that she didn’t realize she was freezing. The kids brought her back when they saw the snot coming down.”

“Dada!” Valerie reached for him.

Bruce happily took his daughter and let her sit on his lap while he cleaned her face.

“Jason said that the dinner for the children are almost done, we can head back to the orphanage after they finish their drinks and snacks,” said Bruce.

“Good, because that’s all they’ve been talking about. And tomorrow, I can’t wait for our little family holiday tradition,” Vivian kissed his cheek. “Got everything set in the manor?”

Bruce smirked. “Damian won’t find the clues that easily this time, and I made sure that Val can participate too.”

“The Wayne Family Holiday Treasure Hunt. And after that we could watch Polar Express or Klaus for the movies? Those were the top two picks for tonight.”

“We’ll see, let’s have them battle it out the old fashion way.”

“Rock-paper-scissors?”

“Exactly.”

The sound of his phone ringing had Bruce reaching for it to answer. It was Alfred. Upon answering, he was met by the worried voice of the man at the other line with disturbing news. Seeing the expression on his face, Vivian knew what it meant.

“Understood, I’m heading back now,” Bruce ended the call. He then turned to his wife with an apologetic look on his face. “Something happened in Central Gotham, I need to go. I’ll take Damian with me. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll handle things here. Go and take Dick with you too.”

“No, Dick will stay with you. I won’t feel comfortable with leaving you both alone until you’re both at the manor,” Bruce leaned down to kiss her and then he kissed Val on top of her head. “I’ll be back.”

“Dada?” Val asked, feeling that her father was going to leave again.

“I’m sorry, Val, but Dada needs to take care of something.”

As if she understood, Val nodded and placed a sloppy and snotty kiss on his cheek. Bruce didn’t mind, he just wiped the snot off once his daughter wasn’t looking. Getting up, Bruce called for Damian and the two of them were running out of the place. Vivian had to make an excuse that it was some sort of emergency that they needed to see in the manor.

~*~

Returning to the Manor, Dick, Jason, and the others had to head to the cave and get change so they can join Batman and Robin in the case, this left Vivian, Valerie, and Alfred in the house. As much as they would have wanted to wait for the others to return for dinner, Valerie was hungry and Alfred had medicine he needed to take for his ailments. After dinner, Vivian had Alfred rest for the night, reminding him that she can do the dishes while giving Valerie a bath (“Alfred, the best gift you can give me is seeing you relax,” Vivian joked, “Let me handle these.”).

“Dada?” Valerie asked while playing with her toys in the tub.

“Dada is at work with Damian and the others,” Vivian washed the soap off them both.

Valerie grabbed the Bat-duckie (a rubber-duck with Batcowl that Stephanie saw and bought) and showed it to her mother.

“Yup, Bat-duckie,” Vivian laughed. “Okay, duckie, time to get out.”

After draining the tub, Vivian took her daughter and brought her to the master bedroom’s bed. With Bruce still out, she decided to let Valerie sleep there with her until her father comes home. Besides, Bruce tends to take their daughter from her nursery and have her sleep between them every after his patrol.

Putting on the Batman onesie, Valerie started crawling towards the three books Vivian had put out for her to choose from for tonight’s reading, but Vivian pulled her back, making the girl laugh, so she could finish doing the buttons of the clothes.

“Alright, alright, go pick one for storytime,” Vivian took the chance to finish getting dressed as her daughter crawled towards the books and inspected each one, as if it were the first time she was reading them again. But with how the corners were creased and the pages have seen better days, that was the hundredth time they’ve read those books and Valerie doesn’t get tired of them.

When Valerie didn’t seem to find anything she liked, the toddler crawled down the bed, clutching on the comforter for leverage, and ran to her reading nook at her father’s bedside and choose from the handful of books they keep there.

“You miss, Dada, don’t you?” Vivian whispered as she watched the girl look closely at the Father-Daughter’s pile of books.

Valerie finally found the book she wanted to read and showed it to her mother. It was Disney's Treasure Planet Children's Storybook, one of their daughter’s favorite movies of all after watching it with Dick and Barbara. When she saw that in the bookstore, she immediately showed it to her father and asked him to read it to her. Bruce purchased the book – not caring of its expensive price since it’s one of the collectable items of the movie – and would read it to her every night she would ask him to.

“Let’s go,” Vivian pulled her daughter up to the bed and had them snuggle under the covers. “Where did you and Dada left off?”

Valerie turned the pages until they came across the part where Silver and Hawkins opened the gate of Treasure Planet. They began their story, with Vivian using different voices for each character and – to make it interesting – used her magic to pop-out the characters from the book and move around before them. Valerie listened and watched intensely as they read the story, following the words that would pop out of the pages for her to remember what they look like and sound like. Eventually – before they could make it to the end – Valerie fell asleep.

Yawning, Vivian checked the time –

It was that late already? She thought. Maybe this case was a little too much for Batman and his Robins.

Or not.

The bedroom door creaked open and in came Batman with his cowl pulled down and his gaze never leaving the sight of his wife and daughter in bed about to go to sleep.

“You’re still awake?” Bruce asked.

“She just fell asleep,” Vivian answered and greeted him with a kiss. “How was the emergency.”

“Handled. It was Faust causing trouble, we handled it with the League. Harley Quinn was there.”

“To lend a hand or cause chaos?”

“Both,” Bruce let his cowl and cape drop, along with his gloves so he could pick up his daughter from the bed. “You finished the book without me?”

“No, we haven’t reached the ending yet. She misses you, that’s why she wanted to read it,” Vivian placed it back on his bedside. Watching him cradle their daughter would always bring a warmth in her chest that had Vivian fall in love all over for him. The look in his eyes as he watched their daughter spoke a thousand words of love; the way he held her looked like someone holding a porcelain doll and a cherished treasure.

It was as if Valerie didn’t poop or puke on them both as she grew up.

“I’ll take her back to her nursery,” Bruce said to her.

“What do you mean? Don’t you want her to sleep here beside us?”

“I do, she does every night, and I love it. But I feel like I haven’t been a husband to my wife for a while now,” Bruce turned to her with those blue eyes of his that would still make her blush.

“You haven’t neglected me, if that’s what you mean,” Vivian reassured him.

“I’ll be right back,” With that, he left, bringing with him Valerie who he placed in her crib, tucked in with Echo and Greg the Gargoyle around her. When he came back, he had with him the baby monitor, which he tossed at Vivian’s direction before heading to the shower.

Hearing the water running and the door slightly ajar, Vivian thought for a moment and decided – fuck it, she can just dry her hair again with magic later. Getting up, she took off her clothes and knocked on the shower door.

“Is there something you need?” Bruce asked but he froze when he saw her standing here in the nude.

“Maybe you want some company?” Vivian shrugged.

He moved aside to let her in, and as soon as the shower door was shut, he caged his wife against the wall and captured her in a kiss.

“I missed you,” Bruce whispered as he trailed kisses down her neck.

“I miss you too,” she wrapped her arms around him. When he pulled away from the kiss, Vivian thought he wanted something specific and was about to go down on her knees when but Bruce held her up.

“No. I just want you here with me,” He wrapped his arms around her and buries his face at the base of her neck.

Smiling, Vivian turned off the shower and opened the door. “Okay,” she whispered and held him tight.

~*~

In bed, the couple laid in each others arms as they enjoyed each other's company in silence. It was one of the beauties of their relationship, they can just be there without saying a word or doing anything. Even the silence was enough for them, all that matters was they have each other's company.

“Our anniversary is coming,” Bruce suddenly spoke.

“Bruce, it won't be until April,” Vivian laughed. “You're way to advanced.”

“We didn't do much this year, so I was thinking we take a trip. Just the two of us.”

“Where?”

Bruce adjusted his hold on her, propping her leg over him and holding her even closer. “That's why I mentioned it now because I know it'll take us time to find the right place.”

“Kind of hard since we've gone to most of the cities around the world.”

“Not always for pleasure, most of the time it's because of work. Both our day jobs and the League. Do you have any place in mind you want to spend at least two days of vacation?”

She turned to her husband in disbelief. “You are initiating a two-day vacation? Ha! You are growing old, my love. Back then I can't even get you to agree to one night trip to New York.”

“We had our honeymoon that lasted for two weeks. And come on, it's New York, Viv.”

She rolled her eyes. “The New Jerseyan in you is coming out. What's gotten you to think like this, Batman?”

Bruce laughed and kissed her.

He's avoiding the question.

Bruce never kept secrets from her, but he does tend to procrastinate when it was something that would make her worry or could possibly ruin the mood they were in.

“Bruce.”

Another kiss.

“My love, tell me,” she softly pushed him away.

Sighing, he admitted: “The other night, I was chasing a teenager who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And in the chase my knee…”

“Oh, Bruce,” Vivian sat up and had him lay on his back.

“Viv, come back.”

“I know, but let me see,” She pulled down the blanket and propped his heavy leg on her lap. The stitches from his multiple surgeries were the first thing she saw, along with the scars she got from being Batman. Seeing them, she leaned down and kissed the part where the biggest scar was. It was when she thought she might have to amputate his leg but Vivian healed him and held him together until they got him to a surgeon that fixed his injuries.

“Did it hurt tonight?” She asked him.

“No.”

She looked at him with a deadpan look.

“There was some slight feeling of discomfort.”

Placing a hand on his knee, Vivian began the spell that spread warmth throughout his veins and muscles and had Bruce sighing in relief.

She scoffed. “Not in pain, huh? Don't even think about sitting up.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Oracle.”

“Clark?”

There was a moment of silence before he admitted. “I asked him to use his x-ray vision to see the problem.”

“Good to know that you would go to your husband first before your wife,” she teased him, which earned a poke on the side, which tickled her. “Does it feel better now?”

“Yes. Can you, please, lay down with me?” Bruce pulled her to his side again. “If you're wondering about if I have thought about retiring, it has crossed my mind…”

“I just want you to still be you when you finally decide to pass on the cowl or hang it up in the cave. You're not getting any younger, you know, you're becoming an old man,” they laughed.

“An old man with a young wife.”

“Please, forties is not young.”

“You still look young.”

“I have white hair now, and I'm getting more wrinkles.”

“You're still beautiful, Viv.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t.”

Bruce laughed and kissed his wife. “There are times when I think that this is just a never ending battle. That I should just let it be because Batman can't save people from themselves. I cannot save Gotham from itself. The people here refuse change. This is the world they want.”

Vivian frowned as she remembered the night he said something similar and broke down, he did consider hanging up the cowl but then one night there were no violent crimes in Gotham. Just one night of it gave him hope that it was possible. But now…

“But whenever I see our daughter… I don't want to lose that light in her eyes. I want her to still have hope and to live in this city without fearing its streets.”

“I know,” Vivian held him tight. “It's difficult for you to accept defeat, but Bruce one man can only do so much, and I think Batman has done enough. He has brought not just fear to his enemies but hope to those he helps. To those he protects. I don't care what they say about Superman or Wonder Woman, you are a man, and you are able to do all of this. Batman is and will always be the greatest hero there is, and the lessons you passed down to everyone will be your legacy.

“And though I know it's hard to accept the truth, the truth is… this war you've been fighting won't end with you. And I have accepted that — and I know Val has her father's good and caring heart, she will be the Batman's legacy too along with her brothers and sisters.”

Bruce held her tight. “Would it be alright if you hold on to that watch for a while?”

Vivian smiled and kissed him. “I'll hold on to it until you're ready to hang up the cowl… or maybe I can pawn it for a while… get something for myself while I wait.”

“Smartass,” Bruce laughed and pulled her to lay on top of him. Their digital clock sounded a short and soft alarm. It was midnight now. “Merry Christmas, Viv.”

“Merry Christmas, Bruce,” Vivian leaned down and kissed him. In their kiss, Bruce let out a throaty groan as he felt her pressing down on him. When he pulled away to ask, Vivian answered him by taking off her shirt and her bottoms, then said, “Part one of my gift.”

“I thought holiday sex isn't a gift,” he smirked.

“It's not, but it is the holidays, so gotta have a theme.”

“Please don't tell me you have a Mrs. Claus lingerie with you.”

“No, but,” she reached under her pillow and placed a hat on Bruce's head. It was a Santa hat. “But that will do.”

Laughing, Bruce sat up and kissed his wife deeply and pulled her closer to him as she pulled down his underwear and ground herself on his growing erection.

“Happy holidays, Mr. Pryor,” Vivian gasped as she sank down on him.

Bruce let out a sigh of pleasure to be in her warmth. “Happy holidays, Mrs. Wayne.”

~*~

When Damian saw his little sister climbing down her crib, he shrugged it off and simply watched as she carefully gripped the handles and took one step at a time until she was down, with the family cats and dogs, and Greg the Gargoyle.

“Very good, Val,” Damian commended her.

“Dami! Mewwy ‘smas!” Valerie hugged his leg.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Val,” he picked her up. “Let's go brush your teeth then we can wake Mom and Father.”

To tease him, Valerie blew her morning breath at her brother and Damian hummed in displeasure. “Hmm.”

A quick trip to the bathroom to brush her teeth and Damian standing outside the bathroom with the door shut as she did her business, until she called out to him saying: “Done!” And he would go in and help her clean up.

“Come on, let's surprise Mom with the jumpers she got us,” Damian changed her out of the pajamas and into the Christmas jumpers they would get every year for the family. This year, their theme was Super-Holiday Jumpers. It was Stephanie's idea when she and Tim found the whole set in the mall and bought one for everyone to wear. He was wearing a Robin jumper that had the insignia at the very middle incorporated to the design, and Val wore a red and gold one that had the Wonder Woman symbol at the front.

“And the finishing touch,” he placed the mini-Santa hat on her head. Val laughed and started pulling him along.

Standing before their parents’ bedroom door, Damian had Valerie stand by the wall with her eyes closed as he knocked loud and called out, “I'm coming in!” then waited a few seconds before opening the door to check. Good, they were dressed in their holiday jumpers, but oddly enough the Santa hat was on the ground at this time of day.

“New wake up call?” Vivian said to him.

“It was my way to make sure Valerie does not have to go through that nightmare of seeing what we all saw then while at a young age,” said Damian. “Coast is clear, Val.”

From the door, Valerie walked into their parents’ bedroom and ran to her father who scooped her off the ground. “Good morning, Val,” Bruce greeted her.

“Mownee!” Valerie said, and right on time her stomach growled.

“Okay, time for breakfast, and once everyone is here, the Wayne Family Treasure Hunt will begin,” Vivian had Damian under her wing and led him out the room and to the kitchen.

With Jason staying at the manor for the holidays, he's taking the task in preparing the meals with Alfred helping in some way. For breakfast, he surprised everyone with a holiday themed meal, and Val's favorite which he served in her favorite plate too.

Not long after – with the dishes washing themselves – one by one everyone was arriving at the manor wearing their favorite super-holiday jumpers, bringing food for dinner, and a competitive look on their faces knowing what's to come.

Gathered in the sitting room, Vivian, Bruce, and Alfred stood before everyone else as they waited for the two teams to finalize each other. Dick's team got Barbara, Stephanie, and Cassandra; and Jason's team got Tim, Damian, and Duke. Val will be participating as a guide for both teams to accomplish all of the tasks. Bruce made some tasks that need both teams to work together so Valerie could play with all of them.

“I'm telling you now, it's not going to be easy this year,” Vivian told them.

“Please, you said that last year and we finished it before you can finish a bottle of scotch,” Jason teased.

“Trust me, this is harder, and you'll need these too,” Bruce tossed them back their coats and helped Valerie in hers. “The clues are not just in the manor, it spans all around the estate.”

All cockiness flew out the window as they realized how big Wayne Estate was.

“You're joking, right?” Barbara asked.

“This will be a test of physical and mental skill, and baby skills too. The living room will be your base for every treasure you find,” Vivian handed Valerie to Jason as she started to make grabbing motions at him. “We made sure to put a line as well,” she gestured the magically conjured line between the teams and the sides of the room. “So no one would go on a territory war. You got until three in the afternoon to finish the task.”

“So, it's that difficult, huh?” Stephanie laughed. “Okay, that's interesting.”

“Everyone starts here inside and around the manor, so Val can play too. But when it's time for the excavations, she'll be having her nap.”

“Gotta prepare for Christmas dinner and movie night, huh?” Tim took a photo of Val and Cassandra playing some clapping game.

Vivian then placed the two Christmas cards with the first riddle on the table. One red and the other blue. “Alfred, do the honors,” she gestured to the man.

“With this, the Wayne Family Holiday Treasure Hunt begins,” Alfred started the clock, and Dick and Jason grabbed the cards and started reading it silently with their teams.

“Got it!” Tim and Stephanie exclaimed and were leading their teams to the direction of the attic, leaving a trail of laughter, competition, and the sound of Valerie giggling.

~*~

The treasure hunt went on for hours with each team solving puzzles that involved them using what they learned from Batman, and some that they needed Valerie to accomplish. They got five pieces of the piece they were going to build and set them on each of their tables in the living room where the timer was. When the next clue was leading them out to the vast estate, they had to give Val to Vivian, who was now asking for nap time.

All the fun and excitement got her tired.

“Time's running out,” Vivian noted the clock that was fifteen minutes from the end.”

“They almost got it,” Bruce showed her the camera feed that showed Damian and Cassandra going against each other to get to their piece first. It was Cassandra who got it first and she jumped down for Jason to catch and the whole team ran back to the vehicle they used and head back to the manor, but Dick's team wasn't far off and they were racing back to the manor.

Vivian took the walkie talkie, which they gave to each team lead, and said to all of them, “You better not crash.”

They saw them laughing and stepped on it.

“I tell them to be careful and they push on the gas,” she sighed.

When the teams arrived at the teams arrived, they raced to the living room and were now building the piece that Bruce hid around the estate.

“Come on, Grayson!” Damian said as they built whatever it was they were building.

“Jason, get your stubby fingers out of the way!” Stephanie exclaimed and took over.

“DONE!” They all called out.

“And thirty seconds to spare,” Duke proudly said. “What is this, anyway?”

They were all wondering what that does. It looked like a Christmal tree decor – red and blue.

“Not quite,” Vivian smirked.

Tim and Stephanie groaned and grabbed each of their ornament and ran to the tree, looking for that one piece that was missing in the pattern.

That's why the tree looked a person with OCD made it! It was a missing piece for the tree!

“Hand it over, Drake!” Damian grabbed the ornament and hung it at the very top where the missing piece is suppose to be, just as Stephanie shoved hers at the bottom that was out of reach.

“HA!” They all declared they have won.

“With ten seconds to spare,” Bruce mused. “Congratulations.”

“What's the prize?” Barbara asked.

“Well, team Blue won,” Vivian got out an envelope for them. “Gift cards for shopping – special gift cards that you can use for anything you want.”

Dick's team cheered and howled in success, all taking an expensive gift card for their spending.

“Damnit!” Jason muttered. He was glaring at Dick as the eldest Robin gloated. “Oh, shut the fu--”

“Mowning!” Valerie entered the living room in her holiday pajamas and still rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out of them.

“Aw, good afternoon, Val!” Vivian scooped up her daughter. “Dick’s team won. Why don't you give Jay and the others a hug too cheer them up.”

Valerie reached out to Jason and snuggled in his arms and then fell asleep again.

“I guess she's still sleepy,” Jason laughed and cradled her.

“Christmas Dinner isn't until later, so let her sleep,” said Bruce. “Is it alright if she stays with you? She looks comfortable there.”

“Yeah, she's good here,” Jason sat down on the couch. “I guess the presents can wait later when she wakes up.”

“I think we can hand out the other presents since Babs and Duke still have to go to their families,” Vivian shrugged.

They all agreed and gathered around to get their gifts. Vivian and Bruce handed out the gifts under the tree, skipping Valerie's gifts for the girl to open later. When they opened their gifts, everyone was happy to get what they always wanted. The gifts that Bruce got were more sentimental with Jason finally fixing Thomas Wayne's old broken watch and handing it as a gift after all this time, Dick giving him a framed photo from one of the early days of being just the four of them in the manor, and from Vivian was a photo album that collected their memories throughout the years, from their days when they were still dating until their life as a married couple, and now with their family.

The sight of their real wedding had Bruce smiling. Gotham doesn't know about that one, but it was the most intimate and most memorable one for him.

Taking his wife by her chin, Bruce had her face him to place a kiss on her lips. No words, but Vivian knew what he meant and pressed her forehead on his.

“From our first case to our last,” Bruce murmured.

“From our first case to our last,” she said back.

“Val's awake!” Cassandra helped the girl up and handed her a glass of water. “Presents?”

The word had the sleep disappear from her eyes and Valerie jumped down and ran to the tree, dragging Cassandra with her.

“From me,” Cassandra held out the present to Valerie.

As Valerie started to unwrap the presents, Barbara and the others started taking photos and videos of the moment for them to look back to. In their line of work, it's these little moments that they live for. It's also what reminds them of what they are fighting for.

#batman x reader #batman #dc fanfic #fanfic #bruce wayne #batman fanfiction #batfam #dc batman

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microposting · 4 hours ago

Text

October visits a friend.

Chapter 3

After another five minutes of awkward, stumbling fast-walking, Kim relented: “Just pick me up.”

There was a loose screw on one of the vents. October untwisted it easily and swung up the grating, almost like one might manually open a garage door. He slipped inside and let it drop down behind him. “And you won’t be mad, right, sir?” he asked again.

“No, oh my god. Where the hell are we going?”

“I have a friend, sir. She, um… I help her…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Sometimes I help her take your food.”

“WHAT!?”

“You said you wouldn't get mad!”

“Jesus!” He threw his hands up. “Fine!”

The rest of the walk down the vents was in silence. Even October’s footsteps, he had some well-practiced technique that didn’t make the metal clatter. He set Kim down in front of another grate and squeezed his arm through the gaps to undo the screw on the other side. When he lifted it up, Kim just slipped underneath. He needed a break from getting carted around like an infant. It was wearing on his dignity.

They were in the laundry room. October led him to the back corner of one of the machines and slipped into a hole in the wall that was a bit too big for the tubing that went through it. There were curtains hung up in here. A loose, geometric pattern. Light filtered through them, all red and hazy.

“Radley?” October called out.

“Huh?” Low. Casual.

October pulled back the curtain for Kim to come through. They were in a living space now, spread out over a long, thin room, almost a hallway. Closest to them, there was low dining table with cushions on the ground, Japanese-style. Some sort of long bean bag thing on the other end. Along the way, a line of cabinets, counters, barrels. He kind of expected to see more repurposed human goods. A pill organizer stuffed with grains, squat spice bottles as stools, that sort of thing. Although the fabric all seemed human-made, and the light was coming from scattered LED candles.

Another curtain on the opposite end pulled open and a woman stepped out. Around October’s age, with some grey coming in, clothed lightly, just a loose tank top and boxers. He wouldn’t beat around it: she was hot. Survivalist hot, beat-your-ass hot. Kim flashed with jealousy.

Radley approached him, barely looking up in favor of focusing on the pants she was repairing. Didn’t even notice Kim. “You’re out late. Did your boy die or something?” She barked a laugh.

“No─”

“Ah well, one day he’ll─” she froze. Eyes wide, frozen on Kim. He stepped a little closer to October. “Oh, what the fuck?”

“Yeah. I need some supplies─”

“What the fuck? Can that even happen?”

“Well, apparently.”

“What the hell did that? I know you didn’t, you little kiss-ass.” Okay, great, so they weren’t secretly plotting to assassinate him then. Just Radley.

“His evil boss. It doesn’t matter! We need to go get help and that’s gonna take at least a day, maybe more, so we need food and supplies.”

She chuckled with a dead expression. “God, October, you’re… incredible.” It wasn’t a compliment. “Hey, wanna pop in back for a chat real quick? Alone?”

“No.” He bent down to peel Kim off his leg and held him against his chest. “I’m not leaving him.”

Radley blinked. “Fine. Supplies it is.” She rooted around in her cabinets. “Wanna stay the night too?”

“Master? I don’t think the buses are running for much longer.” Kim hesitated. “Or we could stay in the cage.”

“No,” he snapped. “No, I don’t want Bob to come back for me.”

Radley tossed over a proper backpack. Looked like denim. Whose clothing was she pillaging for this stuff? “I’ll be nice, you can sleep in the bed. You owe me, though, if your all-powerful master there ever lets you out of his sight again.”

Kim gripped at the fabric of his sweater.

They ate a plain rice dinner in silence. Kim battled with his single grain, hurting his jaw just to get a bite off.

The bed was fine. Pretty lumpy. Made sense, since every tiny bump in the hand-stuffed mattress was amplified to him at his ridiculous scale. “Is your bed at home this uncomfortable?” he asked October.

October chuckled. He sat down at the bed’s foot, careful not to disturb Kim at the head. “No, sir. Radley lives rough.”

Kim huffed and laid back to stare at the ceiling, which was made of a single plywood sheet, all its little spots and lines magnified, with infinitely smaller spots and lines revealing themselves inside. He numbly followed one for a while, as it traveled down and around into a shrinking spiral. Hah.

“AH!”

Kim scrambled back up and October jumped back with his hands up in surrender. “I’m so sorry, sir, are you okay?”

“What are you doing?”

“I- the foot massage, sir?”

He relaxed. Jesus, he was that jumpy over the same hands that rubbed his feet every single night? “Right,” he muttered. “Go ahead, October.”

October reapproached slowly, watching Kim’s face for any signs of discomfort, which Kim hated, so he laid back down and closed his eyes. October’s hand wrapped fully around one foot with room to spare. His palm was wider than Kim’s sole was long. His thumb settled in on Kim’s arch and began to lightly knead.

If he kept his eyes closed, and ignored… everything else… That thumb was following the same patterns that October’s hands did, on a normal night. He could almost imagine he was back in his bed, and October was his handheld pet again, and everything was fine.

The curtain rustled aside. “Hey, Toby- oh.” Radley scowled at the scene before her. October and Kim both flustered, but October tried his best to pretend he wasn’t. Radley scoffed and left.

Kim kicked him off. “This is stupid,” he grumbled.

“Master, I think if you ever needed to relax─”

“Did you fuck her?”

His face fell. “No!”

“Oh, she’s calling you Toby and you never fucked her?”

He gripped the sheets. “Master, she calls me that because I hate it!” Kim huffed and crossed his arms in childish protest. “Please, sir. I’m completely committed to you. I just… I sit in that same cage every single day. I got bored.”

“I could’ve gotten you more stuff to do!”

“What, I’m supposed to be happy sitting inside playing video games all day!?” He threw his arms up. Kim flinched backwards and whimpered. “Oh, sir, I’m so sorry.”

He stared at his hands. “I… I wanna go to bed.”

“Of course, sir.”

It would be nice to be held. Tight, like a teddy bear. At the same time, even passively lying next to him, October’s hulking body gave him the heebie-jeebies. His slow breaths like thunder, his little shifts like earthquakes. When he was at his regular size, Kim must’ve had an even more dramatic effect on October’s senses. He never complained…

The whole “sneaking out” issue was worth dropping. Caused more problems than it was worth.

The bed rocked and swayed. Footsteps trailed off.

…Toby?

I couldn’t sleep.

Silence.

What is wrong with you?

Come on, Radley.

No, man. What the hell is wrong with you? What are you doing?

He’s─he really needs me─

What’s your excuse now? He’s not feeding you anymore, all he’s doing is being an asshole and wasting your time.

Radley, he rescued me.

He took you out of one cage and put you in another one.

I─he means well.

I do not fucking care. I don’t care. He─Jesus Christ, Toby. October, you can take care of yourself. You’re not lazy, you’re not stupid. Why? Why won’t you? Why do you want to be some-some toy, for a fucking kid, October. …You actually do want this to get fixed, don’t you? You wanna be back in the cage.

No, Radley, I don’t.

He’s gonna put you back. He’s gonna get a better cage, actually. …You’re an embarrassment, October.

I’m not…

All your friends are back in that lab rotting in cages, and you can leave it all behind. Look at him. He’s a bug, he’s pathetic. You could kill him if you wanted. And this is what you’re choosing. …Whatever. I guess it’s your life. Go back to bed, October.

Footsteps approached. The bed rocked and swayed.

Kim held his breath. It hovered over him, he could feel it, just in the slightest movement of the air. Over his neck, a hand as big as his head, as powerful as every muscle in his body. It twitched and descended. Fingertips trailed down his hair… and pulled away.

October shuddered. His breath caught in his throat, and he started to quietly cry.

Loyal

macro/micro, plot with porn, m/m, m/f

His shit job has given Kim one good thing─his beloved rescue tiny, October, who adores him like a god. But will their relationship survive when the tables are turned?

Chapter 1

The little package dropped onto his desk with a thunk and Kim shot up, bleary-eyed, gulping down saliva. He turned to the presence blocking out his decayed yellow ceiling light. Bob smiled back down at him, laugh lines rendered starkly in the harsh lighting, eyes oddly inexpressive. Kim blinked and grunted out a little animal mbuh . “Jesus,” he slurred. “M’so sorry, there-there was a cop car out my window all night, lights going the whole time, and─”

Bob laughed. “Don’t worry, I get it, you’re on your break. Just passing out some treats for end of semester. Go dogs!”

He sauntered off. Kim glanced over to that package. Paper-wrapped, crumpled, boxy. He’d dropped one on Whitney’s desk too. Oh, yeah, all four of them got one. Kim unwrapped it and found a gorgeous little brownie, top flaking off, soft middle. Wow. Delicious. That was… really nice of him.

When Whitney returned to her seat, she was about as surprised. “Does he bake? Were these─ is he married, or something?”

“Don’t think so.” Kim smiled. “You think he’d be as weird with Ava if he was?”

She made a face. “Well. It’s a good brownie, and I guess it’s good that he didn’t scream at you for sleeping… but I still don’t have to like him.”

Kim laughed. They smiled at each other, for a moment.

“Well,” Kim said. “I should do my rounds.”

Ava was prepping syringes on the far end of the lab and gave him a toothy smiled and a wave when he entered. Kim returned a nod. She was… nice, he just did not have the energy to match her today. Jesus.

The cages were stacked on the wall closest to the entrance. A foot across each and a little less shadow, but they still seemed plenty roomy for their occupants, as much as they loved complaining. Kim grabbed the two slates of syringes from the mini-fridge on the counter top. SAFETY TRIAL DITAX ONE on the side of one container, TWO on the other. 1.5μL per. Right. Perfect. He logged into the lab desktop and opened the data spreadsheet in one tab, the cage reference map on the other. He had it memorized, of course, but if Bob saw that he didn’t have it open, he’d have his head.

Kim tapped the PIN into cage A1 and its four inhabitants watched, bored, passive, as his hand reached in and grabbed the closest one. “Anything new?” he asked.

“No,” the tiny man droned. 41744 on his ankle tag. Kim wasn’t supposed to know this, but the other tinies called him Bingo.

“Alright.” He typed one-handed. Kim picked up syringe A1-1, flipped Bingo around, tugged down his pants, and stuck him in the ass.

It just went on. Day after day, jab after jab, depressive “no” after “no”. Maybe the occasional excitement of someone developing a stomachache. It got to him, honestly. The way the new ones squealed and writhed but the old ones barely tensed. Just laid on their bellies in his palm, eyes down, shoulders slumped.

After a cage was finished, they did get their lunches. He could feel good about that. Even if it usually was some sort of slurry.

Then back to his desk to run data, then errands for Bob, then doing laundry for the tinies, and finally he was shoving his empty tupperware into his eight-year-old backpack and heading for the bus stop.

He’d developed a habit of beelining to his IKEA dresser the moment he got home. Inside the cage, little October sat on his knees in front of the glass, smiling up with those big yes-master, I-love-you-master eyes. He had a decade on his owner, but Kim could still only seem to think of him as cute. Obedient and sweet, easily excited, and overall just so… soft. Soft face, soft body, wavy dirty-blond hair that was maddeningly soft, like mouse fur. Kim unhooked the hatch on the cage’s top and let October hoist himself into the presented hand. He settled onto his bed, and October got comfortable on top of his pillow.

Kim cupped his fingers around his tiny back and stroked a thumb along the side of his face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Did you have a good day today?”

October nodded eagerly. “I finished Pokemon Platinum, sir.”

He grinned. “Really! How’d you like it? Do you want another game?”

“It-it was good, sir. I’d like to do some more reading, though. I─” October fell silent. His jaw went lax, his eyes unfocused, his shoulders slumped. Kim grimaced and dug the notebook out from under his bed.

October came to, saw him scribbling something down, and put his face in his hands. “No, no, no,” he grumbled. “That’s the third this week.”

“Calm down. You’re still trending down.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, sir. But, I-I think I had more seizures today, while you were at work. When I was playing the game, it felt like I kept missing─”

“October.”

“Sorry, master.” He looked down.

“We can only track what we’re sure of.”

“Yes, master. Thank you for helping.”

In some attempt to salvage his mood, Kim retrieved October’s DS from the cage and talked through his defeat of the Elite Four, his final team, all his inspirations for their nicknames. Playing was a bit of a workout for October, he noted with amusement. He had to move back and forth between the two sides of the console and even the button presses took some effort. It was probably good for him, since he was cooped up in his cage so often. That was a bummer, sure, but it wasn’t like Kim could just give him free range when he was out.

It was six before he knew it. He was starting to feel groggier─must be getting hungry. “You want anything special for dinner?”

“No…” October mumbled back. He was engrossed in the game again. Disrespectful of him, maybe, but Kim could find it in himself to forgive the little guy just this once.

“Alright. Gonna pop you in your cage again. I’ll be right back.”

He let him re-situate with his DS and then latched the top shut.

Instant mashed potatoes were an option. He thought he had some frozen broccoli and ground beef to go with that. Could make a sandwich, but October got pretty disappointed when Kim made something like that while he got scraps, even if he tried not to show it… but he still loved whatever he got. Probably anything was an upgrade from the lab slop, or sharing quarters with three strangers, or getting a daily ass-jab or being forced to swallow a massive pill, or developing absence seizures from one of those pills… Okay, well, they still didn’t know if that was from the BEV trial. But still. What else could it have been?

Kim grabbed the mashed potato box from his cabinet. He turned it around to refresh himself on the directions… goddamn, he just couldn’t focus his eyes. That grogginess─just getting worse, way past peckishness. Way more than… He blinked. The text got blurrier, and he swallowed down vomit, and collapsed onto the kitchen tile.

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cacw · 2 months ago

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getting away with murder

#splashtail #curlfeather #he's the best friend you made in elementary school your mom just can't stand #he wears his shoes in your house but he's always polite so nobody says anything #she asks if he wants to stay for dinner just to be nice but she doesn't really want him to but he does anyway #warrior cats #and then he kills her

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iliveinprocrasti-nationn · 5 months ago

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12 hour road trip tomorrow stuck in the car one on one with my mum. i already do not really want to go but this could provide another layer of psychic damage

#my mum is trying with this bc she wants me to be comfortable and i haven’t been doing well but it’s just #aunt and uncle staying in the same airbnb and i wasn’t told about this until last week #dinner at my uncle’s house which includes the people he has staying there who i don’t know #dinners actually. multiple days. and my mum was nice and made sure the place we’re staying is close enough that I can leave and walk back #if i get overwhelmed or just need to go. which i do appreciate #but it’s too much #and my next semester starts in 11 days #and it’s ridiculous but i just want to be at work. i want to be in my apartment and go to work and come home and eat dinner and watch tv and #do nothing. and instead i will have two days of that which will be otherwise mostly spent prepping for classes #and i can’t pull out of the trip now but i want to so bad #anyway yall feel free to message or send asks tomorrow because i will either be breaking down or completely out of it #but I’ll also be stuck in a car for 12 hours #vent tw

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mohntilyet · 1 month ago

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imagine being illario and finally finding the resolve to kill your cousin right. you seduce and fuck a blood mage venatori magister to get her to do this for you. you figure you’ll eventually kill her once you are first talon, tie up the loose end and make it look good for you. a vengeance story! except when your cousin’s body shows up your grandma retreats into herself presumably out of grief and you’re like jesus christ he’s a corpse and still the favorite. at this point you start feeling some regret and at the wake you’re beside yourself. it helps to be really feeling some of that to fool everyone else. but months pass and your grandma still isn’t even discussing the inheritance and you have to be normal because you don’t want to incriminate yourself. and then a year later some random guy (worse if its a de riva tbh) shows up saying they need your cousin to kill an elven god (what.) and he’s the only one who could (insulting). and its at this point your grandma is like “lucanis died… but he is not dead!”. record scratch freezeframe. while you juggle with the fact that the freak woman you fucked specifically to get her to kill your cousin didn’t even kill your cousin AND your grandma didn’t bother telling you (for good reason ofc but she doesn’t know that), you have to lead these assholes to go save him and unravel your hard work. so plan b. you kidnap your grandma and push your (now possessed) cousin away (and then get mad when he actually walks away. because you’re like this). and when your cousin comes dangerously close to figuring out what’s happened with you and the magister, you kill the magister. you ally with those elven gods and venatori (you aren’t sure how you’re going to get out of this one but it’s fine. that’s a hill for future illario) to make sure you have enough backing to stand up against the other houses if they challenge you becoming first talon. you continue to gaslight your cousin into staying away, because if there is one thing you can count on, it’s his literal inner demons and total lack of a support group, you’re certain he’ll fuck it up by himself. you know this because his support group used to be your grandma (dubious) and yourself (lol). you’re almost home free. and caterina will definitely acknowledge you as a player on the board. which isn’t important but it would be nice, right. BUT THEN IT TURNS OUT. YOUR COUSIN HAS RECENTLY MADE 7 FRIENDS. one of whom can speak to the fucking dead because of course he can. and then some of those friends show up to publicly humiliate you at the dinner party that should have been YOUR crowning moment. your grandma ALSO shows up to tell everyone you have gathered that your cousin is first talon. your cousin gapes at her because he doesn’t actually even want it so it’s kind of awkward for everyone. and then when you’re sure he’s about to ask viago de riva to poison you to death, he actually tells him just to take you away. because OF COURSE he’s being the bigger person. anyways the point is i’m surprised illario just lets himself be taken away because if i were him i would have started biting people and then bombed the villa

#illario dellamorte #veilguard spoilers #dav #lucanis dellamorte #txt #not even mentioning he shows up at the final battle presumably has been fighting in it #’was that suitably self absorbed?’ shut up. do you want me back.

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eraenaa · 6 months ago

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Silent Passions

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Tag List

Synopsis: You and Aemond had been promised to one another before you were even born. And when the time came for you to meet, all were curious to see what was to come when soon to be spouses only shared one thing in common: your want of silence.

Warnings: Unwanted sexual advances from Daemon Targaryen, ¿Softer Aemond?, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 8,678 (bear with me pls)

A/N: Based on a request where they wanted "Aemond x Tyrell Reader (which has the personality of Francesca Bridgerton), and when they are about to get married, Daemon tries to seduce her, making Aemond distrust her."

A flower promised to a dragon. Long before you were born, you, a daughter of House Tyrell, had been the intended to be wed to the second son of the King, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Your mother was one of the scarce friends the Queen had made in the court after her estrangement with Princess Rhaenyra. You were born in the walls of the keep, the queen in attendance of your birth, smiling widely as the nurse announced that you were a girl— she was the first person to hold you after your mother and the wet nurse who handed you to her. “Oh, such a beauty she is…” The Queen cooed as she held you in her arms. Your mother smiled through her tiredness at how quickly the queen had taken to you.

“She would make the most wonderful princess,” The queen sighed and returned you to your mother, turning her head towards the door where your promised groom already stood. Prince Aemond waddled to his mother. The boy was only two years old but was already meeting his intended. The queen took her son into her arms, lifting him up to see his future bride, who whined in her mother’s arms. Aemond furrowed his brows, stuck out his tongue, and made a noise of disapproval when he saw the pink-faced babe. “That’s not quite nice… show respect for your future wife,” The queen smiled and brushed the silvery locks of her son.

That was the first and last time you and the prince met. Your mother and father returned to Highgarden as their stay in court was cut short with your father needing to return to his seat. For the first six and ten years of your life, you were promised to a man you have never met. Bearing the plight of women before you, promised to a man, not because of your will or your love for him but merely for status and to appease those who stood on high stature. You were defenseless as they paved your life before you, forcing you down a road that was often traveled by but many did not wish to cross.

“We are to return to Kingslanding.” Your father suddenly announced. The dinner table went silent. The boisterous laughs and jests of your three older brothers and the babbles of your younger twin brother and sister growing hushed. “Why?” You asked quietly, breaking the silence. You pet the fur of your beloved feline, trying to calm your nerves as your mind brought forth a reason. “The queen requested our presence, dearest… it is time to meet your betrothed.” Your mother smiled and took hold of your hand, lightly squeezing it in comfort, thought you felt none. You lowered your gaze and tried to shut out the return of loud voices around the table.

It was not that it was unexpected… it was just… wholly overwhelming. You took a few moments and a few more bites of your supper before excusing yourself from the loud table, needing peace and quiet. “Are you well, sister?” Your oldest brother, Edward, asked in concern, pausing his conversation with your other brothers, Edgar and Edmund. “Yes, I’m just tired.” You said with a small smile and left the dinner table with your pet.

The matter of your betrothal with the prince was not at all an old matter. Ever since you were a child, they have instilled in your mind that you were Prince Aemond’s intended. That one day, you will be his bride. It was a subject you found troubling— for how can one live at ease, being promised to a man they had never met before? How could one truly live their life if their purpose is only to be married off— treated practically as a broodmare.

You were alone with your thoughts until you heard the faint knock on your door and your brother, Edmund, slowly opening it and peeking his head inside your chambers. “Yes?” You asked and sat straighter, removing your eyes from the fire you stared upon.

“I am just making certain that you’re well.” He said softly and fully opened your chamber door, stepping in and bringing you a piece of cake for you had missed the dessert portion of your dinner. “Thank you,” You say gratefully, but simply place the piece of your favorite dessert on the table beside you, making your brother quickly grow suspicious. “What’s wrong?” Edmund asked in concern, taking his seat beside you.

You gave him a forced smile and shook your head. “Nothing, I told you, I’m just tired.” You say softly, but your brother’s frown severed. “You’re clearly lying— no matter how tired you are, you always have energy for cake.” Your brother sighed, making you sigh as well. “I’m… I’m scared,” You admitted. Your brother nodded in understanding, “I would be surprised if you weren’t,”

You twiddled with the ends of your hair as you and your brother were enveloped in a heavy, suffocating silence. “It’s just— I have been prepared for this since I was a babe… It’s all I know, but at the same time, I know nothing. I have no idea about him. What my life would be like after our marriage.” You say, your voice trembling with fear. “And I have been hearing rumors…” you say cautiously, your eyes upon your pet, who slept soundly on your lap. “Rumors? You are never one to listen to rumors, "Your brother said in surprise; his sister was always indifferent to whispers and gossip.

“Last summer, our cousin Eliza had gone to court… and there she observed Prince Aemond for me. To report to me what he was like because I had no idea of my future husband,” You began to recount the favor your cousin had done for you to ease your nerves about the marriage. “And?” Your brother leaned closer in curiosity. “She said he was… cold, aloof. Standoffish— ruthless when training with his sword. Indifferent, bordering into insulting to all members of the court.” You say quietly, uttering the harbored fear of your betrothed for almost a year now. Edmund licked his lips; your cousin Eliza was never one to exaggerate.

“P—Perhaps it was just that summer… mayhap he has changed with the season,” Your brother tried to give a comforting smile, but it turned wary, neither of you believing his comforting but empty words. “I’m sorry, sister,” Your brother said quietly after a moment, looking at you with empathy. He also wondered how you would fare when married to a dragon prince and being a member of the den of vipers that was the court.

You had always been timid, quiet, demure. He had always been skeptical of this betrothal set between you and the prince. He recalled how your father wanted to contest it, to break off the betrothal in your adolescence, seeing that his daughter was too soft for the harshness of royalty, but your mother did not wish for it, scared that it would offend her friend, the queen.

“I don’t expect much from the marriage,” You spoke, “I… I only wish for him to be kind and perhaps grant me my solitude from time to time,” You added, and your brother nodded, “We shall see to it that you have it, sister. If we are to prove that the prince is ungallant or disagreeable, we shall convince Mother and Father to free you from him,” Your brother swore, and you gave him a sad smile, unconvinced by his promise but touched by the gesture of it.

Edmund left his sister to the quiet she reveled and needed; Edmund marched in search of his other brothers. “She’s scared,” He announced as he found them in the drawing room; Edward, the eldest of them, lifted his gaze, “Who wouldn’t be?” He asked rhetorically as he sipped on his wine. “Are we truly that indebted to the crown? That we must oblige them with our dear sister?” Edgar questioned, “We are not indebted; our mother is,” Edgar replied. Your mother is forever grateful for her friend, the queen, who had shown her kindness during her time in court as a girl. She was greatly looked down upon, her father’s house inconsequential to the realm and often seen as a burden— through her friendship with Queen Alicent, she had risen through the ranks and had even secured a match with the heir of Highgarden.

“Well, surely our sister is too great a price for this… emotional debt, especially when you consider the others who had wished to be her suitor, princes from Dorne and Essos who had sung her praises and showered her gifts for years. Yet they will force her to settle for a second son. She has not even met him! Not a letter or a token to show goodwill to his betrothed,” Edward sighed at his brother’s query. “What would you have us do?” Edgar asked, “I do not know… but if Prince Aemond is truly as harsh and tempestuous as Eliza and the realm says, we must convince them to break the betrothal.” Edmund was contented as his brothers agreed, all concerned for your marriage with a prince you had not even met yet.

“Is all these frills truly necessary?” Aemond grumbled as he was being fitted for new garments, suffering through the needed preparations to meet his betrothed. “Yes. We cannot have you wear faded attire that reeks of dragon when you meet your betrothed. And I implore you to be kind and good-humored, Aemond. You must not scare off your wife,” Alicent sighed and nodded as the tailor bowed and finished taking the prince’s measurements. “She is not my wife,” Aemond gritted, “She is not your wife yet,” Alicent corrected, and Aemond shook his head. The dread in him was multiplying by the day. He was fortunate enough that his mother had not forced him to meet his betrothed years before, convincing himself that perhaps she had changed her mind and the betrothal could be broken, but alas, the fateful day to meet you has arrived.

Aemond had not met you nor heard anything from you. He would think it common courtesy for you to send him at least a letter, to know him before this doomed marriage, but you had sent none— no introduction or anything. He did, however, hear talk about you, the bloomed beauty of the reach. A lady who was already betrothed the moment she was born but was still lined up by men who hoped to be her suitor. Aemond scoffed at the thought, perceiving you as promiscuous and maybe even defiled. Aemond met your cousin last summer, the lady Eliza, loud and not at all chaste. A shameless flirt who went around the castle and made a spectacle of herself, she was not you, but Aemond liked to believe that that is how you acted as well.

Aemond tried to calm himself, to take his thoughts away from your arrival, but it would seem the castle was a growing reminder of you. He walked passed the great hall that was being dressed up for your family’s arrival. He passed the gardens where gardeners had been tending to flowers that were neglected, fretting that your family would take the wilted flowers as an offense. Aemond shook his head and walked through the guest wing, and saw how your chambers were being prepared. Aemond gritted his jaw and decided to retire early that day, but it would seem even the royal wing of the castle was being dressed up for your arrival. He frowned as he passed a once-boarded-up room being cleaned, “Who is to stay here?” Aemond asked a maid, believing his mother would place you in a chamber that was only a few steps from his own, a rather scandalous decision.

“The prince Daemon, my prince, the hand says he is to stay for the moon,” A maid bowed, and Aemond furrowed his brow before giving a nod to dismiss the maid, and he walked off to his chambers; it would seem that it was not only your arrival he must worry about, he must worry about the arrival of his uncle as well.

After five days of travel, you and the whole of your family arrived in Kingslanding. You took deep breaths before exiting the carriage, your kin being welcomed by a row of knights along with the Queen and her children. You could not even bear to look at anyone but the queen, scared to let your gaze travel to your betrothed. Your brothers stood by your side, offering support as all three pairs of their eyes assessed the prince, who had a look of disinterest. Edmund turned to his brothers, trying to see if they as well felt the animosity from the one-eyed prince that was easily felt. Through their eyes, they communicated silently and agreed.

You straightened your back as you felt the Queen’s gaze upon you; only then did you raise your raise your gaze fully and presented her with a pretend smile. “My queen,” You curtsied lowly in respect; Queen Alicent smiled fondly and offered her compliments. The queen bemused for her son to have such a comely wife. She turned to her side as she felt Aemond had still not stepped forward or had taken the initiative to introduce himself.

Aemond sighed as he stepped forward and stiffly, almost reluctantly, bowed before you. He was staring at the skirts of your dress, refusing to look upon your face. He watched as the fabric moved as you curtsied before him. When you straightened your stance, you stared at the floor, still not catching a glimpse of your betrothed.

You feel your brother Edgar’s arm link with yours as your family is escorted inside the walls of the Red Keep. The royal family walked in front of yours, and only then did you dare to look upon your betrothed. Recalling how your cousin had told you that prince Aemond was the taller of the two princes and had a curtain of straight, silver locks.

Aemond felt your stare, and it took great restraint upon himself not to turn and gaze upon you to see the actuality of his intended. To deduce if the talk of your beauty was true or just another hoax.

Aemond felt his mother step closer to him, “Invite your betrothed to the gardens— begin to acquaint yourselves with one another.” The queen whispered, and Aemond rolled his eye. “They have been traveling for five days; let them rest first before you force us to these rituals.” Aemond quietly spoke. His words were easily covered by the chatter of your brothers and two younger siblings, but he still had to hear a word to be uttered from your lips. “Very well then, but I expect you to sit and get to know her later during supper,” Alicent warned, and Aemond resisted verbalizing his disapproval, simply nodding along and going about his mother’s orders just as the dutiful son that he was.

You and Aemond sat quietly in your seats as the table was filled with chatter. Aemond was not accustomed to it; their usual supper was suffocatingly silent; the only thing to be heard was the clatter of silverware upon porcelain and the breathing of his kin. Now, it was filled with varying conversations from your brothers and his, along with the chatter of the queen and her friend. Aemond had still not looked upon your face and nor you him. He stared upon your hand that was gripping your chalice; just from the looks of it, he could attest that it had never known a day’s work. The look of your flesh was soft, supple, unsullied—a stark difference from his own.

“Do you think they will go on well?” The queen whispered to her friend; your mother eyed you, who sat in her seat, your gaze upon your plate. Her eyes then turned to your future husband, who gazed at the flickering amber light of a candle in between you. “I do not know… my daughter relishes in silence,” Your mother admitted, and the queen hummed. “So does my son,”

You chewed on your lip as you noticed everyone at the table was chatting with one another, making small talk, except for you and your intended. You sat by his right, and you could make out the outline of him through the side of your eye; your view of him was a bit obstructed, but you could make out the contour of his nose. You battled with yourself if you should speak with him and, if you did, what topic would you bring up to converse with?

Aemond licked his lips as he caught the eyes of his mother, imploring him to speak with you. He clenched his jaw and took a few calming breaths before parting his lips to speak. “H… How were your travels, my lady?” Aemond asked through gritted teeth, his head slightly turned in your direction. You blinked, trying to deduce if you had actually heard him speak. You turned to face the prince, finally seeing your betrothed eye to eye. “It was fine, my prince,” You answered quietly with a small smile before you and Aemond were enveloped in silence once more.

Aemond did not know what overcame him when you spoke, and your eyes met his. He was expecting your voice to be shrill and loud— grating, even. He did not expect to hear such a soft, almost melodious tone when you spoke— a deep contrast from the voices of your kin.

You bit your lip as you saw your mother from across the table imploring you to keep up with your conversation with the prince. “I— I heard you are quite fond of the histories, your highness,” You inquired quietly, holding your breath as your eyes locked with the unique gaze of old Valyria once more. “I am,” he replied curtly, and you nodded, uncertain if you should speak further or let his answer be, sensing he did not wish for small talk, a sentiment you, too, shared.

You went quiet once more, and in other circumstances, Aemond would find relief in that, letting himself ease into the quiet, but there was an odd sensation in him that was pushing him to continue the unconventional conversation you two shared. Aemond, however, bit his tongue and let you two be enveloped in silence as you waited for supper to end.

Aemond returned to his chambers, mind plagued by how to perceive his first encounters with you. He had prepared himself for the possibility of him growing annoyed and aggravated by your presence, but he was surprised in himself as he felt no such emotions rising within him. In truth, he felt somewhat serene that night, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. However, instead of enjoying the calm in his raging being, he ignored it, untrusting of it. Convincing himself that that night was luring him into a trap, one you had devised, acting ever so demure and coy, not presenting your true nature and only deceiving the prince. He will not fall for it. He fortified himself to not lay prey to this calming allure you offered.

When the next morning came, Aemond was implored with the rest of his siblings to break their fast with yours. Your mothers forcing a bond between their children. Aemond expected his brother Aegon to complain and not abide by their mother’s wishes which is why he was caught off guard as his brother agreed, him being the first one to go to the gardens. “Your Highnesses,” Aemond heard your brothers greet in unison as you four stood and curtsied and bowed before the three of them.

Aemond first assisted his sister to a chair before finding one for himself, and by fate, the only seat left was the one next to yours. Aemond sat quietly and tried to finish his meal as fast as he could without appearing crude. He listened in to the chatter across the table, surprised that you and his sister struck up a conversation as well. Aemond listened intently to your voice, trying to see if the volume of your speech was forced to lower or if that was just actually the way you spoke, soft— calming.

He did not pay mind to the subject you and his sister discussed, but he supposed he should have as he suddenly heard quiet laughs emitting from the both of you. Aemond felt an odd warming in his chest as he heard you laugh; it was almost… surreal to hear it. Your laugh was what he imagined nymphs’ laughs would sound like as he read about them in his books. He was in a trance; it was… out worldly that even he, the well-spoken and silver-tongued prince of the realm, was speechless on how to describe it.

He was proven wholly wrong as he based your manners to be alike your cousin. You were a stark difference from the lady Eliza, and a part of Aemond had hoped you were like her because then, he could justify the prejudice against you that settled and bloomed in his heart. Now, he must come to terms with shedding his cruel perception of you and might actually make an effort to know his betrothed better. Aemond stayed in the gardens that morning a while longer than he had anticipated, trying to deduce your character as you spoke with his sister and interacted with your brothers. A part of him still believes that what you presented was an act, that you were not as demure and chaste as you lead them to believe. But as he saw your small smiles, timid eyes, and flushed cheeks when Aegon would speak of such inappropriate topics, he started to feel as if you were being genuine.

As the sun began to descend higher into the skies, the children of the queen and her friend decided to depart from the gardens, the heat proving to be too great for comfort. “My lady, would you perhaps like a tour of the keep?” Aemond boldly but quietly asked, he felt the eyes of your brothers turn to him, but he was trying to capture your gaze. A gaze that he had trouble locking upon his, your eyes always darting around the room, difficulty in holding prolonged eye contact. “I would very much like that, my prince,” You smiled, and Aemond stood straighter, feeling his knees give out under him just because of your smile.

Your brother’s eyes followed you as you and the prince detached yourselves from the group. “Should we not follow them?” Edmund questioned, “Are they allowed to go about without an escort?” Edgar then asked, their queries pointed towards their eldest brother. “I— I do not know… perhaps we should just let them get to know each other, and if sister has any concerns, that is when we shall intervene.” Edward decided, his eyes following your departing figure that was next to a silver prince.

Aemond was not entirely certain as to how he would go about touring you along the Red Keep; the castle was dreary and had nothing of note to look upon, so he took you to the gallery. It was a less frequented room in the castle filled with portraits of his family’s history as well as some of Westeros. You and Aemond stood before a portrait of the conqueror and his wives, him retelling the histories that you already knew of, but you still listened intently because there was just something in his voice that entranced you. It was deep, velvety, and quiet— holding a sense of calm that enveloped you with every word he uttered.

Aemond guided you towards another portrait, but he noticed your gaze had shifted to the side of the room, your gentle gaze upon a harp. “Do you play, my prince?” You questioned, unable to resist the instrument that sat lonesome to the side, dusted and neglected. Aemond followed you, “No, I do not,” he answered, his eye going to your fingers, which seemed to itch to touch the strings of the unused harp. “Do you?” He asked, already guessing the answer. Aemond held his breath as your eyes finally locked with his, “I do,” you said, voice holding a pitch of excitement about the subject. There was a beat of silence, neither of you knowing what to do or say.

“Would you like to play it?” Aemond questioned and he felt his stomach grow warm as a smile appeared on your lips when you nodded. You ventured closer to the dusted seat, but Aemond was quicker to reach it and wipe away the remnants of lapsed time. “Thank you,” You say quietly as the prince stands by your side and observes you play.

Aemond was never one to enjoy music or songs, but he must admit, there was something captivating about how you played the harp. The tune you played was one he had not heard before, something bright and lively yet still soothing. Aemond stood in quiet awe, watching as your fingers danced along the strings and how your eyes closed, and there was a tranquil smile on your lips as you played the tune. Aemond tried to resist it, but he could not help but help himself as a smile twitched on his lips as he listened to your melody, which, unfortunately, quickly came to a halt.

“It’s not finished yet,” You say in slight embarrassment, daring to turn to the prince, who you were surprised to see have a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You wrote that?” He questioned, and you nodded, “Well, I try. I don’t think I'm quite good at it, if I am being honest— but my father did say that this piece holds the most promise.” You say sheepishly. “I quite enjoyed it,” Aemond admitted, and that compliment made your heart grow warm. “I’m glad,” You smiled, and another silence took the room, the silence you and he found comfort in.

With each day spent trying to acquaint with one another, you would like to beleive you and Aemond had reached a deeper understanding. Each of your perceptions made of each other before your meeting shed as you and him began to know each other’s actuality.

There was a secret language between you, a silent one, at that. An agreement that neither of you had to fill up the gaps and lags in your conversations, simply enjoying the quiet, not forcing another topic as a filler. Others around you found it odd that you and your betrothed just walked and sat in silence, occasionally speaking of something that only you and he were privy to, but you and Aemond quite liked your arrangements.

“They just sit there in silence,” The queen fretted to her friends, finding the design of your accord quite odd. Fretting that the silence was brought by indifference rather than just a mutual and deeper understanding, because how could one get to know the other in silence? “Aye, they do, but they don’t seem… bothered or disinterested by it— I dare say they are fond of it,” Your mother said as the two observed you and Aemond, who walked along the gardens in silence, relishing in the sounds of nature.

“My uncle shall arrive today,” Aemond broke the silence, assisting you to a seat for the two of you to have refreshments, “Oh, Prince Daemon?” You asked, wanting to make certain of who he spoke of. Aemond gave a nod and watched as your delicate fingers poured him a cup of tea. “Are you close with him, my prince?” You wondered. “No, not at all. I’ve only met him once,” He answered as he placed two cubes of sugar upon your cup, noting that is how you took your tea.

“However, I must admit that I am intrigued by him.” You nodded, “I always hear talk in this court as to how the lords and ladies compared me to him in his youth,” Aemond confessed, “And does that please you?” Aemond thought about your question for a moment, staring into your gaze that has grown accustomed to looking upon his. “No,” he answered, watching as you nodded. “I would understand; it wouldn’t fare well if we are always compared to another’s likeness,” You mused before you and the prince were enveloped in the inevitable silence once more.

When supper was nearing, Aemond felt excitement in seeing you once more. He had come far from the prince who dreaded your company; now, he sought it—altering his usual routine in order to spend more time with you.

Aemond was the last one to enter the dining hall, his eye searching your frame, feeling a smirk twitch on his lips, but it quickly disappeared as he realized his uncle had taken his place. “Prince Daemon, we have saved you a seat next to the king,” Alicent spoke as she noticed Aemond’s arrival, noting how Prince Daemon was quick to spot you when he entered the hall and made a beeline towards you— chatting with you who had no interest in small talk but still participated out of respect.

“I am quite comfortable here, next to Lady Tyrell,” Daemon refused the seat, only settling further into his chair as he turned to the girl next to him, but her gaze was turned to one of his nephews, the one who had a resemblance of him in his youth. You hear the quiet yet disapproving hum of your betrothed as he orders a squire to place a chair by your right, just enough space for him to sit next to you. The new place on your right offered closer proximity between you and Aemond as you had scooted away from his uncle, but he did not like that you were on the side of a damaged eye, unable to see your outline.

Supper was tenser than the ones shared before; the chatter had died, and the table was enveloped in silence, but not the kind you and Aemond found comfort in. It was the silence that everyone feared and tried earnestly to alter, but no matter the attempts, it seemed futile.

Aemond clenched his fists around his utensils, hearing as his uncle tried to chat you up and you entertaining his queries. “So, what brings you and your family here, Lady Tyrell? Highgarden is quite a journey.” Daemon questioned. “They came for my betrothed and I to be acquainted,” Aemond suddenly interjected, turning his body to face you and his uncle, who he had noticed threaded closer to your side. Daemon hummed, quick to sense jealousy from his nephew. He knew he should be somewhat mature, but his mind could not help but conjure up possibilities to torment his brother’s second son. “Hm, you are quite fortunate to have such a lovely betrothed; it would seem the crown has favored you… I remember my first wife, Lady Royce, the bronze bitch whose sheep seemed to prove more comely than her,”

Your eyes widened at the elder prince’s words, disparaging his first wife so openly and offensively. “If my brother had provided me with a bride whose beauty was comparable to Lady Tyrell’s, perhaps there would be no need for me to leave my first wife… you are lucky, nephew,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he noticed Daemon’s eyes trail downward to your bosom that heaved ever so lightly as you were rendered uncomfortable by their topic.

You turned to your brothers, a plea in your eyes to save you from the princes you sat in between. Edward was quick to stand, “Come, sister, I shall escort you to your chambers,” He announced, and you let out a breath, Aemond standing as well to make way for you to exit, “Good night, my lady,” He bowed and boldly took your hand placed a kiss on your knuckles. A blush over, taking your cheeks as you curtsied before him, your mothers thrilled as they saw affection blooming between the two of you.

“You looked quite uncomfortable,” Your eldest brother noted. “Is your betrothed proving to be ungallant? Must we intervene now and convince mo—“ You quickly shook our head, “No! Prince Aemond has been quite… lovely; cousin Eliza was somewhat wrong in her judgment,” You say quickly in defense of Aemond, who you had grown to deeply like the past few days. “I was just not prepared to meet a character such as the Prince Daemon,” You added, and your brother nodded in understanding; he, too, was scandalized as he heard the words uttered by the elderly prince.

“So, you have grown to be quite… fond of your betrothed,” You bit your lip as you hear a teasing tone in his voice. You sighed and felt a smile coming to your lips. Whatever fear you had for the marriage subsided with every silent and serene moment with Aemond. “I have.” You confirmed, and your brother nodded. Placing a kiss on your temple before you enter your chambers and get ready for the night.

It has been three days since Prince Daemon’s arrival, and Aemond has been growing peeved at how his uncle would always trail you. Aemond’s new routine of spending the quiet hours of his days with you that was quick to feel like second nature, abrupted by the arrival of his uncle. There were now only scarce moments where you and Aemond were left in each other’s company and quiet, his uncle always trying to speak with you, and you could not deny him conversation, for it would be impertinent.

It was past high noon when Aemond concluded his training with Ser Criston, his feet hastily carrying him away from the tiltyard to find you, who had frequented the gallery to play the old harp that found new life from your touch. He stood by the threshold and was quick to grow annoyed as he noticed his uncle was in your presence once more.

“You do not speak much, do you?” He heard Daemon question, your fingers ceasing to play the instrument. “I take it upon myself to not speak unless spoken to, my prince. I do not wish to bother anyone. I know how… annoying it can be when one just simply wishes for peace and quiet, but there is an insistent noise you must attend to.” You say, and Aemond was quite surprised as he heard a slight in your comment, but his uncle did not seem to catch it.

Aemond observed as you returned to play the harp, the melody easing whatever tension he harbored, but it was quick to return as his uncle wandered closer to you. Aemond stood rigid by the door; your back was face to him and he saw his uncle turn his head towards the door, a smirk on his lips as he stepped further into your space. Daring to take a lock of your hair in his fingers, twirling the lock.

You tensed in your seat as you felt Prince Daemon’s finger twirl your hair. You looked at the strings of the harp wide-eyed, uncertain of what to do.

When Aemond noticed your unmoving frame that did nothing to hinder his uncle’s actions, he removed himself from the door frame and marched back to his chambers. Whatever understanding made between the two of the past days was quickly forgotten as his cruel perceptions of your nature, he mustered before meeting you returned.

You sat tensely at dinner that night once more, waiting for the presence of your betrothed to somewhat comfort as his uncle sat next to you again. When Aemond entered the hall, you placed your hopeful gaze upon him, but he did not turn to you, ignoring the empty seat next to you and instead to a seat in what was supposed to be the place of his uncle.

Throughout dinner, you would peek a look at Aemond, who refused to meet your gaze. There was a prominent scowl on his face, and his demeanor held an air of indifference that strayed dangerously close to animosity. You started to wonder if the Aemond you stared upon right now was the Prince your cousin had warned you about. And perhaps the past few days spent with him was an act, a fictitiousness in him to appease his mother so the marriage would proceed. You were disheartened by the thought.

When the following morning came, Aemond’s eye followed as you roamed the halls alone, following behind you but not close enough for you to notice your presence. You led him back to the gallery, where both of you were caught in surprise when his uncle stood in the room, waiting for you. Aemond clenched his fists, believing he was a witness in your clandestine meetings. The scandal of it! Here you are, an engaged woman meeting with a man who was old enough to be your father and was married to the King’s chosen heir!

“My prince,” you curtsied as you spotted him near the harp, having the urge to turn back around and exit the room. Uncomfortable to be alone in the Rogue Prince’s presence. “All alone? Where is your betrothed?” Daemon mused, stepping closer to you. “I— I do not know,” You said and backed away from the prince who was threading closer to your space once more. “Hm, it’s quite foolish of him to leave his lovely bride to be all alone… especially in this keep where danger always lurks,” Your lips parted at his words. Was that a threat? You thought.

You swallowed thickly and turned to the door, wanting to make an escape but not one so obvious that it would make suspicion rise. Daemon smirked as he saw fear in your eyes; it was so easy. You were such an innocent and sheltered thing. He could smell you from leagues away, a lovely and tempting prey that a dragon could never resist. It was a shame that you were betrothed to his nephew, but perhaps that could still change.

You gasped as you felt Prince Daemon flush your bodies; you stared at him wide-eyed as he took hold of your cheek.

Aemond watched the scene; rage within burned bright and carelessly. He wanted to put a stop to whatever he witnessed, but he stood in wait, wanting to find evidence if this was truly how you were— promiscuous and would settle to be a whore of his uncle.

“My prince, wh—“ You panicked, trying to back away, but he held you still. “Such a pretty young thing you are… a shame that you’ll be wasted on my disfigured nephew,” You drew out all of your might and pushed away Prince Daemon, him stumbling only a few paces. You see a sinister smirk rise to his lips as he tries to close the gap between you once more, but you are quick to strike his cheek, rendering him in shock, and you take that opportunity to run out of the room and into safety.

Aemond was hidden behind a pillar, and as you passed, he saw clearly the distress on your face and how you were on the verge of tears, rendering him guilty for not coming to your aid as he had thought you were in want of his uncle.

Aemond saw as Daemon furiously marched out of the gallery in pursuit of you, but he was quick to step away from his hiding and face his uncle. “You dare try to sully her? Was my half-sister and your whores not enough? Must, in your old age, still prey on young innocent girls?” Aemond spat, ready to challenge his uncle in your honor. Daemon chuckled as the young prince stared at him wide-eyed. “You get ahead of yourself— they might compare you to me in my youth, but you are completely lacking of what it means to be a true Targaryen prince… you’d have to thank your cunt of a mother for that.” Daemon chuckled, and Aemond no longer hesitated to draw out his sword.

A battle between nephew and uncle commenced in the halls; both men wielded their weapons with such authority that neither one could draw blood. Daemon was somewhat impressed by his nephew. He thought the talk he heard of Aemond was just propaganda spread by his grandsire, but it would seem that his nephew knew his way with the steel. That, however, did not deter the prince, for Aemond was still completely inexperienced when compared to him.

One of the princes was near drawing blood when a band of Kingsguards appeared in the halls and were quick to separate the dueling princes. Daemon laughed as he was held back by the knights, his nephew still seething across from him, still ready to attack. The elderly prince brushed off the hold on his arms and laughed once more before walking away from his nephew, leaving their state as it was.

Aemond brushed off the guards and hastily marched in search of you, wanting to make certain you were well— wanting to offer his apologies for his judgments and lack of protection over you.

He knocked on your door, waiting on bated breath as he heard you shuffling inside. When you slowly revealed yourself, Aemond felt his stomach pit at the sight of your teary eyes that you tried to hide. “I’m sorry,” He was quick to breathe out, unable to stomach you in such a state of distress. Your brows knit together at his words, “What? My pri—“ Aemond shook his head and forced himself into your chambers.

“I’m so sorry, my lady… I—“ Aemond repeated but you still had no clue as to what he refers to. “My uncle, he is a depraved man; I should have protected you from him.” He explained as he saw confusion in your face. Your eyes widened at his statement, “You saw us?” You asked in fear that he would think you were tarnished. “I have, and I… I should have come to your aid, but instead, my mind cruelly thought you were in want of him; I apologize, my lady.” It felt foreign for Aemond to apologize, but it seemed to roll off his tongue effortlessly for you. He would never have fathom to encounter someone or the day that he would apologize earnestly, ready to beg for forgiveness.

“No… my prince, you need not apologize; it was not your doing,” you said, but Prince Aemond stubbornly shook his head. “It is my duty to protect you— to defend my lady wife.” You bit your tongue as he referred to you with such a title. It felt surreal… and you must admit it brought a stir in you that you quite liked.

You and Aemond were in silence once more, the silence both of you had gotten used to, the silence within each other that you both craved. The serene silence that could only be provided by each other. “Will you still… still have me? Even after my transgression?” Aemond dared ask, not wanting to live in the hope that there would still be a way that you would be his. Surely, you would be deterred to take him as your husband, for he could not even defend you with such a threat. Aemond studied your face, his knees growing weak as a smile spread across your lips. “I still want you, my prince,” You admitted, heat blooming in your cheeks as you said the words. Aemond could not help but cup your cheek, wanting to feel the warmth of them as they flushed with color before him.

“I must admit… I was dreading to meet you,” He said quietly, and he felt you nod. “I, as well… I was greatly warned that we might not see eye to eye.” You admitted. Aemond hummed and brushed his thumb across your soft skin, your bodies threading closer and closer. “I do not believe I would ever want someone as much as I want you,” Aemond confessed, his voice so low that if you had not felt his breath fanning your skin, you would think you had imagined his words. “I never thought anyone would understand me in the way that you do, my prince,” You breathed out as his face threaded closer to yours, his eye on your lips as you spoke.

“You’re mine… say it, my darling.” Your eyes fluttered closed at his words. “I’m all yours,” Quickly after you uttered the words, you feel his lips upon yours. A kiss filled with longing— impatience. A kiss that was long overdue, for how could either of you live for years without knowing each other? How could Aemond try to ignore your existence, and how could you try to deny this marriage? It was set the day you were born. You two were simply destined for one another.

As your lips parted, you smiled before your soon-to-be-husband. Aemond hummed in contentment and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, inhaling your intoxicating scent deeply. “Shall we tell our mothers that they shall prepare for our wedding, then?” Aemond smiled, and you let out a quiet laugh as you nodded, letting him hold you. “And urge them to make haste,” Aemond’s eye twinkled with amusement as he dipped down to capture your lips once more.

A fortnight had barely passed before you and Aemond uttered your vows before the gods—an intimate wedding commenced, as you both requested. And it was followed by a family dinner after. Aemond was impatient, as were you, but you and he waited for the meal to end; for the past days, there was a need greatly bubbling inside him, having trouble finding restrtaint and contentment with just stolen kisses and touches.

When it was finally night, Aemond led you to his chambers, you already flushing in anticipation of what was to come. When he led you to your shared chambers, you were met by something covered in a white cloth. You frowned and turned to your husband, who simply smiled and closed the door behind you. “It’s a gift for you.” He said and stood before it. You stepped closer as he urged you to uncover what he had given, though you already had a sneaking feeling as to what it was.

Aemond watched with his heart in his eye as you beamed before him as you uncovered what he had given— a harp. Newer and grander than the one in the gallery, the body was plated with gold, and delicate carvings of flowers scattered its body. You bit your lip and step towards your husband, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips agaisnt his. “Thank you… I love it,” you said gratefully as your lips parted. Aemond simply hummed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were to exchange gifts… I could’ve gotten something,” You then say, fretting he would take offense.

Aemond shook his head. “You already have given me your hand; you are my wife. What more could I want?” Those words uttered, and the certainty in Aemond only made you melt further. He intertwined your lips once more, but the kiss shared held something wholly different from the ones shared before; it was urgent, filled with longing and desires that were greatly suppressed.

You feel breathless, but at the same time, you make no move to part your lips. You feel him lead you to the feathered bed, his hands on your waist as he sits you gently upon the cushion. You blushed as you felt his fingers hover at the bodice of your dress, itching to undo the laces, but there was trepidation in him. You bit the insides of your cheeks and took the initiative to do it yourself. Aemond sucked in a deep breath as your dress fell before him, revealing yourself only dressed in your shift.

Aemond fell on his knees before you, moving his hand to cup your cheek and the other to undress you further. He heard a moan escape your lips as he nipped your bottom lip. His cold hand cupped your breast that pebbled before his touch. You mewled his name as he parted your lips, your hands finding the buttons of his leather tunic.

You ran your hands through his smooth, chiseled chest and Aemond felt chills running down his spine at the feel of your hands on his skin. You let out a breath as you feel your husband lay you down, his weight atop you, his weeping length aligned with your glistening entrance. You sighed as you felt his finger tease your folds, Aemond resting his forehead up your shoulder as he felt your arousal. “You’re all mine, my darling,” Aemond breathed out against your lips and swallowed your whines as his length penetrated you.

Aemond groaned at the sheer feel of you clenching around him. Pleasure and guilt swirled within him as he saw your face contorted in pain, kissing away your tears as you acclimatized yourself with his length. He truly thought himself indifferent in the ways of pleasure, only succumbing to it occasionally when even he could not suffice his lust— but now, he was certain he knew what the fuss was all about when it came to fucking. He had only a taste of you, but he was certain he was addicted. It took a moment before your whines of pain turned into whimpers of pleasure, your husband breathing heavily as you urged him to speed up his pace, but Aemond was conscious not to break and hurt you further.

“Aemond, please… I wa— need more,” You breathed as Aemond’s thrusts were cautious. He bit his lip and sped up his pace ever so lightly, but that was not enough for you. With your legs circling his waist, you shifted your weight and placed yourself atop your husband. Aemond was rendered stunned by your actions, only watching in awe as you bounced upon his cock whilst you straddled his waist. He never thought you’d have it in you, but he supposed it was always the quiet ones who would be capable of the unexpected.

“You were so quiet the days before, little wife… but look at you now— your moans could be heard throughout the castle.” Aemond hummed, and his hands found home on your waist, assisting you as you writhed against his length. Your hands were planted on his chest as your hips worked against his in search of friction. “Husband, please,” you pleaded, knowing you would not come to what you searched for without his assistance. Aemond smirked and moved his hands to cup your behind and lifted his hips to thrust deeper and harsher into you.

“Yes… yes, gods, Aemond!” You cried as you heard him groan at how you scratched his chest, leaving imprints of your hands upon his skin. “Are you to come, my darling? Is my little wife to come at my cock?” He hissed as he felt his own release coming. His hands traveled your frame, cupping your tits and moving his head to take one into the cavern of his mouth. You nodded, your head that was tilted to the heavens, your back arched, and your husband’s name slipping your lips as you came undone. You hear him call out your name as he spills his seed deep in your cunt, your heavy breathings mixed as you collapse atop him, his lips finding yours once more.

“You truly are made for me,” he whispered against your lips. Feeling a surge of new and overwhelming emotions that you could not yet utter, all you could do was kiss his lips once more and bask in the presence of the man who had been bound to you the moment you were born.

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szasfuckingwife · 8 months ago

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Singledad!Toji who you kicked out once finding out he had not one, but TWO secret kids and did not tell you. Maybe you were overreacting, but you also took in consideration that maybe if he just, idk, told you?! You’d be fine with it.

Singledad!Toji who begged and pleaded for you to give him a second chance. He never grovels, rarely even asks. But he just needed you in his life.

Singledad!Toji who invited you over for dinner to make up for it. You reluctantly accepted, it was free dinner so!

Singledad!Toji who also forgot that that same dinner day was the same day he had Megumi and Tsumiki as his sister couldn’t babysit. It completely slipped out of his mind that the whole weekend, the kids would be there.

Singledad!Toji who repeatedly apologised when you walked in and was met with a plethora of toys scattered across the carpet floor. “I tried to clean up but…they keep playing-” A chuckle interrupted him. When he looked up and saw it came from you, he smiled.

“It’s fine. Kids are fun.” You say.

He walked you to the sitting room and both the kids halted in their movement. They both looked at you wide eyed, curious and confused. You noticed the boy slowly hide behind his sister as Toji began to talk, “Kids, this is Y/N. Be nice and respectful, okay?

Singledad!Toji who lets his kids talk over the course of dinner. Well, it was more Tsumiki talking and everyone else listening. “And I’m older than Megumi but daddy says I act younger because I talk tooo much! Right, Megumi?”

“Yeah-” “And, also, my mom is not his mom because his mom is in heaven but my mom left. So, my daddy said that if we want you to be our new mom, we have to be kind to you. Right, Megumi?”

Megumi nodded. You looked at Toji to see him try to hide his blush. “And I told dad to make funazushi but he said no because he can’t cook that well. So, we made udon. Is it nice?” She grinned.

Singledad!Toji who held a sleeping Megumi and Tsumiki in his arms as they stayed wayyy past their bedtime. You said goodnight to the two of them dozens of times before they accepted that they had to go to sleep.

When Toji returned from the kids rooms, he a frown had formed on his lips, “Sorry about them. Megumi is really shy and…Tsumiki…” He let out a light chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, Toji. They seem like really great kids, they must have a great dad.” You smiled at him, and for the first time in a while, Toji smiled back.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fushiguro x reader #toji angst #toji x y/n #jujutsu toji #toji fluff #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji x you

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bloodibambiidoll · 5 days ago

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Buy Me Presents ⟡˖ Boyfriends!Dad!Rafe x reader ⟡˖

𐙚 Your boyfriend sucks. But his dad? Well, he’s not so bad…𐙚

(Heavily inspired by the book “Birthday girl” by Penelope Douglas and the song “Buy Me Presents” by Sabrina Carpenter. It’s my lil bday gift to myself. Shout out my luv @cameronwillow for beta reading for me.)

Age gap(Rafe is early 40s Reader is mid 20s), Rafe is your Bf’s dad (duh! It’s the whole plot), Reader has a tramp stanp and nipple piercings, Male masterbation, Mutual pining(so so much pining), Thoughts of cheating, Actual cheating (not by Rafe or R), Jealousy/possessiveness Spanking, Pussy eating, Unprotected sex, Biting, Choking, Size kink, She’s a looong one, buckle up!! 18+MDNI!!

You love your boyfriend, you really do. And he isn’t a bad boyfriend. He just isn’t necessarily a good boyfriend either. The easiest way to put it is that he’s neglectful. In every sense of the word. It’s not out of character for him to forget to pick you up from your late night shifts at the bar you work at. He is constantly forgetting your plans, or just flat out ditching them in favor of hanging out with his friends. He never cleans up after himself unless you ask, and even then the chances are slim that he will actually do it. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know how to turn on the dryer. Why would he need to? He knows if he leaves the piles of dirty laundry long enough you’ll get sick of it and wash them yourself. And last but certainly not least, he is the least financially responsible person you’ve ever met. He misses work to the point where he gets fired from every job he’s ever had. He spends all his money on partying and eating out. And now? He’s screwed you out of your apartment that he hardly even pays for since he’s always late on bills.

He decided that having a fucking rager on a Tuesday night in your small apartment complex instead of picking you up from your double shift was a bright idea. You ended up having to get an uber home, which you absolutely couldn’t afford and by the time you made it home your place was trashed and your boyfriend was out front being hauled into a cop car. Apparently when your landlord asked him to shut the party down he got all agro and started screaming and arguing that it was his house and he can be as loud as he wants. And when your landlord didn’t agree? He punched him in the face. So he called the cops and they took him down to the station to cool off. This wasn’t the first time he was asked to break up a party like this, but it was the last. Your landlord evicted him and even though he hardly paid you still couldn’t afford it without even that small amount of help.

He ended up calling his dad from the police station to come bail him out and of course he did. He always does. That’s why Caleb Cameron can’t account for a single goddamn thing in his life, he always has daddy’s money to bail him out. That’s why you are where you are now, staying with his dad, for the foreseeable future. After Mr. Cameron bailed Caleb out, he offered you both a place to stay at his house. His nice house that he built. Which you of course tried to decline.

But after much convincing from both Cameron men, you agreed to move in while you save money to get another place on your own. His dad doesn’t need help with any of the bills but he asked that you and Caleb keep up on the chores and take turns making dinner every night. You’ve been here for a few weeks now and so far you’ve been doing everything. Caleb hasn’t even picked up a single sock off the ground.

Mr. Cameron or “Rafe” as he’s asked you to call him several times now, isn’t bad. He’s been very kind and generous to you since the moment you met him. Which wasn’t until the other day. Caleb never wanted to introduce you to him. You’ve seen him around and of course you know of Rafe Cameron, this island isn’t very big. But from what you can tell their relationship isn’t the best so you’ve never actually had a conversation with him up until now.

He’s been easy to coexist with though. He’s surprisingly low maintenance. Rafe spends most of his day working with the guys on his construction team and then he comes home and showers. If you aren’t working a late shift you always have dinner ready. He comes downstairs in fresh sweats and pops open a beer. Then you, him, and Caleb all eat together. At least you’re supposed to, Caleb was only here the first night you moved in, he’s spent every other night out. Leaving you and his dad to eat dinner together alone.

Tonight is one of those nights. Caleb went out to the bar with his friends, even after you told him you were making his favorite dinner for him. He left before it was even done. Rafe will be home anytime now though. You’ve noticed he’s usually home around five thirty so you have dinner ready and kept warm by five. You made chicken parmesan from scratch and it’s in the oven set to warm while you sit at the shiny marble kitchen island, doom scrolling on your phone. You hear a key in the lock and you hate that ears perk up. The door opens and you hear keys being dropped in a glass bowl before footsteps sound toward the kitchen. It takes him a few seconds to come into view because you also hear him unlacing his work boots, but when he does? You can’t stand that your stomach swoops at the sight of him.

Not only is Rafe generous, successful, cleans up after himself without being asked, he’s always on time and he always asks how your day is. He’s fucking gorgeous. His piercing blue eyes make your skin heat each time they’re on you. His messy mullet seems like he’s been cutting it for years, which there’s just something charming about. Like he could have someone do it for him but he’d rather just do it himself because it’s cheaper and easier. Not that he’s hurting for money. His dad might have cut him off and left him with nothing but once he found out he was having Caleb he refused to be like him. He built his own construction company from the ground up and worked odd jobs to get to that point so his son would never want for anything. His personality just makes him even more frustratingly sexy. It doesn’t help that his thick arms that always seem like they’re going to burst out of his t-shirts are covered in tattoos and his smile, god his smile, it gives you butterflies from your stomach down to your pussy. He always looks particularly edible when he gets off work though.

“Hey, Caleb here?” Rafe walks into the kitchen wearing dirty work jeans and a carhartt coat, his face has a few smudges on it and he really tests your strength when he pulls the jacket off. He’s only wearing a tight white tee that’s just as dirty as the rest of him, his broad chest and thick arms on display. You feel like you’re going to go insane when he reaches up to run his fingers through his hair and it causes his shirt to ride up and show a sliver of waist. You finally pull your eyes away from his body to meet his own and he has a brow raised in your direction. God, how long have you been ogling him? Hopefully he didn’t notice. Fuck.

“Oh, uh- no, he went out.” You let out a small sigh and shrug your shoulders trying to play it off like you don’t care. Like you didn’t make his favorite meal because you’ve hardly had any time together recently. Like you didn’t hope you could eat together then snuggle up and watch a movie together, maybe fuck. But apparently whatever party he went to tonight held priority over his own girlfriend.

“Mmm, he seems to go out a lot, huh?” Rafe chuckles and his lips quirk into a small smile but you can see the sadness in his eyes. Caleb is avoiding him and you both know that. But it’s not like him ditching you to go out is a new occurrence. “Well, I’m gonna go shower.”

“Kay, dinner is ready whenever you’re done. I waited to eat.” You don’t respond to his question about Caleb, you both know the answer, it doesn’t need to be said. His eyes linger on you for a moment and you don’t miss the way they flash to your thighs in your little sleep shorts momentarily before he turns and exits the room. You hate that just the smallest attention from him has your skin tingling. You’re just lonely, that’s all it is. He’s your boyfriend’s dad, you can’t have a crush on him. It’s just a fleeting attraction. You’re not blind, the man is walking sex. And it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve been fucked.

Around twenty minutes later Rafe comes downstairs and grabs his beer like he always does. Then he wanders into the dining room where you have the table set with dinner dished up. There’s an empty plate in front of the chair beside you in case Caleb decides to come home. But you know he won’t. Which makes it all the more hard to not drool over the way his dad is wearing grey sweatpants and a tight black tank top like it isn’t the sluttiest outfit a man could possibly wear.

Rafe could say the same about you though, sitting there in your little pajama shorts and a cropped tank top with a tiny zip up hoodie that you have unzipped halfway so it’s hanging off one of your shoulders. Smiling up at him from his dining room table that has never been set a day in its life up until you moved in with a warm meal prepared for him after a long day. It’s something he’s always wanted, someone to come home to, someone that cooks him meals that aren’t take-out or from the microwave. And he hates how sweet and full of life you are. He hates it because he loves it. You blast music and dance around while you clean. You bring the kind of noise to this house that was otherwise so quiet sometimes he felt like any sound he made bounced off the walls. And you’re so fucking pretty it almost hurts.

Especially because he can never have you. Not only is he old enough to be your father, you’re his son’s girlfriend for fucks sake. But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy your presence. Especially if Caleb isn’t going to. He loves his son with all his heart but just in the short time you’ve been here he’s noticed he isn’t very attentive with you. He wishes that didn’t disappoint him and also fill him with something that is tinged with jealousy that he pushes away immediately. He just doesn’t like to see his son taking a woman like you for granted. If he had someone like you? He’d worship at her feet and do anything he could to make her happy. He really needs to find a way to control these thoughts he’s been having about you because it seems like they intensify the more time he spends around you and he can’t let a small attraction that he can tuck away in the back of his mind become anything bigger than that. Not with you. He’s just getting older and more lonely every year and you’re beautiful, easy to talk to, and living in his house, wearing those little tank tops and tight yoga pants. It’s just some minor lust, that’s all.

“I made chicken parm and there’s uh - mashed potatoes and sauteed veggies.” You gesture to the food on his plate as he sits down in the chair across from you.

“Thanks, looks good.” Rafe clears his throat and cuts a piece of chicken from his plate, bringing it between his lips with a groan that has you clenching your thighs. “Damn, that’s delicious. This is Caleb’s favorite, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m sorry he’s not here.” You sigh and look down at your plate, pushing some food around with your fork. Mentioning the lack of your boyfriend’s presence has another wave of disappointment washing over you. You’re starting to wonder why you even get your hopes up anymore.

“You don’t need to apologize for him, he’s a grown man.” Rafe’s expression hardens slightly, he can’t help it. You made Caleb his favorite dinner and he flaked on you? Not only is he disappointed as his father but he also can’t believe any man would take your sweet gestures for granted. He’d die to have someone be this attentive with him. “I’m sorry he isn’t here.”

“Ha! He’s a grown man, you don’t need to apologize for him.” You throw his words back at him with a smirk and it makes him chuckle, the tension in the air starting to dissipate.

“Well, you got me there.” Rafe runs his hand over his head turning sideways under the guise of having to stretch but really he’s hiding the little smile that you keep seeming to bring to his face. Rafe thinks it might be a little too giddy to be coming from your boyfriend’s dad.”For what it’s worth, this is really good, thank you. I appreciate you cooking.”

“Yeah, no problem, just paying my dues.” It’s your turn to pretend to stretch. The words he said were so simple, but to you, they held so much meaning. To be appreciated for something you do, isn’t something you get very often. “I’m - um- I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah it’s really good.” He pokes the veggies on his plate with his fork and gives them a look of disdain that has you hiding a chuckle behind your hand. You’ve noticed he tends to eat around the healthy stuff you serve him. “But I could do without these veggies though.”

“I’ll make a healthy eater out of you, you’ll see.” You give him a playful glare that he returns with a smile he doesn’t bother to hide this time. “It’ll be good for your heart, old man.”

“Wow! I am not that old.” Rafe brings his hand to his chest in mock offense and it sends you both into a fit of laughter.

“Mhm, whatever you say old man. Let me know if you need help getting up the stairs after dinner!” You lean forward on your elbows and laugh and it takes every bit of willpower Rafe has to not linger on the way your tits bounce at your motions.

“You’re funny, I like talking to you.” You hate that the way he says that makes your body heat because you know he doesn’t mean it like that. And you shouldn’t want him to.

You really need to stop relying on Caleb for rides. This is the third time now that he’s forgotten to pick you up from your two AM shifts and you don’t really have many other options. Your coworkers already left you to lock up for the night, your sister isn’t answering her phone and you’ve never been able to rely on your dad for a single thing in your life. You wish you had friends to call. Or money to get your own car. You groan and throw your head back in frustration when your boyfriend’s phone goes to voicemail for the fifth time. You could call an uber but you’re really trying to save money to get out of Rafe’s hair sooner rather than later. Rafe, he would pick you up. But do you even want to call him? He’s definitely asleep, since he gets up at the crack of dawn everyday for work and do you really want to open that door?

The two of you have been getting along really well the last few weeks, settling into coexisting with one another. You honestly spend more time with him than you do your boyfriend at this point but he’s already done so much for you and you aren’t sure if you want to push it. You could sleep here, on the couch in the office and hopefully Caleb will get back to you by morning. But you really want to take a shower. And if you uber it’s really just setting you back on saving so in the long run it’s going to put Rafe out even more anyway. Fuck it. You click on his contact and it only rings twice before he answers.

“Hello?” Rafe’s sleepy voice says your name and you can’t help but wonder if that’s how he’d sound moaning in your ear while he pounds his - you’ve gotta stop. “Everything okay?”

“Hi, Rafe.” You take in a shaky breath, god you hate asking people for help. “Um, everything is okay, it’s just - is Caleb home?”

“Is he not with you? I thought he was picking you up tonight.” You hear rustling, like he’s getting up out of bed. “He’s not here. He hasn’t been home since this morning unless he came home when I was at work. Are you okay?”

“No, uh - he’s not with me.” You clear your throat and let out a dry, half hearted, chuckle. “He was supposed to pick me up, he must’ve just gotten caught up, maybe his phone died or something. I can’t get ahold of him could you -”

“I’m coming to get you. Stay inside, keep the doors locked.” You hear his belt clanking as he hurriedly gets dressed on the other side of the line. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Seven minutes later you hear Rafe’s pick-up idling outside and your phone is dinging with a text that he’s here. You aren’t sure how it's possible that he got here so fast, considering his house is in a nice suburb outside figure eight and the bar you work at is on the cut, but you don’t question it. You lock up the bar, walk over to the curb, and hop in Rafe’s truck.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t have anyone else to call and -” Rafe chuckles but it’s not one of those charming ones you’ve come to know, he seems irritated and now you really wish you would’ve just slept in the bar.

“Don’t, be sorry.” Rafe shakes his head as he puts the truck into gear and pulls off toward his house. “I’m sorry that my son left you hanging like that.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” You wave your hand and try to brush it off with a smile, maybe ease some of the tension. But Rafe’s hands just tighten on the steering wheel causing his knuckles to whiten and he breathes out hard through his nose. Maybe you really fucked up by calling him.

“No. It’s not. It’s unacceptable.” Rafe grits out. He’s trying to not be unreasonably angry but the way he’s watched his son basically neglect you has been grinding his gears more and more everyday. And now he forgets you at one of the sketchiest bars in town in the middle of the night? You were alone, it seems like your coworkers already left. Anyone could have decided to try and break in, what would you have done if he didn’t come?

He hates that it makes him feel animosity toward Caleb, that jealous feeling that’s tinged with possession growing more and more the longer he’s around you. He would never forget you. If it was up to him you wouldn’t work in that bar at all and he’d take care of all your needs and desires. Rafe is old school, he wants a pretty woman to come home to, to cook for him and let him eat her pussy every night before bed. Someone who will keep him in check and make him laugh when it counts. The way the two of you have been living together kind of feels like that, excluding the sex parts. Lines are starting to blur for him and maybe he just really needs to get laid. It’s been over a year now.

“If you ever need a ride, call me. I’ll be there.” You don’t argue, there’s no point. This man is as stubborn as you and if you try and disagree you’ll just go back and forth till one of you caves. And you have a feeling it would be you. His voice holds a finality that just has you nodding in agreement before the two of you fall into comfortable silence for the rest of the drive.

Okay, Rafe seriously needs to get laid. He feels like he’s living in a never ending intro to a porno. He isn’t sure if he’s ever been more thankful or if he regrets ever putting that in the ground hot tub out back but he feels like he’s being tortured. It’s mid November so the pool is covered but the hot tub is free game and you’ve definitely been taking advantage of that. He should be glad, it’s the first time it’s getting real use since he built it but the fact that you go in it nearly every day means you’re in a bikini nearly everyday.

You have a few different ones but the one you’re wearing right now while you walk through the kitchen. You have a pink towel that you definitely brought with you from home thrown over your shoulder and the little platform slides you’re wearing are the only other thing on your body. The baby pink straps of the bikini hug your curves perfectly. The little triangles barely cover more than your nipples and he can see that they’re pierced through the thin material. The bottoms are practically a thong, showing off that little angel wing tramp stamp tattooed on your lower back. Hardly something you think that a girl would wear around her boyfriend’s dad, but he’s starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.

Things have been different between the two of you this last week. Caleb went on a ski trip with his friends and didn’t even bother to invite you. It’s not like they’re your friends, anyway. So it’s just been you and Rafe for the last five days. There was a night that the two of you ordered chinese food and you showed him what a “christmas horror movie” is. Which he really enjoyed. He’s not huge on movies but he can’t deny that he loves a good horror movie.

You laughed and joked together. Playfully teased each other over your food orders and ended up just ordering twice as much food. You both sat maybe just a little too close and your arms brushed every once in a while. It was almost like you both got more brave after that, letting glances linger a little longer than necessary. His hand on the small of your back when he passes the kitchen. Flirty banter. And your outfits somehow seem to be getting smaller and smaller by the day.

His cock pulses as he watches you bend over in your little swimsuit to grab a water bottle out of the fridge and he doesn’t advert his gaze fast enough because when you stand up straight and look over your shoulder at him there’s this mischievous little glint in your eyes and a smug smirk painted on your lips. You turn his way and rest your palms on the marble countertop he built himself and it almost makes your tits spill out of what little material is covering them. He’s going to lose it.

“You gonna get in with me yet, old man? Or are you still too boring?” You tilt your head to the side with a bright smile and your voice is so saccharine he feels like he’s gonna get a goddamn toothache. He can’t go in the hot tub with you though, his control is slipping more and more everyday and being that close to you, wet, in that bikini, seems like a recipe for disaster.

“Guess I’m still too boring, little girl.” Your little ongoing inside joke of teasing each other about your ages makes him chuckle because he’s not really old, he’s only forty two. And you’re certainly not a little girl, you’re a sexy young woman. Too sexy. And too sweet and thoughtful. And you’re fucking funny and quirky. And he hates how bad he wants you.

It’s getting harder to chalk it up to lust the more time he spends alone with you. But he still has hope that he’s just lonely and horny because he can’t like you, you’re his son’s girlfriend for god's sake. Even if Caleb doesn’t treat you like you’re even his girlfriend at all. He’s barely seen him the entire time you’ve lived here. He’ll hit up one of his old booty calls tomorrow, it’s saturday and every woman on this island is just dying for a chance with Rafe Cameron. The only problem is he doesn’t like any of them. He doesn’t have to like them as people to get this pent up energy out though.

“Suit yourself, have fun being old and boring.” You shrug and send him a wink. You let your eyes travel from his face down his body before turning on your heel toward the door. He holds in a groan at the sight of your hips swinging, your ass jiggling in that tiny material. He was already half hard but that sent him over the edge. He needs to take a cold fucking shower.

Rafe runs his hands through his hair, letting the cool water cascade down his back. He lets out an exasperated sigh because truly this isn’t doing shit. He’s fucking cold, still hard, and he can’t stop thinking about what would happen if he did go in the hot tub with you. Was it just a friendly invitation because he built it and you think he needs to relax more? You definitely think that, but the look you gave him said there was more to it than that. The look in your eyes always does. Like you’re saying something to him without saying it and he’s pretty sure he looks at you the same way. It can never be more than just teasing, more than walking that line. You’re off limits and he knows that. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting you and what nobody but him knows can’t hurt, right?

Rafe lets his mind wander. He imagines what it would be like if he took you up on your offer. He’d get in with you and sit as far away from you as you could. You’d probably talk because even though Rafe isn’t a big talker, it seems to come easy with you. He thinks about the way the water would make your tits float in that little top and how little tendrils of your hair would fall free from that clip you have in and stick to your skin. He can see that little cheshire smirk you always give him and that mischievous look in your eyes is just straight up naughty now as his mind has you inching closer to him by the second.

You’d press yourself against him, your beautiful tits that he knows are probably so soft pressed up against his arm as you look at him with pouty lips and tell him how bad you want him. He’d grab your hips and pull you into his lap to straddle him and wandering hands would turn into heated kisses while you grind down on his cock. He would finally take that top off and get to see your tits, grab them, suck them.

Rafe grabs his throbbing cock and squeezes the base before pumping it in his hand. He groans in his chest as his head falls and his fantasy continues. In his mind his hand travels between your legs and pushes your bikini bottoms to the side, rubbing your clit a few times before thrusting two fingers knuckle deep in your wet pussy. You’d let out the prettiest moans while he pushes you to the edge with his fingers. And then you’d beg for his cock and he’d fuckig give it to you. The pace of his hand on his cock picks up and his breaths grow shallow as he imagines his hand is you, sliding his dick into your wet heat while you moan his name. You start to ride him and Rafe feels his stomach tighten. The imaginary you’s tits bounce beautifully in his face and it has his cock throbbing in his hand as he spills cum down his wrist.

He pants, the you filled haze he was in starting to fade as he comes down from his high. He turns and washes himself while he tries to shake the regret setting in. He really needs to get you out of his system.

You sigh as you use a damp towel to wipe down the bar, going through the motions of your closing duties. Caleb got home from his ski trip today and you wish you were more excited. You haven’t seen him yet since he got back while you were at work but he’s supposed to pick you up tonight. You told your sister you might need a ride, just in case. You hate that you feel like you can’t rely on him anymore. It wasn’t always like this, he used to be attentive and loving toward you, you used to be best friends. As time went on though, he got comfortable and lazy until it got to this point. You used to get butterflies and count down the seconds until you saw your boyfriend again and right now your stomach just feels like it’s filled with a pit of snakes.

He left you for an entire week, without even so much as an invitation because “he figured you wouldn’t want to go”. He left you the entire week alone in the house with his dad and if you and Rafe didn’t get along so well that would’ve been incredibly awkward. God, Rafe. You hate that the snakes in your stomach start to morph into butterflies at the thought of him. But the instant guilt that washes over you has another round of snakes swallowing the fluttering bugs whole.

These thoughts and feelings you’ve been having toward Rafe have only increased more and more over the last week. You’ve had fun with him. He’s easy to be around and surprisingly funny. You’ve grown comfortable around him and adjusted easily to living in the same space as him. Maybe a little too comfortable. You made yourself cum to the thought of him twice in a row last night. It was the first time you gave in and let your mind wander there but you haven’t cum as hard as you did in a long time. He’s just so fucking sexy and there for you. You’re just lonely, that’s all. At least that’s what you keep trying to tell yourself.

Despite your lack of faith in him, Caleb did end up picking you up from work and he even stopped at your favorite dinner for late night fries and milkshakes like you used to. You laughed together and you remembered how hot he was. His wavy blonde hair, his soft green eyes and charming, boyish smile. It’s almost like you forgot what he looks like from how little you’ve been around him lately. Everything felt better than it has in a while. Not great, but good. You had hope that maybe you and him could get back to normal up until he had you on your back with your legs spread.

Caleb isn’t bad in bed, he’s not the best ever but he’s always satisfied you. He doesn’t go down on you as much as you’d like and no matter how much you ask he won’t be rough with you but the sex isn’t bad. Tonight though? No matter what you did you couldn’t get out of your head. You usually love the way Caleb shoves his face in your neck and moans in your ear but something about it just felt like he was trying to avoid looking at you and the weight of his body as he thrusted deep into you almost felt suffocating. You were wet, you wanted to cum, but your brain wouldn’t let you. That was until Rafe’s face flashed into your mind and no matter how hard you tried to push him out it was like he barricaded himself there. You imagined it was him on top of you instead and it’s embarrassing how fast you came after that. Caleb wasn’t far behind you, spilling into the condom before pulling out of you and rolling over on his back. That was another thing, you were on birth control and no matter how much you begged him to cum inside you he wouldn’t. He said “it wasn’t worth the risk.” He fell asleep shortly after that and even though it was almost four in the morning you couldn’t shut your mind off. So you get out of bed and wander downstairs to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you round the kitchen corner to see Rafe sitting at the island. Your hands fly up to cover your chest on instinct because all you’re wearing is a tiny silk nightie. You didn’t expect him to be up. God, did he hear you?

“Rafe! Hi! You scared the shit out of me.” You let out a breathy laugh and try to act normal. Your hands find the hem of your nightgown and tug, willing it to cover more of your ass. But that only pulls it further down your tits and the way Rafe is looking at you right now is making you want to melt into the ground. He’s never looked at you so hungrily but he also looks kind of pissed off. “I didn’t expect you to be up, sorry!”

“Huh, well, I couldn’t sleep.” Any hope that he didn’t hear you diminishes in that moment. “If you’re going to get railed under my roof at three in the morning the least you can do is try and be quiet.”

“I-” Your entire body warms and your words get caught in your throat. He really just went right out with it, didn’t he? He couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen like a normal person? “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Rafe chuckles almost condescendingly. “I have to be up for work in an hour and I’ve spent the last forty five minutes listening to your fake moans until you finally came.”

“Mr. Cameron.” You gasp at the brashness of his words. Why does he sound like a jealous boyfriend and not someone who’s angry at a loss of sleep? “I don’t think that’s really appropriate… I’m sorry if we woke you up but-”

“No.” Rafe’s tone makes your body tingle with anxiety and something else you try not to dwell on as you watch him push himself up from his seat and round the kitchen island in a few strides. He stops only inches in front of you, his large frame looming over you. It’s only now you realize he’s in nothing but a pair of black, low to the hips sweatpants and it’s blindingly apparent that he isn’t wearing any underwear. “You know what’s inappropriate? Moaning so loud your boyfriend’s dad can hear you from down the hall… Or is that what you wanted?”

He drops his voice to a low whisper at the last part and you’re completely stunned by his words. Especially because he’s not wrong. A small part of you hoped he’d hear you. You didn’t expect this reaction though. Your words are caught in your throat for a minute too long and you know the way you’re looking up at him with your thighs clenched and your eyes blown wide gives you away. And when he smirks down at you, you know you’re caught.

“It is, isn’t it?” Rafe leans down further into your personal space, his plush lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Naughty girl.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest and you’re at a complete loss for words. You’re starting to think you fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Rafe pulls back, his eyes feel like they’re setting your skin on fire as he looks down at you like he wants to bend you over this counter right now. But, he doesn’t. His large hand grazes your shoulder as he reaches out to push your hair back and after giving you a final once over from head to toe he takes a few backwards steps before turning on his heel and going up the stairs. What the fuck just happened?

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You can’t believe Rafe is here and with Hollis Robinson, of all people. Her being here isn’t irregular, she comes in here every week to hang all over the different blue collar men. You guess she’s just trying to go for something the opposite of her last husband, midlife crisis and all that. But why does she have to be here with him. There’s no way he didn’t agree to come here just to piss you off. At first you weren’t sure if he just had a naturally flirty nature and maybe you were just thinking too much into it because like you’ve been beating into your own head you’re just lonely. But after last night in the kitchen? And now this? You’re starting to think there’s more to it.

Especially since you want to walk over there and claw Hollis’ eyes out of her skull for how she’s looking at him. And the way he keeps looking over at you over her shoulder with a smug fucking grin painted on his face says a lot. This is payback for last night and if he wants to play that game? You’ll bite. You pull your tiny black tank top even further down, revealing the top of your red bra and you pull up your low rise jeans up slightly more on your hips so they hug your ass. You make sure your tattoo is still on display though, you’ve noticed him looking at it.

“Can I get you guys a refill?” You lean down and rest your palms on the table with a wide smile on your face and you can’t help but press your elbows together to show off your tits even more. The charming smile Rafe was throwing Hollis’ way falls the minute he lays eyes on you. He came here in hopes of riling you up and gauging your reaction to see if this was all in his head but now he’s the one feeling like clawing someone’s eyes out.

He’s picked you up a few times but he’s never come inside the bar and he can’t believe that this is where you work. It’s not particularly dirty but it’s definitely a dive bar, the kind of place guys like him and bikers on the road stop for a beer. If he was the kind of guy that went to bars, that is. But what’s really getting to him is how every set of male eyes in the building follow you wherever you go. They’re like bees to honey to the way you walk around with that sweet smile, swinging your hips. He wants to wrap his coat around you and haul you out over his shoulder so no other man can see you. But you aren’t his, so he needs to play it cool.

“Sure, honey. Another martini, dry.” Hollis barely spares you a glance and wave of her fingers before going back to drooling over Rafe.

She’s sitting in the chair next to him but she has it pulled so close she might as well be in his fucking lap. Her heel clad foot swings back and forth, hitting his calf every few passes and you want to break it off. She rests her chin on her folded hands as she gazes over at him with the biggest fuck me eyes you think you’ve ever seen.

“And a Coors Light for you, right? In the can.” You let your eyes flash from Rafe’s to his lips for just a split moment before locking eyes with him again. You wet your bottom lip with your tongue and then pull it between your teeth and Rafe has to literally stop himself from groaning at the sight. Hollis hasn’t solicited a single reaction out of his body the entire night, but every time he looks at you his cock gets just a little bit harder. His plan is completely backfiring on him.

“Yeah, thanks, angel.” The nickname catches you both off guard. It makes his eyes blow wide as he takes in a deep breath through his nose. He’s been holding that back for some time now but it’s true, you are an angel. Your bright eyes, the way you care for him and that little tattoo. A naughty little angel with horns, that is. And even though your insides are melting, you paint on a smug smirk, not backing down from this fight.

“You got it, babe.” You throw him a wink, just catching the way his eyes widen slightly before flicking your hair over your shoulder and turning on your heel toward the bar. You make sure to swing your hips extra because you can feel Rafe’s eyes on you. You love knowing you’re getting to him, maybe not as much as he does to you. But you’re getting a reaction and that fills you with pride you shouldn’t feel.

You make Hollis’ martini without hardly even looking, most drinks have become second nature to you after working here for three years. You peak over at Rafe after grabbing his beer and you immediately see red. Hollis has her leg thrown over his lap while she presses her tits against his big arm that you want to latch onto with your teeth and never let go. Rafe looks half interested in what she’s saying, at least. Especially when he looks over at you and fucking smirks. Yeah, you’re gonna ruin his fucking night. What if he plans on bringing her home? You don’t think you can stand to hear him fucking her from down the hall. Even the thought makes you want to puke and you wonder if that’s how he felt the other night.

That might be wishful thinking though. You paint on your sweetest smile and walk back over to their table, placing their drinks on the table. You make sure to lean over Rafe close enough that your tits graze his other arm. A silent display of possession that nobody but Rafe notices.

“Here’s your drinks, enjoy!” You turn like you’re going to walk away before quickly turning back around. “Actually, I meant to ask, how long will you be here? I kind of need a ride home.”

“He’s busy, I’m sure you can find someone else to take you ho-” Hollis tries to shoo you away but Rafe cuts her off, pushing his chair back enough that her leg falls from his lap.

“When are you off?” Hollis scoffs and detaches herself from him, sitting back in her seat. Thank god. You can’t help the small smirk you send her way.

“In an hour, I’m not closing tonight.” Your eyes lock with Rafe’s crystal blue ones and you can tell he knows what you’re doing. Yet you don’t care. And he’s still letting you do it, so. “If you don’t mind hanging around until then.”

“Actually, I was thinking about heading out soon.” Hollis shoots you a look before resting her red manicured hand on Rafe’s bicep as she looks over at him almost desperately. Pathetic. “You wanna come to my place? Have a glass of wine, get cozy?”

“I would, but I think it’s best I make sure she gets home safe.” Rafe barely spares her a glance while he shuts her down and she visibly deflates. You would feel bad if you didn’t want to rip each one of her thickly mascara lined eyelashes out of her head.

“Aww, really?” Hollis pouts as she tips her head to the side to try and get Rafe to look at her but he doesn’t. His eyes stay on you. “I think we will have a good time, I’m sure she can find another ride, can’t you?” She looks at you like you’re going to be her wingman and take one for the team or something. Too bad you don’t feel like sharing. Even if he isn’t yours and probably never will be. He’s not going to rub it in your face at your place of work.

“Actually, my ride fell through.” You cross your arms to push your tits up and set your lips into a pout. Rafe feels like he’s going to fucking lose it any second. You never ask him for help, so he knows you're jealous and it’s making his cock uncomfortably hard. “I can probably swing an uber if you’re busy though.”

“No. I’m taking you home with me.” With him. You like the sound of that. “Go do your stuff. I’ll wait.”

“I know what you were doing in there, I’ve been around the block a few times, little girl.” Rafe grits at you as pulls out of the bar parking lot. He waited for you to get off. Hollis left before he did, not without asking him to go home with her again, of course.

“And I know what you were doing in there, old man. Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I’m oblivious.” You roll your eyes and put your doc’s up on his dash. It makes him groan as he reaches over to knock them back down. “Umm, rude.”

“I’m rude? And ruining my date isn’t?” Rafe scoffs.

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You didn’t want to be on that date and we both fucking know it, Rafe.” You roll your eyes and shake your head and Rafe really wishes he wasn’t driving right now so he could finally spank that attitude out of you. He has half a mind to pull over but he has to keep reminding himself you’re not his. “You would have never gone there if I didn’t work there, don’t act like that wasn’t why. Don’t pretend you didn’t want to see my reaction.”

“She asked to go there, you’re just overthinking it.” Rafe shakes his head as he turns onto the main road toward his neighborhood.

“No. If I was overthinking it, you would’ve left with her and not me. Don’t try to make me feel like I’m making shit up in my head, you were blindingly obvious about it.” His big hands tighten on the steering wheel causing the veins to pop out. You want to slobber all over them and feel them inside you. “You were trying to make me jealous and it worked, so what now?”

“Now? Nothing.” Rafe chuckles dryly and you can see his jaw tense. “We go home, you go to bed and I’ll do the same. Nothing can happen and you know that.”

“But you aren’t saying you don’t want it to.” You press the issue, you aren’t letting it go that easily.

“God damn it.” Rafe breathes out through his nose and says your name sternly. “Stop. Just stop. This can’t be a thing. No more of this shit that happened tonight. We go back to coexisting the way we should and if I want to go on dates you’re just going to have to get over that because you are my son’s fucking girlfriend, jesus.”

“Yeah, whatever, tell yourself that all you want.” You lean back in your seat with your arms crossed, turning away from him to look out the window. “You know it’s more than that but go ahead and keep lying to yourself.”

“It’s what I have to do, okay?!” Rafe snaps and slams his hand on the steering wheel before regaining his control. He runs his hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath. He isn’t the guy that loses his temper at the drop of a hat anymore but you’re so god damn frustrating it makes him feel like he’s going insane. “Now please, just let it go.”

“Fine. But I know you feel this thing between us.” You laugh dryly, your throat feeling tight from rejection even if you know you’re right. “But I’ll drop it and let you live in your little land of denial.”

“Thank you.” Rafe sighs and you both fall silent for the remainder of the drive, only the sound of the local rock station playing quietly in the background.

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

You curse under your breath as you toss your keys down on the table by the door and rip your coat from your body. All the other times Caleb has forgotten to pick you up were just mildly annoying in comparison to this. Considering it’s your fucking birthday. You don’t think he even remembers. He didn’t say anything to you this morning before you left for your day shift and he hasn’t texted you all day. He did say he would pick you when you managed to momentarily wake him up though. You hoped maybe he had a surprise planned for you when you got off but you aren’t even sure why you let the thought cross your mind. It feels like he doesn’t even care about you anymore.

As much as Rafe wants to deny that there’s something between you, he gives you more attention than your own boyfriend. Caleb was out all night, so, was he passed out hungover this morning. But when you went downstairs there were doughnuts and coffee from your favorite bakery sitting on the kitchen counter. There was a pink balloon tied to the coffee and a little note in front of it that read “Happy Birthday, angel. -R.C.”

Rafe was already gone for work when you woke up so you haven’t had a chance to thank him yet. You hate that you’re more excited for him to be home than you are to see Caleb. You know he’s here somewhere because his car is out front, you assume he’s upstairs gaming with his headset on and his phone on silent. Or he’s asleep. You sigh deeply as you walk over to the box of doughnuts still sitting on the counter and pull one from the box. You take a bite before looking out the kitchen window and when you do you nearly choke.

Caleb isn’t gaming, and he’s not asleep. But he is out back in the hot tub with his “friend” Jessica. Ass naked. Fucking her from behind with her top half bent over the ledge. You feel like you’re going to be sick as you watch her mouth fall open in pleasure. Caleb pulls her hair, yanking her head back before you watch him land a smack on her ass as he fucks her roughly from behind. He’s never fucked you like that. It was always so vanilla and lackluster. Watching him fuck her like you’ve asked him to fuck you a thousand times is like a knife to your heart. Tears prickle the rims of your eyes But you don’t want to cry because you’re sad, no, you’re fucking pissed. You slam your hand down on the counter in frustration, crushing the glazed treat you’re still holding against the marble. You take a deep breath, readying yourself, and then you walk out the back door.

“Well, isn’t this just fucking rich.” You chuckle dryly as you walk across the back patio to the hot tub and Caleb and Jessica’s eyes flash toward you, their movements halting. “You know, you’ve gotten me some pretty shit presents over the years, Caleb. But being so balls deep in some other bitch that you forget my birthday entirely really takes the fucking cake.”

“Babe!” Caleb backs away from Jessica with his eyes blown wide, pulling out of her and leaving her to stand there trying to cover herself. “It’s not -”

“It’s not what it looks like, really Caleb?” You scoff and you can’t even help but laugh. “You’re a fucking idiot. There’s no talking your way out of being a cheating fucking whore when I saw it with my own two eyes.”

“Hey! Listen, I’m really sorry I didn’t -” Jessica’s voice is strained and nervous as she pulls herself from the hot tub and reaches for her clothes that are discarded on the ground.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch. You know exactly what you did. Everyone in your little friend group knows me and Caleb are together. Don’t disrespect me by lying to my face.”

You take a few hurried steps towards her and she flinches, making a smirk spread across your lips. Good. She should be scared. She’s lucky Caleb isn’t worth an assault charge. You send your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend a glare. “How long?”

“Since the ski trip…” His head hangs low between his shoulders and you can’t believe he has the audacity to be pouting right now. But he’s always been selfish.

“Oh? So this has been going on for weeks? And I bet all your little friends knew, huh?” Caleb opens his mouth to answer but you cut him off. “Were you all just sitting around laughing, knowing I was oblivious? You disgust me.”

“Babe -”

“I’m not your fucking babe! Shut up! I’m tired of hearing your god damn voice, Caleb!” You shriek and stomp your foot in frustration.

“Whoa, what the hell is going on out here?” The sound of Rafe’s voice sends an icy hot chill all through your body. God, how much of that did he see?

“Dad, don’t worry about it. Just go inside, this is none of your business.” Rafe loves his son with all his heart and even if Caleb doesn’t realize it, everything he’s done in his life has been for him. But right now? He has never been more disappointed in his entire life.

Rafe didn’t see everything but he got home around the time you were calling Caleb a cheating whore. That combined with the fact that there was a random girl scrambling to put her clothes on while his son stands naked in the hot tub doesn’t make it hard to tell what is happening.

“There’s yelling going on in my house, I think that’s my business.” Rafe is almost at a loss for words. He feels frozen. He would never abandon Caleb but the fact that he did this to you fills him with rage. The fact that he took you for granted was one thing, but cheating on you? It makes his blood boil. If it were anyone else they’d be getting their ass beat right now.

“I think I’m just going to go.” All three of their heads whip towards you at your words. Rafe looks distressed, Jessica looks guilty as hell and Caleb has a mixture of both painted on his face.

“No, you stay. I’ll feel like shit knowing you’re sleeping on your sister's couch when you’ve been pulling my weight around here anyways.” Caleb pulls himself out of the hot tub and pulls his swim trunks on before walking toward you. It makes you take a step back.

“You can stay with me, if you need.” Jessica squeaks out and it makes you belly laugh. You really are such a fucking joke.

“You don’t have to leave, either of you. We can work something out.” Rafe looks over at his son, so fucking disappointed in him but he doesn’t love him any less and he doesn’t want him to leave. But he really doesn’t want you to leave either, he’s really come to love you. Well, he loves having you around. He doesn’t love you, he can’t. But god the longer he’s around you he wants to love you so badly. Especially right now, he can see you shaking from here. He can see the angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes and he hates it. He wants to grab you, pull you into his chest, and protect you from the world.

“I won’t force her to be around me after this, dad.” Caleb sighs as he pinches his nose before locking eyes with you. “Just stay here, okay? I want you to stay where you have space. You seem happier here. I’m going to go get some stuff to get me through a couple days and I’ll come back for the rest later on. Come on Jessica, we’re leaving.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry I never meant for you to find out like this.” Jessica sends you an apologetic look.

“Ha! I don’t give a fuck about your apology, bitch. Get out of my sight before I beat your ass.” You take a threatening step toward her and she hurriedly runs toward the back door with Caleb in tow. He sends you another sad glance before walking inside, leaving you alone with Rafe.

“God, what the fuck just happened!?” You let out an aggressive deep breath as you flop down on one of the patio chairs. You groan and throw your head back, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The sound of Rafe’s voice inches from you makes you jump as your eyes shoot toward him. He’s crouching in front of the chair with a concerned look on his face and god, you want to jump into his lap and have him hold you so badly. Even when Caleb literally cheats on you, you can’t get these thoughts of Rafe out of your head. If anything they’re just increasing by the second.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You should go check on Caleb, tell him he doesn’t have to go.” You clear your throat to stop the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Once I calm down a bit I’ll go get my shit together and get out of your hair.”

“No.” Rafe’s voice is stern but not angry and your entire body heats when he rests his big hands on your knees so you’ll look at him. “I don’t want you to leave. I love my son so damn much but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in him right now. I’ll never force him to leave but if he wants to go, I think maybe it’s for the best right now.”

“Yeah, but even if he leaves there’s no reason for me to be here if he and I aren’t together, Rafe.” You sniffle, wiping your nose and under your eyes with your hoodie sleeve. You refuse to let him see you cry.

“There is a reason, doll.” Rafe squeezes your knees slightly in a comforting manner as he looks up at you so sincerely you could almost melt. “I want you here. I like having you here. Not just because you help out around the house or because you make delicious food. I like you, I like your presence and being around you. I don’t like to talk much, I can’t stand small talk, but it comes easy with you.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Rafe. You have no obligation to me, I can’t just freeload off of you.” You sigh and Rafe can’t help it, he glances toward the house to see if Caleb is looking but the blinds are closed so he leans up on his knees and takes your face in his hands.

“I know I’m not fuckin’ obligated but I want to help you. I want you here, please?” Rafe’s voice breaks at the end and he hates that he sounds so desperate. But that desperation tells you all you need to know. He’s saying it without saying it. Rafe wants you. And now that Caleb gave you the ultimate fuck you, what’s really holding you back from having him aside from your own moral compass? He’s still Caleb’s dad. On the other hand though? Fuck Caleb and his feelings.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Your voice is small and you swallow deeply as Rafe continues to hold your face in his big, calloused hands.

“That’s my girl.” Rafe grins at you and places a kiss on your forehead and for a second you forget who Caleb even is. He’s never touched you this much and now you never want him to stop. You want to feel his lips and hands on every inch of your body. “Sit tight, okay? I’m gonna go make sure Caleb is okay and see if he needs any help.”

You sigh and look up at the sky. The sun is setting, kissing the tops of the trees as the cold midwinter wind whips through your hair. You’d probably be freezing in your little work outfit if you weren’t so filled with adrenaline. Are you really gonna stay here with Caleb’s dad? Especially when you know how badly you want him? You know the answer is yes, against your better judgement. You’ve tried to push your feelings down, tell yourself they were based on loneliness and circumstance. But the fact that you just watched Caleb cheat on you and you were more sad about the fact that you’ll have to move away from Rafe is very telling.

You want Rafe. You want his kind gestures. You want the banter you have when you order take ou and watch cheesy horror movies on nights you were left alone. You want the way his lips look extra plush and the way his mullet looks all messy when he first wakes up. You want the possessiveness and the protectiveness. You want to jump his bones when he gets home in his work clothes all covered in mud. You want to eat dinner and shower together and fuck before bed. You want him to fuck you on every inch of this house actually. You want him so bad you can’t even deny it anymore. You want him so bad it almost hurts.

You let yourself sit with that information until you hear the front door shut and Caleb’s car pull out of the driveway. You’re finally starting to get cold so you take a deep breath and push yourself up from the chair to face the music.

As you approach the back door you realize the lights in the kitchen are off, which is odd for this time of day. Did Rafe go to bed to avoid having to interact with you? You wouldn’t blame him, part of you wants the same. You just want to sink in bed and sleep for a week. But when you open the door your hand flies to your mouth with a gasp.

The room is illuminated by candles that are lit on top of the prettiest cake. It’s shaped like a heart with pink and white frosting and your name is in the middle of it, written in pretty, frosted cursive. If that wasn’t enough there’s a little box with a bow sitting next to it and the greatest present of all is the man standing behind them. Rafe still has his navy work shirt with the logo for his company on and he has this lopsided, boyish smile painted on his face that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. This man is a dream.

“Rafe, I- you did this for me?” Your words nearly get caught in your throat and tears prickle your eyes for an entirely different reason than they have all night. “No one has ever… No one’s ever done anything this nice for me before.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.” Rafe smiles at you sweetly as he scratches the side of his neck before running his hands through his hair. “Don’t go getting all teary eyed on me before you even open your gift, angel.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything…” Your voice is barely a whisper and you hardly trust it as you approach the counter and pick up the little box. At first glance you’d think it was jewelry but when you pull off the bow and open it up there’s a keyfob inside. “What is? Rafe, you did not buy me a car!”

“No, yeah, I did.” Rafe chuckles and comes around the other side of the counter to stand no more than a foot away from you. “You deserve it.”

“Rafe, I can’t accept this. You have to take it back.” You push the box toward him but he just stops your hand, pushing it back toward your chest.

“Well, I’m not taking it back. So if you don’t drive it, it’s just going to sit in the garage collecting dust.” He splays his hand across your chest, holding the key and your hand in his larger one as he looks down at you almost lovingly. It fills your heart with hope you’ve been refusing to let in. Rafe tucks your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to your temple. “Let me do this for you.”

You can’t help it, you throw yourself into his arms with a squeal and he catches you easily with an arm around your waist. You’re tired of denying yourself his touch, it is your birthday, after all. Rafe chuckles and squeezes you to his chest before setting you on your feet in front of the cake.

“Make a wish, birthday girl.” He wraps his arms around your waist and tucks his chin against your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you know exactly what you’re going to wish for. More of this. More of him. For as long as he will have you. You lean forward and blow out the candles before letting your body rest against Rafe’s with your head tilted back so you can look up at him. “What did you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you, it won’t come true.” You giggle and spin around in his arms and he takes your face in his hands. Rafe thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world and he can’t pretend he doesn’t anymore. He needs you. He wants to kiss you so bad and you surprise the hell out of him by throwing your arms around his shoulders and smashing your lips against his own.

The kiss starts off tender, almost nervous. But it quickly turns heated when his big hands grip onto your waist and pull you flush against him. He groans against your mouth and you use it as an opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth and tangle it with his. You stand there making out, your hands wandering any part of each other they can reach. Rafe’s hands slip lower and slide just under the bottom hem of your skirt, grazing your ass. You

bite down on his bottom lip and Rafe pulls back to look down at you.

“Fuck, we really shouldn’t…” Rafe breathes out through his nose and bites his lip, his actions contradicting his words because his hands travel higher up your skirt and grip onto your ass possessively.

“Do you care?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you grind your stomach against his rock hard cock and scratch the back of his neck with your pointed nails.

“Fuck, not anymore.” Rafe loops his arms around your thighs and you jump up so he can carry you to the couch. He tosses you over the arm and gets on the couch behind you with his legs bracketing yours. He leans over your body so his lips are brushing the shell of your ear. “The first time I fuck you is gonna be in my bed but I’ve been waiting so long to spank that bratty ass and eat that sweet little pussy I need to do it right fucking here.”

Rafe leans back and pushes your little Jean mini skirt up over your ass to reveal the tiniest little pink thong he’s ever seen. He lands a harsh smack on your ass and it causes you to yelp and jolt forward. He gives the other the cheek the same treatment before bringing his hands down on both at once.

“So fucking perfect. Knew you would be, baby.” Rafe runs his fingers over your slit through the lace of your panties, feeling your sticky wetness. “And so fucking wet.”

He gathers some on his fingers before pulling away and marveling at the way it glistens in the low light. He hooks his arm around your neck and holds his fingers to your lips. “Suck.”

You take them into your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, tasting yourself mixed with Rafe’s salty sweat. It shouldn’t taste as good as it does but it makes you hum around his fingers as your eyes roll back.

“Been thinkin’ bout this all day, everyday, since you moved into this house, angel. You’ve been thinking about it too, haven’t you?” Rafe shoves his fingers down your throat causing you to gag as drool pools into your mouth before he pulls them out and spanks your ass with his wet hand, causing it to sting extra.

“Yes, daddy. Everyday. Want you so bad.” You arch your back and wiggle your ass and Rafe feels like he’s going to bust in his pants like a thirteen year old boy.

“Oh, baby, I don’t think you know what you just did.” Rafe chuckles as he grabs onto your thong and pulls it down to your knees, locking them in place. “You want me to be your daddy? Alright. But that means I get to beat this little ass red for the way you’ve been teasing me.”

“Yeah?” You glance over your shoulder at him with that mischievous look you always flash him in your eyes and a naughty little smirk painted on your lips. “Do you fucking worst, daddy.”

Rafe gives you that lopsided grin that makes your stomach do flips before spanking your ass hard. The skin immediately turns red and you don’t have time to process before he spanks you in the same exact spot even harder. He gives the other cheek the same treatment and then rotates back.

“That’s my good little girl.” Rafe rubs your reddened ass and then spanks you again and again. “Not such a brat now, huh? Just needed that attitude beat out of you?”

“I don’t know, I think you might have to fuck it out of me.” You giggle and wiggle your sore ass which only earns you another round of spankings, leaving you a moaning mess. He leans down and bites down hard on your asscheek as two fingers slide through your dripping folds.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’m gonna give you the best dick of your fucking life. But first, I’ve gotta taste this god damn pussy.” Rafe admires the growing bruises and the bite mark on your plump ass before grabbing your cheeks and spreading you open so he can run his tongue along your slit to your pulsing clit.

He swirls his tongue around it a few times before sliding it back down and thrusting it into your hole. Rafe flicks his tongue inside you and hooks his arm around your thigh so you can’t wiggle away.

“Oh, fuck! God, yes, daddy.” You whine and grind back into his face and when his thumb finds your clit you’re embarrassingly close. Your body subconsciously tries to run away from the mind blowing pleasure but Rafe only brings his free hand to the small of your back and uses it to pin your upper half down.

“Quit wiggling and let me devour this pussy, brat. Be a good girl and stay still for daddy, yeah?” Rafe mumbles against your pussy, the vibrations sending your eyes to the back of your skull. “Need you to cum for me, baby.”

Rafe unhooks his arm from your leg so he can thrust two fingers knuckle deep in your pussy while his lips latch onto your clit. He curls his fingers against your sweet spot and rolls his lips around your aching bud and that’s all it takes to have you seeing stars. Pleasure wracks your entire body as you shake beneath him. He sucks and fingers you through your orgasm until you’re over sensitive and your top half is limp with your arms dangling off the arm of the couch.

Rafe leans back to admire you and his cock feels like it’s going to burst. Your hair is cascading over your face as you lay limp across the couch with your ass arched in the air. Your crop top is pushed up showing off the curve of your back. Your butt is red and covered in his hand prints and the bite mark is already starting to bruise. Your little skirt is framing your hips perfectly and your pussy is all puffy and dripping creamy, white.

“I know I said I’d take you to the bed, baby girl, but this pussy just looks so god damn irresistible I’ve gotta have her right now.” You hear the metal of his belt clanking and the sound of his zipper before you feel the fat head of his cock slapping against your ass. He grips his shaft as he runs his tip through your dripping folds and then he uses your wetness to lube his cock. Rafe pumps himself a few times before lining up with your entrance and pushing inside you in one, unforgiving thrust. You both moan in unison as he bottoms out, his balls grazing your clit.

“Oh my god, I’m so full.” You whine as your walls clench around him and Rafe pulls his hips back until only his tip remains before slamming his cock back into you and starting up at a brutal pace. He grips onto your hips and fucks you like a man possessed. He’s entranced by the sight of your ass bouncing back against him while your creamy pussy coats his cock as it swallows him whole over and over again.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby. This pussy is so perfect, fuck, even better than I ever could’ve imagined.” One of Rafe’s hands grips onto your throat and pulls you up so your back is flush against his front and the new angle pushes him even deeper inside you, making your pussy flutter around his cock. He grabs your hand with his free one and presses it against our belly where you can feel his cock bulging from inside you. “Feel that? You’re so fuckin’ full of me.”

“Yes, daddy, you’re so fucking big.” You gasp when he slams his hips up into yours so hard the sound echos off the walls and then he pulls almost all the way out and does it again and again, fucking you rough and deep. Rafe squeezes your neck as he pushes up your crop top so he can grope your tits and pinch your pierced nipples.

“Oh, Angel, I’ve just been dying to see these. The way you prance around in those little bikinis has been driving me insane. Let daddy see those pretty tits.” He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss. He grips onto your hips and flips you over so you’re straddling him.

Rafe leans back on the couch and runs his hands down your body before tracing up your stomach so he can graze his fingertips over your pert nipples. He circles the little bars that have hearts in the middle with a groan.

“Oh, fuckin’ look at you. Never seen anything more god damn perfect in my life.” Rafe leans forward to take a nipple in his mouth and it makes you cry out.

“In all your years, right, old man?” You giggle when he pulls back with a glare and grips onto your hip so he can lift you onto his cock, the feeling of him filling you again makes you nearly go cross eyed. “You getting tired yet?”

“I thought I fucked that little attitude out of you, huh?” Rafe plants his feet flat on the ground so he can thrust up into you while using his grip on your ass to bounce you on his cock. The sight of your tits in his face has him twitching inside you.

“I think it’s gonna take more than once, actually?” You smirk up at him and Rafe is fucking gone. He’s obsessed with you. “Can your old man knees keep up?”

“Baby, it’s so cute that you think I can’t keep up with you.” Rafe flips you onto your back and grips onto the back of your thighs as he kneels on the couch in front of you so he can pound into you harder and deeper than ever. “Rub your pussy for me.”

“Fuck, daddy, I’m so close.” You moan loudly as you bring your finger to your slick clit and rub circles on it. Rafe grips onto your throat and pins you to the couch cushion as he continues to plow into you. “Want you to fill me up, please?”

“Yeah? I’ll give you my cum as soon as you give me one more. Cum for daddy, sugar.” Rafe squeezes your throat as his dick hits your g-spot and your fingers rub your clit just right and it has euphoria washing over your body. Your pussy is like a vice grip around him and the pretty little moans you’re letting out as you come undone for him has Rafe spilling inside you. He doesn’t know if he’s ever cum this much in his life as his cock continues to pulse inside you and fill you with ropes of his cum. You lay pliant beneath him as you look up at him like he hung the stars and it fills him with pride, “Yeah, that’s my good little girl.”

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” You breathe out and saying it outloud feels like the biggest weight off your shoulders. “I’ve wanted you so fucking badly, Rafe.”

“God, baby.” Rafe grabs your face in his hands and runs his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. “I’m so god damn I’m obsessed with you too. Now that I’ve had you, I never wanna let you go. I’m addicted.”

“Yeah? Well you never have to. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have an attitude and tease you about your old man knees until the end of time.” You giggle when he throws you a playful glare and it makes a wide smile break out onto his face. “But who knows? Maybe I can be tamed one day, looks like you’ll just have to keep fucking me to find out…”

“I think I can manage that, angel, starting now.” Rafe leans down and kisses you sweetly before gripping onto your hips and standing up to throw you over his shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you on every inch of this house, starting with my bed.”

In that moment you think to yourself that maybe sometimes birthday wishes really do come true. You both know shit is complicated, but right now you don’t care. You finally have him, and you’ll figure it out together.

Tagging mooties: @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs @cameronsprincess @sturnioloshacker @eddiesxangel @that-sarcastic-writer @rafesangelita @nemesyaaa @moonlightseranade 🤍

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ If you made it this far, thanks for sticking around for all 13k words!! I put my blood, sweat, tears, pussy, heart, soul into this. I hope you enjoyed !! DILF!Rafe moodboard ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Divider by @anitalenia

#Dolly writes #Rafe Cameron #rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #older!rafe #older!rafe cameron #Rafe smut #rafe Cameron smut #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe fic #dilf!rafe #dilf!Rafe Cameron #I put my whole pussy into this #she long but she worth I hope

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norrisainz33 · 1 month ago

Text

announcement || mv33

☆ summary: max and his private wife have been keeping a big secret

☆ pairing: max verstappen x private!nonfamous!wife!reader

☆ fc & warnings: amata alp & mentions of pregnancy

☆ requested: yes! thank you for your patience 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: glad you’re with y/bff tho i do wish you were here my love

ynverstappen: i wish i was there too. i hate having to miss your races

maxverstappen1: i know you do sweetheart but you’ve got big things to worry about right now 🤍

ynverstappen: i know i just wish you were here to worry about them with me!

ynverstappen: ugh i’m sorry i know you have no choice in the matter

maxverstappen1: don’t apologize liefje. i know this is not like the easiest time for me to be away! i will be home so soon so i can help take care of you

carmenmundt: y/n where have you beeeeeeen it’s been so long!!

ynverstappen: been very busy with work and with holding down the fort here in monaco!! i hope to be back at some races soon 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous girl i miss you

ynverstappen: i miss you too babes

yourbff: my baby

ynverstappen: my girl

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f1gossip: during todays redline stream the chat was flooded with questions about the whereabouts of y/n verstappen who has been absent from the paddock for the past couple of months. while y/n is relatively private and we don’t usually get many social media updates from her outside of her interior design firm’s posting, she almost never misses the opportunity to support max on a race weekend let alone several in a row. max assured the chat that y/n was ok and that she was just taking some time to herself and that she’d be back in the paddock soon enough. what do you all make of this?

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user1: i’m so glad y/nmax are fine

user2: you could even hear her in the background at one point asking max what he wanted for dinner!! glad we are getting some crumbs

user4: omg ok good!! i thought that was her but couldn’t tell

user3: i was about to email her interior design firm to ask if she was ok thank god max updated us

user4: walk with me here guys…. what if we haven’t seen her bc she’s…… pregnant???

user6: oh my god you might be on to something!! they have been married for almost 2 years now

user7: no this is so believable!!! they’d make the best parents

user5: y/n’s ability to stay under the radar and unbothered is incredible

user8: y/n is the coolest wag i wish she was chronically online like so many of the others

user7: ugh fr!! i wish we could follow her on literally anything 💔

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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francisca.cgomes: are you redoing part of your house? is this why you’ve been so busy and i haven’t seen my best friend for WEEKS

ynverstappen: partially yes!! we are redoing the spare room. BUT you’ll see me this weekend for my party kiks

francisca.cgomes: and my god i can’t wait!! i miss you

ynvertsappen: i miss you too

landonorris: plans for what?

ynverstappen: idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

landonorris: liar!

maxverstappen1: they’re going to have the sweetest room 🤍

ynverstappen: yes they are 🤍 i’m so proud of how it’s turning out

georgerussell63: the 🤭 makes this feel like i’m on the outside of an inside joke

ynverstappen: you just might be georgie!!

georgerussell63: well what does that even mean

yourbff: i am brimming with excitement i can’t wait for you to tell everyone this weekend

ynverstappen: me too!! keeping this secret has been so tough but ultimately it’s been really nice to have something that’s just for me and max even if just for a short while

yourbff: no i totally get that y/n/n!! max has to share his life with the whole world so im sure it’s nice to have those private moments

yoursibling: i need you to facetime me when you tell carmen and kika bc they’re going to lose their minds

ynverstappen: oh i absolutely will

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ynverstappen: i’m so glad all my favorite people could come celebrate the news 🩷 baby verstappen due in january 🤍 mommy and daddy love you endlessly already 💙

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carmenmundt: i can’t wait to be an aunty!!! best news ever 🤍

ynverstappen: and i can’t wait for you to be an aunty!! baby v is going to be so loved

carmenmundt: they already are!!

francisca.cgomes: can’t believe my favorite person in the world is going to be a mom 🥹

ynverstappen: love you kika 🥹

maxverstappen1: 💙🩷

ynverstappen: 😘😘

iamrebeccad: you’re going to make the perfect mom

ynverstappen: i really hope so 🤍

georgerussell63: blimey! i can’t wait to meet the little one!!

ynverstappen: only 3 more months!!

landonorris: uncle lando is reporting for duty

ynverstappen: baby v is going to love their uncle lan!!

maxverstappen1: baby v is already lucky to have you mate

alexandrasaintmleux: the most beautiful maman 🤍

ynverstappen: don’t make me cry again 😭

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maxverstappen1: grateful for moments like these away from the track. next week is race week again in vegas but for now, enjoy some family photos 🤍

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user1: my favorite couple maybe ever

user3: y/n sign of life!!

user4: sticking to my delulu and thinking he said family bc she’s having a baby

landonorris: see you all soon🤍

ynverstappen: see you soon lannyyyyyy

user4: he’s feeding into my delusions here…. bc why did he say you all instead of you both

user6: omg does this mean y/n will be in vegas????

ynverstappen: i love our little family 🫶🏻

maxverstappen1: me too gorgeous

user2: not me crying over this post?? the heart shaped pizzas sent me over the edge

redbullracing: looking forward to seeing you back on track!

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maxverstappen1: i have a tracker on your flight. i think the anxiety of you and the little one being on a plane without me is going to eat me alive

ynverstappen: we will be ok maxie i promise!! im on air max, it’s safe here

maxverstappen1: it is but also i’m not there so it’s not as safe as it could be

ynverstappen: my sweet boy, take a deep breath. you have quali soon

maxverstappen1: yes yes yes i’m breathing deeply

francisca.cgomes: well thank GOD i need you in the paddock

ynverstappen: pls come stay in rb hospitality w me

francisca.cgomes: for you i will just don’t tell pierre

charlesleclerc: on a scale of 1-10 how stressed is max

ynverstappen: 16

redbullracing: we can’t wait to see you!!

iamrebeccad: yayayayayayya!!!!!!!

ynverstappen: 😘😘😘😘😘😘

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maxverstappen1: for all of you wondering where y/n has been…. needless to say we’ve both been a little busy getting ready to welcome baby verstappen. only a few more months till the little one makes us a family of 3 🤍

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user1: best news ever!!!!

user4: i knew it!!! omg 🥹

charlesleclerc: congratulations mate! i am so excited for you both

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 💙 baby v is so lucky to have an uncle like you

user16: im violently sobbing over this interaction you don’t understand

redbullracing: having a mini rb20 made for baby v as we speak

ynverstappen: oh gosh admin no

maxverstappen1: admin yes!!

redbullracing: uh oh awkward

landonorris: yayyyyyy!!!!!!!! i can’t wait to babysit!!

ynverstappen: you’re going to be the best babysitter ever

user7: she is glowing

user9: max and y/n are going to make the most beautiful parents

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f1gossip: here to share a recap of max’s first interview since announcing y/n’s pregnancy mere minutes after qualifying. he said he wanted to announce it before sunday because y/n was absolutely adamant about being in the paddock for vegas and there was no hiding her baby bump at 6 months. max said “i can’t wait to be a dad! it’s honestly something i’ve been dreaming of for years and i’m so grateful to my beautiful wife for giving me the greatest gift.”

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user2: this is by far the happiest i’ve ever seen max and i am crying

user4: i love max and y/n so much i cant

user15: the way he talked about their baby ??? he already loves that little one so much

user18: i think having a baby is healing his inner child

user3: i love love love love love these 2

user19: crying screaming throwing up

user20: project verstappen!! lfg!!! next wdc champion incoming

user5: her refusing to miss another race is so real of her

user8: thank god she’s gonna be back in the paddock max needs her luck

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs always appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

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fear-is-truth · 1 month ago

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𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐆 … rodrick heffley — loser!bf headcanons

tags — fem!reader﹒sfw + nsfw﹒headcanons

loser bf!rodrick, who makes a huge show of pda whenever his brother is around. he’ll sling his arm around your shoulder and be like, “yeah, greg. my girlfriend. isn’t she hot?” greg is still fully convinced rodrick’s paying you to be his fake girlfriend, though he has no idea where he’s got the money.

loser bf!rodrick, who lets you sit in on band practice and tries so hard to keep it together, but the second his bandmates start flirting with you, he completely falls apart. his drumming gets so off-tempo that they have to stop and start over.

loser bf!rodrick, who lent you his algebra textbook and completely forgot he’d been doodling your name with his last name all over the margins. when you handed it back, smirking, he looked like he wanted to die.

loser bf!rodrick, whose idea of a date is a night drive to the gas station, where you both load up on slushies and hot dogs. you sit in the parking lot and steal bites off each other’s food (even though you have the same toppings)

loser bf!rodrick, who awkwardly asked his mom to use the “nice-smelling” laundry detergent on his shirts because he knows you like to steal them after having sex and he doesn’t want you thinking he’s gross.

loser bf!rodrick, whose mom acts like you’re already part of the family, offering you snacks and calling you “sweetie” every time you visit. she loves to (unintentionally) embarrassing her eldest son by showing you all of his baby pictures. all the while rodrick hides in the basement.

loser bf!rodrick, whose dad corners you during family dinners and awkwardly tries to sell you on how “rodrick is really a fine young man, despite, uh… some quirks.” you just nod politely while rodrick sits there, sinking into his chair with a beet-red face.

loser bf!rodrick, whose bandmates are constantly making moves on you, asking if you “need anything” during practice or offering to carry your stuff. rodrick will get so pissed that he threatens to kick them out of the band. you think it’s hilarious how defensive he gets.

loser bf!rodrick, who always gives you the front seat in his van, no questions asked. greg has to squish in the back with the instruments, too bad lol.

loser bf!rodrick, who pretends to be terrible at eyeliner just so you’ll do it for him. in return, he paints your nails—or you can also paint his (in exclusively black).

loser bf!rodrick, who acts reluctant whenever you drag him into photobooths at the mall. the two of you end up making the dumbest faces before you lean in and kiss him right on the mouth… with tongue.

loser bf!rodrick, who lets you doodle on his arm with a sharpie, and he refuses to wash them off. they stay there until they fade completely.

loser bf!rodrick, who finally starts wearing deodorant consistently because of you. it’s not even something you asked him to do—he just noticed you sniffing his shirts a little more critically and panicked. now, he’s always freshly applied before seeing you.

loser bf!rodrick, who gets hard every time you kiss him.

loser bf!rodrick, who tries his best to keep his room somewhat presentable whenever you come over. he knows it’s still a fucking disaster by normal standards, but for rodrick, clearing a path to the bed is a grand romantic gesture.

loser bf!rodrick, who’s obsessed so with seeing your hickeys on him. he never bothers to hide them—in fact, he wears them like badges lol.

loser bf!rodrick, who almost accidentally used the wrong side of the condom when you had sex for the first time.

loser bf!rodrick, who absolutely melts when you tug on his hair during sex. he didn’t even realise he had a thing for it until the first time you did it. now, he practically begs for it without using words, tilting his head back and grinning like a total idiot whenever your fingers get close.

loser bf!rodrick, who keeps every random thing you’ve ever given him — notes you’ve passed to him in class, concert tickets, even candy wrappers.

loser bf!rodrick, who hates being bossed around but will do anything you ask, especially if it involves you kissing his cheek or ruffling his hair in thanks. he’s so whipped and everyone knows it.

loser bf!rodrick, who brags to greg about how sexy and smart and pretty you are, just to rub it in, but secretly feels like he doesn’t deserve you. he gets this dumb, soft look on his face whenever you’re around, like he still can’t believe you chose him.

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #doawk rodrick #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley smut #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley headcanons #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick heffley imagine #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick smut

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singmyaubade · 3 months ago

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Good Luck Babe

poly!marauders x nerd!female!reader

summary: after being a wallflower throughout your first five years at hogwarts, you always thought that you could be invisible. but when you hear the marauders talking cruelly about you and proceeding to ask for your forgiveness after, well good luck babe.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, reader wants to kill the marauders , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy

a/n: oh hey... this is kinda based on those cliche 2000's movies where the girl is ugly but not really and she has that glow up or whatever. this was written so quick and not proofread, don't kill me. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

STARTING off your sixth year at Hogwarts being an entirely new person wasn't something that you had planned or expected.

On the inside, you felt exactly the same, the same girl who was bold and could ferociously win a fight when it came to her character.

The same girl who was witty and sarcastic, surprising half of the people around you when you made a joke once in a lifetime.

But on the outside, you didn't have an awkward mis-shaped bob and you no longer wore baggy jackets that didn't do a thing for your figure.

And you didn't hide your face anymore, trying your best to be invisible.

It wasn't that you were shy or that you felt like a loser but you thought social hierarchy was bullshit and the only thing you wanted to focus on was your studies.

You may have been a brave Gryffindor on the inside but on the outside, you had to play the part of a shy mouse as corny as that sounds.

Unfortunately for you, invisibility only tends to last for so long until one moment, you are a nobody and then all eyes are upon you.

And maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't heard the Marauders discussing you the previous year, you would have stayed the same.

You had passed by the boys dormitory to give Remus his textbooks back as you always did when you let you borrow when you heard them speaking of the very person behind the door,

"I still have yet to understand why Lily and the rest of them act like she's some charity case," James huffed, "I mean, she's not some sick patient, they only feel the need to pity her because of how she looks."

You always knew that James had a foul mouth but to be speaking about someone like this, it was cruel.

Remus hissed, "That's not nice Prongs,"

"I'm not even saying it to be a dick!" James groaned, "I just mean, I pity her more for the fact that they don't even invite her to anything outside of breakfast and dinner," He explained, causing Remus to go silent.

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. "That's absolutely horrid."

James reclined on his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m just saying, if I were Y/N, I’d be mortified."

Your eyes widened as they began to water, they were speaking about you.

Remus leaned against the wall, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe she just doesn’t want to hang out with Lily and the others."

"Moony, seriously," James shot back, sitting up. "Where is Y/N right now, and where are the other girls?" His eyebrow cocked, trying to make his point as Remus silenced.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Why don’t we investigate for ourselves?" He unfolded the Marauder's Map with a flourish. "Alright, we’ve got Lily, Dorcas, Mary, and Marlene all at Hogsmeade, but Y/N is..." His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing.

James leaned closer, annoyance creeping into his tone as he grabbed the map, "She's-" He stopped, the color fading from his face.

"Fucking spit it out!" Remus said next as he snatched the map finally and saw that the map had shown that you were right outside their door.

"Shit!" You heard Remus say as he started making his way to the door.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, you quickly moved away from the door, bolting for your room.

Once you made it back to your dorm, you had sinked the floor. You put your hand on your mouth, muffling yourself as you cried silently.

You honestly hated to even say it but you did consider Lily and the rest of them your friends. You had never really thought about how they didn't invite you to places.

And if you were being truthful, they had never asked you to have breakfast or dinner with them.

You had always just assumed that you could join but they never told you to leave or swooshed you off. Another part of you hated how stupid you were, trying to intrude on their private time.

You didn't want to let it get to you what a bunch of seventeen year old boys were saying but it did sting horribly.

But in a way, it also motivated you to be who you were on the inside. You already had the top marks in your entire year and your plan to work in the Ministry after Hogwarts had already been set.

And now your chance to be something at Hogwarts was right in front of you, an opportunity that you couldn't miss.

You had to do it for yourself.

The Marauders had no idea who you truly were or even cared to know. And although Remus was kind to you, you could always see that he never made any effort to be your friend.

Not that you expected him to but it only taught you that they truly thought you were some hopeless case.

And an assignment to make the Marauders bite their tongues was one that you couldn't bare to fail.

After hearing that, you decided to avoid the Marauders for the next month, especially with summer break approaching. To your surprise, you barely saw them outside of classes, never giving them a chance to reach out—even Remus.

And then that summer, everything changed. You let your hair grow past your shoulders, embracing your natural curls instead of straightening them. You started wearing clothes that were trendy and form-fitting, a huge contrast to your old style.

You discovered a newfound love for self-care, enjoying the process far more than you expected. Each day felt like a transformation, and by the end of summer, your mother couldn’t help but notice. “Finally listening to me about your style, huh?” she teased.

You only laughed as you embraced her,

If only she knew what had caused it in the first place.

As you said goodbye to your family, anticipation mingled with dread. You knew the train ride would be the least of your worries, but the welcome dinner and the ceremony ahead felt like they might just be hell reincarnate.

As you entered Hogwarts, you admired it as much as you did when you were a first year. The castle was something you considered a second home and everything about it was magical, there was no doubting that.

A crowd of students, including yourself, moved toward the Great Hall, and you settled into your usual seat at the Gryffindor table.

You spotted the Marauders and the usual group of girls approaching, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They took their usual spots in front of you, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. James sat beside you, and Lily was directly in front of him.

You never quite understood why they arranged themselves like that, but it hardly mattered in the moment.

They were busy in conversation before James had noticed someone next to him, his eyes widening. You couldn't quite read his face but it seemed like a mix of confusion and flustered.

You stared at him back but he still had yet to mutter a word. You cleared your throat, "Uh hello," You practically whispered.

He snapped back into reality, "Oh sorry, hi," He muttered back.

Silence took over you both as James couldn't find the words of what to say to you.

On one hand, he wanted to call you beautiful, to tell you that you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. On the other, he just wanted to stare at you for a few more minutes like a creep.

Lily noticed his gaze and leaned in, smirking. "Excuse my friend; we’re still trying to figure out if he has a brain."

"I thought we solved that decades ago," Marlene chimed in, stifling a laugh.

Lily turned to you with a curious smile. "I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?"

Are you actually fucking kidding me?

You scoffed, "I'm Y/N,"

The entire group looked at you in awe, even the ones who weren't chimed in on the conversation.

"Y/N L/N?" Sirius asked, mouth gaping.

"Yep, that one," You snorted.

They all looked like they had seen a ghost, "You look different," Marlene said as Mary shoved her.

"She means in a good way!" Mary added.

"Uh thanks," You said, awkwardly.

They all continued to stare at you like you were an exhibit in a museum, their eyes scanning you up and down.

"Do you all mind not staring at me?" you asked, trying to break the tension. They all looked away, feigning innocence as they muttered apologies.

"How have you been?" Lily asked, clearly trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Fine," you replied, your tone clipped.

You caught the pained expressions on the Marauders' faces, realizing they were the reason for your dismissive attitude.

"That's great," Lily said, forcing a smile.

You felt a wave of frustration at the awkwardness surrouding you and decided it was time to escape. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you announced, heading toward the exit before they could respond.

As you walked away, you could already here the mutters and whispers emerging from the table, the fascinating topic being you.

You paced as you heard footsteps trailing behind you, but you ignored them, letting your gaze wander around the castle.

"Y/N!" someone called out, startling you.

You turned to see Sirius, James, and Remus hurrying after you. You only let out a snort before continuing your same way.

A hand suddenly reached around your forearm as you turned to see Remus. You quickly snatched your hand away, finally stopping to look at the group of boys who you despised.

Crossing your arms, you shot them a hostile look. "What?"

"We just wanna—"

"We're so—"

"Listen, we just—"

They all spoke at once, but you scoffed and turned back toward the bathroom, starting to walk away.

You were hoping that they would realize you wanted nothing to do with them but instead, it only made them want to chase you more.

They quickened their pace, and you spun around sharply. "For fuck's sake, what do you want?" you snapped.

James took a breath, his expression earnest. "I'm sorry for what I said. I've been thinking about it since you left. I was an awful twat, and you didn't deserve a thing of what I said."

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Are you serious?" You asked as your expression changed to furious, "You basically called me a loser and said that Lily and the rest of them were only hanging out with me out of pity,"

James hissed as your statement, feeling the razor in your voice.

"-And now you all want to act as if I should just forgive you since I don't look the same anymore," You got closer to James's face, "Fuck off."

You turned your heel again and this time, the boys didn't follow you.

You finally entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you struggled to read the expression on your face. You were furious at the Marauders, and the idea of forgiving them felt impossible.

Yet, there was a flicker of gratitude that you felt for the change you’d undergone. You’d gained a new confidence that felt good, but the sting of their cruel words still lingered in your mind.

And you knew that you couldn't let it get to you but knowing they thought that of you, even Remus. It still did things to you that you would never admit out loud.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized it was almost time to head to the dormitory.

The rest of the night had flown by, with first years being introduced to their new home for the next six years while everyone else relaxed in the common room. Despite curfews, fifth years and above knew they could hang out longer—the curfew was mostly for the first years anyway.

"Caput Draconis," you muttered, and the Fat Lady nodded, granting you entrance.

Stepping into the common room, your heart sank as you spotted the last group you wanted to see. They noticed you just as quickly, encouraging you to pick up your pace toward the dorm.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dorcas called out, making you wince as you turned to see her waving.

The Marauders looked down, shame etched on their faces, avoiding your gaze as if you were Medusa.

You approached them slowly, dread settling in your stomach as they eyed you like a science project.

"We were just about to play a fun little game," Dorcas said enticingly, while Marlene snorted beside her.

"I don’t know if Spin the Bottle is a great idea for the first night back," Marlene added, taking a sip of her beer.

"A little peck never hurt anyone," Lily chimed in, clapping her hands together.

Of all people, you’d never expect Lily Evans to approve such a thing. This was the same girl who nearly fainted when she heard about Marlene and Dorcas kissing the previous year.

"I don’t know if this is the game for me," you replied, eyeing the group warily.

"Of course it is!" Lily insisted, but you raised an eyebrow. "Oh my gosh! Not like that, I just mean it's a fun game for us all to play," she quickly added, looking flustered.

Part of you wanted to say no and retreat to your bed, but that was the old you, and you knew it wouldn’t help. This was a new year, and you were determined to embrace new experiences.

Besides, you’d never participated in any scandalous games for all of the years you've been at Hogwarts—it felt like a crime in itself.

So, after a moment’s hesitation, you said, "Okay, sure." The girls erupted in cheers, while the Marauders exchanged worried glances.

What if you had to kiss one of them? Would you refuse and create a scene? Would you want to strangle them for even suggesting it?

The possibilities raced through their mind, but there was no turning back as everyone began to form a circle.

As you sat in the circle, a shiver of nervousness enveloped you. You had never kissed anyone before and the whole thought made you nervous within itself.

Don't get it wrong, you've had chances but they never seemed right and you certainly weren't kissing Matthew Trunchbull underneath the bleachers of the Quidditch field.

So when you got offered a shot of firewhiskey to cool your nerves by Marlene, you took it happily as it burned down your throat.

You brushed off all the negative thoughts entering your mind,

What really is the worst thing that could happen?

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